Girlpleease!

Lana Del Rey. You are white. Elizabeth Grant. It's your name. Own it. I own mine. I own my skin color. I own my soul. How much did you sell yours for?

And I enjoy your music. I do! Reminds me of my college days. Jose Gonzalez channel on Pandora. Feeling it. Feeling each strum. Does liking "whitepeople" music make me white? No. Does changing your name make you Latina? Nope.

It's you. It's you. It's all for you--

For who?

Truth.
I prayed for blonde hair and blue eyes.

Words I wish I screamed.
NANCY BRUCE. YOU ARE WHITE. THEREFORE YOU HAVE PRIVILEGE. DENING IT IS NOT OK. IT'S HURTFUL. HARMFUL. OWN IT.

White girls in denial #smh

I'm still waiting for "Shit Privilege Girls Say" ...

Yet at the end of the day, that included me too? College education. Check. "White Skin". Yup. Le sigh.

2012

Relatively sane.
Perfectly complex.
Undeniably mature.

I hate your stinkin' guts.

Coming down the mountain.
Unaware of where this trail leads.
Or what predators lurk.
Waiting for a moment.

Raised in the West.
Short rooted in the East.
Wonder. Waiting. Misery.

Misery?
Paradise?

Where are my family values?
Cringing to the sounds of greed.
How will my heart continue.
A statement.

Haunted by the memories of yesteryear.
Missed opportunities.

My heart will run again.
My mind will settle.
The bills will be paid.
I will go on.
We will continue.
La femme et un homme?
Together.

Forever and ever.

Staples, I sincerely hate you!

You are wasteful.
You are wasteful.
You are wasteful.

Why God, WHY?!?!!!!!!

Clearly a FAKE AWARD. Clearly.


...just another day at the office.

I am born again on Thursday nights.

They'll never know.

A configuration of steps.
Coordinating movement.
Energy.

Is keeping me alive.
Enough to open my eyes
To hope, oxygen, sanity.

Hell is twofaced support.
Hell is months without Thai food.
Hell is forbidden secular music.

Their smiles.
Encouragement.
Pleading for a taste of understanding.

Fun.
Sounds.
Moves.

Communication.
Communicating the "city" in me.

Little did they know.
How lost I'd be without them.

I teach science.
They teach love.

I didn't see that one coming...

When is it not selfish to apologize?
When is it selfish to not forgive?
Reconciliation is bullshit. Sometimes.

Young. Naive.
A perfect sample of weak and vulnerable.
Hopeful. Positive. Clinging to make it work.
I'm glad that's over.

Seasonal message of contact.
Well, that is no longer your right.
Blocked.

I can never forget. I can never heal?
Someday. Forgiveness will come someday.
Not today. Not for you.

For myself. For me.
I forgive myself for allowing you to abuse me.
For continuing the cycle.

It stops. We'll stop it.
My love of my life and I.
Salud.
Begin again.

Begin anew.
Together.
Forever. And ever.

Travel Channel, I blame you!

It was a rainy Sunday afternoon. Nana and Poppa had just come from Iglesia. And the Top Ten Caribbean Travel Destinations was on the TV.

My mother begins the conversation with "Marsha why don't you get married somewhere out there?" and my eyes grew two sizes. The following are several sound bites that I hope are appreciated:

"You want your dad to marry you right?" - Nana
"Matt can wear a guayabera" - Nana
"Everyone can paid for themselves" Nana said referring to the destination travel costs for guests
"I'll buy your dress as long as it's not too expensive" - Nana
"This is all hypothetical" - Nana
"Your abuelita Victoria, yea she can't travel" - Nana
"I wasn't scared [to get married] " - Poppa
"I made the tamales for our wedding" Poppa said as she motioned stiring movements

Then I try to turn the tables,

"Who will pay for the wedding?" -Me
"You want us to pay for it?" - Poppa

"Or you should get married in Miami and I'll get to visit" - Poppa
"I want a California license, so if we divorce I'll get half!" - Me :)

Did I mention I'm not engaged?

Lust At First Sight

I am the girl that has never REALLY been without a boyfriend.

Yes, that bitch.

Never without a male companion at least,

but we were just friends...

I am the girl that doesn’t have too many female friends.

My mother would explain to other moms,

‘She just gets along better with boys;

rather run on the playground than play dolls’

Stuck up bitch.

I am the girl with the perfect hair.

God knew I’d be too lazy to do anything to it anyway.

Pretty bitch.

I am the girl that didn’t grow tall.

Yet, I blossomed in all the right places.

THAT bitch.

I am the girl that played sports and runs for validation

Every time I was knocked down emotionally

I made sure to even the score with a steady pace.

Skinny bitch.

I am the girl that fell in LUST at first sight.

As Predator, I needed to consume Prey.

For energy; to survive...

Little did I know.

I was lusting over a chick-flick loving, bamboo cutting board owning, gardener extraordinaire—

that loves to read instead of watching TV.
Like, OMG. IDK. WTF.

I found the guy that didn’t care I’d never been without a boyfriend.

Unconditionally got to know me, for me.

With the majestic deep purple bruises on my soul,

He had no idea what he was getting into.

I found the guy that doesn’t have too many male friends.

Strong women roles models shaped him well.

Women flock to this Shepard.

I found the guy that loved my hair, but loved my mind more.

The mind beneath the locks;

Beneath my brown skin;

My personality of wild cards, of truth—

He accepts it all.

I found the guy with the longest torso.

His lengthy self wraps me up perfectly;

Secured, I swear our bodies were made for each other.

I found the guy that used to play sports,

but you would never know it

You’ll find him at coffee shops and libraries;

and its rouged, masculine and sexy.

Naturally contradicting gender roles;

Patriarchal ideology;

Our love is badass.

Going on runs in which I set our pace,

Sharing meals He slaves for in the kitchen;

Joyfully fantasizing:

Bare walls,

No seats,

Just cold concrete.

This is my version of our love poem...