#my dad gave me this salsa my aunt made

[joelsgreys]

when an older Latina woman tells you something is not that spicy fucking RUN

#not only is it spicy #it is so spicy #it will send you into another dimension #my dad gave me this salsa my aunt made #she said it wasn’t that spicy #i am actually crying

[saiilorstars]

Familial Bonds Pt. 1-One Shot

Companion to Dare To Forget Me || Montserrat’s masterlist

Pairing: Rafael Barba x OFC

Summary: Thanks to Casey Novak, Detective Montserrat and her brother have an argument over their family's hurtful past. While Casey tends to Montserrat's brother, Rafael has his go at Montserrat with the intention of helping her make a decision.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog​ @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet @perfectlystiles @averyhotchner​

“Montse, please, it’s ridiculous! Why should we even entertain the idea of visiting her? We don’t even know her!” the loud voice of a man pulled several customers’ attention from other tables.

 “Gael, that’s the whole point of visiting her!” Montserrat tried to argue in a normal tone but her brother was just being plain annoying. Gael Novak had that talent since she could remember. “I don’t know how she got my number but I’m glad she did. She just wants to know us, Gael.”

 “I don’t want to know anyone from her family,” Gael’s spat made Montserrat flinch in her chair. “And you shouldn’t either-”

“-now hold on-”

“-she’s her mother- ”

“-and your grandmother!”

“Only biologically!”

As the two siblings went back and forth, their loud voices progressively drew in customer’s attention. Just as the manager was going to go talk to them - since he knew the Novak family quite well - he spotted the third, eldest Novak coming in through the doors. He hated to have to call her in, especially when she wasn’t alone herself, but things were getting pretty rowdy.

 “Casey,” the manager smiled with relief as he came up to her. “Rafael, nice to see you again.”

 The two ADAs smiled at the man, but they both faded when they heard the ongoing argument towards the back.

 Casey closed her eyes, letting a sigh slip through her lips. “Please don’t tell me those are…”

 “Detective Novak and the contractor?” Rafael finished for her, still feigning thought about the voices. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it is. She’s shouted enough for me to recognize her.”

 Casey inwardly groaned. She put a hand on the manager’s shoulder and promised him she would get the two to be quiet or leave.

 “...I think it’s a waste of time! And honestly, the fact you’re not giving my opinion a decent consideration is offensive!”

 "Bold of you to think I would care!” Montserrat’s shout was the last response of the argument.

 “Would you two please be quiet?” Casey’s presence startled the two, even more so when they saw Rafael. “The entire block can hear you.”

 Montserrat busied herself with a chip that she aggressively plunged into salsa. “If Gael wasn’t being so-”

“-oh, what? What am I being, hm?” Gael snapped but Montserrat purposely remained silence. She just took a bit of her chip and chewed. “Don’t give me the silent treatment! We’re not kids anymore!”

“No, you aren’t, so be quiet,” Casey warned the two to listen to her. “Just tell us what the hell are you two arguing over?”

Montserrat reached for another chip but instead of eating it, she just cracked pieces off. “Our...grandmother...called me. I don’t know how she got number, but...she called.”

“Grandmother? Wait, didn’t you mention…” Rafael trailed off when Casey made a cutting motion across her neck.

Montserrat looked up at the two suspiciously. “Mention what?”

 Casey purposely ran a hand through her hair, gaze shifting on the ground. Rafael was just confused but he ultimately elaborated a little. “Casey mentioned something about a grandmother of yours earlier. The only time I’ve seen her happy after losing a case.”

Casey shot him a mock glare. “Thank you. I see why Montse complains about you.”

“I didn’t know it was a secret,” he shot back.

“Casey, what’s going on?” Gael asked from his cousin. She wasn’t usually one to get into familial problems like this.

“Nothing,” Casey tried to be casual about it but her awkward shifting was enough to put both siblings in further suspicion.

“Rafael, you seem to know,” Montserrat looked at him sharply. “And if you don’t tell me what it is I’ll make sure your time with me becomes even more unbearable.”

“That’s possible?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

“Try me.”

Now, the reason he decided to ultimately share was not because of the threat Montserrat imposed on him - maybe like 10% of his reason - but instead it was for the sheer fact that Montserrat looked genuinely upset. He’d seen her angry on occasions but it was always due to their challenging cases. This was something more personal, and he didn’t quite like seeing her this way. Besides, what Casey did didn’t seem to be bad in his perspective. 

“She just...she just said she gave your grandmother your cell phone number,” his words may have well been the words of war. Gael fixated a deep glare on Casey but Montserrat stayed quiet, frozen even.

“Casey, what the hell!?” Gael shot up from his chair. “Why would you give that woman Montse’s number!? Tell me you didn’t give her mine !?”

“I thought it would do you well - both of you well,” Casey’s honest answer pulled Montserrat’s gaze up to the woman. “I know your mother’s side of the family isn’t one you speak to but she sounded genuinely curious about you two. I didn’t see any harm-”

“-you shouldn’t have done anything!” Gael continued to shout. “This isn’t your problem, Casey! Do us the favor and just keep your nose in your cases!” he grabbed his jacket off his chair and stormed towards the doors.

“Gael, wait!” Casey left her things on the table in a hasty manner. She put a hand on Montserrat’s shoulder, lowering herself for a quick moment. “I just wanted to help.” She pulled her hand back and hurried to catch up with Gael on the street.

Montserrat shook her head and started dusting her hands off from the crumbles of chips. “I’m sorry,” she said so hushed Rafael could barely hear her. She was getting ready to leave, but she seemed nowhere near herself.

“Montse, hold on,” Rafael put a hand on her arm to keep her in her chair. He slowly took the chair next to her, motioning he was just going to talk, though she wondered if this was just going to be another session of poking fun at her like it usually was. “Whatever this whole thing is about, I can personally vouch that Casey did seem to have the best intentions. She was excited to know what you would say.”

“I don’t doubt that she did this in good faith, but Gael was right. It wasn’t her place,” Montserrat reached for her purse hanging on her chair.

“M-Montserrat, please talk to me,” Rafael’s request came as unusual for Montserrat. He knew that too which was why he added on, “I like to think that despite our...rockish...moments, we are indeed friends.”

“Rockish,” Montserrat repeated with the tiniest of smiles, but for Rafael is was a start.

“C’mon, talk. Casey’s coming back so we’re not going anywhere,” he made himself comfortable in his chair. As Montserrat reached for another chip he smacked her hand away from it, making her roll her eyes.

“This is our maternal grandmother we’re talking about-”

“-kind of figured,” Rafael said through munches. “Casey Novak loves to talk about her grandparents.”

“After my mom walked out on our family my Dad moved us to a whole new neighborhood so we wouldn’t have to see any of her family again, and much less her. That’s just the way things were until today,” Montserrat sighed. She finally grabbed a chip but she just toyed with it at the plate’s edge. “I acknowledge that my mother doesn’t love me nor my brother, but that doesn’t have to extend to my grandmother, right?”

“Shouldn’t have to, but you knew that already,” Rafael flashed her a smile. “It’s why you came to talk to Gael, right?”

“Correct,” Montserrat sighed again. “I thought maybe...maybe the both of us could visit her. She lives in the Bronx. She sounded sweet on the phone - but nervous, she was so nervous too. She wants to meet us. It caught me by surprise but...I don’t know-” she shrugged ever-so-casually, “-it felt nice. She spoke to me in Spanish, you know I don’t know that.”

“Oh, I know,” Rafael didn’t hesitate to confirm that. Despite her Latin side on her mother’s side, Montserrat didn’t own a drop of the Spanish language.

Montserrat smiled out of embarrassment. “She was so sweet I just...I couldn’t help feel curious myself. Who is my grandmother, you know? What can she teach me? Will she love me despite never meeting me?”

“Well, I have to be honest,” Rafael dusted his hands off from the chips. “It takes time to get used to you-” Montserrat sarcastically tilted her head at him, “-but after some time, you get to realize that you are a good person. And you deserve to be happy.”

Montserrat’s face softened, albeit a trace of surprise still made an appearance. “Who are you and what have you done with Rafael Barba?” He rolled his eyes at her but she swore she saw a tint of a blush on him for a second.

“I mean it, Montse. Take it from someone who’s already lost their grandmother. Don’t let a potentially good relationship slip from your hands. This woman found Casey just to find you. That alone should show good intentions.”

“But what if Gael was right? What if it’s just a waste of time?”

“Do you think it’d be a waste of time?”

Montserrat took in a breath while she thought. “My Dad said that my mom’s family was big. I have aunts, uncles, cousins...all these people I’ve never met before. I’d like to get to know them. And my grandmother…” she got lost in thoughts only to be pulled back when Rafael placed his hand over hers on the table. His warmth provided a support she didn’t even know she needed. It just felt pretty good. “Gael is going to be pretty mad at me for going…” she admitted it troubled her to know Gael would probably shout at her all over again.

“You don’t have to tell him right away if that makes it easier on you,” Rafael suggested. “Take your time, get to know this woman who - for some reason - wants to meet you…”

 Montserrat rolled her eyes at his smirk. She tried to pinch his hand around hers but it ultimately turned into a tighter grip between them. She took refuge in it and wondered if it would be ridiculous to ask if she could talk to him first after meeting with her grandmother.

#ocappreciation #svu #rafael barba #svu imagines #rafael barba imagines #fd: svu #oc: Montserrat Novak

[breadsaladdd]

crossing the border & my earliest memories.

i don’t remember saying goodbye to my dad or my grandpa. 

i don’t remember the plane ride to Tijuana. 

i remember my bookbag. a pink see-through Princess Atta bookbag. i guess that’s the beauty of being a child, your memories are just random bits of the things you thought were important at that time. 

i remember meeting my aunt and my cousin for the first time. we got into a car with them, driving towards bright lights in the night. 

“brenda, i need you to pretend you’re sleeping okay? don’t talk,” they said to me. i was only 6. having my cousin there next to made me feel like everything was okay. 

i remember laying my head on my mom’s lap. she then laid me on the floor, covering me with a sweatshirt. i fell asleep. 

blink.

i was now sitting on a sidewalk curve. my uncle, who i just met, gave me these rock-looking things. 

“just hit them against the pavement, like this,” he said, then took one and hit it against the sidewalk. and so i did...

blink. 

my next memory is of the highway. i felt like years had passed sitting in the back of a pick up truck with my cousin, playing games and trying to communicate. 

i’d glance out the window at the open road. i’d keep a lookout for a big, yellow, smiling star, and every time i saw one, i would be so happy to recognize something. we’d stop to grab a these incredible star-shaped snacks that i had never had before and tiny packets of red salsa. 

blink. 

little did i know, i was leaving my home, but my dad. 

i didn’t know that i was crossing the border into California. 

that the sidewalk i sat on was in LA, hitting walnuts on the ground. 

that the Hardees sign that made me happy were on the highway to North Carolina, my new home. 

these are my earliest memories of the US, the moments that changed the life of my family forever. they seem irrelevant don’t they? 

i was one of the lucky ones, i was young and we didn’t pass through the desert. but my dad was not so lucky. it would be months before we would be reunited on the other side. 

