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June 10, 2008

The tortilla incident

In my mom’s view, Summer was the perfect babysitter. She was in her teens, about 16 or 17. She was a longtime neighbor and trusted friend. I’d known her since I was in diapers and our mothers were close friends, BFFs even. Even though she stressed out her mom, Mary, she got along well with my mom who was a little younger and more like a friend. We (my siblings) liked Summer too. She wasn’t too cool for us, or bossy or mean. She was like a big sister. She lived three houses away; and even when her family moved to another part of Hacienda Heights, she was still close by.

She had curly dirty blonde hair and a round face. She looked white despite the fact that her mom was Filipina. She introduced me to the concept of a junior college and had the Cure and the Smiths posters on her wall. I liked her.

***

My parents were out on a date night or busy at church. Either way, they were both out of the house and Summer had been called over to watch me and my siblings, four kids ages 5 to 11. Any other babysitter would’ve turned down the job, but Summer was cool with us. She knew we wouldn’t act up with her.

Before leaving, my mom had cooked ground beef with potatoes and peas for yummy soft tacos. All Summer had to do was warm up the meat, tortillas and set out the fixings. She began warming up the meat. Next, she brought out the package of Guerrero tortillas, took a small stack, placed them on a plate* and warmed them up in the microwave.

“Can you do that?” I asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I do it all the time,” she replied nonchalantly.

I was still suspicious. Even though I was still too young to really help in the kitchen, I knew microwaving a tortilla was not right. I liked my tortillas slightly toasted on the comal or even the open flame.

Nevertheless, I wasn’t allowed to use the stove.

When the microwave beeped, Summer got out the soggy tortillas and filled them with meat. She gave us our plates and we added cheese, lettuce, and tomato.

I gobbled up my tacos. They were yummy, but different.

A few hours later, we went to bed and Summer waited up for my parents. When my dad gave her a ride home later that night, she turned down the money he offered as payment for baby-sitting. When he insisted, she still said no. Her mom wouldn’t approve.

***

Looking back on the tortilla incident 20 years later, I’m not sure why it still resonates. Then, it was the first time I realized my family and I were different from white people, but it wasn’t about color or language. I’d noticed the physical differences much earlier as children often do.

Heating a tortilla in the microwave? Mundane, quotidian and easy to miss, but still weird.

I guess it really is about the little things.

Filed under: Cultura, Cuentos | POSTED BY cindylu AT 11:51 am | 12 Comments

May 29, 2008

The Earrings

Remember when you gave me the Mayan jade earrings?

It was the Friday before Christmas ‘05. We agreed to meet at your place before you left to the Bay later that evening. Since we wouldn’t see each other on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, we’d be exchanging gifts that evening. In your brightly lit bedroom full of books and replicas of Mesoamerican artifacts, we nervously argued over who should go first. You went first and handed me a box small enough to fit in my open palm.

When I opened the box, I didn’t seem too jazzed. My face — always my enemy in these situations — gave me away. Perhaps any girl who opens a small box containing anything aside from a diamond ring would’ve reacted the same. Of course, I wasn’t expecting a diamond ring. After all, we’d only been dating for six months. I wasn’t quite wifey material.

I told you that evening and several times later that I did like the earrings. I meant it, I’ve never been a good liar. The dark green jade felt nice in my fingers, incredibly smooth. They looked nice hanging from my ears too. Still, I rarely wore them. You never failed to point that out.

I had excuses. Good ones too. I didn’t have much in my closet that went well with Mayan jade. And they were heavy. I could only wear them for a few hours before my lobes started to hurt.

I wore the earrings yesterday. For the first time ever, I didn’t have to take them off half way through the day.

Filed under: Cuentos | POSTED BY cindylu AT 11:15 pm | 8 Comments

April 2, 2008

The end of the affair

About three weeks had passed since I’d last spoken to Ojitos.

At this point, I didn’t even want to talk to him. I wouldn’t have called if not for my colorful book full of calacas and other Día de los Muertos imagery. I wanted that book back. I hate when you split up with someone and he keeps your stuff. Ojitos had my book and I had a mix CD he’d left at my apartment a few weeks earlier. A book for a CD. Fair exchange, right?

My message was rather curt. I didn’t ask how he was doing, didn’t say “hope you’re doing well” in a fake voice. I just wanted my book.

