Good times with Paso Nuevo!

I had a great time spinning some Cumbia Electronica, Ballroom, and Tropical Beats for the Paso Nuevo show this weekend! I'm glad to see folks dancing and getting down after the show! I'll probably make a "tribute" set that captures the mood of the night! Until then, check out my later shows in January 19th at Chief Ike's and March (TBA).

Thank you! To my soundcloud peoples...

I don't want to go through the whole embed bit... so I'll just paste what I feel, thank you!

I guess Jamie XX's people don't want his music shared

I was notified that my Latino Bass Mixes for my recent "Occupy Gala" show were taken down because of a particular song or track featured in the mix... 

Hit me up directly if you want to know about my mix and find out how to listen to it

Thanks
AmericanPupusa

Thank you - Occupy Gala!!

I want to give a big shout to all supporters and performers at  Occupy Gala this weekend. I had a blast playing out and learning what it's like to be behind the decks and interacting with the crowd. What a wonderful learning experience. I'll make sure to post my mixes soon! For now, naptime!

Wot's My Name!?

For my public debut in a month or so, I had a brainstorm session over some beer and Jameson with a friend for potential DJ names... here is what came of it. Please share your thoughts and suggestions. My final thought is that I'm going on an Old Dirty Bastard tip and just go with about 10 of these...

DJ Joe Dirt, DJ Capt. Lou Albano, DJ Black Sheep, DJ Selecta, DJ Golden Child, DJ Pebo Bryson, DJ Memphis Willy, DJ Po' Boy, My Man Selecta, DJ Juice, DJ Goonie, DJ Gremlin, illselect, DJ Cut Back

I'm probably going to use all of these... 

Thanks

I'm turning 34 tomorrow - what do I think of that?

 as taken by my FB page...

Poem - "Celebrating my Independence Day"

Today, I’m celebrating my Independence Day…

By remembering an argument I had with this guy sophomore year
He told me people of color could not be racists
He’s an idiot

By remembering the look on my girl’s face when I played her my track
She told me “it is nice”
She didn’t like it

By remembering getting high with my buddy and making beats using a stolen sample CD
We made five tracks
We thought it was dope

By remembering unemployed debaucheries on late Tuesday nights
I said yes to a lot of things
I got in trouble

By thinking of those who do, who write, who paint, who speak
By thinking of the moments of nirvana during the most carnal of events
By thinking of the critics, the thinkers, and students who teach me independence

"We Can See Ghosts (una despedida a mi tio)"

We can see ghosts

And talk to the dead in our dreams
We see events with our eyes closed
And learn of upcoming nows

We can also feel someone else’s pain
And receive messages using no sight or sound
We deny these cuentos out of fear
Yet, accept them when they happen to us

It scares me to know that we have family reunions in the dark
And there are conversations taking place around me
That my tia sits at the foot of the bed while I sleep
That we are loved by spirits

It scares me so much that I do not wish this on anyone else
Yet, I cannot help but take pride
That we can see ghosts
And talk to the dead in our dreams

RIP Tio Memo

The Irony of Learning

Earlier this week, I began taking my first classes (Journalism and Editing) after 3 years of graduating with my Master's degree in Higher Education Administration. In light of the past two years of unemployment; specifically the opportunities I had to volunteer for an assortment of causes, teaching ESL, beginning a novice side hobby as a music journalist and script editor for theater, as well as a brief stint as a U.S. Census enumerator, and currently waiting for responses from the 5 Ph.D. programs I had applied to, I have this thought which I posted on FB. My limitation to this thought is that I am assuming "school" is defined by traditional buildings and places where you pay tuition, buy books, sit down, and listen to an "expert." But, the irony is there for you to think and ponder.

the irony, school is to prepare you for life, but it also takes you away from it... Are temporal moments of intense discipline and social institutionalization the appropriate means of learning? Specific subject matters yes, but what is seriously lacking is learning how to integrate this knowledge in a pluralist society... there, I said it!

My conclusion is, there are different types of schooling that occur outside of societal-christened classrooms that are not embraced or recognized as valid. What is scary is that our society emphasizes discipline-based learning with little attention paid to interdisciplinary thinking and integrated application of disciplines relative to other forms of knowledge and communities' cognition. It reminds me of somewhere I worked that preached such aspirations, but held onto hierarchal and traditional forms of leadership, communication, and organizational structure. I ended up getting laid off from this org. ha!