** the first picture at school. biting my nails, i guess that’s where it started 

#writing prompt #ilegal #immigrant #mexico #memories #personal

[th3okamid3monart]

Things I’m going to miss this Holidays

There are a couple of traditions we do in my family that I havent seen in other places and with one search on the internet I realize that most of the things we do are from my own country + some that we make up ourselves. 

So Im going to share them here because... Well, there’s a big-ass chance I wont be able to do them this Christmas nor New years. 

NOTE: When I say ‘my family’ in a lot of this, I mean ALL my family. Which means, all my grandparents, all my aunts, all my uncles, all my cousins, and, yes, EVEN my great grandaparents, cousins, uncles, aunts and more. Because we all know each other and we even make a party once a year for my dad’s side of the family 

Here I go:

Las Posadas

There’s this thing that we do at one of my grandparents’ house that involves singing a carol about the time Maria and Jose were looking for a place to stay to rest before travel far away for the birth of Jesus. It is a song which is singed by 2 groups, one that is inside and the other that’s outside. What we do is the following: One group goes inside a room in the house while the other stays outside the door, the group outside sings one part and the other sings the other. We go back and forward until we finish the song. It is pretty funny because no one sings well and its just like a bunch of grown ups practically screaming but we always end up chuckling. I used to think it was pointless and boring but that was because I was an edgy potato, after I enter University i began to enjoy more things and be happier. This is going to be the second time I wont be with my complete family for Christmas and now its all the family who wont be able to go to my grandparents house for a celebration. 

12 grapes, 12 wishes

In both sides of my family we usually fill up 12 grapes in a cup and give everyone 1 cup each. I dont remember what exactly the grapes meant or the story about the wishes but it’s supposedly like before it strikes 12 am on New Years, we have to eat our grapes while also wishing for something. I remember when I was younger I’d wish for peace on the world or that everything went well for everyone. I think I’m going to buy a bigger bag of grapes this year. 

Something that was funny was that everyone would just... Stuff their mouths with grapes, mostly my cousins and I, just to see how many we could fit. Not everyone wished for many things in the family because I think we all feel we had and have enough. If my family does this again on their own, I’m pretty certain their wishes would be to be able to meet with the family. 

Piñata

Every year since I was little, my grandparents buy a piñata to smash before or during Christmas. They find it such a good activity for cousins and even for my aunts, my mom and uncle. They literally havent stopped buying them, the oldest grandchild in that side of the family its in her 30s, but they still buy a piñata. I think its mostly for the youngest which are below 16, never the less, its still super funny and hilarious because we go from youngest to oldest. By the time it gets to my brother, its still intact, he only swings it once and its completely DESTROYED. We just have a lot of fun, and sometimes we make my mom or my aunts to hit it. My mom wasnt as cheery when I was a kid, but now she laughs more and when it comes to the piñata she laughs and enjoys her time even more. 

Games 

Like any gathering, all cousins bring up something we can do to entertain ourselves. At first they were toys my grandparents had for us, then it was videogames and now... Its board games. My bro is the one obsess with different boardgames and DnD and other card games. So, about 5 years ago he began bringing boardgames for all cousins to play along. We either talk with each other or try to destroy each other with any game there is. Videogames are fun but we all find it a drag to bring the console to the place, besides we usually get so busy with each others banter and weird conversations that we just forget about the videogames all together. 

At my other grandparents house it becomes W I L D. Last time someone brough a beer pong table and they all began to take shots with mezcal (I’m trying to not drink a lot of the time ever since I puked one time. If I drink its light things like wine and only one glass). Then my aunts play music and began to sing and everyone follows up, and... Well last time they began to dance.... And all my cousins were very embarassed and I was hella confused. Suffice to say, my dad’s side of the family are super freakishly energetic and wild, while my mom’s side is more of a geeky, nerdy vibe with a lot of meme stuff and political conversations at times (Oh yeah, we talk a lot of different political stuff, but guess what? It never derails into a fight. I note this due to always reading people’s talks ending with fights and stuff and that kinda weirds me out a bit at times) 

Dinners 

I don’t remember the time exactly, probably since I was 15 maybe, my dad and I turned into the designated ‘chefs’. Every year we’ve been deciding and preparing foods for each house. We make the main course while my aunts do the sides (although sometimes it becomes like 3 main courses with 2 sides). Im waaaaaaaaay into the cooking and I try to make it perfect each year. I kinda chillaxed a bit with some foods because it wasnt that big of a deal. Besides the main course, I also decide to make a dessert and sometimes they arent eaten because my families have some sugar regulations. They are stored and kept after Christmas because thats better than eating it all in one sitting and having sugar poisoning (AKA, high sugar that needs a fast Insuline injection afterwards). 

It is always fun to make food with my dad, and to make the famous Tamales from my grandma’s recipe. Last time i think we made around 400? Between green salsa chicken, red salsa beef and pork, and some that were like... its like an adobe, its with achiote and orange juice. It was very tasty. We usually make a lot and freeze them. THEY ARENT COOKED, they are raw and then frozen. Every time we take some out, we make them with vapor, takes around 2 hours and they are always tasty. I remember I made a batch all by myself, I made the feelings, I mixed the masa, and I assemble 100 by my own, the rest was thankfully made by my parents. And it was the best when I gave some to my grandma and she told me that they were super good. Of course, I made a couple mistakes, Im not perfect but she still enjoyed it with the salsa I made. Maybe I can still make some this year and give each family a batch. 

Aunt’s cookies

Every year, every god damn year... We all wait for one thing... It’s not the presents, its not the food... Its the cookies. The motherfucking cookies. My aunt has made this cookies since I was a kid, and we all fought to get a bunch of them. She has made choco chip with nuts cookies every year without missing. And they always end before Christmas even hits. She once gave me frozen batch so I can cook them at home and she told me ‘Dont tell anybody’. Of course I cannot not tell anyone since I live with my parents and siblings but when I made them I made sure to make them when my dad wasnt home. Not only because Im a gluttonous fuck but because my dad is diabetic and he shouldnt be eating anything like that. 

It used to be a battle royal between my cousins, now its a battle against my uncles cause they LOVE TO FUCKING HIDE THE BIG ASS CONTAINER. I swear, i only got 1 or 2 god damn cookies last time. 

Breakfast at...Lunch at...

After Christmas, we always go eat at my grandparents house. Always. And it’s, most of the time, Menudo. The most delicious food you can make with cow stomach. It’s my grandpa’s recipe and it’s always good. Meanwhile, we lunch at my grandma’s house the leftovers of yesterdays dinner which it varies if its turkey or pork but it always ends up as a torta. Delicious, leftover, tortas. 

We end up... SUPER CONSTIPATED because you eat menudo with bread, and you make tortas with bread, and we all eat bread and like... A LOT. Its hella good but well... THERE ARE CONCEQUENCES!! 

I think thats all, at least the most relevant parts. There’s also The Toast of El Bohemio, the stupidity and over eating i do for fun for some cousins, the conversations that go from super deep to stupidity with cousins, the music we play, the hugs... 

THE HUGS

When its the New Year, we scream out HAPPY NEW YEAR. And we proceed to hug each and everyone, one time I waited to see everyone and they all were very very happy. Its something I didnt realize before, but that was a happy thing all the time. Last year we event celebrated with other family, most of this reunions are compose with the nuclear family, but we arent shy about involving more family or friends. So last year not only included some family and their friends, we also included a 2 new members of the family: My newborn cousin and my cousin’s now husband. 

It was like.. One of the best beginnings... Which kind of... didnt prepared us for what this...sucky year. 

I’m sure we’ll make it ok... I sure hope so, I wanna see my grandparents again... I wanna see my baby cousin, he is babbling and has already learned to walk. The little dude doesnt have cousins to play with anymore, I wanna make sure he doesnt confuse me by his aunt ajjajajaja. I want to talk to my cousins, I want to hug them and scream with them and eat with them all. 

But maybe this year it wont happen, and I rather it not happening than loosing any of them. 

Right now I cant smell, and everything hurts, but it kinda helps ease things when i remember this and when I think they all are still kinda healthy. 

Maybe when it all passes we can make a march reunion, to celebrate my grandma’s birthday. In the meantime, I’m going to try to get better and wish for this Christmas to not suck now that It’s only my main family and I. 

Hope everyone is safe, I hope you can at least see your parents or siblings. I hope you dont get sick nor have to spend time at a hospital or anything. I hope all who are, get help and dont get worse. I hope you all get better. 

Hope you have Happy Holidays. 

#writing #things to remember #christmas #1 month away #november #november 2020 #december #december 2020 #holidays #traditions #christmas 2020

[southside-vixen]

Fire and Ice (Sweet Pea) 10

Chapter 10: Growing Pains

AO3

Adrianna Rivera has just made a difficult move from Arizona to the southside of Riverdale. With the history of her life in Phoenix behind her will she be able to find a new family in the Southside Serpents? Or will a certain tall, dark, and rage inducing Serpent cause issues?

Taglist: @yxseminx @madaboutlili

Over a week had passed since the night at the Wyrm. Adria left the next day with Ness on a plane to Phoenix to get her father’s estate in order. Even with the sun shining down on them the day felt grim. The rest of her family followed soon after, at least the ones who weren’t on a watch list. The most she saw of either of her uncles were their lawyers, impatiently waiting for the reading of the will.

The service was beautiful. They held it in her childhood home, the same one that now felt foreign to her. She traced her fingers along the table where they had breakfast the morning they took him away. She cried in his closet filled with his suit jackets, all which still smelled faintly of his cologne. It felt like for a short time that time had stopped around her. But sure enough, most of the family departed back to Mexico. Leaving only the key players who were summoned for the will.

“First order of business is the division of assets” Her father’s lawyer sat behind his desk with a giant folder set out in front of him. In the same room stood both of her uncle’s lawyers as well as herself and Ness. “As you all already know most assets were seized due to the investigation of Alejando Rivera. The Phoenix estate as well as the remaining assets in Mr. Rivera’s account are to go to his sole heir, Adrianna.”

Adria gave a small nod before casting her eyes back down to her lap. She wasn’t entirely surprised that he left everything to her. Out of everyone she would need it the most. That and the pieces that would go to her uncles until she came of age, like the business, had already been seized.

“The next order of business is custody of Adrianna as she is still 16 years of age.”

Adria shot up in her seat. Shit. She never even considered that being with Ness wasn’t the permanent solution now that her dad passed. Adria glanced around the room to see both lawyers stone faced. Ness, however, looked determined. It looks like she was the only one who was taken by surprise.

Her father’s lawyer flipped to a new page and readjusted his glasses. The suspense was going to give her a heart attack. He pulled a piece of paper out of the folder and skimmed it again before reading it aloud to the group.

“Custody of Adrianna Rivera shall go to Miguel Rivera. Should something happen to Miguel then custody shall be passed to Javier Rivera.”

Adria sat in shock. They were going to uproot her again even though she only just became comfortable in Riverdale. Of course her father didn’t put Ness on the list, he always hated her. Adria looked over at Ness who could only give her a small, comforting smile in return before directing her attention back to the man reading the will.

