Happy Mexicans

Posted on September 7, 2005 by cindylu

familia “All these people are here for you?”

I gave my friend the look to let him know he was crossing the line. “Of course,” I responded. “They all showed up because they love me.”

My friends who showed up to my party on Saturday night seemed to think that I had a big turn out. “You have a lot of family here, don’t you?” they’d ask while looking around. I was thinking the opposite. A lot of my extended family members had not come to the party. It was probably a good thing since we were running out of tables and chairs. When I told my friends this, they seemed a little shocked because there were still lots of people at the party.

The comments at the party reminded me of the comments I frequently get on my pictures or posts regarding my family. The gist of those comments is that my family appears to be very close.

In some ways I find that ironic because to me it seems like we’re less close than we used to be and all the pictures of smily Mexicans having a good time at parties obscures the fact that those smily Mexicans often are pissed off at each other and sometimes go weeks without any substantial communication. Yeah, we’re just like a lot of other families.

But then I start to think a little more. The friends were not the only ones making this observation. Others in Blogotitlán noted it too. The comments got me thinking and wondering why my family was rather close and gave off that impression.

The primary reason we’re close rests on proximity. Through most of my childhood all my parents’ siblings lived in Southern California. My mom’s sister Socorro lived in Ecuador with her family so I didn’t see her much until I was about 10. My tío Beto moved to San Diego shortly after he got married. And when I was still in elementary school my tío Manuel moved my tía Eva and their 6 children to Jeréz, Zacatecas. Some of their kids moved back when they were old enough. Despite this, 7 out of 8 siblings and their families living within 150 miles of each other was not bad. My grandparents also lived in the area, but Papá Chepe and Mamá Toni traveled frequently between LA and their homes in Tijuana and El Cargadero (near Jeréz). On my dad’s side, it was a lot more simple. Everyone lived in East LA, Montclair or the San Gabriel Valley. I’m a lot less close to my dad’s side of the family, so for now I’ll just talk about the U side of the family.

Another reason we seem to be so close, especially lately, is because of mis abuelitos. My octogenarian grandparents are not necessarily the glue that holds the family together. My mom and her siblings all get along very well, but having my grandparents around means that there are a lot of get-togethers in their honor. For instance, anniversaries and birthdays are always celebrated. In the back of our minds I think we worry this birthday or anniversary might be the last.

Third, there isn’t too much of a big difference in age amongst the cousins. Well, not for me at least. We grew up together doing the same activities and enjoying the same things. We all liked the Ninja Turtles, played baseball, and spent summers in Mexico. We even have similar music taste and are very supportive of eachother’s endeavors.

Last, we trust each other. This one is mainly for my siblings, but I think it also goes for the cousins. I feel completely comfortable talking to my almost-20 year old brother about guy issues or just complaining about work. My sister and I have a really tight bond as well and we can both confide in each other. The older brother and I are close too, but it’s odd since our interests are so different.

My family isn’t perfect. My siblings and I still fight. We get annoyed with our cousins. My mom and her siblings have little arguements too, but overall we’re forgiving people and things always seem to right themselves. If the conflicts won out, we’d miss out on some great things like camping and more parties.