We have a long way to go.

Impetus

At an early age, I knew that my father broke a lot of rules by not taking us to church on Sundays. I also knew he was the ‘badboy’ and my mom was the ‘goodie goodie’. I also knew that when he played records on Sunday, Sister Sledge was not the same as Creedance Clearwater Revival.

I also knew at an early age that my grandmother broke rules, sacred ones. I remember seeing her slow movements and brittle bones become healed for three minutes as she danced with my aunt to Chubby Checker and Bill Haley and the Comets. I remember hearing stories of her being ‘naughty’ cause she liked that Black Rock and Roll Music. I remember being told she arrived first to the United States, and not my grandfather. I remember stories of her going to house parties dancing to Black “Merengue” with Black Latinos.

I listened to Hip Hop, studied Black literature, danced to Jungle, dyed my hair blue, argued with my teachers, argued with my family. I remember seeing drugs on tables and reading my schoolbooks on the bus to college. It’s these lampposts that remind me I’m a rulebreaker that I come from a family of rulebreakers.

The veil was on when this was written.

Chronicles of Albinism - Being interpreted (threatened) as a White dude and an Ethnic dude in the same day

An educational story regarding the intersection of 'ability' and 'race' in the United States

Preface:

In case you don't know me very well. I don't really speak on my albinism to outsiders very often. It draws a lot of unwanted sympathy and I don't interpret it on a context of social construction such as race for example. I guess I can approach race better because I am a Mestizo, with my brown skin interpreted rather than an actual biological state... providing a layer of distance in some respects. But on a cultural level, I resonate strongly with my Latinidad. This creates a strange tension where issues of 'race' or 'identity' are put to its own little test, these lines are intersected several ways around like two ropes wrapped over each other many times. And this is where the rubber hits the road on a personal level... this is where I feel hurt, pain, the inferiority complexes on multiple levels. So, the story to talk about this took place this weekend.. on the same day.

Episode 1:Train Ride

Another set of obvious delays made for a very packed train this weekend. I, and the rest of the weekend sheep where packing it in to avoid the 20 minute wait for the next train to show. Living in NE and traveling frequently to NW, I see quite a bit of social and racial differences along the way. In both the Northeast Red and Green lines, I see a lot of kids, African American kids. In particular, the kids that blast their cell phones to their favorite thug and Go-go tunes, talk loudly and hurt your ears with beautiful youthful voices saying words like 'bitch', 'muthafucka' and 'fuck'. These are the kids the others avoid or pretend are not there, the kids who the olders and non-Blacks roll their eyes at when they get off the train. At the Chinatown station where the red, green, yellow lines meet, the transition takes place. At this point, you get the white sophistos, the jerks, and the olders, who run Washington DC. Here come the transplants from other states that stroll through Georgetwon, GW, or American Universities, work for some politician or lawyer, or commute back over to Bethesda... live and die in Northwest.

So, back to the packing it in... I slide my way into the train in Northwest's Dupont Circle where I meet a wall of human flesh and metal poles... I squirm my way through to find that little oasis of space for me to chill for the next eight stops... where I hear somebody go... "Yo! That dude in the Kangol wants to get in the train! Let him through!" I look up to see a bunch of cargo shorts, white T-shirts, flips flops and pale flesh crowded about in the middle of the car. They are the loudest and most obnoxious white dudes I've seen on the train, demonstrated by their loud steroid-driven 'dude!', 'brah!', 'dafuk!' and 'faggot' (and yes, we are in Dupont Circle). One of the brahs proceeds to fuck with me from across the way, noting my shirt... which was a rasta-inspired Damien Marley kinda shirt.. with the Lion of Judah on it, and Red Gold and Green complementing my Kaongol, a tribute to Slick Rick and Hip Hop style of yesteryear.