“I would like to contest the will.” Ness stood up from her chair and pulled a folder of her own out of her bag, tossing it on the table “As you can see I have written documentation from Adrianna’s case worker and her psychologist that it would be best for her to stay in Riverdale.”

“That alone isn’t enough. She’ll be better off with her family in Mexico.” Miguel’s lawyer interjected “A state assigned case worker and a low income psychologist can’t compete with what her uncle can provide for her.”

“Then I’d like to direct you to the final document in that folder. The DNA test proving that I’m her birth mother. Surely the state wouldn’t want to take a girl away from her mother.” Ness turned to Miguel’s lawyer, giving him a look that could turn even the bravest man to stone. Adria sat in shock. Surely she must have heard that wrong.

“What?” Adria whispered. Ness put a strong hand on her shoulder and gave her a nod. Everyone was telling her about how much of a copy of Ness she was. She just assumed that somehow her mother’s genetics rigged her to look more like her aunt.

Her father’s lawyer picked up the document and spent minutes reading it before passing it on to each of her uncle’s lawyers to review as well. None had anything to say, standing in complete silence.

“I’m fully prepared to go to court over this.” Ness asserted to the group “Until then Adria will be going home with me. Where she belongs. Come on, Adria. We’re leaving.” She ushered her out of the room with her hand behind her back.

Adria still couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even think. All she could do was stare forward at the hallway in front of her.

Adria sat with her aunt, scratch that, birth mother at a table in a small Mexican restaurant. She ordered a giant plate of mole and maybe took 4 bites, most of the meal she spent moving around pieces of meat with her fork.

“I’m sorry, Adria.” Ness finally said “I never wanted to tell you that way. It was the only thing I could think of to keep them from taking you.”

Adria swirled her chip around in the salsa before taking a bite and chewing as slowly as she possibly could. The more she had food in her mouth the less she would have to talk. It had only been a couple of hours after Ness’ big reveal and Adria wasn’t any closer to coming to terms with the situation.

“Why?” She asked “Why didn’t anyone ever tell me? My dad never even told me I was adopted.” She didn’t bother to look up at Ness when she asked. She knew if she saw her right now she’d just run, and there was no one left to run to in Phoenix.

“I was 16, Adrianna.” Ness let out a heavy sigh. “I got pregnant with you at 15 and there was no way I could take care of a kid as a kid. Your grandparents weren’t going to let me regardless. Katie was having issues conceiving your grandma saw an opportunity. If I gave you to my successful, married, older sister who couldn’t conceive herself then all would be right in the world.”

Ness sniffled a little “I’m not surprised your dad didn’t tell you. He never wanted anyone to know that you weren’t his. Even when your mom insisted that she tell you when you got older. They both loved you dearly. No one did this to hurt you”

Adria looked up at her aunt, noticing the tears well up in her eyes. But no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t feel sympathetic. She was the one they lied to. Sure they might have been hurting but she was the one who lived her entire life in the dark. Her entire heritage now a lie.

Her father raised her to love her Latino heritage. She grew up bilingual. Would spend school breaks with her papá, her tios, her primos. If she wasn’t her father’s daughter did that mean she would lose her entire extended family too?

“If you’re my birth mother then who is my birth father?” She thought of the men Ness was around. The only one she could think of was FP. Oh God. She wasn’t Jughead’s half-sister was she?

“Someone from another life. He died years ago in a motorcycle accident.” Ness picked at her food, but it was clear neither of them were actually hungry.

“So…it’s not FP?” Adria asked

“What?” Ness asked, nearly spitting out her bite “Of course not! I was 15! He was already married to Gladys.”

There was a long silence before Ness spoke again.

“Adria. I’m so sorry about all of this. I know I said I’d go to court for you but if you want to be with your dad’s family I won’t fight it. But just know I want you to know that you have a home with me in Riverdale.”

                                                     ---------

In the end Adria went back to Riverdale, although the court proceedings for custody were just beginning. However, things weren’t looking good for the Rivera side of the fight. Between them living in a different country and some of them being on government watch lists, Vanessa Allen’s few misdemeanors made her look like an upstanding citizen.

She went to school that Monday hoping that with a set routine everything would start to feel normal again. But she was stuck in Bizzarodale. Everything was the same, yet somehow wildly different at the same time. She made polite small talk with the Serpents at lunch, thankful that none of them asked her about her week in Phoenix. It was the shortest school day in history as she was dreading to go back home.

“Hey”

Adria turned around to find Sweet Pea leaning against an adjacent locker.

“I was hoping you had some time to talk.” He fiddled with the hem of his sleeve.

Adria thought about it for a second. She didn’t really want to have a conversation with him about the state she was in before she left, but she probably owed him. That and nearly everything sounded better than going home to Ness’ trailer.

“Yeah, of course.”

Adria rode on the back of Sweet Pea’s bike to Pickens Park, her nerves on edge the whole ride. She’d always opted to ride with Fangs, feeling far more comfortable with him than the other Serpent. Their friendship had been a complicated one, always leaving her unsure of where she stood.

They made their way over to a swing set in silence. Pickens Park was never really busy, with the exception of Pickens day of course. Most days there was the occasional person throwing a ball for their dog and a couple making out under a pavilion.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Adria asked, moving herself her swing with her toes.

“I just…wanted to make sure you were okay. Last week was…well…a lot. With the two of us at the Wyrm and all….”

“Listen, Sweet Pea, I’m sorry about that night.” Adria cast her eyes toward the ground “I was stupid, drunk, and on jingle jangle and I threw myself at you. You don’t have to let me down easy.”

“Who said I was letting you down easy? I thought about it a lot the week you were gone. Hell, we all thought you weren’t coming back. When Toni texted me and said that you were back with Ness…Well I don’t think I can really explain how happy I was.”

Adria lifted her eyes up to meet his, looking for any sort of sign that he was bullshitting her. But there wasn’t any.

“What I’m trying to say, Ads, is that I care for you a hell of a lot more than I thought I did. I want to be there for you as…more than your friend.”

Adria was taken aback. This is definitely not how she thought this conversation would go. She was waiting for the part about how he was flattered that she tried to jump him but that he didn’t think of her in that way. How he was only there to be a friendly shoulder to cry on. She wasn’t entirely sure of how to react to this new development.

“I, um…definitely wasn’t expecting that” Adria laughed nervously “Sweet Pea, I like you and hearing that you feel the same should make me so fucking happy. But…I’m just not emotionally available right now.”

It broke her heart to say it out loud. Isn’t this what she wanted just a few weeks ago when she tried to convince herself that she didn’t have feelings for him?

“You’re right.” He let out a sigh “I shouldn’t have even said anything. Of course you’re not emotionally available. Your dad just died.” She could see how much he was beating himself up inside.

“Things in Phoenix were terrible.” She confessed “Worse than you could even imagine. We had my father’s funeral which was hard enough but then they had the will reading. My uncles tried to take me to Mexico but Ness fought.”

She took a long pause before she spoke again, Sweet pea still listening intently.

“I haven’t even told Toni this. The way Ness was able to keep me was because she’s my birth mother. No one even bothered to tell me I was adopted.” She felt the tears threatening to fall from her eyes again.

Sweet Pea sat there in stunned silence, mentally checking to see if his mouth was wide open. He wasn’t sure what to say. How do you console someone who was just told their family was a lie? He felt like an idiot for implying that he wanted more from her when she was clearly in no place to provide it.

“I do want to be with you, but I’m not going to tell you to wait for me.” She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear “I still want to be your friend right now. I’m hoping things don’t have to be weird.”

“Of course not. Friends it is.” He gave her a sincere smile “But if you ever find you want more, let me know.”

“Of course” she smiled back at him “But you better be there when I do my Serpent dance. I expect a better response than what you gave Betty.” She gave him a small push

“Finally joining, huh? Welcome our big, incestuous family, Rivera.”

Sure enough, Sweet Pea was the loudest one in the room when she did her dance a couple weeks later. It was good to know that there were no hard feelings between them and that if anything their time spent at Pickens Park brought them closer. She even found herself texting him more than she even texted Fangs. Though neither of the two told a soul about what happened that night at the White Wyrm.

After her dance and a few drinks Adria made her way home with Toni, laughing as they linked arms and walked back to their trailer. When they arrived Toni set up her tattoo gun with some black ink and needles, carefully sterilizing everything in the area.

Even with the alcohol in her system she was extremely nervous. She’d never gotten a tattoo before but she was sure it would hurt like hell. She spent the whole week thinking about where she would want it, eventually deciding on a snake wrapped around her ankle.

“You’re gonna be fine.” Toni reassured her as she wiped her skin with soap “It just feels like a bunch of little stings. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“You better not be lying.” Adria laughed

The two were interrupted by Ness storming in, slamming the door behind her.

“You did your Serpent dance without even telling me?” She said “Christ, Adrianna. I’m trying to get full custody of you. You joining a gang under my care really doesn’t give the right impression of my parenting abilities.”

Adria groaned, sharing a look of disdain with Toni before she threw her hands up. She assumed Ness would have no issues with her joining the Serpents considering she was one. But then again ever since they got back from Arizona she had really tightened down on her life.

“Well considering they agreed to give you custody even though you’re in said gang I think we’ll be fine.” Adria snapped

“Do you know how much this lawyer is costing me? Why do you want to jeopardize or chances of winning this case?”

“Well, Vanessa.” She seethed “You may be my birth mother, but you are not my mom. You can let Toni do this here where everything’s already cleaned or I can go to Sweet Pea’s trailer and get tetanus. Maybe he’ll even get me pregnant while we’re at it. After all 16 is such a good age to have a kid and then abandon them.”

She watched Ness’ face drop and immediately wanted to take back what she just said. Ness slammed a couple papers on the table before moving back to the door and ripping it open.

“You are such an ungrateful little bitch.”

The door slammed behind her.

“Ouch.” Toni said quietly.

“Just do the tattoo already” Adria sunk down into her seat and ran a hand through her hair.

She really fucked up this time.

#riverdale #sweet pea #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x oc #fanfic #fireandice

[alolowrites]

Victory on Roosevelt Avenue

I recently got inspired to write some fanfic again and I really wanted to do something with the World Cup and Peter Parker hahaha. This story was just inching to get itself written and I obviously caved in. It is my first story after a few years of not writing so sorry in advance if there are some mistakes. I promise to edit this once I have some free time! I just really wanted to post the story. 

Some key points: The story is written from the reader’s POV (I think I somewhat failed at this, so sorry again) and it is a Mexican!reader (female, sorry if I didn’t make it gender neutral!). The story is a bit AU since I completely ignored anything/everything that has to do with Infinity War (Thanos doesn’t exist, no one disappeared, Earth is safe, yadda yadda yadda). I just needed Peter to be alive for the World Cup okay? I think that’s about it. I hope you all enjoy the story! 