Knowledge Gained

Posted on September 2, 2005 by cindylu

31 Things I learned about myself in the 24th year of my life.

I don’t look too bad with a hair color other than just plain brown.
Blogotitlán is an incredibly comforting and often supportive place.
Some conservatives are actually pretty cool and nice.
I need a job with more human interaction than just other grad student research assistants. However, once I finally learned how to do the important statistics related tasks, I really liked my job.
Going 40 days without alcohol is tougher than I thought.
Platonic friendships with [single] male friends don’t always remain that way.
I have “white” music taste. Oso can confirm this.
Hummus is present at all grad school events (potlucks, parties, etc).
My mood can change quite quickly depending on how well my favorite baseball team, los Dodgers, is doing.
My competitive streak with Isa, the roomie, can make me rather mean.
I can keep secrets about myself.
Guys like me, but I can never tell until they do something absolutely clear like kiss me… and then it still shocks me.
I’m not too good at managing money. Don’t tell my dad.
My brother Adrian is a really good listener and gives good advice about guys.
If you wear a tshirt that says “Bésame que soy Mexicana,” someone might do just that.
Mexico is an easy place to miss.
Sometimes lying might be better than telling the truth.
My life and personal business is interesting enough for people to gossip about.
I really like the field of higher education, critical theory is fun, I just might have a good idea of what I want to focus my research on.
I feel more at home than ever in East LA.
Sometimes I dream things and they happen.
Home is where the drama is.
It’s quite easy to sum up a day in 17 syllables… if I’m disciplined enough to do it.
I feel naked without something on my left wrist, preferably a beaded bracelet.
I’m not working to my potential.
Moving is difficult.
Most of the time, I miss my dog, VR, more than I miss my parents, siblings and grandparents.
My lunares and voice are attractive.
My issues with procrastination are much more severe than I initially thought, but I know where to find my ganas when the time comes.
Getting hit with a baseball in the face really hurts.
I do like Mexican guys.

Blog Day

Posted on August 31, 2005 by cindylu

There are a lot of good things about August 31, but this year marks the first Blog Day. I’m supposed to introduce you to 5 bloggers who are not in the United States.

I’ll write something about them and their blogs soon enough but it’s been a busy day for me.

For now, here’s my list:

Tank, my favorite Brit
Geri, from Canada
Dee , an American black man in Sweden
Julio , a Xicano in Sweden
Davo, a Mexican in Australia

I’ll edit this later with real introductions about this people. I thought la Poor Little Tumbleweed might count, but she’s a Chicana living in Puerto Rico and that might be stretching the international tone of Blog day.

Mil palabras: twenty-five

Posted on August 31, 2005 by cindylu

It’s a beautiful day, it must be because it’s the 31st.

Novel Fiction

Posted on August 31, 2005 by cindylu

tattooed soldier I’ve been reading the same short novel for a few months this summer. I’m not bored by it, but for some reason I keep putting it down.

I packed Héctor Tobar’s The Tattooed Soldier in my backpack along with my bathing suit, shorts and tshirts for camping. I figured when the 20+ family members at the Headquarters campsite in Kernville got on my nerves, I’d retreat to some semi-quiet area of the campsite or river to read more about Antonio and Longoria, the two main characters in Tobar’s tale of revenge.

I didn’t read as much as I thought I would partly because the Kernville heat was too unbearable to do anything else than just swim in the river. Oso thinks the river is cold, but I don’t think it even compares with that of the Colorado River which is truly freezing. When I was a kid I’d spend all day in the river. I’d wake up in the morning and put my swimsuit on before breakfast and wouldn’t take it off ’til the sun was going down. Once in my cozy sleeping bag, I could still feel the current of the Kern pulling me downstream as I tried to forget the ghost stories the other kids would tell and ignore the mosquito bites.

Anyway, on Saturday afternoon after lunch I took some time to read. Oscar, my parent’s compadre, asked me, “What are you reading?”

I showed him the book and added a bit of information I thought might interest him. “It’s by a writer from Guatemala.”

“Oh really?” Oscar asked with growing interest. I gave the book to him and he flipped through it and settled on the same passage I was reading. “You know, I remember the guys coming through yelling ‘¡zapaaaaaaaatos!’ asking who needed their shoes fixed,” he mentioned in reference to the man who fixed shoes.

Oscar gave the book back to me and I kept on reading about Antonio and his wife Elena who had moved from the capital to a small town in the provinces, San Cristóbal for safety from the death squads who disappeared many “subversive” students and others who spoke out against the government.

maritza & oscar The next morning I put the book down as we cleaned up the campsite. Oscar asked me again about the book, “So, what’s it about?”

I began to explain to him. Well, the book is about a man, Antonio, from Guatemala who flees on the same day he finds his wife and 2-year old son dead in their home. Right before leaving a neighbor points out one of the assassins, a soldier in the elite Jaguar Battalion of the Guatemalan army distinguished by a tattoo of a jaguar on his forearm. Many years later, Antonio encounters the soldier in MacArthur park in Los Angeles and plans his revenge.