"Hey mon!!" "by de beech' and "herb mon!" was now being said loudly for the rest of the train to hear... I began to feel uncomfortable, targeted by a group of about 7 white boys making fun of my rasta clothes and kangol hat. The blood began to boil inside, as I stood there looking back at them. I couldn't think of a comeback as these dudes were on that sterioid shit... being obnoxious, yelling out "Chilli Cookoff!" (A rock concert) and being that scary idontgiveafuckcauseourraceisknownforjeffereydolmershit attitude. Folks in the train began to look at me, drawn by their attention to my shirt and with wonder about what I was to do about this. A white woman with her bags heading to Union Station stared at me. I glanced down and all she did was smile that 'oh, boys will be boys' look. They probably reminded her of her nice little boy, beating up kids in school, taking 'roids and hanging with that one Black friend that lets him get away with being racist to their face... yeah, she was that kind of lady. Their stop came, they proceeded to walk out being loud, and annoying others along the way. As they walked over, I punched each one in the face... but then the chime of the doors rang and I was thrown back into reality, standing there, having not done a thing.

Episode 2: at night... specifically 12am.

After visiting my girlfriend in Northwest, it was time to head home to Northeast. As a Latino, I feel a bit uncomfortable in both quadrants, a fly in the ointment of United States racial politics, and especially in DC culture where color dictates your status. You always hear of muggings when you talk to folks about Northeast. You mom and dad give you that hesitant face and always tell you to be careful around there. Sophistos always remark with statements like "Oh man, I heard of Brookland but I never been there" or ask you "Oh, how is that?"... like you went to the fucking Peace Corps or something. Brookland is a unique place, a mix of old Black Neighborhood, lower to upper middle class, white Catholic U kids, Hippies, and older middle class whites who kinda 'get it'. We literally have train tracks with an 'other side' to it. Developers just showed up recently as well. Truth is, it's not Northwest. The mixing of these different cultures makes for unique experiences and journeys. There is some element of paranoia for me, one of my roommates was mugged the first night he moved into the neighborhood. Another was held up at gunpoint as he was putting the key into his apartment. I stopped some kids from breaking into my house once. But we also get together at our local bar, we hand out candy to the kids on Halloween, and most of us know each other on our street.

As someone who is legally blind, I am always alert of my surroundings. As an intuitive person, my spidey-sense is always on blast. Living in urban settings, I always have my guard up. And walking out of the metro at 12am, I had an eerie sense to take my keys out and place the largest key out of my knuckle... just in case. I was three houses away from my driveway when I noticed a group of 10 teenagers walking towards me... being the sidewalk only has enough room to hold two people side-by-side, I figured there was some negotiation to be made. As I walked closer, I counted about 8 teenaged Black males and two Black females... talking loudly, being young. I got a bit nervous. As they were approaching, I thought, "If I try to make a move out of the way, that might catch their attention"... or "If I walk straight through, I'll be engulfed and something might happen". I decided to walk through since there is nothing to fear, no reason to worry (the fact it was 12am for a bunch of under 18 year olds walking around on a weekend did pop in my head). As the moment of truth came, none of them moved out the way... I negotiated some Star Wars X-wing fighter shit to avoid any shoulder checking, a couple of them did make the slightest of swerves. Outnumbered and outgunned, I figured it was the best strategy. Then, as I was just out of the asteroid field... I heard a voice say "damn a muthafucka can't move young!", then "Move out da way fucking bitch".

I kept walking, not looking back... not trying to provoke. Then the one that got me was "fucking PT looking white ass motherfuker!" That shit stung... it was the 'white' part more than anything else. I felt it was uncalled for, I felt misidentified... I felt the anger and resentment this guy had towards me... a cascade of history, of ongoing heritage was being applied to me at once. Or should I say misapplied, misinterpreted, mistreated, undeserved. I walked up to the driveway, turned around and saw them continue to say shit as they walked away. At this point my heart was beating and my blood boiled to the point of complete evaporation. If I said something, they might turn around and come at me. If I don't, my pride would be hurt that ten kids got off fucking with me... it took me about two hours and calling my girl to vent to get it down to just a simmer...

Epilogue: Black on Both sides, White on Both sides, No Latino at all. Albinism all around.

