ChinoValdez.com

Three Years

Monday marked the three year anniversary of my Dad's death. I debated whether or not I even wanted to write about it as I kinda feel like whatever I say at this point will just be redundant. But then I thought, I owe it to El Viejo; and if it seems repetitive...so be it. It's pretty weird to think that he's been gone three years. Often, it feels like a lifetime since he passed away. And then others, it's like just yesterday we still had him with us. So many times, I've tried to forget what that day felt like...obviously, it's impossible. The day you lose a parent is one that you never, ever forget. And so when Monday came around, I chose to not even think about it. As far as I was concerned, it was just another ordinary day. But I knew it wasn't. The truth is, you can't escape something like that. Three years ago, I knew that things were never going to be the same again. I knew something had fundamentally changed not only in me, but in my family. And back then, I wasn't sure how it was all going to work out. How were we all supposed to go on knowing that a major part of us was missing? And then we just did. And, no, things are not the same...but we have a new "normal" now. We talk about my Dad every single time we're together. And I think about him every single day. No lie. One way or another, he is always in my thoughts. I hear him in certain songs, I see him when watching certain movies, he's in my wardrobe (I'm wearing one his old shirts today)...and then every time the "C" word is brought up, there he is. I always wonder what he would think of me doing certain things...would he be proud about this? Would he laugh at me for this? And there's comfort in that for me. It's lame to even write that he's always with me...because you know that shit freaks me out and I don't believe in it. But his memory is with me. His essence is with me. I always strived to be different from him. In many ways, that has helped me be a better man. But there is so much of his personality in mine. Some of it I fight, and some I embrace. You know what does suck? Is that when the memories play in my head, I see my Dad in his younger days and I see him getting older and that makes me smile. I remember his laugh, I remember how he was always whistling. But inevitably, I remember him sick. And I remember him dying. And that still absolutely breaks me each time. I mean, it gets me at my very core. And I hate that I can't shake those images. I'm not sure that time can ever fully erase that pain. All I can hope for is that the good memories can overshadow the bad one day.

Working Some Shit Out

You know how sometimes you hear a story about some neglected old person somewhere, like, maybe they’re broke or lonely…all the while having adult children and family in some other state. It’s pretty easy to automatically call the children assholes or wonder how they can be so cruel to their poor old person. Over the last few years I have learned that, that poor old person wasn’t always a defenseless, old, wrinkled human being. No, at some point in their life, they might have been a selfish, uncaring, younger adult. In other words, you reap what you sow. More than likely, there is a reason why the person’s family has chosen to stay away.

With that in mind, I’d like to tell you all a little story. Picture this: Me sitting on my couch familiarizing myself with my newly installed cable channels. My phone rings. I look over and see a 909 number on my caller ID. Innocently, I think it might be The BFF or The Bro calling me from a different number than I have stored. So I pick up. And I hear a voice that all at once seems very familiar, but still takes my brain quite a few seconds to process. "Oh. Hi. Grandma."

I’m trapped. My heart starts beating at an accelerated pace…I can literally hear my heart beat. This woman is by far, not at the top of my list of people I want to have a conversation with. And we talk about nonsense. Her feeling lonely, but grateful that my cousins have dogs to keep her company. Health-wise, she’s good, with the exception of her bones. All the while I knew eventually we’d get to what she really wanted. Info. How’s The Mom’s? What has she been up to? Is [Brother #1] working? Is it true he has a son now? She then says she thinks about us all the time, but doesn’t have the courage to see us. She says she especially misses Brother #1 but in the same breath asks me, "What's his name again?" Come to think of it, she never even asked me how I was doing.

Let me tell you a few things about my grandmother before I get to my true feelings. Growing up, she was by far my favorite grandma. I can say that now…although I denied it most of my childhood to anyone who asked. It’s not that The Mom’s mom was bad, it’s just that I saw her every day. And I had to compete with like 100 other cousins for her attention. With my Dad’s mom, I felt I had developed a one-on-one relationship. And I saw her maybe once or twice a month…so it was always such a treat to see her. And every time I saw her, she’d give up some cash…that was always a bonus.

