Wednesday, May 27, 2015
My father would draw out the process anyway he could to buy extra time from whatever place we were getting kicked out of. I myself in the better part of the last couple of years relied on others for housing support. From crashing on a couch to sleeping on the floor of a crowded room at a friends house. The generosity and sympathy others have had with me is the only reason I'm still around today. I was never the greatest of house guest, but I did what I could to help out and to get out of the way, but it was never easy. I was just another burden.
Its only been in the last two years or so that I've had the financial stability to live on my own. To have a place that I can call my own, walk around without pants, and do whatever the hell I want without having to be considerate because I am a guest in someone else's home. For a good couple of years, I just went from one friends house to another. Always in transition, never setting my roots down because I knew the situation was only temporary and I would be moving before I knew it. I think back on those years and I choke up a bit at the generosity and compassion shared with me.
Now I find myself moving once again, but this time by choice. Living alone isn't feasible in the long run, specially in a city like Los Angeles, so I'm moving in with a friend to cut down on cost where I can. I'm grateful that I'm able to move in a friend who I trust to be part of this new chapter in our friendship. At this point, it's safe to say that they are going to get the best of me. All my years of being a guest and having to share spaces have helped me be mindful of the space I occupy, how things get decorated, cleaned, and how to make a place feel like a home.
I'm genuinely excited for this next phase of my life, specially since this is the first time I'm going to be sharing space with someone on an even plane. There will be growing pains and we will have to get use to each other and our habits, but that goes for any kind of relationship. This new place isn't where I'm going to set my roots down, but at least I can let them stretch out a bit and enjoy the comfort of a different pot and fresh soil.
Monday, April 27, 2015
|Deathlok Annual #1 (1992)|
When I finally got my DACA in the mail, there was a sigh of both relief and of frustration. The thing is no more than a privilege card. A physical manifestation of years of work people all over the country put in to make it happen. A physical manifestation of the political games played in this country with the lives of immigrants. A physical manifestation of the willing subjugation I and a about a half a million other immigrants sign up for because we can and because we want the easier path. Every day I'm inundated with stories, pictures, videos, art etc. on the different kind of suffering and torture immigrants are going through in this country. Just because I don't care, doesn't mean I don't understand.
I make no qualms about my decisions and my politics. I don't hold up my nose and say 'no' from whatever moral high horse people need to get on. I talk a bunch of trash, but I take ownership of that as well. For me, it's important to know what I'm really looking at every time I look at my work permit and the access it gives me that others don't have. DACA is a lot like those mail order DVD clubs. You get a few for a penny, but then you have to buy 3 more at regular price. It's important for me to always remember that because I don't want to the kind of individual that sees that work permit as the answer and frankly, salvation to all of my problems as an individual.
Blindly accepting DACA as salvation in your life means you don't want to see the world for how it really is. You're too selfish to care about others and while actions you take may say other wise, deep down you're just scared of having it taken away from you. Of having to go back the kind of quality of life you had before DACA and how much that sucked. You aren't about that life and if you were, you're trying to leave it as far behind as possible. I know because that's the kind of stuff I thought about when I entertained the idea of not having a work permit anymore. That's my reality. I like romanticizing what my life has been as a kind of badge for others to see. I earned my stripes and as such, I lose no sleep as to what others think. My work permit is a physical manifestation of that.
Sunday, March 22, 2015
It should go without saying that living the kind of live I have, metal and emotional trauma are a given. From living in poor, working class communities that are subjected to both gang and police violence to environmental racism. Then you have the over crowded school system, systemic oppression, lack of access to resources and unhealthy family dynamics to spice things up a bit. Then on top of all that and then some, you add being undocumented to the mix. The deck gets stacked pretty fast and it can be over whelming at times.
For the better part of my life, I've been able to work on my issues. To get to a place in which I'm no longer held down by them or even worse, lead down a road that isn't healthy. I've hit those bottoms and I've been lucky enough to be able to pick myself up from there. Never under the same circumstances. As I've gotten older and my understanding of things has expanded, I'm able to work my way through things in my own way. What works for me work work for everyone else, which is why I've never felt the need to seek professional help or getting diagnosed by a quack.
For the better part, writing has always been my default in trying to figure things out. Among my friends, I've always been the one listening, rarely do I talk out my issues. I'm too set in my ways. At this point in my life, I acknowledge depression and my unorthodox mental health as being parts of me. It's not a condition nor a disease that can be treated away. I own it, it doesn't own me. That's what works for me. Most days are good, but every once in a while I have a bad day.
Triggered simply enough by something I may come across or in this latest instance, just a culmination of frustrations related to work and my everyday routine. Holding down three different jobs is taking its toll on me. I had to renew my DACA so that's been on the back of my mind as well. I'm also waiting to do my taxes to see how much I'm going to owe because I know I am going to owe. With everything kinda caving in on me and exhausted from my trips, I find myself down on the dumps.
Then I start to think about of where I've been and how good I have things now. Seems no matter how good I'm doing, there will always be room left for wanting more and to try and fill that feeling of emptiness I have. But it'll all pass in time. I usually just go through the motions and ride it out. It's part of who I am. Unless I post something on social media, most folks won't even know the difference. But then again, that's not something I'm not trying to blast out either. It's not like I'm publishing all this online for everyone to read. No, it's mostly just for me so I can work my way through things.
Friday, March 20, 2015
For the better part, I had a great time in Austin because I was there with my compa. We shared a room and he introduced me to folks at the conference since it was my first time. We did a lot of drinking and horsing around at night, while keeping it professional in the day. We stayed in downtown Austin and didn't get to explore anything else, so my time there sucked. The water tasted weird, I got sick from drinking Austin beer, and everything was hella gentrified. Yeah, they had a bike share program and separated bike lanes, but it was clear that they were there for tourist. Breakfast tacos are over rated. Not to mention that the few people of color I saw where those working at restaurants or as servers at the convention.
