Everyone is a little bit racist...

I would never consider myself a racist - I'm pretty tolerant of most people, and I'd say I judge people based off of them individually, and not because of their looks, race, gender, sexual classifications.

But, I can say, that for the most part, most Mexicans I meet prove themselves to be complete assholes.

Exhibit #125 comes from an event that took place this weekend at my parents house. My parents live in Pacoima, which has become a pretty low-income, gang-infested, predominately hispanic neighborhood. This happens to be the neighborhood my Grandmother picked to raise her kids 60 years ago when Pacoima was a new neighborhood. Clean, crime free, with nice neighbors. Well, my parents moved into their current home 35 years ago and the city has devolved around them. I won't say it's because "mexicans" have moved in, but it's just become a poorer neighborhood with a high crime rate. It's unfortunate.

Josh and I moved into my parents house this weekend to help out while my Dad is on disability and with chores around the house as he recovers from his open heart surgery. It was a long day of moving, and lifting heavy things, and unpacking. This happened to coincide with a party my neighbors were having that seemed innocent enough. There was a jumper, and guests started arriving at 4pm with their kids, and gifts that seemed to be for a child.

At around 10pm that night, this switched into a harmless party, into a party with loud music, loud people and a lot of alcohol. Still...at 10pm, this is fine. People are entitled to have a good time in their home. At 12pm, the party was still going on, and Josh and I went to bed.

Our new bedroom has a sliding glass door that leads out to a small patio, that is directly adjacent to our neighbors driveway where this party was taking place. It was LOUD, but at midnight, I could still excuse it. I tossed and turned all night long, being woken up from the loud music, and people talking, yelling, laughing. We still didn't have everything unpacked, including our alarm clock - so I never had a clue what time it was. I assumed it was still pretty late at night since the party was still going so I tried to readjust, block out the sound and go back to sleep.

Finally, I gave up and went to the bathroom, and discovered that it wasn't still night time at all. It was the morning. 5:43am to be exact. I went out to the livingroom hoping to find some peace and quiet - where I also found Josh who had moved there not too long before me. It was quieter, but not quiet enough and Josh and I were annoyed.

A few minutes later I heard my Dad on the phone, apparently making a second call to the police to try and get someone out to stop the party or atleast have the music turned down. The police came, gave a warning and left, and the music was back up 10 minutes later. A third call was made around 6:30 and another cop car shows up around 7:15am. One of the guests, who claimed to be the owner of the house, confronted the police. This man was quite drunk (yes - at 7 in the morning) and decided he had a problem with this most recent cop that showed up. The cop asked him to "Please, Back UP!" and the man went off, yelling about how he wasn't even doing anything, getting in the face of this cop. He asked the man to back up again. The man didn't like this and went off even more.

Backup had now been called, and the Sargeant shows up to try and calm this man down. He goes on and on telling the sgt that this police officer was rude and harrassing him, and needed to get counseling and was a bad cop. He asked for his name and badge number, claiming that he would be filing a complaint. The officer, realizing that his presence was not calming the man down walked away, and the man yelled after him "Remember what your badge means! Serve and Protect Mother fucker!". The officer got in his car to calm down because he was obviously pretty angry.

The man did not calm down, and soon after, two other cop cars were now there - a total of 8 cops. The man didn't understand what the problem was because all of the neighbors were there, except for "this white mother fucker over here" he said as he pointed at our house.

The man was issued a citation for $1,000. The two original cops came to talk to us to let us know what was going on. We explained to them about how we felt unsafe, and the potential retaliation based on our calls to the police, and what we had overheard. They told us that we could file a restraining order against them that would prevent them from talking, calling or contacting us in anyway (including any of their friends).

They eventually left, and 30 minutes later the music was back on. It wasn't too loud this time, and because we weren't trying to sleep we let it be. But eventually it got louder, and we called the cops again around 3pm. They showed up an hour later and gave them a warning and left. Finally around 7pm, everyone went home and the music stopped!