It’s around 10:35am on this fine Sunday morning, but you know why this particular Sunday is extremely special. Not only is it Father’s Day, but today is Mexico’s first match in the 2018 World Cup and the long strip of Roosevelt Avenue in Queens is very much alive and bursting with excitement. Last week, you invited Peter at school if he wanted to join you and your family in watching the upcoming game. Being the good boyfriend he is, Peter gladly agreed (especially since he could never say no to you).    

Yesterday you texted him the station where you two will meet and from there walk to the restaurant together. You were too busy checking your phone that Peter easily sneaks up behind you and plants a surprise kiss on your cheek.

You jump and turn around, but your shoulders relax when you see your lovely boyfriend with his famous brown locks. “Peter! You made it!”

“Did you think I wasn’t going to come? I’m offended,” Peter playful scoffs as he places his left hand over his heart. You roll your eyes, but chuckle before giving him a quick kiss on his lips. “So where are going?”

“To this restaurant called Taqueria Coatzingo. One of the best Mexican restaurants in Jackson Heights!” You explain as you hold his right hand and lead the way down the street. “I told my parents I would meet them there a few minutes before the game starts because I was waiting for you. You’re going to love the food, Peter! The make these incredible classic dishes like carne asada tacos, bistec a la Mexicana, or if you’re feeling quite adventurous: carnitas en salsa verde o roja, but whatever you choose, I promise you it will be a party in your mouth.”

The sixteen year old superhero rubs his stomach. “That all sounds delicious. Maybe I’ll take some food back for Aunt May. I’m sure she would love it.”

As you chattered away about the World Cup, Peter’s eyes glances around the vibrant avenue and is overwhelm over the happy chaos he sees. There were fans wearing bold, colorful outfits that embodied the Mexican flag. Some had luchador masks over their faces, others sporting large sombreros with comfortable ponchos. Peter even notices a man dressed up in a costume full of feathers with the face of an eagle perched on his head.

He turns his attention to you and sees the Mexican jersey you were proudly wearing. Peter then looks at himself and realizes how underdressed he felt: a boring blue button up shirt and denim jeans. He purses his lips and chastises himself for not putting more effort. He could have at least worn something green or red.

He feels so out of place.

Peter soon calls your name, interrupting your talk, and you hum while looking at him. Your eyes narrow as his face grows uncomfortable and his gaze falls to the ground. You also feel his hand tighten around its hold and realize something was wrong with him.

“Are you okay, Peter?”

His head snaps back up and begins to furiously nod. “Oh-h, yeah! I’m fine! Really!”

“Peter…I know when you’re lying,” you scold at him and gently tug his right hand. You stop walking and stand in front of him without losing your grip. Your other hand reaches out to caress his smooth, pale cheek and you brush a few of his curls away from his forehead. Peter sighs at your therapeutic touches, but he remains stressed. You place one finger underneath his chin and raise it so you were staring directly into his chocolatey, doe-like, eyes.

“What’s the matter? I know something is bothering you.”

“I’m just nervous,” he mumbles and you tilt your head in confusion. Peter glances behind your shoulder, the sea of green shirts waving in the distance. His ears pick up the boastful chants coming from the massive crowd and the Mexican music booming from nearby speakers.

“What do you mean?”

His eyes return their attention to you. “I honestly don’t know too much about the World Cup, and I am afraid I might say or do something so stupid that could end up offending your people. Plus, I’m not even dressed properly and it makes me stick out like a sore thumb. I could have at least worn the colors of your flag, but I guess I forgot. Besides: it’s Father’s Day! I feel like I’m intruding on this special day for you and your family!”

You quickly blink and laugh heartily, gripping his left shoulder. “Oh, Peter! Is that what you’re really worried about? If I’m being honest, I don’t follow too much about soccer except for the World Cup games. No matter how many times my dad or uncles try to explain the technicalities of the game, I still end up being confused.

“As for Father’s Day,” you continue, giving Peter’s hand a soft squeeze, “it’s no big deal that you’re here. My mom and dad are more than happy enough to welcome you into our festivities! If anything, they asked me to invite you because they know you’re a good person who makes me happy.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. You have nothing to worry about, trust me,” you reassure him with a brief peck on his lips. Peter smiles softly as he bends his head down to kiss you again. You close the space and snake your arms around neck as his own circles on your waist. The wolf-whistles from across the street break the romantic moment and you pull yourself away from Peter to annoyingly wave off the bystanders laughing. A chuckle rumbles through your chest as you see Peter’s face beat red. “Ignore them, they’re probably drunk already.”

“But it’s almost eleven!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Like that will stop them from not drinking their beer.”

Both of you share a laugh and you pat his bicep. “Listen, if you are still worried about saying something ‘wrong,’” you air-quote the last word with your fingers, “then let me just give you some advice. Number one: if you can, use the word fútbol instead of soccer in your conversation. You’ll get brownie points and earn a level of respect from a few fans in the crowd, but if ‘soccer’ slips from your lips, it’s fine. You’ll probably get a pass because, well,” you lower your voice to a whisper, “you’re white.”

Peter shrugs in understanding and you hold up two fingers. “Number two: when watching the game, don’t sweat if you’re lost. A lot happens within two 45-minute matches and if the game is extremely intense, like this one that we’re about to watch, then the excitement level from the crowd exponentially goes up. For your sake, just cheer loudly with everyone else when Mexico scores a goal. Can’t go wrong celebrating a goal for the Mexican team!”

You hold up three fingers. “Lastly, just relax and have fun. Don’t worry about not wearing the Mexican colors. Just being here shows support and earns a stamp of approval from my people. One of the things that I love most about the World Cup is that it is a sport that is universal. No matter what country you’re from, what language you speak or what color your skin is—everyone can sit and watch the games together which creates a sense of global connectedness.”  

“Wow,” Peter breaths out in astonishment and you giggle at his reaction. “Now I’m kinda embarrassed to not really appreciate the World Cup before. But I feel much better now.”

“Good,” you happily beam and gave a quick kiss on his lips again. “Now lets head to the restaurant before the game starts. I don’t want to miss a second of this match!”

The two of you run down the street and enter the lively restaurant overflowing with hundreds of fans. And true to your word, Peter relishes every single minute of the game. When Mexico scores their first goal, the whole place erupts in jubilation. You jump from your seat and tightly hug Peter, almost knocking him off his chair. He’s never seen you so emotionally invested before: cheering and clapping hard when a Mexican player runs across the field to make a goal or cursing and raising your hands in the air in exasperation when something horrible happens. The atmosphere of the restaurant certainly fuels how the crowd behaves and he found himself anxiously clutching his cup a few times throughout the game.

Once the final whistle blows through the speakers, officially ending the match, Peter swears he feels the ground shake as hundreds of people start celebrating the team’s historic victory. Basking in the euphoria after Mexico’s glorious win against the reigning champions, Germany, you tell Peter you were going to get some more water from the counter. He nods and, while grinning, starts to record a video of some Mexican fans singing Cielito Lindo at the top of their lungs. As you make your way back to your table, you notice your uncle gleefully pat Peter’s shoulders, but then the smirk on your face falls as you see the older man shove a certain drink into your boyfriend’s hand…  

“Oh my gosh, Tío!” You scream over the chants. “No le das una Corona a Peter! Él es menor de edad!”

Translation: “No le das una Corona a Peter! Él es menor de edad!” / “Don’t give Peter a Corona! He is underaged!” 

#Peter Parker #Peter Parker x you #Peter Parker x reader #Peter Parker x Latina!reader #Peter Parker x Mexican!reader #Spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman #spider-man: homecoming #Marvel #Marvel MCU #Avengers #world cup #mexican #Peter Parker fluff #first story #first post #spiderman peter parker #peter parker oneshot #peter parker reader insert #Mexico #marvel au

[sincerelylaureen]

9 days, 4 states

August 10-19, 2020 ❤️

Can you believe I actually got to go to Mississippi with Dylan for 9 days?! Honestly I’m not even able to type out what happened during each day because I was living in the sweetest moments. 

I’m just going to jot down what I remember happened!!! I’ll try my best to remember day by day.

Day 1 💖 Evening of August 10th - We arrived at the New Orleans airport. Picked up our rental car which was a Hyundai Santa Fe, and drove straight to Harrah’s. Met up with his cousin Brandon and his girlfriend. Swam in the Harrah’s pool. Ate Waffle house for the first time. Came 3 times lol. Dude it was freaking amazing... holy shit it lasted so long and it felt so good. I hope it was great for him too... loved how rough it was.

Day 2 💖 August 11th - Woke up the next day and Dylan drove me around everywhere (it was amazing). Showed me this old river where he used to hang out and he told me stories. Took me to Ya-Ya’s. Ate at Taco Sombrero. Went to Dad’s Pawn shop. Showed me his high school. Jet skied for an hour and a half. Played mini golf and drove go karts at Mini Play Arcade. Ate some ice cream at Quakes. Went to this guy Chris’s house to smoke a little lol. Swam in the pool again. Ate at Steak and Shake which was literally a knock off In n Out. Did it again.

Day 3 💖 August 12th - Dylan got a haircut. Met up for lunch a late lunch with his grandpa Mr. Steve, his brother River, and his girlfriend at Shrimp Basket. Took some cute polaroids. Peed inside Sonic. Tried Ocean Water for the first time from there and it was so good but freaking pure sugar lol. Visited a couple car shops because Dylan was going to change Mr. Steve’s headlights. Bought bait at this shop. Dylan bought a hat that said Wicked Outdoors. Went fishing at his grandpa’s pond (we both caught fish!!!). Met Betty, Kim, and Brittney. Admired Mr. Steve’s land and the sunset that went along with it, it was beautiful. Lost $600 that wasn’t ours LOL omg. Ended up meeting his mom at Golden Nugget at like 10 or 11 at night. Gave him lovely backrubs to end the night.

Day 4 💖 August 13th - Ate Sonic for lunch, we were so full omg. I tried their burger for the first time and it was SO good. Dylan had chili on his lol. Gave Steve some thai tea and he said it tasted like orange cream soda. Checked out the Centennial Plaza for a bit, took some cute polaroids. Went into the Beauvoir Jefferson Davis Home Museum, it was sooo cool!!! Bought Mg. Mark his confederate flag lol and a couple other souvenirs. Went to multiple pawn shops, I remember one being in D’Iberville. Went to the Beau Rivage and registered as players. Lost $20 each on roulette lol. Ate at El Saltillo. Swam in the casino’s pool again. Met up with Brandon and his friend and smoked by the pier lol. Ate frozen yogurt from the machine by the elevators, I got sprinkles with mine and he got Reese’s and M&M’s on his. 

Day 5 💖 August 14th - Woke up earlier than him (around 9:30am) and asked if he wanted to come with me to the gym, he joined later on around 10:15ish lol. Got ready and rode Finishline go karts (dude these were so freaking fast and I drifted and so did Dylan even though we weren’t allowed lol). Visited this flea market called Finders Keepers. Drove to Mobile, Alabama!!! Visited the USS Alabama and went on the tour (THE BESTTTT). Got rained on going back to the car coming from 7 stories high on that ship LOL. Tried to check out a clear lake, ended up in this fancy neighborhood with HUGE houses. Visited his Aunt Darra and cousins. Ate at TGIF with Mr. Steve then went to his house afterwards because he wanted to show us his silver.