DC on the other had was a lot more fun. Again, we stayed in Downtown at a hotel that was walking distance from that conference, but what made the difference was connecting with community folks there. When I got to DC, I ended up going straight to a bar to meet up with a friend I was going to stay with. That turned into a three day bender that continued on throughout the trip. My first time to DC consisted of just hanging out in Downtown and trying to find a place that played cumbias. I went in to this trip trying to do the same and I was successful. Call it Serendipity.
While I was physically tired from my previous conference the week before and going on a bender for three days, the homies and I rocked the presentation we were giving. I relied on them to get me outta the couch and to go exploring despite the cold and the joint pains I had, but I needed that trip. I can't remember that last time I had that much fun dancing, drinking, and doing karaoke to Selena. Cause I'll do anything for Salinas. Nights like that are far and few these days because I'm too comfortable in my city. It's only when someone is visiting from outta town or that I'm traveling that I wanna jarcorear. Maybe I'm just getting old.
That being said, I'm grateful for the opportunities I got to represent spaces I work in and for at difference conferences. For too long, I've been use to just representing myself and no one else that I didn't give two fucks as to how others saw me or what they thought of me. I was there to handle my scandal in the day and get crunk at night. Not so much this time around, which I blame on my encroaching maturity, but I'm finding the right balance that allows me to be true to myself.
That being said, this'll probably be the last time I travel for the year. Going out of state is expensive and I have my sights set in visiting New York as I make my pilgrimage to Shaolin for the first time. Not to mention that I know a few folks out there who have couches and floors I can crash. I just have to get my ducks in order to make it happen. For now, it's just something to look forward to.
Sunday, March 15, 2015
I love my job and the work that I do there. That's why I stepped it up at the conference I attended. I balanced my outfits to be professional but also casual enough so I could navigate different spaces and use specific points of clothing as conversation starters. I mean, who wouldn't want to talk to the guy wearing hello kitty vans, ama I right? I did the same at the other conference because it made packing outfits easier and I needed layers cause I was in some cold ass places. It was my first attending both of the conferences and oddly enough, I presented at both. The first was more on that tip of my communications work and the second was on the organizing I do for fun with bikes.
Having attended comic book conventions for years, attending conferences is a sinch for me. Although, I like the conferences that feature cosplay. However, at both conferences I was one of the few folks of color navigating those spaces. Those kind of situations always lend themselves to awkwardness, but it really can't be helped sometimes. There's this weird dynamic at conferences. We're all there for the same reasons, more or less, yet we ignore each for the better part. Outside of allotted spaces for folks to sit and make idle small talk, you gotta go outta your way to meet folks.
All awkwardness aside, I took came away from these conferences with issues I need to reflect on and discuss with others. Aside from the unbalanced representation of women and people of color and how those dynamics can play out, my biggest take away is that I'm ahead of the curve. For all the different panels and sessions I attended, I picked up a few new tricks here and there, but nothing impactful. When it comes to the skills I have accumulated, I've always been on that DIY/popular education tip. As a result, I never placed any other values to my skills because they were communal and the lack of formality. I'm use to others touting their degrees, internships, and previous jobs when talking about their skill sets. Mean while, I'm all over here watching tutorials on youtube, but fuck it. I'm on the same level as them, aren't I? Damn skippy.
I also had to be intentional with why I was there and who I was representing. It's easy enough for me to turn things on and mingle with folks around me. Make small talk here and there long enough to move on to another conversation with another random person. It's draining because you have to put yourself out there, but I will say it's worth it. Get to meet nice folks from different parts and you get into some interesting stories. Booze helps with that. That being said, I enjoyed my conference experiences mostly because of the individuals I was with. They made it that much more fun after hours, but also in connecting with others as well. While I didn't take much away in new skill sets, I'm looking at hosting my own next time around.
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Ohh sure, there are humanitarian reasons for providing services to immigrants, but it is all about the money. At said press conference, I asked myself if I was being a grumpy cat or a realist? A few years ago, I would have been all about this kinda stuff, but with a blind eye. For a lot of years, I stood behind and advocated for policies and programs that are hella fucked up when you stop to think about them critically. Thankfully, I know different now.
However, don't get it twisted. As an individual who is flourishing from the little support DACA provides, I accept the deal without any qualms. I fully acknowledge the numerous privileges tied to DACA, my age, my gender identity, my skills that pay the bills etc. For others, DACA is the greatest thing to have ever happened to them. I am not one of those people. My struggles are my own and while I have trouble finding sympathy for others these days, I don't speak for them.
I realize and acknowledge that the government isn't doing us any favors by granting us temporary status'. The desperation and need for them are sorely needed, but it really is no different that showing a photograph of oxygen to a drowning man. Everyone has to make peace with that. I question those who don't because ignorance and denial are just as bad. Thanks to my non-profit job and side hustles, I can afford to be a temporary resident, others can't and I remember that everyday.
I think about that when I'm buying comic books, eating out, going to the movies, buying random crap online that I don't need, $90 sneakers, craft beer, video game systems, $500 smart phones, art, books, food etc. I think about all that and I don't bat an eye. Experiencing the depths of grief helped me appreciate the heights of joy and brother lemme tell you, things are fucking joyous around these here parts.
So what's the point I'm trying to make? Own your shit. Don't be coming round here touting some humanitarian rhetoric on how you are going to help all THESE IMMIGRANTS with what you are doing. Just straight up say, yo! We need to get all these immigrants temporary work permits cause they is going to be paying a shit load of taxes and not seeing any of it back. Straight up, they're going to be throwing money into the economy, social security, and everything else in between. We all gonna be rolling deep son, naw mean?