Oscar’s wife and my madrina, Maritza, was now listening. Oscar began to talk about how the death and destruction of the “judiciales” was very real. He told me, “that’s the reason Martiza is here.” Maritza nodded her head and told me that even though she wasn’t involved in anything just being a student at the Universidad de San Carlos was dangerous enough. They recounted some of the atrocities and stories they had heard from friends in Guatemala and other Guatemaltecos they met in LA.

I’ve known Oscar and Maritza for 15 years and have never once heard any of these stories. I never even thought to ask. I didn’t know that Maritza’s mom insisted that she leave immediately, only with the clothes on her back. She left Guatemala with her older brother who had gone to visit his family.

A book that is just a fictional novel with well-developed characters and suspenseful plots is just that, fiction. To Oscar and Maritza it was reality.

La Celosa

Posted on August 30, 2005 by cindylu

I went to a concert about 10 days ago with HP. It was the first concert he had attended in his life and it was my eighth (or ninth?) of the summer. I made him dress catrín and I wore a dress. I don’t usually dress nice for concerts, but this wasn’t Café Tacuba, it was Al Green. Clean clothes, brushed teeth, and combed hair were a requirement.

He arrived at my apartment late in the afternoon, just a few minutes after I had returned from work. We changed out of jeans and tshirts. He ironed his button down shirt and I put on a white summer dress. We looked good together, like a real couple out for a night of romantic soul music rather than two good friends who just pretend to date to trick their online friends.

Once we arrived at the Greek, Alfonso parked and we walked down the hill that had become a giant parking lot. Once we were around other concert goers I noticed something.

It made me jealous.

On the way to and from the concert, girls started noticing Alfonso. They looked different than me. Their necklines were lower and the heels on their shoes were taller and thinner. I would never be able to walk in such shoes thanks to my clumsiness. These women took much more time to prepare for the concert. They did more to their hair than just run a brush through it. They reminded me of my sister in some ways. They were young women who probably would have looked just as beautiful without a layer or two of makeup.

The girls kept looking at Alfonso. I don’t think he even noticed until I mentioned it, but I knew because I know their gazes. I’m an expert by now at sneaking glances at intriguing men. I usually try to avoid the guys who are with a girl, since it’s just plain tacky to check out a guy who is taken. However, the women checking out Alfonso that night didn’t seem too care.

Their gazes lingered too long and they seemed to ignore the fact that he was walking right next to a girl who obviously wasn’t his sister.

I felt like grabbing Alfonso’s hand as if he was my boyfriend and giving those girls a “look” back. You know, the kind that says, “don’t you have the decency to not check out a guy who is out with his girlfriend?”

El Río Kern

Posted on August 28, 2005 by cindylu

I have a lot more to say about the time I spent camping, but for now I can say that I miss being around of one of the cutest kids ever, my nephew Anthony. I’ll see him next Saturday when my cousin Tony and his wife Ingrid show up to my birthday party and bring Anthony.

I’ll be back with more thoughts but for now I’ll just post something I wrote last night:

Camping isn’t like I remember it when I was a kid.

I’m not as daring and willing to raft down unknown parts of the river. I’m more cognizant of the fact that there are a lot of slippery rocks in the river and I’ll probably slip. The desert feels hotter. The nights feel colder. There seem to be less stars lighting up the sky. I have no desire to eat marshmallows or make s’mores.

People have their portable DVD players and I’m on my laptop.

I don’t have to share my tent with 5, 6, or 7 other people. It’s just me, but that’s partially because I was supposed to share it with the roommate and she decided not to come at the last minute because she got sick.

Mild Obsession with 31

Posted on August 26, 2005 by cindylu

I think I should explain my affinity for the number 31. Since I’ve been doing weird things like walking around the entire Dodger Stadium searching for the non-existent — I found this out afterward, of course — parking lot 31. I have a growing set on Flickr showing my mild obsession with this number and I sometimes get questions.

