Artist Agreement

Let’s agree. 

They sprinkle us throughout the world and tell us we’re different, weird and odd. It’s about making us feel unwanted, unloved and unappreciated. Until someone validates us and says oh cool, look at them, they’re special. Then they applaud, pay money for a fancy closeup and act like we’ve always been the favorite. As though, behind closed doors, they were rooting for us all along.  
I’m going to smile and pretend I didn’t have to prove myself to you. I’m going to sit back and forget all the loneliness, all the struggle and all the doubt that was inspired by you.  The table that lied empty of nourishment and a refrigerator full of left over pizza, is all but forgotten. I’m rooting for me too!

Thank you for your patronage. 


The Day Trump Hurt My Feelings

Somehow, I was deemed, ACCEPTED, by my white neighbors.

I was born to parents born in El Paso, Texas.  Their parents were legal migrants from Mexico.  As children, Ricardo and Juana, would travel, with their families, from El Paso, Texas to Gilroy, CA for the farming season.  Not meeting each other until later on in their lives when both families decided to move to and settle in San Fernando and Pacoima, CA.

For not being born into privilege, they did well.  Richard, as he was known, retired from the Army life early and became a union brother at General Motors, along with some of his brothers.  Jenny, as she was known, decided to be a stay at home wife, taking care of her 2 children, Deborah, 8, and RJ, 7, when I decided to pop into the picture.

Boom!  I was born right into the middle class.  All 3 of us attended private school and English was our 1st and only language.  When I showed interested in learning Spanish, my mother always discouraged me because we were in America and we are Americans.  I always wondered what made her think this way.  I never really fit in with the Latino crowd because, well simply, I didn’t speak Spanish and I was considered Pocha.  I thought that maybe I fit in with the neighborhood kids because we are all mixed.  Danny and Sandy were Korean American, Tammy’s family was white, Belinda’s family was interracial with both black and white, Cedros’ family were American Indians, Adolf and his family were Jewish, our next door neighbors were white and then there was my family, Mexican American.  (As a side note, we had a lesbian couple on our block along with a gay man, which should have been shocking in the 80s but it was normal for us)  I’ve been lucky.  I lived in a diverse neighborhood that taught us all tolerance and understanding of our fellow Americans.

My mother had trees.  Boy, did she have trees and a flair for making spicy chili (salsa), spicy anything for that matter, to share.  She would make food for the neighbors and they would return the favor in kind.  When we picked fruit from the trees, all the neighbors were invited over to come pick their share of fruits or we would prepare bags of fruits for them and deliver it to their door.  There are a lot of things my mom taught me.  A lot, completely wrong and crazy but the best thing she ever taught me was to love your neighbors and look out for one another, never once pointing out any differences.

My father, on the other hand, well he taught me to laugh at everything and not to take everything so seriously.  Both are gone now.  As an advocate against child abuse and corruption with the government, but even more than that, I’m a burner, a hard worker, an artist, a mother and a human, my biggest fear is that I will not be able to accomplish my goals because, well, at the end of the day, I’m Mexican.

I’ve been living a lie.  For as long as I can remember, I lived with the idea that all of my neighbors accepted me, for me.  That they loved me because I’m a good person inside and that they didn’t look at me as one race or another, but as a person.  The idea that they watched me grow up from a bratty little tyke into the woman that I was yesterday and whoever I will be tomorrow, that they love me, as I love them.  However, I now know how wrong I am.

On June 5th, my world changed and on June 6th, I hadn’t stopped crying.  First off, as an adult, I remained friends with some of my neighbors through Facebook.  One in particular, Drew, I refer to as my brother and his cousin as my cousin.  Well, what started off as another jab at Hillary Clinton from a Donald Trump supporter, my cousin, turned into pain and anger.  After a man made a comment about Trump being God chosen, I simply said, God and politics have nothing to do with each other and if it did, God isn’t hateful and mean-spirited.  My so-called brother jumped in to explain that I don’t know anything about politics because although my dad was a sweet man, he was more than likely illegal and this somehow made me ignorant.  This was somehow, his twisted ideological way of defending me.