While the first verbal attack pissed me off as obnoxious white boys were being obnoxious white boys... the second one hurt. The white boys didn't really call me out for being Albino, as most white folks tend to interpret me as one of their own, and a few sense that I am different but cannot tell what it is. What bothered me was that these guys pointed out aspects of me of some sort of 'ethnic' value. Then, they applied stereotypes about these ethnic features in a complete demonstration of how little they know of Rasta, Jamaica, Reggae, or people of color for that matter. The fact they didn't give a fuck to be like that in front of others shows this group's privilege. As a Latino/Mestizo, it hurt cause I am 'ethnic', and my kinship to people of color, oppressed groups, and underrepresented was there. I also felt weak for not standing up to them, as I feared for my safety. And being legally blind, you cannot see very well to fight and read the other person... putting me at a physical disadvantage. In the other scenario, it hurt that I was interpreted as a white boy. Immediately being placed in that dichotomy, being excluded by a group that I share a kinship with, a struggle. It's like having beef with your family member for being different, for having a different daddy. They too showed their ignorance of race and Albinism. In a Christian context, good old Noah, the guy with the flood and the two-of-everything, was said to have been Albino... it was he who produced the races through his three sons. In scientific terms, lack of melanin among many of us is actually a resulting genetic variation, as early humans of darker complexions produced the first Albinos. Notice today that people of darker complexion can produce lighter skinned children... Whites do not produce darker skinned children.

Across different cultures, the placement of people with Albinism varies. Some cultures see us as spiritual beings, some target us as part of a spiritual-based genocide for our 'magical powers', others celebrate us for being gifts. In the United States, we really fall in a funny place. There are many African Americans who are Albino, and their facial features and hair indicate so. There are Whites who have albinism and know it, and others that don't cause they don't look too far off from their light-skinned family members. I, as a Mestizo in the United States, have a different experience. Many African Americans first take me as White. Many Whites take me as White. And Many Latinos take me as White. And that is where the intersection is, as my Albinism puts me in a weird position along the United States' rigid, but flawed design of social racial politics, which in my opinion, is mutually exclusive. I get drawn into a fight that I feel is unwarranted. It hurts to be misread by everyone for reasons that are completely inappropriate. I always have to out myself to be seen for who I am. And I am not saying that my Albinism is an outlier in my own identity... its completely a part of who I am. But when you mix up contexts incorrectly, then I feel out of place. There is also the physical inability to see well... which hinders my options when there are things such as violence and protection to be considered. We tend to overcompensate to make up for limitations. But overcompensation is also a reminder of our limited capacities.

I wish I had a resolution for you folks, but this is an ongoing journey... it helps to share. But it would help to have answers and to be seen and understood in the way I wish to be, and not in the way you see it. So, think about it, pass this on... it might make it easier next time I ride the train.

Celebrating Albinism Week – With features on Connie Chiu, Yellowman, SPF 80, Carnival Mirrors, later this week...

One night I woke up and said it was time that I do a feature on Albinism for an entire week. I think the idea was fueled by some event (imaginary or real) that brought out a few feelings that have developed and changed over the years. These feelings, and the social contextualization of albinism as a ‘genetic disorder,’ alongside my whole vocation of social activist/advocate, conscious, multi-…, identity, self… has created this concoction.


I remember telling my father two years ago that I absolutely hated having to "explain myself" to every person who had questions about the way I looked. Or, feeling like a genetic weirdo when I was looked at in a funny way. I shared that I have since decided to not conduct anymore learning moments with strangers, and rejoice in their confusion. I told my father stories of people coming up to me in stores, being made fun of, or questioned on things such as if my sister is related to me. I confessed that I was hurt when my friends and family got tired of dropping me off at my house. Or hearing so much the passive, “I don’t see that about you” from quasi-socially just sensitives who want to do me some favor by not seeing what’s in front of them. The bottom line is if you are immediately going to see my skin first, and not even ask for my name, then you just filtered yourself out from any interest I have in you, or teaching you anything.

After saying all this, my father gave me this puzzled look, saddened, and replied “I remember when you were a kid, you used to go to kids and classes and tell them all about it, sorta like you were proud and not ashamed.” 

I think he was hurt by how I turned from some evangelist to this angered hermit of "genetic disorders."

So, right now, I really don’t give two shits about what you, the reader, are feeling right now: sympathy, nervousness, quiet, happy, supportive or whatever about what I just shared with you. The river has done run over this rock, and I’ve now become a smoothed [stone (cold motherfucker)]. Nothing phases me and that’s why I decided to close up shop on preaching to all of ya’ll…

But wait… the irony of it!!

