A chosen path..

Lookin back at what life was like, I had it good. In a barrio that never seemed dangerous despite the stabbing here and the drugs over there. My perspective wasn't one of right or wrong, poor or rich, brown or white, privileged or unfortunate, or minority or majority. My neighborhood growing up was Duranes. For me it was apple orchards, street football games, a piece of a porno mag under rock across the street, a mud ball fight, and tattoos.
This photo is a photo of my playground. Sports were iconic. It meant status, respect, and popularity. Marijuana was normal. I remember hearing stories of vatos being stabbed, and being afraid to grow up and believing I would eventually get stabbed. The photo below captures the park bench where a reporter, when I was a kid, was listening to a group of cholos describe how they stabbed and were stabbed, almost romanticizing it. I remember vividly, one of my uncle's friends pulling his shirt up revealing a scar on his side, right below his lat, with the tattoo of the Virgen on his back. I remeber thinking how cool, but fuck, it must hurt. Every cut I got as a kid I would in my head ask is this how it will feel when I get stabbed. I remember thinking as a youngster which tattoo I was going to get Jesus or La Virgen. Life didn't seem dangerous nor reckless. It was, was it was. It was exciting. Death didn't scare me, but pain...yeah that was scary. School wasn't learning, school was daycare. School meant I got to play sports wearing a uniform. I remember my favorite t-shirt was that of a little brown kid holding a diesel and it said Chicano power. I didn't choose my color. I remember the fun-est times of my life were stealing apples from the orchard, riding to the mall in my uncles 57 Chevy, and the smell of fresh tortillas from my grandmas kitchen.

Now that I am educating myself this is what I want to remember. I don't feel a need to remember the language I wasn't taught. I don't feel a need to recover an education I left behind. I feel proud of lack of exposure to trends. I choose to learn what I need now, and have no regrets for getting a late start. I didn't have the best role models but the ones I had are what I worked with.

Mostly I feel confused by what I feel I was supposed to be, what I have seen, and what I would like to be. I look around at the men I have as role models and realize I am on my own course now. I have begun a new path. It feels like there aren't any role models for me. I have chosen a route that rejects the status quo. Things that are important to me, are left festering. I feel a void for leadership. I feel a void for Chicano leadership. I feel a void for that righteous attitude that can hold onto the New Mexican history and plan action against this American infiltration. I refuse the bad ass route. I refuse the cholo and prefer the curandero. I look at the people I admire and they are either from a different generation, dead, or unfamiliar to me. I don't have a Chicano mentor. Most books I read are authored by a white men. Most community leaders are politicos or Mexican. Most community leaders are from somewhere else.

Smoothing Out the Angst...

I left facebook for three reasons.
1) The superficiality of being virtually connected, and the false sense of belonging that it created in me
2) The idea behind Facebook going public to harvest peoples interests and supply marketing and industry exploiters with the necessary information to propagate their consuming mentality and culture
3) I feel the depth I am willing to share with my friends is not reciprocated in the form of vulnerability, interest, and passion. I was discouraged by the lack of depth and connection people are willing to achieve with Facebook. As if we as a community are unwilling to be our embarrassing selves by conforming and at the expense of what mainstream media finds attractive, chingon, or worthy.

I retreated because I don't by into it. I am embarrassing, and I am proud to say stupid shit every now and again. I know I am offensive. I also know I am loving, kind, thoughtful, and my intentions are not only to let my daughters know who I am, but now to also let you know who I am. I wish the same anxiety for everyone of you because some collective instinct tells me we share in this existential crisis. I am glad to see all your shining faces, but please don't be afraid to share your deeper faces.

I am returning to the point where I can have perspective. I am a recovering cynic, and daily I have to remind myself that there is so much good in the world that despite what I hear, see, and worry about, life has a way of self correcting. I have a feeling of acceptance this week . I am accepting the fact that people change but not on the account of others reactions, arguments, or discoveries.

I changed because of an internal and intrinsic alchemy. What has been produced is a vision for comparison. I no longer am attached to my ideas but to the understanding that all ideas are worthy of understanding, not necessarily belief, but surely understanding. In this view of "understanding all ideas", I still account for health, truth, and validity. This is achieved by effort in understanding, in me, for me, and of me. I can only then integrate ideas that withstand the test of health, truth, and validity. Otherwise I am left conspiring and mistrusting the unknown.

Micheal Dyson Will Be @ UNM

Are you evil?

As I think more and more about being, thinking, and contemplating "both/and" reasoning, I couldn't help but bring into mind the ideas of imperialism. What makes a group of people believe that imposing a system is appropriate. I think of colonialism. Why is it difficult for civilized people to understand or respect the wildness and simplicity of indigenous cultures? Are you evil?

It is not that you are evil, it is that evil has hidden itself in your intentions like a stowaway on a gorgeous voyager destined for greatness.

The gorgeous voyager represents your hopes and ideas. As you sell us your intentions we are lulled into believing that we can enjoy them. The caveat is found in the rules, and how they change when your intentions lead to empowerment and our own new intentions. It is at this point when your intentions become insecure with loosing control and become vulnerable to the evil that is lurking on board. This is when the rules change, and the intentions turn into ideals thrown overboard on a safety raft drifting alongside.

We are then stifled and our creativity devalued, possibly criminalized.


Art by: Norman Rockwell

Semantics

de·fense [dih-fens]: resistance against attack

of·fense [uh-fens]: act of attacking

If we have a department of defense and it is responsible for defending our country, I think we should have a department of offense so we have a way for us to distinguish and understand the people in our government responsible for attacking other countries.

D R E A M

We are a voice and can be heard, but first we must be courageous enough to use our voice, speak a concise and meaningful message, and be respectful of what we say. Latinos in America are here illegally and have provided the workforce and productivity that has made this place comfortable. They ask for acceptance into the community and to be responsible members of a country that has not been as supportive of their homeland. Often influencing the conditions that have caused emigration to the north.

A consequence to the demand for drugs in this country and the ability for Latin American countries to produce and provide a supply, many immigrants are group into a generalized profile of poor and criminal. I want to allow these people the opportunities to free themselves from a dependence on black markets. These people are courageous enough to risk their lives for the chance to work, learn, and be healthy. I will remember the vote that denied an opportunity at citizenship to many people.

From Cacoon to Butterfly

What kind of butterfly will I be?

My blogging started during a difficulty growth spurt in maturity

http://estradasfromnm.blogspot.com/