The whole 31 thing is quite simple. In high school, I was boy crazy. Of course, I’ve grown out of that, but back then I literally had a dozen crushes all the time. There was usually one guy I really liked and all the others were just guys I thought were cute. I often made this fact known.

I’d tell my friends, “Vinny is so cute!” and then the next day it was all about Tony.

My friends started to call me 31 Flavors and I liked it. I had always had a connection to the number because it was the day I was born and therefore was my favorite number. I figure if people associate 31 with me they really can’t forget my birthday and that means gifts! Heh.

My crushes came to be known as “flavors” and they were numbered. The “number one flavor” usually kept his spot for months at a time, but other flavors would make their way up and down the list. Honestly, I don’t think there were ever 31 guys I had a crush on at any point during high school (or college or grad school for that matter), but I’ve always had more than one crush.

But I’m not a player… I just crush a lot.

Shhh! We’re Filming!

Posted on August 23, 2005 by cindylu

I know the cute guy at Hollywood Video looked at me funny when he saw the DVD in my hand. I wanted to explain myself and my taste in movies. In my head, I played out a quick conversation.

Cute Guy: So you like Katie Holmes?
Me: Oh no, I just picked First Daughter because I like watching movies that were filmed at UCLA.
CG: [weird look] Right.
Me: No really. I’m not much of a fan of Katie Holmes or predictable romantic comedies. Plus, this is “free” with the MVP pass.

In my imaginary conversation, I wasn’t being completely honest. I enjoy both cheesy romantic comedies and watching movies filmed at UCLA. I like to see how the set crew has transformed a very familiar place to look like a fictional or actual university (such as Harvard). I can often recall being inconvenienced by yet another filming on campus, especially if the film was shot within the last seven years.

First Daughter was filmed during the summer when there are less students on campus. I remember trying to walk from parking structure 4 across Bruin Walk to Kerckhoff Hall and being told by members of the film crew that I had to go around. Well, they didn’t have to tell me because after 5 years of being at UCLA (this was in 2003), I knew that you just have to be patient with the Hollywood crowd. I eventually got back to work at Kerckhoff, but during the breaks, I’d go back out to the front steps of the building to watch Forest Whitaker direct lanky Ms. Holmes and “President” Michael Keaton.

I watched the movie when I got home and was amused to see both the interior and exterior of Kerckhoff, a building where I’ve spent a lot of time in the last eight years (for work, student government and MEChA). Once again, I saw the door to the GSA office on screen. Coincidentally, last week I tried to get into the same office and was semi-blocked by film equipment and some crew members. My friend asked and found out that they were using the interior and exterior of Kerckhoff for the CBS series Cold Case.

Below is my favorite story to tell about a filming on campus. If you’ve seen Old School, you’ll know exactly what scene I’m referring to and find some inaccuracies I only learned of after watching the film.

Keep your pants on
Written 02.15.02 (with some recent minor edits)

Beep, beep, beep. Who called me? I checked the number on my phone, which told me only that someone called from on campus. As soon as I got out of my boring service-learning seminar I checked the message.

“Um, Cindy, its Eligio. I was just calling to ask if you could pick something up that I left at the GRO . I need it, but won’t be going back over there. It’s on the desk, you can’t miss it. I’ll call you later.”

I walked toward the other end of campus where my office is located. The campus was unusually quiet for a Thursday evening. It was only 7 but no one seemed to be around. Maybe they were all getting ready for their V-day plans. My Valentine was 400 miles away, but I had plans to go to dinner with some friends.

I met Chispa where she works on the first floor of Kerckhoff and asked her to accompany me to third floor so I could deliver some Monster’s Inc. Valentine cards to my co-workers and fellow council members.

We exited the elevator (we’re lazy, I know) to a hallway crammed with the film crew’s equipment. I’m used to filming on campus. My campus has been in everything from Scream 2 to Gilmore Girls (that wasn’t Harvard). Most of the time, the filming isn’t so close and they’re outdoors.