Day 6 💖 August 15th - Checked out of our hotel and met up Dylan’s half sister Alexia (Lexi). Afterwards met with Mr. Steve again. Ate at Newk’s (dude that chicken salad sandwich was so good). Went to a flea market real quick and checked out some more silver. Made our way to Corinth for 6 long hours. Saw a few hills and listened to a lot of country music. Checked in our new hotel. Ordered Domino’s cheese pizza + hot sauce and garlic bread for dinner while Dylan was taking a shower. Did it lol and went to bed.

Day 7 💖 August 16th - Met his dad and step mom today. Dylan and I lost our way trying to find their house (about 15-30 miles worth? lol). Ate Mexican food at Mi Toro. Had some of the best shrimp tacos I’ve ever had there. Also the tastiest salsa. Went to the Corinth Flea Market. Bought an awesome vintage polaroid camera for $10. Went back to their house. Greeted by 3 doggies. Met Lindsay, her husband, her kid Maddie, Michael and his kid Mason, and Betty. His dad showed us his vintage Fords in his shop in the back. Went inside the house and talked a while with everyone. Peed outdoors (gahdang I couldn’t hold it in anymore LOL). Drove to Shiloh, Tennessee to eat at the Hagy’s Catfish Hotel. Ate some bomb catfish fillets. Dylan got chicken fingers LOL. Took photos by the Tennessee River. Drove around and showed me where they watched the 4th of July fireworks. Saw the Pickwick Dam. Dylan’s dad showed us his giant pink underwear. Got back to the house and talked until 12:20ish am. Honestly was such a great day. One of my favorites. Dylan said his favorite was the day we went jet skiing. 

Day 8 💖  August 17th - Checked out of our hotel and took a lot of pit stops going back down to Gulfport/Biloxi. We visited Mississippi State and stopped by their bookstore for some shirts and then went to Starbucks real quick to get a drink and pee lol. I’m pretty sure we also went to chick fil a for breakfast before we got to MSU too! Then we kept driving and stopped by Laurel and we went to the Scotsman woodshop from the show Hometown!!! Dude I was freaking fangirling. We got a bunch of shirts. Got some cute polaroids. Stopped by Southern Miss, got some shirts there lol. Went to a cute Amish antique/flea market shop. Both of us pooped there lol. Tried to meet up with Jeff at Keesler but they were too strict *cries*. Kept driving until we got back to Biloxi and then bought some more souvenir shirts from the Sharkhead place. We checked into the Harrah’s hotel again for one night and had a lovely time there. I remember giving him back rubs while he laid on my tummy. I wish that moment never ended.

Day 9 💖 August 18th - We woke up the next morning and checked out of our hotel and into the new one which was at the Hard Rock! I let Dylan open the door first and he was like “dude, you’re not gonna believe this” I was like why? And then he opened the door all the way and the view was insane!!!! 6th floor right in the front. After seeing the room we head over to his aunt’s grave, I think it was called Wolf something... I forgot huhu. On the way back Dylan calls his grandma, Gail. We went to Wiggins to their house! We stayed for a while and I tried Blue Bell Vanilla Ice Cream! Dylan’s favorite. It was so good!!! She toured us around the shop. Ended the evening with dinner with Steve, Betty, and Brittney at Ruby Tuesday’s. Or as he would say “ruby-toos-dee’s” LOL. He was obsessed with the croutons and I will never forget the hot sauce on Dylan’s salad. After seeing that I was like “he’s gonna be too full to eat his meal” and he was LOL. We had a nice chat outside and then left. Decided to meet his mom in this apartment afterwards. It was sketchy but I thought it was nice that Dylan met her twice even though we didn’t talk too much with her but with the guy she was with instead (Coach was what he wanted us to call him lol). Got some polaroid photos. Went back to the hotel and had a lovely last night together.

Morning of August 19th 💖 - 

(to be continued!!!!)

Topic for later on in the post: sex and whether or not we fought at all

#dates

[strawberryhierophant]

The Traiteur

1. Spirits

My mom says my great-grandfather was a healer, though she refuses to use that word. To her, healers like the types you see on TV are phonies and charlatans, or else they’re witches in league with the devil. Either way nobody but God, she says, has the ability to really heal someone.

She wasn’t always so fervently religious. Growing up she had “demons” she used to tell me, and her brothers and sisters referred to her as “that crazy girl” because she was prone to unpredictable fits of rage.

That all changed one day when she had a sort of spiritual awakening. I was just a baby at the time and she stayed at home with me while my dad worked. I was asleep in my crib and she was busy running around vacuuming and doing laundry and mopping and all of the work that comes with being a stay-at-home mom.

In the room where I lay sleeping a large wooden crucifix was hung on the wall. My mom was passing it when a strong sensation took hold of her. She found herself falling to her knees overcome with a need to pray. Her eyes closed, and words began to tumble from her lips. She swayed back and forth on her knees, praying feverishly. My mom had never quite known how to pray, but on that day she spilled out the secrets that were in her heart and — she told me — God was listening.

An overwhelming force knocked her to the floor then and she began to tremble. Slowly, great sobs poured out of her as her body curled itself up like a baby. She cried for hours.

“It was the Holy Spirit filling my heart,” she told me once.

It was, in her mind, the moment of her great cleansing, and from that day forward she began to let go of all of the pain that had been crashing like a great boiling ocean inside of her ever since she was a child.

2. Hard Times

My mom grew up on a ranch with her ten brothers and sisters. Times were tough back then and my grandfather worked hard to make ends meet. Sometimes he would be gone for weeks at a time, working odd jobs here and there for extra cash, but for all his trying the family often went hungry.

My mom remembers being seven years old walking around the empty flat land that surrounded the ranch. Some days she would walk for miles trying hard to forget the hunger that gnawed at her stomach. Until one day she found herself on her knees scraping at the dry earth with her small hands. She pulled up small clumps of dirt and shoved them into her mouth. She ate without stopping until her little belly was full.

My own life has been periodically punctuated by stories like these. When my childhood dog died my mom could see that I was depressed and she told me about the day my grandpa’s dog died. Her account of this is still vivid in my mind today.

My grandpa was traveling home from a neighboring town. He was on horseback and his dog was trotting alongside him. The journey was a couple of days long and on the second night he tied up his horse and laid himself down to sleep with his dog curled beside him.

The next thing he knew he was jolted awake by his dog’s panicked barking. It was morning and the bright sun blinded him for a moment. He heard a familiar rattling noise that instantly brought him to his feet. He squinted in the daylight until his eyes made out the shape of a rattlesnake only a few feet away, reared up and waiting to strike, its tail shaking furiously. His dog was growling and snapping at the snake, holding it at bay.

Before my grandfather could unholster his gun and shoot, the snake struck and bit my grandfather’s dog. It howled and jumped back in pain. With a single shot my grandfather blew off the snake’s head but by then the damage was done. My grandfather kneeled down and held his dying dog for what felt like an agonizing amount of time. The dog died struggling to breathe.

My mom told me that she still remembers that morning. Her father came tearing into the house with a dead snake in his hand. He stormed over to a large hook that was attached to the kitchen wall. Stabbing the snake’s body onto it, he pulled out a large knife and made a slice down its belly. With his bare hands he dug his fingers into the cut and pulled the snake’s skin off, a look of fury in his eyes. He demanded that my grandmother start a fire.

She did as he asked and that morning the family ate roasted rattlesnake. The snake skin hung on the wall as a memorial to my grandfather’s dead dog until the day that he passed away.

3. Myth to Reality

In Australia, the aboriginal people have (or had) their Dreamtime stories, which were ancient myths about the creation of the world and about the purpose of mankind. Those of us who grew up in a religious household are accustomed to religious stories being told in a moralistic style, but the Aboriginal people rarely did this. When they recited their stories to children no explanation for the story was provided, and so there was no explicit instruction in the story. The stories contained hidden knowledge which, as the children became more familiar with the stories, slowly took shape in the imagination of the child, and stayed firmly entrenched in their psyche, growing more complex and rich as they matured.

My mother’s stories were somewhat like this, and they gained almost the status of myth in my mind as I grew older, becoming like constellations in the dark sky of my mind. They offered a cryptic sort of guidance that I felt at a fundamental, almost unconscious level.

It had never actually occurred to me that I might take the stories at face value. To me they were tall tales from the ranch. That’s why when my mom told me about my great grandfather I was completely stupefied.

One early Sunday afternoon we were in the kitchen preparing lunch. I can’t help mentioning that preparing a meal with my mother is something of an extreme sport. There’s always one pan simmering with rice, another boiling with potatoes, a cast iron griddle practically smoking with tomatoes and peppers which pop and jump as they toast over the intense heat. Cutting boards with piles of diced onions or tomatoes or stew meat or pork loin heaped up waiting to be used, sat crowded around a blender that was always going at high speed with a salsa of some sort. In the oven something there might be sweet potatoes roasting or a chicken baking. It always felt as though one false move and the whole operation would go up in smoke.

Amidst this fray my mom was casually going on about something pertaining to my great grandfather when she off-handedly mentioned that before he had died, my great-grandfather had left a considerable amount of money to my grandmother. This struck me as odd since I had always been told that he had died practically destitute in a tiny one-room house, and I brought this up to my mom.

“He was poor,” she responded, “but he had lots of money.”

These are the sorts of things my mom often stated flatly, as if no explanation were necessary. But before I could ask what she meant, she went on.

“Your great grandpa was a Christian man. And his own daughter was a mean woman. She was into witchcraft and all sorts of evil things. They didn’t get along and he didn’t trust her. Even though your grandma was only his daughter-in-law, she was more of a daughter to him than his own flesh and blood. So one day, just before he died, he came to her in secret and told him about some money he had hidden away. But he told her not to tell his daughter about it because she would kill him just to have it!”

I was, as usual, slightly incredulous, and face betrayed my disbelief.

“Was she really that bad?” I asked.

My mom stopped stirring a pan that was smoking with grilled onions and turned to look at me. Her eyes were wide and she nodded in a slow, dramatic way. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, you think it’s funny!” she said. “But remember she was MY aunt. I had to deal with her when I was only a child. I’m telling you, she was a witch! I used to find these strange bundled up pieces of cloth when I was playing around the ranch. Inside there would be broken branches or feathers or bones with strange writing on them.”

“Really? What were they?” I asked.

“Your grandma told me they were things that witches use to curse people. She would tell me not to touch them because they could make me sick. Do you know what she’d do?”

With this last question she gave me sort of sideways look and smiled as she recalled the memory.

“She’d just pick these little curse bundles up and take them over to the fire pit and cover them in ashes. Then she’d pray that the magic would return from where it came and that no harm would come to us.”

She shook her head and laughed.

“You know your grandpa was a rough man. He didn’t believe in God, but he believed in witches, and even he wouldn’t touch those things. But your grandma is a funny woman. She’s small and nobody would think it but she’s fearless!”