It wasn’t until I got a bit older that I saw her for who she really was. And let me say that many people have let me down in life. But not many have hurt as much as she. You know how when you go to therapy, it is the therapist’s job to help you get to the root of whatever issue you’re going through? Guess who’d get mentioned quite a bit. I mean, my self-consciousness can probably be traced back to good ole’ grandma. Being told at 9 that the cellulite on my thighs was not healthy and that I needed to stop eating so much was engraved in my head for life. (Not that it made a difference...obviously.) And then, when puberty kicked in, I wouldn’t so much as get greeted before pimples on my face got pointed out. Instead of cash, I started getting Avon acne treatments…that, incidentally, were never requested. One time I was being stupid with my friends, stuck my head out the car window and my glasses flew off. The folks weren’t doing so well, so I called the grandma for some help. She lent me the money for new glasses and then shortly after began to incessantly ask for it back every single time she saw me. No big deal, except I was 16 and working part-time at Del Taco...how responsible could I have been back then? And in the meantime she was paying my 22-year-old cousin’s rent and car payment. And then on her birthday one year, I dropped off some flowers and a card at her door. When she called to tell me she got them, she said she thought I'd left her money for her in the envelope. Before saying thank you. Whatever.

I have worked through those childhood issues (although you wouldn't think so by reading this...I'm just trying to give you background.) As with most people who chipped in on damaging young Chino, The Mom’s was always there to bring balance. Thank goodness. Shit like that still hurts though. Fast forward a few years to when my Dad got sick. The Mom’s, being the sole bread winner, had to juggle taking care of Dad and maintaining her job. So she calls my grandma for some help. She, at first, says no because one of my aunts doesn’t have a babysitter. Umm…your son, the only son that bothers to call you on a daily basis is battling cancer and you’re concerned about my fucking aunt not having a babysitter? Anyway, eventually, she did move in with my parents and did help in taking care of my Dad until the day he died. Big Up’s to her for that. In the process, she drove The Mom’s and The Brothers absolutely crazy. Even my poor Dad wanted her shipped away at one point.

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it a million times. Fuck with the people I love and you will see a side of me you will not like. Every single time I’d come over I’d get a report of how grandma would tell The Brothers they were too fat or would criticize The Mom’s on a million and one things. At some point you start to build some resentment. Towards the very end of my Dad’s life, so many tumors had grown in his colon that his body was not capable of taking care of business properly. The waste still had to come out one way or another (I'll spare you the details.) And didn’t this crazy old lady make it a point to tell my Dad how he was grossing her out? That was it.

One last thing and I’ll stop antagonizing her…when my Dad finally died and The Mom’s came under attack by his family, she had every opportunity to say, "I was with [The Mom’s] every step of the way. Believe me, she and the doctors did everything they could have done. The cancer was just found too late. How about we just leave her alone and allow her to grieve in peace?" But that’s not what happened. Instead, she just fueled the flames. I have to say, that, that period was by far the worst my family and I have lived through. Each of us was experiencing a type of pain we’d never felt before. We needed people to ask us how we were doing, ask us if we needed anything. Instead we got, why didn’t you try this? What if you’d done this? She simply didn’t have our backs.

You’re probably thinking, "Chino, cut the old lady some slack." I can’t. Even if I wanted to. And when I was talking on the phone with her, not only did I feel like I was betraying my family but I truly felt like I was betraying myself. Shortly, after my Dad died, I decided to pay her a visit. Back then I was dealing with guilt and trying to do what my Dad would have wanted me to do. So I hung out with her for a little and I vowed to return. Time went by and when I actually wanted to go back and see her, I'd put on some weight. And then I just didn't want to face her because I didn't want to hear from her. That was too sick for me. I was prepared for the next time I'd hear about her it being about the funeral arrangements.I did not want to talk to her. And I don't feel guilty about not wanting a relationship with her.