Lately, however, they’ve been unusually close. In January I sat at my computer at work and looked out onto an argument between a couple at the fictional Finchley College on Crossing Jordan. The film crew set up lights in the office, and the extras chilled on the couch. It didn’t bug much.

Yesterday was worse though. I entered my office and flipped the switch to find something I never expected. Directly opposite the door I looked out on the window and roof/makeshif balcony overlooking the Kerckhoff Patio. My friends and I climb out on the roof all the time when the offices feel cramped and we need fresh air or when someone wants to smoke.

Out on the two-foot high brick wall surrounding the roof stood 5 men of varying heights with their pants around their ankles. They faced the patio with boxes covering their crotches. Long shirts covered their butts, so all we saw were hairy legs.

Chispa and I picked up the “wallet” Eligio forgot in the office, a single long-stemmed rose on my iMac’s keyboard. We mouthed an awkward ‘sorry’ to the crew guys and pants-less actors for disturbing them with the light, and proceeded to go find an ATM to get cash for dinner.

I doubt I’ll ever find guys with their pants down again on the roof — at least I hope not — but I shouldn’t be too surpried since my campus often used by the nearby studios for movie and television filmings.

Fin

I know UCLA has been used in several other print ads, commercials, television shows and films, but these are all I could think of right now. Seeing Stars has more info on the UCLA-Hollywood connection.

Films

Television

Let’s Stay Together

Posted on August 20, 2005 by cindylu

I figure I should number these things because I end up making similar lists pretty frequently.

It’s a beautiful, sunny day and I can’t bring myself to do anything productive like playing softball at the park, going swimming at my madrina’s house or spending some money I don’t have.

Nebur has a short series on encountering violence way back when he was a high school senior. No, that wasn’t a crack at his age. Well, maybe it was. Anyway, the series really is short, nothing like Oso’s “Pitching outside the strikezone” series that’s gone on forever. He’s a great storyteller and I encourage you to read Hometown Violence part 1 and part 2.

I went to another concert last night. This time, it was Al Green, the Four Tops, and Brenton Woods (who we missed because we were still having dinner). It was kinda cool to see the kind of mix of LA I’m used to only seeing at Dodger games. The crowd was pretty diverse in age, race, and probably class leveles too. I think this is the eighth concert of the summer and I still have at least 3 more to check out. Oh yeah, my non-date, HP, behaved himself. Hehe.

I was in our grad student lounge a few days ago and checked out the rack they have with a bunch of brochures about things to do in and around LA. I know you’ve seen them in hotel lobbies. Anyway, I noticed one about rafting in the Kern River and it made me really happy. I can’t wait to go camping this weekend. It’s been years since I’ve slept in a tent and chilled in the river all day long.

I don’t really wanna go back to school. I don’t start classes for another six weeks, but I know once classes start I’m going to go back to being stressed all the time. I just realized that I have class on Thursday night which conflicts with danza. I really don’t want to miss out on danza for ten weeks straight. I can’t really articulate how much I’ve enjoyed ensayo for the last two months or so. My week just doesn’t feel complete without danza. When I miss it, something feels wrong and there are times when I feel I need to go. Yeah, it’s like that.

Guess what’s coming up? Eh, I’ll just tell you. I’m having a birthday party in two weeks. Wanna come? If you’re out of LA, it’s a perfect weekend to come down considering it’s a holiday weekend. If you’re here, you can make a trip out to blue house on the street that shares it’s name with a coffee brand and experience a world famous M family party.

I hadn’t mentioned it before because I didn’t want to seem even more nerdy, but if Derek can admit it, so can I. I’m addicted to Sudoku.

I was thinking earlier this week that I was in Mexico for a long time. At this time last year, I was back in Salamanca getting caught in storms with my tía Gaby (she’s more like a cousin, really). I spent a few really good days with my uncles on the rancho. You know what I conveniently forgot about my trip? The fact that I kept getting minor injuries and lots of mosquito bites. It’s easy to forget that stuff ’cause the pain goes away, I don’t really have any pictures of that stuff, and all the good was so much easier to remember.