4. Traiteur

My curiosity was piqued, but I wasn’t sure where to begin. I didn’t believe in witches. And I thought spells were something that teenagers obsessed with Harry Potter recited from New Age books, not bundles of sticks and feathers and bones. It sounded ridiculous. I decided to steer the conversation back to something more understandable.

“What I don’t understand is how great grandpa even got this money. And why wouldn’t he use it if he had it?”

“Your great grandpa,” my mother repeated, “was a Christian man. He was very religious. People used to come from all over to see him.”

I laughed and said, “You make him sound like Billy Graham.”

My mom gave me a wry smile.

“Your great grandpa was in some ways more important than Billy Graham. They just never put him on TV. He wouldn’t have wanted to go even if they asked him. You know, people from the government used to come see him — politicians and that sort. Famous people, and poor people, too. All kinds. They would come from far away to see him.”

“And they would pay him? I don’t get it. For what?”

“He would tell them not to pay him, but they insisted, even the poor people. If they didn’t have money they’d bring eggs or corn from their farms. But the rich people would leave GOLD. Not just paper money, but real gold!”

“But,” I asked again, “why they would pay him?”

My mother shook her head. She often failed to explain small crucial details and became impatient when I didn’t seem to understand.

“He used to PRAY over people, son. He used to pray over them and they would get better.”

My mom casually threw the roasted tomatoes and peppers into the blender. I was struck dumb. Was she saying what I thought she was saying?

“You mean he was a healer?” I asked, kind of shocked.

My mom blended the tomatoes and peppers for just a couple of seconds, creating a thick red salsa, which she poured into a bowl.

“No, he wasn’t like those fakes on TV,” she said. “He just prayed over people and they would get better. It wasn’t him doing the healing. It was GOD.”

She taste the salsa, added salt, then tasted it again. You would have thought that she had just commented on the weather. She pushed the salsa towards me.

“Try this. Anyway, that’s why he kept telling people not to pay him, but they kept insisting and so he had all of this money he couldn’t spend. That’s how you know when people really heal with the power of God. They’ll never ask for money like some of these false prophets do on TV. God was working through him. He was just the vessel. He said that he had no right to spend that money. But he also didn’t want his daughter to have it. So he gave it away before he died.”

At this point I was sweating. Not from the story. From the salsa.

To be continued...

#stories

[trentteti]

The Logical Rose-ning Section: Your Recap of The Bachelorette, Episode 7

Rachel Lindsay is a practicing attorney who once took the LSAT. And you, dear reader, are an aspiring attorney who will soon take the LSAT, Rachel Lindsay is also an aspiring married person, serving as the Bachelorette on this season of The Bachelorette, the love story these depraved times deserve. And you, dear reader, may also be an aspiring married person? Either way, you definitely have at least a few things in common with Rachel. So every Tuesday, we’re going to be tracking Rachel’s romantic journey on The Bachelorette, and see what we can learn about love, loss, and the LSAT. Welcome back to the Logical Rose-ning Section.

Last time: We traveled to Switzerland with the remaining six contestants, getting odes to conspicuous consumption, the endurance of sled dogs, and France. We then threshed out the chaff, ridding Matt and Adam, leaving our final four contenders for hometowns this week.

Hometown with Eric in Baltimore, MD

We don’t waste any time (other than having to sit through a lengthy introduction, of course) getting to the first hometown showdown. First up is Eric, the formerly insecure, but increasingly confidant and enthusiastic, personal trainer. Eric’s been building momentum up, but he risks it all with a sartorial gamble: a light denim shirt over light denim pants that strongly evokes the Canadian tuxedo. It’s a bold look, but one that could maybe evoke a humility and working class realness that might set him apart from dandies like Peter, Bryan, and Dean?

They start their date on a picturesque hill overlooking the Baltimore harbor, but travel to a tougher part of the city where Eric grew up. As they drive, Eric notes, “Look, they’re selling drugs right here,” presumably passing by Bodie Broadus.

They play some ball and Rachel displays a tight handle, before Eric introduces Rachel to Ralph, whom Eric refers to, at least as well as these old ears can tell, as his “A1.” I wasn’t expecting a network reality show to make me feel like a decrepit old person, but I have no idea what that means. Is Ralph Eric’s steak sauce? He’s been in his refrigerator forever? He’s a little too overpowering to be an everyday condiment?

The big topic of this date is that this is the first girl Eric is bringing “home.” Home in this case being in the largest quotes you can envision. It’s pretty strange that every home these contestants go to, regardless of where they’re from or what they say about their background, is dressed up with the same HomeGoods accoutrements, and has nothing in the way of family photos, trophies, or any of the normal stuff you see in people’s homes. Anyway, they head over to Eric’s aunt Verna’s house, who has either let the producers use a heavy hand to spruce up her place, or has a crippling addiction to Overstock.com.

Rachel being the first woman Eric brings home doesn’t seem to be an issue. If anything, Eric’s family’s reaction is “Fiiiiiiinally … Rachel, take this guy off our hands.” Eric’s fam is super welcoming to Rachel. When leaving, Eric then drops the “love” bomb–not the “I can see myself falling in love with you” or “I am falling in love with you”–but an actual code 143. He immediately qualifies that with “…and by that I mean I care about you.” Which makes the statement a little less convincing. You usually don’t use support a very strong claim with a weaker one–that’s a logical fallacy, folks. Rachel wouldn’t face the jury and say, “My client is definitely didn’t defraud the plaintiff, and by that I mean he really cared about the plaintiff’s feelings.”

Anyway, Rachel admits to “falling for Eric.”

Let’s assign an LSAT score to this date, based on four criteria:

1. Was the guy’s outfit on point? Eric gets 19/25 points in this category. You gotta admire a bold decision with the denim on denim look–if it’s good enough for Britney and Justin, it’s good enough for you too. Plus, a clean white tee and fresh white sneakies will never go out of style.

2. Was the activity fun? 17/25. The basketball court had sentimental importance to Eric, gave insight into his childhood without being overbearing or obvious, and gave them an opportunity to goof around. Points deducted for inviting comparisons to Rachel’s college boyfriend—Kevin Durant—though.

3. Was the family a good sport? 24/25. The family could not have been more welcoming to Rachel and really helped prop up Eric. Shouts to Aunt Verna for unhesitatingly telling Rachel that Eric is ready for marriage.

4. Did the guy say the L word? 20/25. The guy did say the L word, but walked it back in his explanation. That unforced error is going to cost him 5 points.

So Eric winds up with a raw score of 80, which on the June 2017 LSAT would have net him an impressive 162.

Hometown with Bryan in Miami, FL

We’re in Miami, which according to Rachel, just screams “Bryan.” “It’s hot, it’s steamy, there’ something sexy about it. Sometimes it speaks to you in Spanish,” she says. Is Rachel hearing voices that she attributes to the actual city of Miami, which has gained voice and consciousness (and apparently sex appeal and the Spanish language) in her mind? Is Rachel OK?

More to the point, is Bryan OK? To make his best impression on Rachel, dude wears a golf shit with a grey v-neck visible underneath and grey joggers that look like baseball pants.

We may be in Miami, but that look is pure Tampa, man.

They play dominos—still the only board game that can be considered even remotely cool, sorry backgammon—in Domino Park, enjoy some arepas, and dance in an empty bar. Bryan smooth talks her, and she is absolutely in the bag.

What could ruin this? Bryan’s mom, that’s what. Here’s her calmly sizing up the woman determined to take away her baby (37 year old) boy.

Here’s her hearing that Bryan thinks Rachel is “the one.”

She backs that up wondering, “You have gone out with so many girls, and you go on a show, and you fall in love with the girl on the show? I’m in shock!” Good point, Bryan’s mom.

Here’s her pledging her undying loyalty to her son.

Here’s her making small talk with Rachel.

Here’s Rachel imagining her new life with Colombian Cersei Lannister as her mother-in-law.

Bryan does some damage control by telling Rachel that he is “in love” with her. No qualifications from this guy.

How did Bryan do?

1. Was the guy’s outfit on point? You’re an attractive guy in a humid climate. You think you can pull off anything, so you go for comfort–light joggers and a polo shirt with sweat-wicking material. You want to go bold with a bright color, so you get some red, but you don’t want to come off too strong, so you temper it with some dark gray. The outfit is a little matchy-matchy, a little minor league baseball. But you go for it regardless, because hey, you’re a hot guy. This category awards no “hot guy” bonus points, though. 5/25.

2. Was the activity fun? 16/25. Bryan was able to flaunt his Spanish speaking skills with the domino players, show off delicious South American cuisine, and salsa dance with Rachel. Well chosen activities, but what do they show about Bryan? Tough to say.

3. Was the family a good sport? 0/25. Bryan’s mom was the undeniable MVP of this episode, a ferocious mama grizzly of a woman who I am 100% convinced was not joking when she said she would straight up murder Rachel if she crossed Bryan. Problem was, Rachel seemed convinced too.

4. Did the guy say the L word? 24/25. Big time. One point deduction for not backing it up in Spanish.

So Bryan winds up with a raw score of 45, which on the June 2017 LSAT would have net him a 144. Looks like Bryan’s taking the December LSAT (read: we’re going to see this guy again as the next bachelor).

Hometown with Peter in Madison, WI

Peter—sensing the mistakes made by Bryan, his most significant competition—goes classic in his ‘fit, with a grey t-shirt (that artfully complements his graying temple), blue jeans, and brown boots.

That scoop neck is made for a younger man, though. No need to flaunt those clavicles in your thirties, dude.

Anyway, Peter gets the award for most boring date. Peter takes her to the farmers market, my go-to for those times when I really can’t think of anything better to do. Peter orders two honey sticks for them, which makes me question his commitment to personal training.

Peter then takes Rachel to an empty bar to meet his friends, who, let’s just get this out there, are two black dudes. Apparently, Peter bragged about this Rachel early on, and now … I mean, maybe these guys are Peter’s closest friends and confidants. Or maybe Peter is showing them off to show Rachel how down he is? At any rate, these guys look positively thrilled to see their close buddy for the first time in months.

Bryan then takes Rachel back to his parents’ place. His parents, btw, are the archetypes of Midwestern parents.

Just look at that goatee and cropped haircut on the dad. That smooth in the front, spiky in the back, peacock-y haircut that is bestowed on all moms at age 45.

The mom commits a major oopsie doopsie when she says that Peter may not propose her at the end of this, instead saying that Peter may be willing to give Rachel a verbal promise ring or something. Peter could have saved this with an L-bomb, but decides to just say he is “very happy.” Sounds like someone doesn’t want to go to law school.

1. Was the guy’s outfit on point? Not only was his outfit timeless, he displayed tremendous body heat regulation by not sweating through the grey shirt on a balmy day. But I’m going to have to scoop out a couple points for unnecessary collarbone exposure. 23/25.

2. Was the activity fun? 3/25. Walking around a farmers market and making both your date and your friends feel uncomfortable at a get together? Doesn’t sound very fun.

3. Was the family a good sport? 12/25. Peter’s niece did the yeoman’s work of making Peter seem like he would be a fun and loving dad. Peter’s mom undid a lot of that good work in her convo with Rachel. In all, it was kind of a wash.