It was a ridiculous day, and only added onto the exhaustion of moving the day before. I hated that I felt unsafe in my own home, and hated the fact that it was blamed on being racist - that it was a "Mexican" party, and we were "White mother fuckers". The illuded many times to it being Glamis Street and that they were Glamis Street Locals. Apparently, being of hispanic descent made them belong even though they had only lived there for a few years. My Mom, who has lived almost all her life on that street, and my Dad who has lived there for 35 years, were made to feel like outsiders.

My Dad made a comment later that day about how events like this make him even more eager to leave Pacoima, a place we've called home for decades.

So, to sum this up - that man, James, who happened to be a "Mexican", and who was so proud of his "Mexican party", I hate you.

Difficulties

I know that moving in with my parents would cause some stress on Josh and I, and definitely put our relationship to the test. I just didn't realize that test would begin even before we actually moved in.

The stress of juggling work, with our personal needs, on top of getting my parents house, and my sisters garage (which will hold our belongings until our move to Atlanta), has been almost unbearable. We have a task that has to get done every night, every weekend. And with most of it being some type of physical work, being done after work, I know we're both mentally and physically exhausted.

Our fuses are short, and fights have become more common, though not serious at all. I just hate that its happening at all.

But I know that this is necessary. My parents need the help, probably more financially than physically at this point. My dad is doing extremely well, aside from some cabin fever. And I know that if we weren't saving the money on our regular rent, we'd never save up enough for a down payment on a house.

It's just been a very long, extremely bumpy and curvy, and sometimes slippery road these past few weeks, and luckily, in one week we'll be moved in, and we'll start down another road. One that hopefully has a few more rest stops on the way.

Things still need to happen before we move in. We need to paint, prime, and install new blinds in the bedroom. The carpet guys are coming on Wednesday for the new carpet. The back room needs to get a major cleaning and vacuuming to be used as our semi-private living room. Josh and I need to finish packing, plus all that fun change-of-address stuff. All this on top of working full time, long commutes for Josh, and somewhere along the way Josh and I need to find time for us, to connect.

The one bright spot is Josh's birthday tomorrow night, which I hope won't become clouded with the list of to-dos. Hopefully, we can let go, relax, and have fun! Hopefully, we won't be too exhausted to enjoy the night.

Ch-ch-ch-changes, Part 2

Last Tuesday I got a call from my Mom that my Dad was headed back to the hospital due to chest pains, but that the pains weren't as bad as last time. The only favor my Mom really needed from me was to take Josh with me to pick up my Dad's car and drive it home. Later that night she said not to worry, that it was fine where it was and we'd worry about it later.

They ended up moving him from Arcadia Methodist where he had been taken to Glendale Memorial, a hospital that was covered under his insurance. That morning, they decided they needed to do another Angiogram to see what was going on and discovered that he had multiple blocked arteries, and the stent they had placed after his heart attack in May was failing. They decided that he needed to have bypass surgery.

My Mom and Dad were both frightened beyond belief, as was the rest of the family. The surgeon decided that the surgery would take place the next day, Thursday at Noon. Luckily, the surgeon reassured us that my Dad was a great candidate, and because of his healthy heart, and that he didn't have anything else wrong with him like high blood pressure, or Diabetes, it should go fairly well.

Josh and I arrived Thursday morning around 10am to spend some time with him before they took him to Pre-op at 11. I was doing my best to stay strong for my Mom and Dad, but when Josh hugged my Dad and started to cry, I couldn't hold it together and started to cry too. It was very unsettling to think that I might have been seeing my Dad alive for the last time.

The surgery began right at Noon. They knew they would be bypassing three arteries, and possibly a fourth if needed - which they would decide once they had him opened up. He was put on a heart and lung bypass machine - because they had to stop his heart to perform the surgery. The machine kept his body alive. At around 3:30 a nurse called to tell us that they had decided to bypass all four arteries, and so far the surgery was going really well. About 45 minutes later, the surgery had ended, and my Dad was doing well.