I figured once I got my book and gave him his CD, that’d be it. No more Ojitos.

I know what you’re thinking.

No, you didn’t miss anything.
(more…)

Filed under: Cuentos | POSTED BY cindylu AT 1:48 am | 26 Comments

April 1, 2008

Queso fresco, volumes 1 and 2

We were on the way to a concert when Ojitos suggested making mixtapes.

“You should make me a rock en español CD and I’ll make you a reggae mix. That way we can both learn more about each genre.”

“One CD? That’ll be tough.”

“Well, just put on the stuff I should know.”

“Like the obvious songs?”

“Yeah, sorta.”

“Still, one CD?”

Okay, this sounds easier than it actually was. I looked at my iTunes library and wondered how I’d pick about 18 for a mix. I needed a theme. Best songs to dance to at a party? My favorites? My favorite artists? Mexican bands only? South American bands only? Songs on a certain topic?

They were all wrong.

There’s a line in High Fidelity where Rob, the book/movie’s protagonist discusses the fine science of making a mixtape for a potential mate. He claims that it’s just like breaking up, hard to do. In the movie, Rob expands:

The making of a great compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do and takes ages longer than it might seem. You gotta kick off with a killer, to grab attention. Then you got to take it up a notch, but you don’t wanna blow your wad, so then you got to cool it off a notch. There are a lot of rules.

He’s right.

I stared at my iTunes library for half an hour trying to make playlists and pick songs. I wasn’t getting anywhere. I packed up my things and decided to head to my parent’s house. On the way there, the idea hit me. If this was supposed to be a guide to rock en español, it should be organized like most guides, alphabetically!

I settled on an A-Z of rock en español theme focusing on bands from all over the Spanish-speaking world. It didn’t matter if they were form Texas or Spain, as long as the song was sung in Spanish (primarily), I’d include it. I started with Los Abandoned and ended with Zurdok. I tried to include at least one band per letter and eventually came up with 40 odd songs for 2 CDs.

I called it Queso Fresco.

I’d offer up the mp3s or make a podcast, but I’m feeling a bit lazy. If you are interested, let me know. Track list after the jump.

Edit (4.2.08): I made a mixtape of the first 12 songs. This is only A-E with a couple songs added that didn’t make the Queso Fresco cut. Those songs are Pantalón by Los Abandoned and De Marcha by Los De Abajo (I counted them as a D band).

(more…)

Filed under: Música, Cuentos | POSTED BY cindylu AT 9:33 pm | 3 Comments

March 25, 2008

Certainty

When I met Ojitos, I was only a few months removed from a tough breakup.

For the first few months after the breakup, I stayed away from the ex. I needed that time away from him in order to start getting over how hurt and angry I felt. It wasn’t easy.

Less than six weeks after it set in that the break up was permanent, a close mutual friend died in a tragic accident. Many of my close friends, including the ex were greatly affected by this loss. In fact, the ex was the one who informed me of our friend’s death. In that process of grieving, I needed everyone close by.

I started hanging out again with the ex as platonic friends. One evening, we had dinner with his roommates and mutual friends at their apartment. Afterward, we played Guitar Hero (I won, of course) and caught up with work and life.
(more…)

Filed under: Cuentos | POSTED BY cindylu AT 12:31 am | 5 Comments

March 20, 2008

Monday surprise

Someone was knocking on the door. That’s rare. I was the only person home. Maybe it was my roommate. She sometimes forgets her keys.

I checked the peephole, but it was too bright for me to recognize the person outside.

I opened the door and saw a young man surrounded by bright sunlight.

“Hi,” Ojitos greeted me.

I blinked, trying to let my eyes adjust to the sunlight. I’d kept it dark in my apartment to keep it cool.

“Your hair looks different. You got a haircut,” I responded.

“Yeah,” he said and ran his hand through his now-shorter hair.

He read my confused expression and began to explain why he’d just surprised me unannounced.

“I was in the neighborhood, on my way to work… I wanted to talk to you… I couldn’t call*… I missed you… Are you going somewhere?”

“I was about to leave.”

“Oh, I can go…”

“No, no. I can catch a later movie. Come in.”

I like surprises.