That's the thing, too many times...epecially in my culture, we're forced to be around people that, for lack of a better word are poisonous. My grandmother is a big ass pool of negativity. Talking to her, I couldn't feel sorry for her. I couldn't feel bad that I cut her out of my life. I don't hate her. Don't get it twisted...I just don't want her in my life. And I truly can't help but believe in Karma. Look, you treat people around you like shit your entire life and eventually it catches up to you. Plain and simple. I mean, how many times can you put a person down before they just walk away? Right? Word.

No...But For Real

How cute is The Little Nephew?

In The End

The other day, a woman I work with came into my office. The last time we'd seen each other was right around Thanksgiving, and at that time, her mother had just had a major, major stroke. It was so bad, that this woman had started making funeral arrangements for her mother. It was only a matter a time, she thought. And then I completely forgot to give her a call and ask how everything had gone. So, when I saw her the other day, that was the first thing I asked expecting to hear a report about all the services. Instead she told me that the most amazing of miracles had occurred and her mother was okay. 

"Wow," I told her, "That's great news." And then she proceeded to tell me that her mother is completely paralyzed and can pretty much only communicate with her eyes. And she has to be fed through and I.V. and she has to wear a diaper. But, you know,  thank God, at least she still had her mother. So, of course I had to ask myself, "What kind of fucked up miracle is that?" 

God says, "Okay...you can live, but you're not gonna like it. Oh yeah, suck it." And I immediately started thinking about how selfish this woman was. Why keep your mother alive when her quality of life has all but diminished? I mean, what is the point? It seems inhumane to me. This is when I always think it might be a good thing to revisit the whole Dr. Kevorkian assisted death argument. Because ten bucks says that if you asked that lady's mom if she was happy she survived the stroke just to communicate only with her yes, she'd probably give you a big ole' "Fuck No!" But in the whole general scope of things, how can it be so easy to put a fucking dog down, but when it comes to human beings, we have to suffer until that very last breath? 

So, then this last Sunday I spent with The Mom's at the hospital. She had emergency surgery to remove the old gall bladder. And even, though both La Shy Girl and I (and countless other people I know) have had this surgery and even though I know how simple the routine is, my mind still had to go to the "what if something goes horribly wrong?" scenario. And maybe because I'm  a writer or maybe just because I'm so freaking dramatic, I allowed that worst-case scenario to play out in my mind. And I thought, if The Mom's ends up a fucking vegetable because of this thing, I have to go balls out and honor her life by taking care of things myself. Because of the amazing woman my mother is, I could never let her go out like sucka'. But also, and very selfishly, there is no chance in hell, I could ever watch another parent slowly die. Of course, we didn't even have to go there. But I'm just sayin'. 

On the real, though, I get that dying sucks. Duh. No one wants to go. But I'm thinking I want to be in control of my shit...to the extent that I can. It's like this: If I know I'm dying, like, there's no chance in hell I'm going to make it, I want to throw myself a going away party. I mean, what good is it going to be for people to talk about how awesome I was once I'm gone? I want to hear it while I still can. And then when everyone's gone, I'll take a little magic pill and peace the fuck out. It just seems like a better way to go than putting my family through some heavier shit. You know?

Birthday Weekend Extravaganza

 Yo! Another year and another birthday. I have to say that, this year, I celebrated like a champ. A good time was very much had. Thursday night we went over to The Mom's and enjoyed a rather delicious dinner. Because both The Mom's and La Shy Girl are awesome, I ended up with two carrot cakes. And yes, we cut both.

 

Brother #2 and The Mom's...

 

Friday morning, I opened presents and the LSG and I met up with Brother #1 at Disneyland. Got on a few rides and called it a day pretty early.
 

