When I went to Salamanca in August 2004, I tripped out on the weather. I wasn’t used to seeing a bright, clear and sunny day suddenly become cloudy and give way to a downpour that wouldn’t last more than a half hour.
After class yesterday, my friend Arshad and I walked up to North Campus for lunch. As we walked through the Anderson School of Management we took notice of the very nice weather. The days immediately following rain are always the most beautiful in LA. Although both Arshad and I have been at UCLA for several years and know the campus well, I think even we’re awed of the beauty of the campus.
On another note, Arshad wasn’t all sunshine yesterday. During class he was being really strange, formal and polite. I looked at him weird, and then he said something that made a lot of sense, “I’m trying to be positive, that’s why it sounds fake.”
Classes, papers, projects, chunking, coding and fieldnotes may make us grumpy and lose sleep. However, I can’t help but be a bit positive when I get to come to such a nice place on a daily basis and my job is to think and write.
I’m blessed.
I was going to try and make 8 a.m. Mass this morning… didn’t happen. I’ll go in the evening.
My almost twenty-one year old cousin Nancy is artistic and beautiful, but you hardly every see all of her pale visage and both broody brown eyes. Her long dark brown bangs usually cover the left side of her face. She reminds me of me — not the artistic and beautiful aspects, but the hair. I’ve now come to repeating the words a classmate once told me to Nancy, “hey, Cousin Itt, move your hair so we can see your pretty face.”
If you check the “about me” section on my profile over at MySpace, you’ll find the following 25 squared images. I’m having issues with words lately, both spoken and written.
Everytime I pass by the large statue of La Virgen de Guadalupe overlooking the 60 freeway on my way to Hacienda Heights and back to LA, I think of Grandma and Grandpa. Well, I think about them a lot more often than just then. I think of how odd it is that to visit them now I would take the same exit off the 60 freeway as I used to when we’d visit their house on Hicks. I miss them incredibly, but don’t visit their graves too much. It’s weird for me.
On Saturday afternoon I found myself in East LA observing for class. Afterward, I decided to visit Calvary Cemetery since it had been way too long since I last went to their graves. I drove east along First Street, made a right on Gage Avenue, a left on Third Street and then a right on Downey Road to where Grandma and Grandpa now rest.
I took the time to talk to them, pray and sing for them. I cried. I always cry when I’m there, I can’t help it. Sometimes I write, but this time I left my notebook closed.
When I got home to Hacienda Heights, I told my mom, dad and sister, “I went to visit Grandma and Grandpa today. They say hi.”
Lori responded, “did you sing for them? They like it when you sing.”
I responded, “of course I did.”
VR is easily what I miss most about being at home in Hacienda Heights. My parents, grandparents, brothers and sister are all there, but VR is the only one who jumps wildly to see me. We usually play around with his bunny for a while, take a walk around the neighborhood and then he bugs me while I try to study. When I wake up in the mornings, he’s positioned himself at my feet under the blankets.
He’s a lot like the rest of the family: social, mischievous, affectionate, and hella cute.
I uploaded the first of 2,897 photos to Flickr on January 3, 2005. It’s a lot like blogging, but less wordy. I know many of the folks who read Lotería Chicana also have Flickr accounts. Words are great but images add another layer.
Aside from coming across many great images, I think what I enjoy most about Flickr is the interaction. Plus, there are all kinds of cool things you can do to/with your photos with FD’s Flickr Toys. I personally like making mosaics and checking the Scout tool to see how many of my photos are ranked in the Flickr Explore page. It’s like checking your blog stats, except the Explore page is more aesthetically pleasing.
I ♥ Flickr.
Tere’s wedding day on Monday, December 26, was way too long. The day started with a wakeup call at 5 am and ended around 1 am the next day. The day involved a 6-hour roadtrip from Jerez to Salamanca, Mass, reception and baile (dance). I wore beautiful gold heels I could barely walk in but ended up running around in when I did “la víbora de la mar,” drank a little too much alcohol, was bit by a couple of mosquitoes, and didn’t wear my sweater when I should have. The next day, my feet hurt like crazy and I couldn’t stop coughing.
It was all worth it if only to witness my first ever dollar/peso dance, celebrate Tere’s wedding, and to be around dozens of people who share my last name, father’s graying hair, Grandpa Bartolo’s features, and my big lips.
My mom has always said that we, her children, were never as well dressed as when she had control over the clothes that we wore. We took the studio portrait above 20 years ago, and I’m not sure we’ve ever looked so good.