*The day before, I was feeling pretty annoyed with Ojitos. It was Sunday. He hadn’t called nor returned my last cheesy question via text message. Only one day had passed, not long, but I hate not getting a call (or text message or email) back within a reasonable amount of time. A day is not reasonable. Later that day, he emailed me to let me know he couldn’t call because he had been tossed in a swimming pool. His phone was ruined. Of course he had a good excuse.

Filed under: Cuentos | POSTED BY cindylu AT 8:43 am | 2 Comments

March 18, 2008

Sonrisas

What would a telenovela be without some visuals of los protagonistas?

Click through to see just how cute we look together.
(more…)

Filed under: Cuentos | POSTED BY cindylu AT 4:54 pm | 11 Comments

March 13, 2008

Waiting in vain

Friday night.

Little Temple, Silverlake.

We’re in the first room, closest to the door taking advantage of what little breeze actually comes through the door. The hottest day of the year has turned in to the hottest night of the year. It’s insufferable.

My favorite people are there. They’ve come out all the way from Ontario and Hacienda Heights to celebrate with me. They don’t seem to be enjoying themselves. Mike, my sister’s boyfriend, complains that his jack and coke costs too much. I look at him like he’s from the Inland Empire (IE) and has never been to an LA club. I wish he’d stop complaining. After all, he saved ten bucks on the cover charge because I know the DJ and he gladly put us on the guest list.

The Little Temple is my favorite spot to dance and chill. The music is a mix of good hip hop, some old school R&B, pop, and reggae. Of course, the DJs are not so snooty they won’t play the average overproduced pop or hip hop booty song.

I’m feeling good in spite of the heat, Mike’s complaining, and my guests’ unwillingness to get up and dance. I’m pretty sure my mood is a byproduct of still being in las nubes the night before. And I look good.
(more…)

Filed under: Cuentos | POSTED BY cindylu AT 11:44 am | 5 Comments

March 11, 2008

La Feria de las Flores

I checked my cell phone for the fourth time in 10 minutes.

6:30.

Ojitos was running late. The show would be starting soon and we still had to pick up snacks and drinks. Although the Los Lobos concert was only a few miles away, I worried we wouldn’t be able to find parking. The beach was bound to be packed for a free show.

He called. Did he get lost, I wondered? No, he was on my street, which he insisted was pronounced with a long A rather than the short A.

I grabbed my things and walked out to greet him. Unlike the Sunday comedy show, all jitters were gone.

He stood outside his car smiling. I hugged him and breathed in the lingering scent of coconut sunblock. He was handsome and casual in a light blue Ñoño t-shirt, jeans, a green track jacket, and Chucks. I smiled as I noticed how that we were dressed similarly (my black t-shirt depicted an Aztec rockero). It was only fitting that I’d be attracted to a guy who looked great in the standard Chicano uniform.
(more…)

Filed under: Cuentos | POSTED BY cindylu AT 3:20 pm | 14 Comments

March 10, 2008

Sincerity

Ojitos was a different kind of guy. Getting to know him was simultaneously new and familiar. At the same time I was learning more about him, I felt like he already knew me. I wondered if he’d read my blog. He was saying and doing all the right things.

I liked it, but it made me feel a bit uneasy. So I kept my guard up. While Ojitos would be frank and sweet, I’d be a little sarcastic not quite ready to show just how much I liked him.

***

H (cheese party hostess): How’s Ojitos?
Me: Cool. He’s super sweet and bit cheesy. The guys I date aren’t usually like that.
H: Well, he certainly seems like he likes you. He had to ask his friend for your info.
Me: I know, but it all makes me wonder. Is he sincere? Does he mean what he says? Or is he just spouting lines?
H: You’re probably overthinking it.
Me: What if he’s just being so nice and sweet because he’s trying to get in to my pants or needs a green card?
H: *gasp* I can’t believe you said that!
Me: It’s okay. I’m Mexican…
H: Still…
Me: It was a joke. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need a green card. Okay, so how do I know?
H: You’ll just have to wait.

***

I didn’t have to wait long. A few hours after my frozen yogurt session with H, Ojitos admitted that he had been “kinda giddy” since he’d met me. That was enough for me.

After all, if I could have that effect on him, he had to be sincere.

Filed under: Cuentos | POSTED BY cindylu AT 3:20 pm | 6 Comments

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