So because I’ve been working on my finals, I barely saw the last episode of The Office today…and I’m not gonna lie, I’m bawling, got me right in the feels. It’s kinda hard to imagine next Thursday there’s not gonna be a new episode, or that I won’t be laughing at Kevin, or hoping Jim plays another genius prank on Dwight…nope, that’s it…Good-bye Dunder Mifflin, since 2008, you and your employees were a part of my life, I laughed at all of you, I sure as hell cried in the dark times. When Michael left, I didn’t think I could keep watching the show…but I did…thank you for the laughs, the tears, the That’s What She Said jokes, everything. You were just a show to most, but you were a part of my life…good-bye :,(

Después de la ceremonia de ayer, le tengo mas respeto a aquellos danzantes que danzan en el Zocalo, y se como se va sentir danzar ahí cuando regrese a mi querido Mexico

So, in exactly a week, It’s my birthday, 22nd in fact. But meh, this isn’t where I go into a rand about my life so far. So on said day, 6 years ago next week, my grandmother crossed over to Mictlan. Since then my aunts and my jefa have made a mass in her honor. For the past 5 years, out of respect to my abuelita, I’ve gone. Until this year. In which my mom informed me of some information. My 2 oldest aunts who push so hard for this mass to happen, never once came to visit my abuelita while she was here. In fact, so much drama was cause by them against my mom, my other aunt (who is also my god-mother) and my abuelita, that she spent most of her stay here in tears. My 2 oldest aunts even went as far as starting an all out war on Mother’s day 2005 when my abuelita was hospitalized, claiming she was faking it. This war lasted for about 4 years with one of my aunts. My other aunt, the oldest of them here in the U.S., still shows resentment to my mom, as she apparently has since my mom was born(my mom is the middle daughter of 7, and this particular tia, name being Martha, is the 2nd oldest of them all). The same applies to my 3 oldest causins, children of my bitch of a tia Martha. The entire time she stayed with us, NEVER ONCE did they drop by to visit my abuelita. Ironic thing being, that when my OTHER abuelita was here, they spent more time visiting her than their own grandmother. The rest of my cousins and my brother, because of their limited Spanish speaking, made efforts to talk to her, but those were seldom. But hey, I get their reason, language barrier.

As for me, my abuelita and I had a closer relationship for 2 reasons:

1: Being that she was the darkest of all her 15 brothers and sisters, and I am the darkest of ALL of her grand children, she understood the hate I received from the rest of the family

2: I was the only of her grandchildren to reach out on a frequent basis and talk to her about her life. While the 3 oldest shunned her, I would sometimes fake I was sick just to spend a few hours with her. My mom told me I was her favorite because of it.

After finding this out, I mean how could I not get angry. Though I am not as angry while I type this as when my mom told me this. It led to my decision to spend my birthday in a more positive place: Danza practice. Why? Because it’s time to stop feeling mopey on that day and celebrate the life of a woman who defines the term mujer luchadora. It’s time I honored her in my own way. Besides, I don’t need to be reminded every singe GOD DAMN FUCKING YEAR THAT SHE’S NOT PHYSICALLY HERE ANYMORE BY PEOPLE WHO DIDN’T TAKE THE FUCKING TIME OUT OF THEIR BULLSHIT LIVES TO VISIT THEIR OWN MOTHER. And the last reason, plain and simple, I can’t and don’t want to be around anyone aside from my immediate family that day, because if I were to be there, I know one I’d just snapping at them.

You don’t have to tell me you’re embarrassed of me cause I can feel it in every fiber of my body

I think the last 2 months of not seeing you is weighing me down a bit…no…a full metric fuckload…and talking on the phone can only do so much before I’m reminded you’re over there, I’m here, and circumstance keeps getting in the way. I just miss you, eyes, smile, voice, your touch, taste…and I’m pretty sure ranting about it is making me feel even worse, so I’ll just stop talking…

I’m sorry- that I’ve kept you silenced for so long that you don’t know if you have it in you to express yourself anymore

I’ve kept you silenced, locked in chains and confined to the deepest, darkest corners of my mind.

Out of fear that when you started telling our stories, it’d be like pouring lemon and salt on old wounds and cringing in pain for hours,

Wishing I never allowed you the chance to speak.

And so far, it seems to have worked, or so I kept telling myself.

But you and I both know our history, that we come from a family of poets and storytellers.

And you can only keep your inner voice and feelings chained up for so long before they break free.

For the last year, I couldn’t touch the pen to paper without saying,
” Fuck this, not like I have anything good to say.”

But that was before my inner being broke free from solitary and demand I let pen touch paper and let him speak.

“It doesn’t matter if our poems don’t sound like Def Poetry Jam, because that’s not what I’m here for” He says

“I’m here to make sure when you let pen touch paper, that you manage to heal all the hurt, hatred, and fear that’s been instilled in you these past 14 years. I’m here to revive the 7 year old you who knew no limits of self expression. Before you saw blood-soaked corpses, had your innocence stripped away from you by an alleged “family member”, and let the world knock you to the floor, pin you down and stamp “useless fuck-up” on your forehead

You see, I generally write poems about indigenous resistance, and the political/social struggles an indigenous 1st generation Xicano faces in his daily life figuring out the hell-hole he was forced to live in.

But my inner being demanded I step aside and let him and the 7 year old me do the talking for a change.

And it’s time I did.

Stanford Pow Wow needs to hurry up and get here… I really need some fry bread

Huh…so let me get this straight…you can talk all the shit in the world cause I live on the east side and you live among those with privilege on the south side, and the second I call you out on talking shit about a community garden over here, you feel highly offended and go up to the professor? Are you fucking kidding me?!! If you’re gonna talk shit to me cause of where I live and the few things we have in the community, you better be ready to handle me calling your fucking bolillo ass out…