 

After Disneyland, Brother #1 wanted to hit up this torta place. As we enjoyed our lunch, we looked over and realized that the guy sitting behind us looked familiar. It was one of those things where you know you know someone, but you're not sure where you know them from. For all my fellow paisas out there, it turns out he was the host of Cuanto Cuesta El Show.  No celebrity sighting is too small for me, so here's a picture...

 

After lunch, LSG and I ran around and finished packing for our Laughlin trip with the BFF and The Persian. Oh, Laughlin, such an understated trashy treasure...how do I love thee? Yo! I had so much fun. First thing we did after we checked-in and got ready was head over to "The Dance Club" at the Riverside Hotel. Don't let the title fool you, though. It's really just a sublime crap-hole where everyone with a bit of courage can get on stage and sing their hearts out during country karaoke. I love it!!

 

After the "Dance Club" we walked down to the world-famous "Losers' Lounge" and that's where the real fun started ...and the details got a little blurry. Thanks to Tequila, I enjoyed what was one of my favorite birthday nights. I danced like there was no tomorrow. In my drunken stupor I thought the dance floor had cleared out just for La Shy Girl and me. At one point, I could have sworn every one stood around us and chanted our names. I've been told this was only in my imagination. I became infatuated with the biggest human being I've ever met. I was, from what I was told, sexually harassed by some creepy old guy. Had a full-on Real World argument outside in the cold with The BFF. We lost La Shy Girl and The Persian as a result of that. Funny story: Before they decided to go back in, I could have sworn La Shy Girl said "We'll be in E." So, when we went back in to find them, I kept looking for this "E" place. Turns out she said they were going to eat. So then we had a super-greasy breakfast, my true feelings about Brittany Murphy's death finally surfaced, I recited a few of my favorite Clueless lines of hers, and finally made it back to the room at about 5:30 a.m.

 

Needless to say, the energy level was a bit low come Saturday. Still, we managed to get it together and party a second night. This time, we tried to stay in our hotel, but actually had the "club" all to ourselves. And they wrapped things up at midnight. So, back to the "Losers' Lounge" we went. You know, technically speaking, Laughlin isn't all that fun. But when you're with the right people, it can become the best place to be. On our way back to our hotel, it was The BFF's turn to be harassed. This time by a group of girls who yelled out a few cat calls. Including my favorite, "Save a horse, ride a cowboy." And at around 4:00 a.m. we ended up at the same breakfast joint.

 

 Alas, the fun had to stop and we had to head home.

 

We did make a pit stop at some Mexican food joint, though. Turns out the owner is a huge fan of the taxidermy. There were creepy animals everywhere!
 
Seriously, you guys, I had a freaking awesome time! Oh, and a Big Up's to everyone who remembered my birthday. I can't tell you how much your well wishes mean to me. Word.

Here We Go Again

It is my curse to hear about people's problems all day. Literally, all day. If it's not someone on the phone at work, it's our therapist briefing me on my clients' progress in counseling. Sometimes, it's some pretty heavy shit. I have, however, for the most part figured out how to leave those people's problems at work, go home and function as La Shy Girl's husband. Sometimes, though, I'll get a phone call about someone in my personal life. And sometimes the shit I hear about is pretty hardcore. I got one of those phone calls last night. And what was shocking to me was not what I heard...it was my reaction: I wanted to do nothing about it.

As you may have previously read, I have a rather delicate relationship with The Mom's extended family. (It's better than the non-existent relationship I have with my Dad's extended family.) While everybody is together, everyone presents themselves as happy and easy-going. You come over to a family gathering, and it's pretty impressive how everyone gets along. Everyone jokes, dances, laughs together. At the end of the night, though, everyone gets in their cars, drives home and lives out their personal life behind closed doors. And while others feel they have the right to speculate about what happens, only they know the truth. As I got some news that may or not be true last night, I realized something; See, while everyone is quick to opine on the latest family scandal, they're also praying their own demons don't come into the light...nobody wants their own shit exposed. And so, wouldn't it be easier to just allow everyone to sweep all their problems under the rug and not try and play Dr. Phil all the time? (Are you listening, Chino?) I've learned something quite important this year; Nobody wants help unless they ask for it. And even then, they might just be trying to fool themselves.