Bottom line is that no matter what I do or say, the issue exists… perceived or otherwise. In the end, it’s all about how I deal and I’m not really interested if you actually learn anything or not. I’m doing this for myself with an educational opportunity for all of you as a bystander. In the end there are two things I want you to know from this entry.

1. I’m conducting a test or experiment on ‘representing’
2. The anger and disconnect you may sense from me right now is part of this experiment, and I really want you to process this out for yourself.

So, the experiment is that I want to present albinism backwards. In the narrative of human history, anything or anyone who was considered outsider were first presented in dry, medical, and generic terms, which allowed the notion of us treating them as different or even cruelly, feasible and acceptable. From the birth of Sociology, to the treatment of people from Black, LGBT, Asian Pacific American communities to documentaries on Hip Hop (I was watching Style Wars and it felt like I was watching Animal Kingdom)… we always always always always present the outsider as the medical or genus specimens. As a result, many of us go through a painful and slow progression to human sovereignty that will always be questioned.

So, the itinerary for Juice’s “Albino-docs” is as follows… today I gave you me. Me in my fed up, angry, annoyed, and pissed off lens of what albinism means and has affected me in an emotional sense. Hopefully next up you’ll get a chance to see some ‘great moments in ablinism’, then ‘bad moments in albinism’ and then we’ll end it with the genetic, medical, generic. I can top this off, with some retrospect on this entire experience… putting this out there for you to read.

Enjoy!

2008

So, I was laying on the couch this morning thinking about this one. A year ago, i was seeing someone, i was kinda happy, and I was leaving my old job and starting a new one. By the end of January, I was in a lonely and weird office, I was dumped and began a spiritual/physical journey. I began to listen to the depressing sounds of indie rock, purused music fuly by entring in the 'dubstep scene', I began to bike, I began to go crazy once inna while, I began to hate my job. I did get a chance to travel for once, I did have the luxury of going home right at 5pm and I did start doing that "DC Sophisto Happy Hour" thing that I've always wanted to do.

But then, I realized I was 31 and a lot of the angst and gimmick of subgenre, subcultue, of 'anti' had begun to wear off. I wouldn't call myself a sellout at this point. But I think I've reach a psycho-social state of Nirvana... I'm not a "Junglist", I'm not a "B-Boy", I'm not subscribe to the magazines, but when I read them I know how to pick up on the nuances and qualifiers to allow me to navigate these tribal circles. I'm not a "DC Sophisto" but I can do that.... I'm not "gutter" but i can... I'm not anything and that is one of the most fufilling things for me to say about myself cause its up to my own determination now as to what constitutes my sense of self. And that is the most powerful tool I can think of.

2008 was a bit of a struggle... it was the first time I worked at a job that wasn't full of colored folk. It was the first time that I really made an effort to enjoy my own company and not need anyone to make me feel good about myself. I was pretty close to accomplishing that. I think I had it down for a couple of weeks. I got lucky and I met someone new who I feel is pretty damn cool. She's great and I hope its fufilling.

2008 also rocked musically, I got my game up and I had songs that were well recieved by the community. I'm appearing on mixtapes, i got this blog up. I've been collecting good music. I got my identity and I'm enjoying the vibe. So its been good.

So anyway, I think thats what I can summize about this year. I have no predictions or declarative statements. I'm just going to keep working this thing out. Continue wtih the idea of making myself into a better person... not for you, not for my family, not for my friends, but for mysellf.

Big up.

"What up B!" Just in the nick of time...

Large up Luis... you my homeboy, ride or die... right when I was down, I get this when i get back to my computer...

WHAT UP B...!

IT'S THE L TO THE A ALL THE WAY FROM VENEZUELA!

Just checking to see how life is in the grind...I'm heading back tomorrow so I'll be sure to catch up with you next week...

PEAAAAACE....

Sent at 12:46 PM on Friday

BTW, his rhyme scheme is quite good here!!

Fufillment is such an empty feeling...

So, I'm not trying to be existential about this at all... but to be quite honest with you. I've been VERY VERY lonely lately....

There are many superficial reasons I easily cite to my friends as to why I'm feeling lonely, most times its because I don't have companionship (i.e. a girlfriend) or that its tough living in DC when all my friends are linked and live in the burbs. But then I began to think about where I am now as to where I was about a year ago, and I think I should be thanking my lucky stars right now cause really I'm at a place that I have worked VERY HARD to be in....