They kept him fairly sedated the rest of that night. He had a breathing tube, a tube to his stomach to drain any secretations, two arterial tubes, a chest tube to drain any fluid from his heart, and about 50 IV's. I chose not to see him during this time and I know that Dad wouldn't have wanted people to see him like that either. Later that night, they removed the breathing tube.

The next day, he was doing so well, they moved him out of CCU and into his own room to recover. They had him up and walking around - just a little bit, and by Saturday morning, all the tubes had been removed, and they were only hooking him up to two IV's periodically.

Then on Sunday, they sent him home because he was doing so well! He gets tired if he's standing up or walking for more than a couple minutes, but given the situation, he's doing great!

He'll be out of work for three months, which brings me to change #2. Because my Dad will be out on disability for three months, which only pays a partial amount of his normal salary, and because he will be limited to what he can do around the house, Josh and I are moving in with them to help subsidize his lost income, and to do chores and such around the house. It's both a help to them and also to us, as we'll be saving around $700/month in rent and other bills we'd normally be paying. Saving that extra money will definitely guarantee that we'll have reached our goal of saving $20,000 to put as a down payment on a house once we move. If Josh works consistently until next June/July, we might even be closer to $25,000 which will help us furnish the house once we get into it.

Hopefully this will all work out and by this time next year, I'll be the owner of a beautiful house that I can call my own, and be proud of.

I'm Over It!...Or Am I?

Whitney, was, and had been my closest "girl" friend for quite some time. We met in October of 2002 (I believe), and stayed pretty close. After Will died, the group, and Whitney and I, got closer. I had a friend that I could go shopping with, or just go over to watch TV with.

I really am not sure what started the split. I noticed some change when she lost some weight. She wanted to do different things, go out more, etc. Then there was some more distance after my brief experimentation with smoking. It didn't do much for me, so I didn't do it. That was interpreted as me being close-minded and judgemental and was pushed away even more.

Then when Josh and I started dating, a divide started to happen. The single people vs. the couples - although only one person, Whitney, saw it this way. This is the most shocking to me as Whitney was so hurt when Joe would always choose Deb over hanging with the group, yet Josh and I always include others in our outing, we don't put our alone time ahead of seeing our friends. Yet still, Whitney made it a point that thats how things were.

I started to notice that she would give us so much grief for not going out more or not staying out late, yet whenever we were out late, she wanted to go home. She'd act bored when she was over, or just lay down on the couch and nap.

Yet, she was still my best girl friend - the closest thing to it atleast, and I made her a bridesmaid in my wedding. I didn't have the traditional bridal party and didn't get much help in the way of planning - but I didn't notice it being that I was doing pretty well on my own. But then I started to get grief about the normal duties that come with being a bridesmaid - like buying the dress, the shoes, paying for hair and makeup to be done, driving out to my sisters for my bridal shower. Everything was a chore.

Then, the night before the wedding, she opted to hang out with the guys because thats where all the "younger" people were and where the partying would be taking place, instead of spending it with me. I went to sleep on a air mattress in the living room completely alone that night with no one to share my excitement with. The next morning, Whitney was the last one to show up. She stayed just long enough to get her hair and makeup done, and then left again to go back to the guys. I didn't realize how utterly selfish this was until months later. People would bring it up here and there, and I just dismissed it. But now, just over 5 months after our wedding, I 100% regret having her in my wedding, and am almost angry that she's in the pictures.

The whole group to be honest started growing some distance - but I very painfully realized, that any interaction was almost always initiated by me. I loved planning stuff, but I was hurt by the fact that no one reached out to me. I shared this with Whitney, and she said multiple times that it sucked it had to be that way, and that she would make more of an effort. I always wondered what would happen if I just stopped planning. Would my friends reach out to see me. After about a year of saying this, I finally did it. I stopped planning. We still see people, but its usally Josh putting it together, or me hinting to someone else they should plan something, or a birthday of some sort. I still talk to people over AIM, and text and there are a few that will make an effort.