Furthermore, if my little family unit is not perfect...if I've been a shitty, shitty ass dad to my kids, can I go around trying to tell others how to raise their own? Umm...no. So better to leave other's shit alone, right? I mean, I can't tell you how many times I wished my family's issues could have been kept within our own home. I hated that everyone knew my dad was an alcoholic and that every once in a while, he could get a little crazy. I hated that everyone knew everytime Brother #1 did something stupid. Because it's not like anyone actually offered to help...they just seemed to feed off of our suffering. Yo! The Mom's is quite the tranquil woman. But talk shit on her boys and you'll see a whole other side. It took her a while to learn that in order for our shit to stay our shit, she had to keep shit to herself. Look, I've watched these scenarios play over and over again as I was growing up. Someone got into some sort of trouble, and certain members of my family decided the best way to fix it or deal with it would be to gather everyone and stage some sort of second rate intervention. Even as a young kid, I was aware that this never worked. Nothing ever, ever changed. And usually the people leading the discussion were the ones doing the shadiest shit in the first place.

Bottom line is everyone has got skeletons in their closets. Having grown up in such a large family, it taught me to be protective of myself and those I love. And so when I hear about my family members going through shit, it pains me to even know about it. I feel like I shouldn't have to know about it unless that person comes to me directly. As severe as the issue may be, I'm more concerned about the violation of their privacy. It's the classic game of telephone. By the time it gets to the 6th or 7th sibling, the story is quite distorted. Anyway, you get my point. Yesterday was just a crazy day of revelations for me. Shit was thrown at me from every direction. For my own sake, I need to mind my own business, though. And I will.

Happy Birthday Sixter!

I couldn't let the day end without getting on here to wish The Sixter a very happy birthday. A. I remembered and B. there aren't too many people in this world that I like as much as I like this kid. I can't even begin to tell you how many amazing memories I have with this lady...too many to even try and point out any specific one. The truth is that every moment I get to spend with her just feels so special. And in trying to write a birthday message, the right words cannot be found. She is more than just my cousin...no doubt, she is one of my best friends, like the little sister I never had, and just absolutely guaranteed entertainment. Whether or not it's intentional, this girl can always make you laugh. And she's such a good sport...you have to be when you grew up around Brother #1. This year for me has been about identifying the important things and people in my life...and that list couldn't even come close to being complete without The Sixter. I love that girl with all my heart. Happy Birthday Sweetheart! 

 

Thankful

Even though I truly, truly dislike the holiday, I want to take some time and acknowledge the people and things I am thankful for in life. I figured I'd do it today, because, let's get real...y'all ain't gonna check this shit out tomorrow. So, I am grateful for...

My Shy Girl. Because nothing I do could ever be the same without her. Because I couldn't even exist without her. And because she'll sit there and watch Beyonce in concert with me even though she hates her.

The Mom's. Because nothing comforts me more than even the silliest conversation with this woman. My rock...on the real.

Brother #1. Because he reminds me that sometimes its worth not losing hope.

Brother #2. Because he makes me smile every time I see him.

The Sixter. Because of her soul. So pure...so real.

The Female Bestie. Because through thick and thin...there she is.

The BFF. Because they just don't make them like him anymore.

The Bro. Because not too many people make me want to be a better human being...he does.

La Tonka. Because at least 30% of the times I've laughed this year have been with her around.

The Male Bestie. Because he is the truth.

The Yank. Because he's the only other man I know who's admitted to liking Sex and The City. And because he makes my Sixter happy.