1. I live on my own
2. I am making music
3. I graduated
4. I have a job that allows me to follow my personal pursuits
5. I've been dating around here and there
6. I exercise (biking is the shit)
7. I can afford to buy stuff once in a while.
8. I have friends who love me
9. I have spare time

Yet the question remains... "Why am I so lonely?"

1) I think a part of the answer is that I feel very privileged and am not going through an immediate 'struggle' at the moment. There were dragons to slay, issues to deal with, conflict all around me with school, family, and life that gave me a reason to be pissed off, angry, and ready for war!! I'm feeling very much a part of the ivory tower and I'm being rewarded by being sold out to the mainstream... everyone likes me cause "I think outside the box" and so they bring me in, pay me well, and yet expect me to follow their rules... even though it was breaking their rules that allowed me to think differently. But now I feel tainted, co-opted, and like a commodity.

2) Another reason is I feel like a social misfit. With albinism, being 30, single, not making crazy DC sophisto money, an americanized Latino, legally blind, religiously stale, non-conformist, an anti-guy kinda guy, and so forth... there are a lot of things that I don't do which would be easy conversation pieces or points of entry to finding a girlfriend... I don't watch TV, I make beats - I don't have cable, I blog - I don't watch sports, or any of that sheep shit that makes people drones.

3) Last reason, to be honest... I'm afraid of dying. I find it to be such a waste sitting around watching "Seinfeld" knowing that there is so much shit out there to do and here I am eating frozen pizza and watching actors, producers, writers, musicians, doing their thing and my absorbing and doing absolutely nothing. What a waste to be sitting around watching movies on cable you've seen a million times... this is the height of western civilization.

So now that I've stopped bitching, I need to find something to pull me out of my muck. Folks suggested finding hobbies, adding value to my own sense of worth, and so forth... that is cool and I'm working on it. I did read an article today about being Black and single... which is a huge social phenomenon, especially for Black females as there are social issues that directly affect the fulfillment of personal and social expectations but one must find methods of overcoming these social factors. The resolution the author shares at the end made me feel a whole lot better... its about being my own timetable, my own time clock, not allowing the fact that there is alot of bullshit out there in the world, shouldn't hold me back from doing my own thing.

But sometimes it just gets lonely....

Throwback Thursday.. "Today was a good day"

In light of some wonderful news this morning (thanks dear!!) and just the relief of my earlier events... today's throwback calls for something that has a personal flavor to it.



Besides, this track has one of the baddest grooves and does a wonderful job in taking the gangsta-rap aesthetic and flipping it on a positive take AND THEN flipping it back... Ice Cube ran things for a few minutes.

"to be continued"

Mixtapes and Crazy Weekends...

Well, I had plans, I had dreams... but keeping up a blog is a long process. So quick catch up... I had a crazy weekend... interesting how one or two things can throw a brother off.. but Its all about the pressing forward, yeah?

So, I decided to shift gears from producing as I finished my CD for RickyRicardo and I'm creatively spent. I need to recalibrate and shift focus. To the world of mixtapes..

Luckily there is A LOT of great music out now and I spent some time this weekend and during work downloading in mind of my new project. I remember back in the day, when tapes were king. My uncle sending my parents, sis, and me tapes of all the popular songs while we were in Germany... back in the 80's there were no populist internet things going on and American pop culture was hard to come by, so things had to be sent to us. Grandma used to send us movies she bootlegged, uncle used to send us mixtapes. So at an early age, we were gully like that.

I remember the fun I had when it came time to making my own mixtapes... there were so many a girl I used to make tapes for... in order to impress, swoon, and what not. I remember making jungle mixtapes for my friends. As I wasn't a DJ, I would take mixes from 'real' DJ's and put them together in such a way that it would flow. I remember looking for pauses, rewinds, a snare, to match the next track.. I was quite good and it held my crew up for a while. I sorta stopped as CD's came into play and my splicing skills didn't count anymore. Some of my friends recall some of the tapes I used to make, even today...

In light of my own personal experience, I went online to find a history lesson on the mixtape. Interestingly, I really didn't find one except from MTV. Obviously they focus more on the hip-hop mixtape, which is quite limiting as mixtapes ahve been around for a long time. But, regardless, it represents where my head and generational context is grounded...