Whitney, on the other hand, has not made a single effort to email/text/or call me in the past couple months. I'll see her at group functions and thats about it. Conversation is forced. There wasn't a single instance or fight or event that made this happen. It just happened.

There are still friends that I don't see very often, or don't talk to, yet I still consider them friends. Whitney on the other hand, I'm not so sure about. I'm not sure that she'd ever go out of her way for me, or have my back to defend me. Does she care at all...I'm starting to think she doesn't.

I'm over the fact that I've lost a friend, but so very pissed that someone can be that rude and selfish.

Disconnected

I was talking to Josh the other week about moving, and came up with the startling revelation that I'm not going to miss living in Los Angeles, or the Valley. I'm sure I'll miss the house I grew up in, but I certainly won't miss Pacoima. I'll have memories of our aparment, but I'm not going to miss that either, or Northridge. I won't miss the L.A., or Hollywood scene. I'm not connected to my city.

I'll miss my family, and I'll miss the familiarity of this place I've called home for 26 years, but for some reason, even before meeting Josh, I haven't planted my roots here.

I see that as a telling sign that this is the right move for me. I already see Atlanta as holding so much more for me. The people, the culture, the sense of community. L.A. is a selfish place where people, for the most part, walk around caring only for themselves. I look forward to walking around and have people say hello to me as I pass them on the sidewalk instead of just looking down or texting their life away. It's time to start connecting with people, with life, with a place.

I just got a new car, a Toyota Corolla, that I ended up leasing. 3 years. I just picture how much my life will change in 3 years. I'll have moved from L.A. to Atlanta. We'll have bought a house, and hopefully a nice one at that, and hopefully I will either have a child, or atleast be pregnant with my first child.

In 3 years.

That's not a very long time.

Lets do this!

Ch-ch-ch-chaaanges

The plans of moving to Georgia have been accepted much better than I anticipated. It probably has something to do with the fact that the very same week I shared my news with my Mom, my Dad also shared some news.

In short, he wants to retire, and in order to retire, they have to get rid of the house. He can't afford to not work with the house they've lived in for 30+ years. Instead, they'll both retire, give up having a permanent residence, purchase a truck and a 5th wheel trailer and travel the country at their leisure. At first, my Mom was not excited about this. For one, she has filled a 4 bedroom house and a garage with stuff. Having to part with 80% of that stuff will not be easy. Plus, she's lived on that street for 95% of her life, growing up in the house just across the street.

But quickly, as the thought that she too would be able to retire, made her very excited, and even asked my Dad if this 5 year plan, could possibly be shortened.

So, you can see why this would make things easier on Josh and I. They won't even be in L.A. all the time in the next 5 years, and they'll have the ability to come see us whenever they want to.

We've gone to look at trailers with them, and man, they're gorgeous! Some of them are nicer than our apartment, and some even seem BIGGER. I think it's a lifestyle they will love, and I hope, will promote a healthier lifestyle for my Mom.

Speaking of getting rid of permanent residences, my sister Vicki and her husband Josh, fell victim to the economy and foreclosed on their house. Josh, who is in construction, was hit hard. He's gone for a year+ without steady work - and when he did work, it was side jobs, doing brick or pools for $10-$15 an hour, when he normally made upwards of $30-$40. They relied on Vicki's income for 6 months, and she only makes $1800, while the mortgage alone had gone up to $2100.

So last week, they put a notice on her door that the house had gone to auction and was sold, and they had 3 days to move out. Vicki knew it was coming, but not that quickly. They hadn't even told them they were going to put the house up for auction. It seems pretty dirty to me and I think Bank of America really did everything they could to NOT help them in their situation. They tried to renogotiate the loan, file for financial hardship, but they got the runaround every single time. Bank of America just announced they were going to freeze all foreclosures, but it was already too late for my sister.

