Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Fragments of Mom and Ita



Fragments of Mom and Ita

1.        1. A running joke, “Ya se te olvidó que tienes, Mamá,” has morphed into a fond memory. My family, a group now consisting of my mom, my sister, and my uncle, has turned the phrase into one of standard family sayings. A repeated phrase, when you haven’t called someone in a couple days, “Ya se te olvidó que tienes hermana?”, “Ya se te olvidó que tienes hija?” etc. The use of the phrase began with my grandma, Ita. She called my mom on a daily basis.

2.        2.      “Who’s calling? I asked.
We watched a movie in my Mom’s room, my eight year old body curled on my side towards my Mom. It was one of the few days she was off from work. We still had our pajamas on. This morning she called the school and told them I wasn’t feeling well. The Fritos I just ate heavy in my stomach.
“Aye, it’s your Ita,” she looked at the display on the phone and set it down.
Gorda! Dónde estás? Hablame,” her voice crackled over the answering machine speaker.
I looked up at her.
“I’ll call her later,” she said turning back toward the T. V.

3.     3. Ta Taaa Ta Ta!  The horn honked outside. I had to hurry.
“Bye, Ita!”  I grabbed my backpack and the mail that still came to her address.
“Aye, pero tengo unas cosas para tu Mamá.”
I looked at her and began to turn towards the door, “I’ll tell my mom.”
I paused before stepping out onto the porch, but heard the honk again.” Ta Taa Ta Taaaaa!
“MOM! ITA HAS SOME THINGS FOR YOU!”
“WHAT?”
“ITA HAS SOME THINGS FOR YOU!”
Our voices echoed off the concrete and bounced off each porch on the block until it disappeared at the intersection of California St. and Brown. She paused, her brown Blazer idle in the street, pushed at her hair, “JUST BRING IT WITH YOU!”
I looked back at the shadowed screen door to see my grandma already bringing out a plastic bag in her hand.
“Le compré una blusa en el town. Dile que me hable, si le gustó. No, sé por qué todo el tiempo tiene tanta prisa.”
               
4.      4. It is odd to realize there was life in your family before you were born. Before I was born many things happened. They tell me the stories. My Mom told me how Tio always got away with everything, while she always had the brunt of it. Your uncle, she said, he could do no wrong, and me, I have to bail your Ita out of her messes, like that time…

My Tio told me how my Mom always took everything too seriously. You know how your Mom can be uptight?  She wasn’t always like that, you know before, before she married your Dad, my Mom helped her a lot. With Angie, and babysitting, just like she does with you. Your Mom was just a kid when she had Angie, mija. But you know your mom, just always have to prove everyone wrong.

My sister, Angie said, Ita always took care of me just like with you. Mom’s just always so hard on Ita you know? She takes for granted that Ita doesn’t have to help. She forgets all the things Ita does for her and focuses on stuff from twenty years ago. Oh! Tio’s her favorite. Oh! She wouldn’t have that house if it wasn’t for me! Oh...

5.        5. "Ya se te olvidó que tienes Mamá?” I heard my Mom’s through the phone.
“Haha, Hi Mom,” I forced the laughter.
“What are you doing mija?”
“You know, working Ita, I mean Mom,” I couldn’t resist.
“Si chistosita, It’s because I haven’t hear from you in days. Your Ita? She always exaggerated everything. I talked to her sometimes three times a day, and there she was telling your uncle and your sister she hadn’t talked to me. Se olvidaba no mas cuando le convenía  a esa señora.”


Wednesday, October 17, 2012

The Weaved Music of our Lives

"If you ever get lonely, go to the record store and visit your friends." Penny Lane, Almost Famous 

The theory behind music. Who would have thought there was a theory behind the music. That there is thought behind the incessant beat we can't get out of our minds. An ear worm that embeds itself deep into our subconscious before we even know it. And, when we hear the song, the Zeppelins and Hendrix of our lives, we believe the song was written just for us. The artist somehow knew what we were feeling and they wrote it for us.

The music gets under your skin and seeps deep into your soul until its twisted, combined, and changed your DNA. It's a memory of a first kiss or a caress and that won't change from the still in your mind. From then on that song will take you back to that place, the moment when you were happy, or sad, or...and you are friends for life.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Live in Half-Hour Segments

I just finished watching a cutesy movie about love. The Hollywood kind that a friend of mine refers to as presenting an idealized version of love that doesn't exist. And, perhaps she's right, perhaps it doesn't exist because nothing in life is ever that perfect and ends with a bow tied around the middle. One of my favorite movies has a quote about The Brady Bunch.



  • 01:14:32 Understand why things just can't go back to normal...
  • 01:14:35 at the end of the half-hour...
  • 01:14:37 Iike on "The Brady Bunch" or something.
  • 01:14:42 Well, because Mr. Brady died of A.I.D.S.
  • 01:14:49 Things don't work out like that. 


Maybe things don't work out that way. And, at the end of the half-hour reality sinks in. But, maybe it's not about the going back to normal at the end of the half-hour, maybe it's about the half-hour. And, maybe I'm being overly optimistic, because right now I feel like I'm in that half-hour, but if we don't appreciate the half-hours then how do we deal with the rest?  If in the grand scheme of things all we get our half-hours then, we might as well live in them whole heartedly right? Because if we don't well... what else are we left with?


Friday, October 5, 2012

The Sex of Music

a start
notes my body recognizes,
foreplay...
loosening me up. tip tap tip tip tap
making me lan-gu-id, pliable like
finger tips dancing across my skin  
a rhythm created 
by the drumming of fingers against my 
wet lips 
singing the song your hands have created
against my slicked beat 
flicking the strings
increasing the speed
of the bass 
of your moans
penetrating  
my breathe 
the treble to our song
rocking 
         rocking 
                  rocking 
faster
in 
the moment 
when we, give ourselves
over 
to the action of being