jueves, 21 de enero de 2021

Banish it Back

 Nothing about this blog makes sense. Other than it is truly. In truth. Absolutely, what I need it to be. I don't know my login and haven't for the last 8 years. Yet I can continuously access this page from the different computers and equipment that I've used over the years.

I am powerful. I know that, and I am close to believing it. 


Tengo mucho poder.  Tanto en mi ser, como en mi vida, mis experiencias y mi mente.


Estoy buscando como contribuir. Como estar presente y en mí.

Siento y sentí una conexion interesante con Claudia.


No fluye pero siento un jalón fuerte. 

Mischa se va a recuperar totalmente. Va a hacer una mejoria total y va a volver a ser el apoyo y la companera de sus compañeras.


lunes, 7 de diciembre de 2020

On Death. And Grief. I cope. .... I need to keep working on it... on grieving.

 This last month has been a tough one. Mostly mentally and emotionally.


It was also freeing. I had to be freeing –  because it was the only way forward.


My grandmother. My favorite person. My everything.


Died.

On November 9 2020.

9 days away from her 101st birthday.


I must make. I must paint, draw, make. be.

Johnathan reached out to me today.  I'm not in The Bay.


Nadeem Farooqui was found dead in his dorm in Berkeley over the weekend
NADEEM.

They don't yet have a definitive answer for what happened.

I am torn apart. I cried in front of my mom and let slip that my dad's cancer is back.

That I'm stressed and scared and ideally it will all work out, but that it's just all coming at once.

She's hurt and angered that "we don't trust her to tell her... we found out two weeks ago.



I.


I'm..



gonna go "cope" / numbmyself with TV.


| Dia de las velitas : 7 Dic 2020 |

viernes, 6 de abril de 2018

I've always been an early bloomer...

This quarter life crisis has kicked me in the ass. It started almost two (three?) years ago.. and I'm not even 25. Maybe that just means I'll only live 'till 80.

Anyway...Slowly but surely... It's come to my attention.. Forced me to listen. Torn me open.


I can't tell. Well, actually – I can.

I'm more cynical. That isn't to say that I am cynical. but rather, just more so.

Estoy bendecida de tener los papas que tengo. La familia que tengo – la genealogía que tengo.
Por más complicada y bárbara que sea.. hay mucho que aprender y que conocer.


I am ready. I pray. I should say...
I pray. 
"Pray".

Affirm my inner power. My life force. I trust, that Truth, me... whatever this fucking thing is that is me, my mind, my spirit/ essence, my body.... this
thing.

I believe in it.


I am free. I am smart and thoughtful. I know. I call upon my wisdom. I am free.

I am wise. I have known many times before and still know today. I can do differently. Give more, offer more. Smile more. Love more.

lunes, 25 de enero de 2016

Coming across your picture my last semester of college

It's sort of like....
 when you take a shot on a party night, and to your surprise it was the last drop that sent you to shit.

Its
the swallowing motion that uproots the horizon line 
The shot that gave the world permission to unhinge at the seams and slowly drift into pieces of itself, merging and melting into etcher.

The skyline becomes diagonal and you stand without footing.

a cloud to the left,
and the sun to the right, 
blinding.

And there I am, unable to keep my stomach juices in agreement with the world

they riot, they fight gravity as they claw their way into my esophagus

and I am winded. 
numb and unable to move. 

If I take the wrong step I may fall into that pit that feels disgustingly unsettling.
Disgustingly familiar. 



So I don't
and I sit there, I lie there, forced to think without train of thought.

What did he tell you? What do you think happened? Did he convince you that my hurt was bigger than his? that I am crazy and making these things up? That I crafted this night of uprooted mess?
The night where pain an nausea were conquered by denial. The very night where my body began a civil war in protest, to keep me away...
Did he tell you I was the one who did that? Did he tell you I was never into you? That I never felt love for you?

... Did he tell you the truth? Did he say that I used you -- that I hurt you out of fear?

Or did you piece that together without him whispering in your ear.
Could you see through it? Is it cause I hurt you?



Because
regardless,


I'm sorry.



I'm sorry I hurt us. I'm sorry this happened to me. I'm sorry I did that to you.

Over time I've been able to put it into words and
It --
he
-- turned my hands and tongue into blades. 

I tried to love, I tried to live my own and just grow...
to continue, onward.


I'm sorry I didn't realize that I had blades.

They're fingers now. and I want to believe that your blades towards me were his making.
That you haven't grown attached to them. That you remember who I am. That you remember us.

I want to believe you're ok. That you're safe.

 That he stopped before you became a couple. Before you first kissed.


Before he made you feel safe.


I've heard that story too many times. I know. I was there. I was safe, too. I thought. I think...

I, don't
really know.  I just. I  just want it to be over. I want that part of him, of them, to be over. Too many of us have blades that we didn't ask for. And cutting people only makes more of us bleed.

If you ever need someone to remind you that you are your own kind of beautiful,


fuck that.

If you ever need to be reminded that you are your own...


I can't do that for you,
But I can be there kicking people away until you decide who can come near.
Who you want to see.
Who you want to touch.
Who gets to talk to you.

I want to believe that you don't need me. That you don't need this interaction like I still do.

I want to believe that you hate me for my actions and not for his words.