The Sweet Spirit. Because nothing I say or do is ever questioned.

The Blondie. Because she could bill me for all her advice, and coffee, and creamer and lotion and pills, but gives it to me out of love.

The Work Mom. Because she puts up with me.

Little Gi-Unit. Because she's my partner in crime. We suffer the same lows and share the same highs.

T-Fresh. Because he's one incredible young man.

LC. Because she has a beautiful heart.

MK. Because she never stops trying.

D-Ti, Lil Papaz and The Hippie. Because they give me something to be proud of.

My home. Because I have one. And because it houses the blue room.

My voice. Because it's dope. My writing. Because it maintains my sanity. And because it has me feeling pretty hopeful.

Little Farrah B. Because she had me at hello.

My life. Because it's never felt this right.

And everyone else I forgot to mention. Because you'll forgive me for having done so.

Almost There

At the conclusion of last year, I very much consciously didn't set any goals for myself. I'm not quite sure that was the smartest thing to do. I think the whole 2007-2008 period was such an overall dark one for me that I wasn't feeling very motivated. And now I'm wondering if this has played a part in this whole mid-mid-life crisis I've been experiencing. I told my friend today that I don't want to be a non-ambitious 30-year-old waiting in limbo. But I realize I've done this to myself. I've allowed myself to be non-ambitious. I've basically put my faith in others' hands and now I feel like, certain parts of my life, I don't have control over. I truly, truly am a walking contradiction. This has been a day of epiphanies. But I've had those before and I always seem to fall back into my old patterns. I've been working like crazy on this show of mine. I'm actually quite impressed with myself. I'm afraid that one day I'm just going to give up on it, though. Because that's who I am. The point of this is that every once in a while, a motherfucker has got to take responsibility for his shit. And I am doing so. I keep telling La Shy Girl that I'm going to be better...overall. And still I find myself falling into the same routines. It is frustrating as fuck. So now that this year is almost over, I want to set some goals for myself. Here they go.

1. At least two days a week, the TV will not be turned on. (Wii activities don't count.)

2. I will write at least three days a week and not feel guilty.

3. La Shy Girl and I will have at least one date night during the week. Weekends are a given.

4. I will verbally call at least one friend a week and have a REAL conversation with them.

5. LSG and I will create a nice, reasonable debt reduction plan...and stick to it.

6. I will employ honesty as my foremost method of communicating. No will now just mean no.

7. My weight will have a 1 in front of it by June 2010. (I'm so fucking close!)

8. After this Thanksgiving, I will no longer feel obligated to spend any time with people I don't want to.

9. I will read more. Maybe on a day when the TV is not on.

10. I will remind myself as often as I can about how absolutely awesome I am.

There you go. I'm tired of bitching all the time. On the real. Let's do this. In the words of my best friend...I want to LIVE!

Feliz Dia De Los Muertos

 

 

Dad, I celebrate you because only in your absense, have I discovered your value in my life. Never has death affected me in such a dramatic way than when you left us. Every single day I try and make you proud. And every single one of those days, I miss you more and more. There have been so many moments in our lives that I am angry you didn't get to share with us. And as much as my brain refuses to believe that you are in a better place, my heart knows that, somehow, you are still with us. I love you.

Tia Sylvia, I celebrate you because you were such a unique presense in my life. You were one of the most special human beings that I have been blessed to know. Many times I have wished I could still call you for advice or just drop by and watch a random concert DVD with you. My life was better because you were in it.

Tia Mina, I celebrate you because of you were in my childhood. I want so much to remember more about you, but time has taken care of erasing some memories. I know you were kind. Too kind. I know you were an incredible, brave and strong woman. And your influence is still felt whenever I hang out with the family.

Arturo, Mari and baby. Though, I didn't really know you, I celebrate you because you were a part of my Shy Girl's life. I have witnessed your family mourn for you and I know you were very loved.