4. Did the guy say the L word? 0/25. Nope. Not even a preemptory “I can see myself falling in L with you.” Big loss.

So Peter ends up with a raw score of 38, giving him a 140.

Hometown with Dean in Aspen, CO

Dean, last week, mentioned his dad’s growing eccentricity. Must be something in the Aspen water, because Dean’s outfit is extremely eccentric.

What’s going on man? You can go classic with a button-down blue oxford, you can go crunchy with that weird alpaca hoodie thing and way too many bracelets, or you can go contemporary, with a tight maroon pants that cut off half-way up your shins. Doing all three together is the definition of eccentricity, my mans.

Anyway, Dean is not from the beer-flows-like-wine part of Aspen, but the rural outskirts. So they put on like, children’s bicycle helmets and ride ATVs to a champagne hale-barrel picnic.

The big issue, as mentioned last week, is Dean’s estranged father. If this were a normal relationship, you probably wouldn’t be meeting your SO’s family after a couple months of dating, much less forcing your SO to visit an estranged family member, much less doing all of that when you’re also dating three other guys. But that’s not how we do things on The Bachelorette.

Dean’s dad is a converted Sikh, which certainly doesn’t make him eccentric. And he seems pretty chill throughout the early parts of the date. He plays a gong for everyone, which sounds oddly soothing (and is some low-key promo for ABC’s The Gong Show). He gifts feathers to Dean and Rachel to represent the bond he and Dean had with Dean’s late mother. He makes them a macrobiotic meal, which, I mean, doesn’t look great, but I’m sure was delicious.

But then Dean and his dad gather for some “one on one” time, and things get super rocky (mountains) from there. There’s clearly a lot of unresolved issues and resentment between them, and it’s tough to watch unfold, much less make jokes about. Fortunately, Dean’s dad remains cordial with Rachel, but more or less kicks the cameras off his property.

Dean does admit that he is “falling in love” with Rachel, which will net him some much needed points in the fourth category.

1. Was the guy’s outfit on point? He gets the worst outfit of the night dishonors with a weird mishmash of office casual, crunchy surf bro, and streetwear doofus. 2/25.

2. Was the activity fun? 10/25. ATV’s look moderately fun to me. It also seemed like they were going pretty slow. I’m all in on gongs now though.

3. Was the family a good sport? Not really the family’s fault, per se, but I can’t say that airing out deep-seated resentments is the best look. This definitely hurt Dean’s chances. 3 bonus points for having a brother named Ross. 3/25.

4. Did the guy say the L word? 13/25. He gets halfway there with a, “I’m falling in love with you,” the present continuous hedge that only exists on this show.

So Dean ends up with a raw score of 28, giving him a paltry 131.

Rose Ceremony

At the rose ceremony in Rachel’s hometown of Dallas, Rachel can’t ignore the math. Dean will not be admitted into the fantasy suites. Upon rejection, Dean transmogrifies into a giant opalescent tear, and is immediately purchased by Jerry Jones and displayed prominently in the art museum at AT&T Stadium.

The Logical Rose-ning Section: Your Recap of The Bachelorette, Episode 7 was originally published on LSAT Blog

#LSAT #The Bachelorette #The Logical Rose-ning Section #trent teti #lsat

[cosmosogler]

i have a lot to talk about today, but i also kind of just want to chill and fish for bottle caps. even though fishing in pokemon games is infinitely more frustrating than talking about my feelings. it’s one of those days.

i woke up before my alarm went off again. it took me forever to fall asleep last night, like, a loooooong time. i couldn’t get comfortable, my pajama pants kept riding up and my bug bites were itching and hurting. diogi came in my room and stood in the doorway for a few minutes. i said hi to her, but she seemed to want something, and i couldn’t figure out what it was, so i told her she could stay as long as she wanted and closed my eyes. i don’t remember exactly what i was dreaming about, but it was kinda small scale. i put my alarm on snooze in the morning for a few minutes anyway.

then i got up!!! and showered!!!!! i didn’t shave though because of the bites. i instead gently soaped my legs. that didn’t help much at first, but after i dried off it seemed to settle them down for most of the day.

i posted some pictures i took yesterday to my tumblr and then ate some of my aunt’s leftover salsa and then i drove out to the hospital. the directions they gave me were not helpful and even though i got to the hospital complex ten minutes early i did not find the mental health department until about five seconds after noon.

turns out when i asked if they took my insurance yesterday the receptionist was either mistaken or lying. and when i checked the web site to see if they took my insurance it was either mistaken or lying. because they don’t take my insurance. i spent a half hour sorting it out, filling out paperwork, calling the insurance company with the intake lady, to find out they would not cover a single dollar if i was treated at this hospital. a thousand dollars a week! for a program that lasts eight weeks!!!!

they recommended a place down the road. i said ok and wrote down the name and looked it up when i got home, and it was one of those places that i had looked up previously on my insurance company’s network site and it had terrible reviews. 

then dad came in and yelled at me about not having looked up any of my graduate program acceptance statuses yet. he said “how could you not open those emails?” and i shrugged and said “i’nno” and turned and stared at my inbox. i clicked open a random email. then i closed out of it, then i opened it again. dad stood behind me and watched my screen. i closed the email, and then opened it again.

this is why mom thinks i’m stupid.

when dad left i did open every graduate email and updated my checklist. i was rejected from eight places. and accepted to one! i didn’t hear back from two other ones. i emailed the university of florida about my change in transcript.

then i called mom about the insurance stuff. she said i shouldn’t have sent that email. it was a “red flag raiser.” i felt really deflated. like... i’ve been trying to figure out how to do this for months. i finally just gritted my teeth and did it. and now i did it wrong immediately and unforgivably. they might change their minds now since i won’t have a math minor or quantum 2 under my belt starting off... and apparently i wasn’t supposed to inform them that i could not complete my final (optional) semester. mom said i should only have told them if they asked. 

that is, of course, a pile of bs, and my academic adviser told me i should let them know months ago when i visited campus.

then i celebrated my accomplishment by watching a review of, um, i think it was sharknado, yeah. dad started painting the hallway a few minutes before i started. i told him i got into university of florida.

then about twenty minutes into the video dad popped his head into my doorway and said “so you’re not talking to me now?” really annoyed.

it was really confusing and disorienting? because i had given no indication that i was ignoring him or giving him some kind of passive aggressive silent treatment? and he didn’t try to speak to me in the time in between our last interaction?? like, i thought we were just both minding our own businesses. but apparently there was some kind of problem?

then he told me to paint the doors. i said ok and continued watching my video, figuring i’d just start painting after the video was done in 5 minutes. dad came in a minute later and told me to paint the doors again. i looked at him like, can you not see i’m already doing something else? i’m not always available to just, jump up and do chores on command. i did something difficult and something massively time-wasting that took all my social energy and i was taking a half-hour break before doing anything else. but that wasn’t good enough i guess!

so instead of calling my insurance company i painted a door. then i stopped and called the insurance company. while i was talking to the insurance lady my mom came home and started trying to talk to me. even though she could clearly see i was on the phone and saying things to someone on the other end, and SHE was the one who had previously asked me to call the insurance about my coverage options. while i was being transferred mom asked if i wanted help and i said ok and gave her the phone. then i turned around and saw a spot on the door i had missed and made a small noise and went to get the paintbrush. while i was filling in the spot mom jerked as if i had slapped her and said “i didn’t wipe it off!” 

like, i hadn’t even looked at her or made any indication that i blamed her in any way for the thin paint? it’s just that, the new color is almost the same as the old color and i had just missed a patch. but mom acted like i had personally attacked her when i was... reacting to a mistake i had made.

i’m so goddang tired of mom and dad! jesus christ! mom does this ALL THE TIME. like i’ll come downstairs and ask her where diogi is or something and she’ll act like i hurt her feelings somehow or insulted her. and dad blames me for things i could not possibly have known about, or expects me to just get up and do what he says immediately without question while i am ACTIVELY DOING SOMETHING ELSE. he used to do that when i was little. i would be literally using the bathroom or brushing my teeth and he’d call and i’d come when i was done and he’d yell at me for not coming immediately. i’d tell him i was peeing and he’d say “so?”

or he’d yell at me for not coming ALL THE WAY over to him. i would come to the stairs and ask what he needed and he’d say “come here!” and i’d say “what do you need” and then he’d insist i come to him. and then when i got over to him he’d say something pointless, or send me back upstairs to do a chore.

this also happened while i had my heart problem, so running and climbing stairs literally hurt me.

asher told me the whole “inappropriate reaction to nothing at all” is absolutely gaslighting. i mean, i expected as much. i’m kinda pissed that they are still doing this when i am 24 years old. just because i can’t take care of myself they are acting like i am 9 years old again.

mom used to play this game. it’s called “you’re wrong.” basically she’d call me over and scold me for something or other, it didn’t matter what. if i argued, i was giving her “attitude” and would be punished. if i agreed, she’d tell me i was wrong and i would be punished. if i apologized, she would tell me i didn’t really mean it and i would be punished. if i just stared at her, i was “giving her attitude” and would be punished. if i didn’t look at her, i wasn’t paying enough attention and therefore “giving her attitude” and would be punished. if i had literally anything in my hands or ears she would rip it out. this game was her favorite in the car with me in the passenger seat.

we played it at least twice a day, every day, until i was 14 and left the house for boarding school. and then when i came back for summers, we would play it twice a day, every day. when she came to visit on weekends it was the “you don’t really appreciate this school, you’re unhappy here, you should come home” game instead. then when i had to come home from villanova with suicidal depression for a year we played this game twice a day, every day.

when it wasn’t mom, we played a variant on the game with craig called “you’re abusing me.” for two years until i tried to kill myself. then i went home and it was back to “you’re wrong.” at least i got to go to community college three days a week for an hour. got me out of the house.

i wonder how much my dorm parents in high school knew about my mother problem. i think every adult on campus breathed a sigh of relief when i finally started seeing a therapist when i turned 18 and didn’t have to disclose to mother what i told the therapist. but then college happened anyway.