Several posts trying to defend himself as right, brought me to this realization.  I was allowed to be a friend to white people because I somehow passed a test when I was born into my family.  My parents, somehow passed a test when they moved in.  Somehow, I was deemed, ACCEPTED, by my white neighbors.  We are not criminals, like other Mexicans.  We aren’t thieves, like other Mexicans.  We are somehow the exception.  I was somehow an exception.  So, as long as Trump keeps out people who aren’t accepted yet, we are good.

Mr. Trump, your hate speech is no longer wanted or appreciated.  You have reignited a whole new generation of racism and sexism that we, as a country, have worked so hard to eliminate and move away from.  It’s a shame.  It’s complete shame that you are allowed to use your celebrity to lie and deceive people on such a grand level that you are turning Americans against Americans.  The people in this beautiful country are not without fault, but you sir, need to get off the mic.  I will be glad when this election is over and are put back into the hole from which you have come out of.


I’m on a self destructive path

Fire in my aftermath

The devil wish he could save my soul

Blowing in the wind

Time twisting around the bend

Burning deep down

Filling the holes

Wildwood burning

Smells so great

Sealing this doom

That is my fate

The fire heading out of control

The wounds too ready

Blisters are forming

This fire had its warning

The water looks so clear

But it’s not for me

I fear

Is burning through and through

This self destructive path

Leaves traces of my mind

Without dousing the pain

Arising the new day

Like a Phoenix on the rise

The fire flames

Arise and Arise

The burning is deep in my soul


He defined me.

Selfish, victim and controlling.

I think

I think

I think

He doesn’t know me.

He doesn’t know.





He doesn’t know.





What he knows.





What he knows.





I am not his definition.

I will not be his manipulation.

Everyone has an opinion.

I’m too much this or not enough that.

Everyone has an opinion.





This song is for you

I’ll write a you a song

but tell no one

This is for me and you

This time

just us two

You have heard them

and I fail to listen

(Fuck them)

You have not known me

And I fail to care

This song is for you

Just for us two

No matter what you do

This is always for you

Don’t let them feed you their drugs

They will simply laugh and talk

Don’t let them push you

You deserve better than that

They promise you the world

Venom from their mouths hurled

You deserve better

Don’t let them

This song

Just us

No matter what

This is always for you

A Happy List

Happy thoughts. Keep in your mind the things that are worth keeping and throw away the things that are not.


A list of happy things.

One of those things that kids make, one of those things we take for granted. One of those things we forget when we grow up.

So here is the deal, on this season try and make your own list of things that make you happy. I am working on my own and I think is already worth it.

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You know that feeling?  That particular feeling when you realize that you have been hit by a tornado of bitterness and lies?  When you decide to show yourself to people and then turn around to find out that they have been giving you fake smiles and hugs.  The thank yous and invites aren’t real.  They are fake too.  The whole time, they were waiting for you to turn around so they could talk shit about you.

When you find out that being helpful to a friend who was helping you actually coukd have led to their death by overdose, things, actions and emotions take on new meanings and new forms.

My error was in caring about others when i shoukd have been busy being selfish.  I have given my heart freely in trade of false pretenses and fake friendships.

What’s worse?! I could have been the reason she died.  I drove her to those houses and believed the lies she told me because they made sense.  Why would she want to keep destroying her life?! Why?  Even today, when i see her drink, i think, how could she be so unhappy.  I was used, in the most dangerous way!  She coukd have overdosed while i sat in the living room like an idiot wondering what was taking so long… with money i lent her!  She said she would never go back to that life but now i am convinced that she has never left it.

He offered assistance and thanked me for being around.  He invited me to things he didn’t want me at just so he could say things about me behind my back.  What a fool I am.  I even was nice enough to invite him somewhere too, as a return favor for helping.  Just to find out that he says things.  He even believed i had keys to his house and could come and go as i felt and said it would be ok?  Just so he could say things behind my back!

I am a flirt, but just because i do not flirt with you does not mean you can go around trash talking me.  I deserve to be treated better than that! 

I recenetly made a revelation about myself.  I have been, subconsciously surrounding myself with users/abusers.  Not anymore.  It ends here, now!

No more tornado of bitterness and lies.