So whats in store.. who knows!! Big ideas in my brain, so keep up with later posts, I plan to have them for your downloading pleasure.

Proud Pic #1

Title: "Proud of mi gente" taken May 5, 2008 @ the Washington Monument.

So, I'm trying out this new feature where I go through my old pics and post one that I feel like sharing. This one is cool cause, first of all, it was a "Cinco de Mayo" celebration with live music at the mall, featuring the headliners... Oro Solido. LOL... only in the U.S. can you have a Mexican-American holiday celebrated in Truco-owned DC, featuring a Dominican Merengue band from New York... hell yeah, thats what Latinidad is all about son!!!!!

This image brings me a lot of pride and sadness. I was emotionally shook to see so many of my people in DC, where we serve as the cogs and gears that run this city... the cleanliness of your buildings, the construction of your offices, the growth of small businesses, are all done by the sweat, sacrifice, and struggle of our people. So, to see us come out here and have some fun, much deserved.

It also brought to light how culturally lonely I am. I work in a predominantly white, highly educated, office that works for 'diversity'. I went to a predominantly white college for my education, and my mom sacrificed her time to take my sis and me to a predominately white high school, cause that was our ticket to a college education.

As immigrants, we come with the idea of establishing ourselves to not worry about the day-to-day struggles as much as before, we prepare our children with immigrant/working-class/Latino values of hard work, community, determination, and ultimately social mobility. These value sets, created in the world of the marginalized and oppressed, project us to the middle-class, higher educated (which is a misnomer cause my education was just as good as theirs), at the sacrifice of leaving our enclaves, our cultural spaces, and physically... from one another. I'm at my PWIs because my mother/grandparents asked me to, not because whites are better, but because thats where that stability is at. And here I am, doing what i think is best for my community, but I'm physically drawn away from it. This is a second immigrant experience within the initial one of my parents leaving their whole lives to come here, very lonely.

So, after thinking about it, I think its about time for me to come home...

my favorite moments...

• “The Crew” era, with Yams, Lisy, Vilma, Anabel, Luis, Leslo, Stef, Alex, et al. We had nothing to lose and living life. I never felt I belonged in college and many of us probably felt the same way.
• Buzz Era: 1. Seeing Roni Size at my first rave ever 2. Carl Cox and DJ Hype with Yams 3. Roni Size and Reprazent at the 9:30 club with Yamir, Mia, and all of us together. 4. DJ SS and Warren G with Lourdes, Yamir, and Helena… the vibe was probably the best ever at the moment when all of us were dancing all crammed up.
• Those parties grandma used to throw in her apartment… it was there where all the neighbors came; my dad’s family came through, the random family members showing up (Daniel when he was born, Calin, etc.).
• Seeing grandma throw down on the old rock n’ roll records.
• Irene when she was a baby
• Making Mia smile when I acted silly for her, she always gave a look like she didn’t know what to do with me!!
  
• Seeing the older famz play 31 or Bingo
• Those little brother/sister moments I have with Vilma when we are out with the group.
• My 4th date with Linda… It was the vibe of driving down a summer night with the windows down blasting salsa.
  
• Seeing my mom happy and joking around
• Having JoeNice hit me up on myspace and asking for my dub.
• Having a beer with Luis and Yams

You can't hit on girls on the move...

Its some funny law but its weird that when I'm on the metro or walking on the street, and some cute girl gives you the look... its like you can't talk to her. Case in point, I'm on the way to or from work on the metro and some cutie gives you 'the look' You exchange smiles, you awkwardly look away blah blah blah.. but doesn't it feel kinda of awkward on your morning or afternoon commute to come to a girl and start spittin game? It does to me... This has happened several times since moving to the city. Its like you're interrupting them, or its like they in work mode and you talking all nice and smooth makes it seem kind of silly. But then again, I'm not really trying to put the moves at 8am when the girl is sitting next to some old lady or some dude who just wants to sleep the ride to his job.... yeah, awkward.

So, the rule seems that you can only deal with girls in more stationary places... places that don't have wheels or require you to turn off your iPod to chat them up. Its quite a stupid rule as most of my 'looks' come from my ride home on the metro. But then again, maybe they know the rules too and thats why they do it...

silly social rules...