(when it wasn’t “you’re wrong,” it was getting hit. or kicked.)

i often found, and still find, myself wishing that i had died of my heart problem. the 10 years before the surgery that i was alive were a waste of time, and the 14 years since then have been a waste of time.

well, i got some facilities to look into from the insurance lady. i think i’ve got 7 places, 2 of which i had previously rejected. after that i painted the other three doors, and painted the hallway wall down to about the dogs’ eye level so wiley wouldn’t lick the wet paint. then i fed the dogs and took them outside for a bit. then i ate the rest of the salsa. the whole thing. it must have been more than one measuring cup’s worth. then i took wiley for a walk. little kids are always happy to see wiley even if they don’t stop to pet him. and one of the guys whose house i always walk past smiled at me when he was getting out of his car. dogs, especially pretty dogs like wiley, are a good way to attract positive attention.

after that i took the dogs outside again and got DEVOURED by mosquitoes. i was so upset. i put on so much bug spray. i realized that the bug spray is 13 years old though. it’s got my initials on it from when i went to christian summer camp while i was in christian school. i will try something a little less out of date next time. in the meantime i was in so much pain and discomfort and burning that i corralled the dogs inside and groaned and hustled upstairs and slapped some itching cream all over my ankles. the bites were hot to the touch and the skin was pulled taut from the swelling. it’s awful. they have cooled off since then... it’s back to just being itchy. and the spot i know i got bit hasn’t swelled up yet. 

i thought about scratching my face to hell, but i stopped myself. i’ve been using some neutrogena wash and that’s helped create less... incentive to scrape off my skin. and i’ve been trying to leave alone the old wounds because they are already taking a very long time to heal. 

i went downstairs and had a snack right before 10. a tortilla with cheese. the only thing besides chips and salsa i’ve eaten today. i just wasn’t very hungry at all. maybe i’m still full from yesterday’s lunch. i did remember to take my meds more or less on time though.

so... i did a lot of work today. made some important phone calls/emails. i got plenty of exercise. i managed to not hurt myself or get in a car crash. and i kinda mumbled along with the radio while i was driving so i did something vaguely artsy today. tomorrow i’ll call a hospital thing and maybe try to draw. and go to therapy, i gotta do that too. i’m not sure what asher’s schedule looks like and i’m a little apprehensive about inviting him over right now, both because my house is covered in painting supplies and because of the stuff he’s got going on. maybe i’ll bring it up tomorrow.

#suicide thoughts #emotional abuse probably #physical abuse definitely #really long

[thetravelingmama]

This shook me to my core. Fact: I'm literally trying to hold it together while I write this so other people can see it and share it with their friends and family.

I'm 40something now. I have spent a lifetime feeling a mix of denial, anger, resentment, fearfulness, hate, mistrust and detachment over my father. I'm tired of it. Honestly, I am. Why? Because I'm a mother now... because I'm older and hopefully wiser. I have seen how hanging on to bad feelings can hurt a person, even if they don't know it. Myself included.

Most of all, because I now see how having a family profoundly impacts a child. My upbringing was a mix of many people, not just one person. I truly believe that a huge part of what I've done in my life, mainly my career choice and my drive has come from my grandparents, for example. They instilled within me the hunger for traveling and exploring the world. If they hadn't insisted that I had a book in my hand, I've never would have wanted to be a writer... which I traded for copywriting, which took me to the ad agency where I met Mia's future Dad. If I hadn't had my grandparents, my life would have been completely different. Maybe I would not be writing this for Mia right now.

As much as I've detached myself and moved on without my father, seeing my child with her Dad has made me see the true impact of being a fatherless kid. I know that his abandonment has made me closed off to new people and has made extremely difficult for me to trust anyone for all my life. I know that when someone is not there for me, I turn on my defense mechanism: I absolutely close off and become withdrawn. It took me almost all my life and having to give birth to understand and accept this.

In this video, Dwight talks about taking the time to make lasting memories. It can be anything. Funny thing: I've been doing a lot of thinking of my childhood ever since I had Mia. I've been remembering key memories of my life, things that I never forget.

I remember my Mom and I at the beach many times. I remember her 23th birthday, when we lived alone in a small apartment. I remember listening to Earth, Wind and Fire in her car over and over again, just like Mia asks for the Frozen soundtrack! I remember her taking me to the movie theater to see Mary Poppins, my all time favorite Disney movie.

I remember long days at my grandparent's houses, both from my Mom's side and my Dad's side. I remember escaping to Disney without my mom knowing it with my Aunt. I remember exercising to salsa with my youngest Aunt, which is only 5 years older than me. I remember every single trip I took with my grandparents, from the moment we stepped on the plane to when we arrived at our destination. I remember trying to decide what book I was going to read next from my Grandfather's amazing library. I remember him reciting me great poems and silly jokes, or planting flowers with him. I remember making churros with my Grandma. I remember how my uncle would tickle me without mercy until I laughed so hard that tears would come. These memories pop all the time in my head because they were active in my life.

And... I remember one night where my father cuddled up with me in his house and talked to me about stupid stuff. I remember one weekend when he took me to Peter Island and was sort of nice to hang around with. I also felt that weekend he was proud of me, or happy that I went with him, who knows. All I know is that by him taking the time, even if it was a little, he did create a lasting memory. In spite of my sheer determination to move on and forget, those two memories are there. Dwight is right...

This video struck a chord in me in many ways. It's not that people don't get divorced. Some people get divorced and it's better for them and their children, some people insist on being married and they are miserable, kids included. I believe in marriage and divorce, it's simple as that. I don't believe in staying together for the children bullshit. You stay married because of being in love. If the love gets damaged or you are truly unhappy, you need to move on. But divorce does not mean leaving or being less part of your children's life. Mia has taught me the importance of having her father around - and her family as well.

As for my own experience... I have faults of my own that I have to admit. I closed off so much out of fear of pain that maybe I became unreachable for him to try to mend things. I have never been open to even the slightest idea of giving a second chance. What would have happened if I had chosen a different route? How would that have changed me at some point during my life? People do grow, evolve all the time. You are not the same person at 23, at 33... at 43. I'm certainly not the same, nor would I want to.

Am I saying that my life would have been better with my Dad around? No. In fact, I know and am proud to say that all my success, all the good things that have happened (and the bad, of course) both personal and in business has been because of ME. Because some huge moments in my life changed me for the better, gave me drive, determination. I do not regret anything I've done. I am my own best guide.

Take Dwight's advice. Be there. Make the effort to actually BE there. It doesn't matter if you are a Mom, a Dad, an Aunt, etc. I know life is busy, we have things to do. You know what? Memories are important, being a part of someone's life is not just a part time gig. Family is not made with text messages or video calls or social media posts. Just wonder how much you can impact a child with you just sharing life with them. Imagine how proud you might feel if you are a key factor for their success in life, for the kind of person they turn out to be. Honestly think about how you not being there deeply affects them in ways that you can't imagine or understand. Most of all, don't let them stop caring about you and become a distant family member, someone that does not matter.

Dwight, thank you for words. My advice? Don't give up on her. Keep trying. Please. Don't give up.

Much love. Z.

[noyolasjourney-blog]

The Journey Began

My name is Angelica Noyola, the oldest of a family of eleven.

I was the first grand daughter in the maternal side of my family, shortly after, two brothers and two boy cousins where born, I was the only girl for a while. I was about four or five years old when Mi mama Carmen ( my grandmother) and I visited El Mercado ( something very similar to a farmers market). This memories I treasure so much, that I must share with all of you today, so they can stay with me forever. After grandma finished her purchases, she use to stop by a small juice stand and treat me with a huge Malteada De Chocolate (Chocolate Milkshake). Let me tell you, the cup, was so big, that I barley could handle it with both of my hands! After that, we stopped at a little stand to get grandmas favorite, Torta De Pescado Frito ( A fried fish sandwich, usually made with a type of French bread, which we call bolillo, also known as Telera) she topped which she topped with lots of salsa, San Luis brand, of course, and lime juice ( which we known as lemons at my hometown) They days at grandmas house felt always long, maybe because it was no kids to play with, at the time. I can recall some of the conversations that grandma and Mi mama Chencha ( my great grandmother) used to have, they always mentioned names of persons that I didn’t know, Se fueron pa el Norte"( el Norte is the way they call The USA in my home town, it also means The North) they both said Que Dios Los vendinga! ( God bless them) and prayers following.

Our family grew super quickly, by the age of seven, I had seven siblings and a bunch of cousins, my mom and two aunts had kids about the same time.

One day, my parents got into a big argument, I don’t know what happened, but I remember we moved to grandmas house, The day after we moved , I remember my mom left with my aunt, They went to the nearest phone booth to call my uncle, who lived in El Norte! My uncle did not visited often but when he did he used to bring lots of m&m’s and chips ahoy cookies! Plus a lot of black trash bags, full of used clothes, all sizes and types. If I was lucky to fit in something I could keep it!

My mom and aunt came back several hours later, I remember them talking and getting upset, my grandma was the one who looked more upset. I remember when my mom said Nos vamos a ir al Norte! For a quick second I thought we were moving, my dad came to my mind, but shortly after, my grandma asked, Y estas criaturas? ( what about this kids?) my mom answered, we are only leaving for a year! My chest got really hard, my face felt hot and tears flowed out if my eyes, but no body noticed. I was confused and scared, my parents where everything to me! I never even imagine my life without them. Days after that, the day came, my mom and aunt were leaving, we were a total of ten kids, seven of us and my three cousins. All of us stayed at grandmas.

The day of departure my mom, put both of her hands on my shoulders and said, I’m leaving for a while, I will send for you later okay, you must take care of your siblings, it is your responsibility because you are the oldest, okay" I just nodded in acceptance. That was the first time that I felt the responsibility of been the oldest kid of the family , I was seven, almost eight years old. About a week later we all were waiting for my grandma, she went to make a phone call to find out about her daughters. I remember telling one of my cousins that I was scared, he quickly replied, I’m not, if they can’t cross they’ll be back soon, then I prayed to got to not let my mom to cross but it was to late.

The days after my mom left felt long, very long, I lost conscience of the time. Along with all ten kids, my grandma had to deal with her teenage daughter, she was very disrespectful to grandma and mean to us, I can’t blame here, all this kids came suddenly to take her mothers attention, no wonder she was so mean. One day, she was mean to my brother Jorge, he is the second in our family, not sure what happened but my brother run away, yes he disappeared! Grandmas was very worried, she and other person went to look for him. Several hours later she was back but not my brother, I asked for him and she responded, he is with your dad, without thinking I responded quickly, I want to go with dad too! She just looked at me and walked away, my grandma never showed emotions or cried, she was very strong, but her ayes could talk and I knew she was sad. I missed my brother too but it didn’t feel as bad, I guess I was getting used to see my loved ones going away.

Several days after that episode, my grandma gave me a pair of pink pants and a white and pink sweater, I never liked soft pink but it was always exiting to get a new outfit ( well not new, used but new to me) it was my turn to go to the market! Since the list of grandkids was long , we had to take turns and that week, was not my turn, but I was not going to miss that one! Same routine, I got my chocolate shake, that for some reason, was getting smaller and easier to handle. On our way to the bus station, I heard my dads voice! I turned quickly and there he was, with open arms waiting for me to run to him and hung from his neck so he could carry me, I sure did! I was the happiest girl then, until I found out that I was going back to grandmas, not that I did not like it, I just wanted to be with my daddy. He explained that all was going to be okay and that he was going to go visit every weekend, I just nodded in approval. My brother Jorge was with my dad but stayed at my paternal grandmother, because my dad had to work. Dad used to visit on the weekends and get some treats for us, until one Saturday he didn’t show, I waited and waited, my grandma was furious. Three weeks passed by and he did not showed, then my grandma went to check on him and said that he was completely drunk, he had been drinking for three weeks non stop and without eating any food. There it was, that feeling again, hard chest, hot face and tears. But again nobody noticed. I believe, my dads condition was the reason why my mom returned , yes, one unexpected day she was back! I was very happy, it looked as if all was getting back to normal. Not for long!

#noyolasjourney #jointhejourney #immigrantsfuture