That I hurt you.
That he hasn't.

miércoles, 16 de septiembre de 2015

On Strength and Self-Love

"It's like I've been building my house out of mud, but it doesn't help with all of this rain." so you let it fall down.
crumble.
melt away.
and you start the arduous journey of building it sturdy. with something that will stand the rain, and the thunder. The earthquakes and sandstorms.
you'll stand in silence. digging your heels into the earth, rooting yourself in it's strength. you will grow- and it will hurt. you'll be faced with demons and loneliness, trauma and hurt and you'll want to quit. you'll try to get up and be constantly knocked
over.
and you'll get angry, frustrated.

and you will continue to push past your loving to give up. to be fake. to be unhappy.

and suddenly, when you least expect it you'll realize that you're standing. and that the house wounded to build

is a home.

it is you. it is

hidden under your skin.

your bones will be the skeleton of this masterpiece

                                                               of you.

miércoles, 7 de mayo de 2014

Color, Racism and The Thingness That We Seek

It's been one year now?

A lot has happened. And I now write because I think I understand why people write. Or actually, why I am writing now. Sure, I write to remember, to revisit, to keep moments and feelings. But now, this moment, today I write to embrace these thoughts. These conversations-- these moments that I spend with my friends that make me reflect and understand life. I need this now. I am understanding who I am and it is in part through these moments, these thought-processes that I unravel.

Dan:

There is no objective good and bad. I am aware of this, I have been for some time now. Hap--> means of chance, of luck. So this means that Hap-py, Hap-pens. You aren't entitled to it, there's no reason that you should only strive for it. Contentment. maybe that's what I should strive for. Not some overwhelming feeling of joy or happiness, but rather some form of balance and peace with what I am. Just a point where being is enough. How very Buddhism. How very Dan. :) Beautiful, really.

Color. What is this country and "color". I don't get it. It's foolish and childish to me. How am I of color. To my understanding, white is not "of color", but when I ask people what the color of my skin is, 98% of the time I'll get "white" and the other 2% I'll receive a diplomatically correct "fair". I've been informed that I'm "white passing" which means I get spoken to and about, as if I were native to the United States. However, when it comes out that I am -in fact- Colombian, all of a sudden I get more privilege (because of my assumed lack of it) to speak my mind and act without the same constraints or expectations as I had when I was "American". This is because unbeknownst to me, my "color" is Latina. I use quotes because I'd never spoken about race and ethnicity as they are regarded here. White and Black, as I was raised to use them, do not mean "white" and "black". Forgive me, but I was not raised with the idea that color is a euphemism for race or ethnicity. Colors are spoken about in terms of hues and saturation. Nowhere on the rainbow do I see history or heritage. Black does not mean lesser, it does not mean incapable, it does not mean victim. Equally, White does not mean privilege, it does not mean ignorance, it is not a synonym of oppression. So White and Black have been stripped of their colorness. "Black" and "white" aren't blanco y negro, because they can't be... they aren't actual colors...Not in the way I understand them to be in the U.S.

I'm not saying that racism is a thing to be ignored, because it is a reality that needs to be addressed. In my opinion through my humble experience of my country, our resilience doesn't stem from a racially oppressed people. It comes from social disparity and civil war. Our Interior Conflict comes from our actual interior conflict, our violence, our war.

I genuinely don't know where I'm going with this but I think that creating these labels and distinctions is counter productive to the racism problem. Of course ... all of this with a grain of salt. I'm no one to say what should be done or not done. But I can have an opinion, have the right to change it and grow with new information. But for the time being, I think that these labels of colors will only feed racism. It'll draw more and more distinctions and lines between people. I am not only a woman of color but I am a "privileged-1 international-2 woman-3 of color-4 from a third world country-5

What is starting to happen will happen at a lager scale. These labels: privilege, color, white, black, oppression, shouldn't be ignored if they are a key part of what you consider makes you, but we are human. We know that no one is one dimensional, and adding all of these labels won't create this romantic notion that we seem to hold of a wholesome complex individual, but rather we're creating a fragmented pieced together identity.

These are my thoughts now. Today. May 7th 2014. I reserve the right to change my mind and to grow. To understand and see the world with new eyes. To stand by my word as long as I believe in what I say and to re-evaluate my assumptions and conclusions over time.


Jerry: 

"Meaning" Meaning. Reference. Things. I'm gonna call it a thing. You know, that thing, the one we're all looking for?

I've recently stumbled upon a cathartic truth: we (the royal we) pursue what makes us feel that is the most _______. The quality of this ______ word is this thing that I'm talking about. Now this has been said before, that we as humans do what we do because we're out to find meaning in life. So I think that the baker, the dancer, the philosopher, the magician, the rocket scientist and the finance manager, even if not through their work, seek to share what they think this thing is with the world.

Comical, quaint, and beautiful. If you're from jupiter and you look over onto earth, you'd see all these humans scurrying around in pursuit of these things; And the ones who think they have it or know how to get it, try to share it with others and try to get them on board because they have FOUND THE ONE TRUE WAY, THE WAY TO THE THING. You see how that could be funny? Comical?

Regardless, despite this comical way of seeing it, it's beautiful. At the risk of sounding overly optimistic about human nature, it is beautiful that we are striving to share this meaning. Of course it's naive to think that we have THE ONE TRUE WAY, and to attempt to share that. But the synchronicity of humanity all striving to attain or achieve this thing. That's beautiful.

viernes, 19 de abril de 2013

Me voy, de vacaciones.
me necesito alejar, me voy -- me largo.

llego, cansada
cocino, cansada
no puedo tragar, me dopo.


respiro.







Noticias.
Caos.
agh, Puta.
Ouch.
No.
Lagrimas.
Por QUE?!




lo buscan... siento que es inocente.

ES inocente.

el otro...

lo tienen bajo custodia...


Odio a las personas.