They will now be moving into a smaller modular, that is fairly nice, but will allow them to not stress about mortgage payments and making ends meet. I know they will miss their house (it was really a great house), but I know this will be huge relief.

The kids will have to share a room now, but I'm sure they won't care too much. Josh should be getting back into steady work again and they'll be able to save up money again and try and get their feet back on the ground.

Josh (my Josh) starts back at work next Wednesday working on Jamie Olivers Food Revolution, and he should have steady work until April, which will be great towards our savings for the move and a down payment on a house. I can't wait!

As for me - I've been running my little life away. I try and do atleast a 5k a day (3.1 miles), doing 20-25 miles a week. I am running in the Susan G Komen Race for the Cure on October 17th, and am planning on participating in a Half Marathon (13.1 miles) in February. I feel myself getting stronger, though I've yet to see much of a change in my body, but hopefully, if I keep this up, I'm be strong, and healthy, and for once in my life lean and fit. I'm also going to be doing the Cardio Kickboxing at the church when that starts in a month. I've always wanted to be "athletic" and I'm finally on my way to reaching that.

New Beginnings

The first day of my new life starts today. And man, does it suck. I tossed and turned, felt sick to my stomach, woke with swollen eyelids and eyeballs that feel like they weigh 10lbs each. Today marks a fantastic, yet horrifyingly scary change in my life.

Last night, I told my parents (more specifically my Mom) that I will be leaving the place I've always called home, and moving to the other side of this continent we call the United States, 2,500 miles away, to Atlanta, Georgia.

It's something that I've known for a long time now, something I've talked about at great lengths, and confided in with almost everyone except for my Mom. I was scared to tell her, scared that she wouldn't understand, scared of hurting her, but most of all scared that she would hate me.

She doesn't hate me, but about every other negative emotion applied to last night. Hurt, scared, angry, sad. My mom said that her heart hurt last night, and I know exactly how she feels. My heart hurts too.

It hurts a lot.

But despite the hurt, I think my Mom will eventually understand, and I hope one day even be excited for this change I'm making in my life. It's not going to be easy being away from my Family. I always knew that we were different from other families. Sure we have our minor disagreements from time to time, but we're all so extremely close, and see eachother quite often. We love being around eachother, and I think we all value the time spent with everyone more than the average family.

In short, my family is amazing. I've only witnessed this same thing with one other family, and thats Josh's. And he's experiencing now, what I'm expecting to experience in just 12 short months. Even after living out here for 6 years, it doesn't get easier for him and he still cries as he says his goodbyes. Soon, I will be in his shoes.

But our families aside, there is Josh and I. The seeds of brand new family. And it is this brand new family, a family yet to exist, that I am having to think a lot about lately. What can I provide for them, what kind of childhood memories will they have, how successful will they be, how smart will they be. It's no longer about me and Josh, and his family and my family. It's about them.

I want to give them more than what I can give them out here. Josh and I struggle right now to make ends meet. We live in a one-bedroom apartment. We don't have a yard, or a dog. We don't have neighbors our age that are at the same stage that Josh and I are at. Josh works a job that doesn't allow him to commit to family. I refuse to bring a child into that.

Life in Atlanta has promise, and hope, and possibilities. It also has humid summers and more rain than I'd like to deal with. But I will deal with those things because we can have a house (and a nice one at that), stable jobs, families like us, and the room for our children to grow and explore, and faith in schools to educate them to be strong, independent and successful.

I wish I didn't have to choose. I wish I could choose to be selfish, and continue living happily within close proximity of my family. I wish I could have all that things I want for Josh and I, our children, and still be close to MY family, and HIS family. Unfortunately, I can't have all of those things, and I must make this excruciating sacrifice of moving away from the people I love so very much.

And yet, despite my swollen eyelides, my 10lb eyeballs, and my broken heart, the excitement for something new lingers.