It’s Not You, It’s Me

It was almost one year ago that the thought of moving to Puerto Vallarta entered my mind. I was tired, stressed, and unhappy. I looked back on the years when we lived in PV, they were happy times. Plus I still have family there. Family members who are perfectly content to live by the beach and enjoy a peaceful existence. So why not leave? Maybe what I needed was to return to my roots.

It took a while for me to get there. My initial plan was to go at the beginning of this year, but circumstances being what they were, I didn't get to PV until July.

It didn't work out.

From the moment I arrived I felt sick. It wasn't enough at first to deter me from staying. In fact, I came to Phoenix and went back to PV within a week. I wanted to make my life work over there. Partly because people told me I couldn't, partly because I wanted that life that my family members have. Sure, life is hard. But life is hard everywhere. It is my argument against the people who come here looking for "a better life," there is no such thing. Had we stayed in Mexico when I was younger I probably never would have left. I'd be there now, living a life that may or may not resemble the one that I currently have.

Would I have a high-paying job? It's likely. I am fluent in English and Spanish and I can learn to do anything very quickly.

Would I be married and have kids? I don't know. I believe those things are more related to fate/destiny, and if I don't have them here, I find it unlikely that I would have them there.

So if things aren't so different, why did I want to leave? Well, PV is the only "home" I have. I've moved every year of my life (except since I came to Phoenix) but that's where my grandmother lives, and my family. It's the place where my mother was born. It's the only place where I want to go to church. It's the place where I want my ashes scattered after I die. I have a direct link to the people who built that city. I can walk down the street and people will recognize me and wave.

So I picked up my things and went back. I fixed my papers so that I'd have no problems getting a job. But things weren't okay. The sweltering heat combined with the intense humidity made it hard for me to breathe each day. I lost my appetite and my strength. Part of it had to do with the schedule. Breakfast was at the lunch hour, lunch was at the dinner hour, and dinner was at the time I went to sleep. To top it off it rained EVERY SINGLE DAY. I'm talking thunderstorms here. Pounding rain, bright lightning, and crashing thunder. At first it was beautiful, it was peaceful. Then it became a headache. Nothing could be done during the rain. Sometimes not even watch television, because we disconnected everything from the walls.

All of this could have been bearable, after all Phoenix is no picnic during the summer. Just ride out the months and wait for fall.

Unless, you get sick.

Yes friends, I got sick. Not in a way that demanded emergency medical attention, but in the way that makes you say "enough is enough". First, I got Salmonella from handling a bad chicken (I believe it was a mild case, since I didn't get all of the symptoms). This led me to FREAK-OUT and spend more time on WebMD than anyone should. I was ready to leave the moment I was diagnosed but the doctor reassured me that I would be fine and that the American doctors would give me the same medicine that he was giving me. I don't know if that's true, but our family doctor down there is a very calm man who explains everything to you in a way that is relaxing. It took about a week to recover and once I did I hit the beach for some exercise. We planned a party for the Bicentennial celebration which I was really excited about. The plan was to prepare tostadas, eat, have some fun, and then go to the plaza (damn the bomb threats) and scream to the top of our lungs VIVA MEXICO!

Not so much.

The day of the Bicentennial both of my feet got bitten by a mysterious bug and as the day progressed, they swelled to the size of a grapefruit. BOTH OF THEM. Had it only been one I could have limped to the plaza, but noooo. I was so upset I didn't even watch the celebration on television. I sat pathetically on the sofa as everyone else went to the balcony to catch the fireworks, if I had been alone I would have crumbled to tears. Thanks to my doctor sister-in-law my hobbit feet returned to normal three days later. Just in time for my throat to get really sore and reduce my voice to a whisper.

Say it with me: Enough is enough.

Despite my grandmother's pleas, I hastily packed my things, bought a bus ticket, and came home.

It hurts to have left. I wanted to stay, I wanted to make it work. Those of you that know me and have heard or read of my little adventures know that I have tried to leave Phoenix many times, yet keep coming back. Some of those returns have been forced by powers beyond my control. Was this another sign? It might be. It also might be that I've changed. Perhaps five years in the same city have cemented themselves inside of me and made me unable to adjust to anything else. Puerto Vallarta hasn't changed. Sure, there are more condos, more people, and a handful of Starbucks but it hasn't changed. It is still the small town I spent part of my childhood in. Unfortunately, I don't think adulthood will have the same luck.

What Happens When The World Stops Spinning

I have some bad news my friends, it's not something I want to admit but...age has decided to pay me a visit. It was not a friendly visit. There I was hanging out with my sixteen and twenty-one year old self when there's a knock on the door and Twenty-seven slaps me right in the face.
Five years ago, I moved to Arizona and worked, worked, worked. The hours were long and the stress was heavy on my shoulders, it was me and my future mid-forties self. Get up early, drink strong coffee, go to work, go back home, take a shower, eat some dinner, and go to sleep so we can do it all over again tomorrow. A couple of years ago Twenty-one showed up and was all "Hi, remember me? I need attention." I felt guilty. I never gave Twenty-one her due attention. I didn't show up on my birthday with my license in hand at the liquor store, I didn't party hard, I didn't skip classes due to a hangover (except the ONE time). I was so busy trying to get to graduation that I skipped a whole year of my life, probably a pivotal one. So when I got my second chance, I took it.
I quit my job. I left it where it belongs--in the future. Someday I will need to work more than forty hours a week and I will have a mortgage and car payments and who knows what else. For now it was me and Twenty-one (and, as I said, ocassionally Sixteen) taking road trips, living back with my mom, not worrying about a job. Not worrying about much. The future was in the future.
Welcome to the future.
It started sometime around the Spring. I began to feel tired a bit more easily. I was sleeping somewhere around six hours in a night, and that's not bad for Twenty-one, and more than enough for Sixteen, but a killer for Twenty-seven. I was wanting to get to sleep earlier and if I didn't get my full eight-hour dose then I'd be tired, cranky, and even dizzy. Then one day something funny, yet sad, happened: there I was watching late-night television with my cousin when I got hungry and went into the kitchen for some Pop-Tarts. I reached up to the cabinet and I got a spasm in my back.
No joke. I spent like a week moving around slowly and unable to lift heavy things. WTF? A back spasm?
For a brief moment after that I thought that I had regained the company of my younger selves. I went on my road trip and had a hell of a good time, and then I came back and helped with my grandmother's post-surgery needs. But once I stopped to take a breath it all came back to me. The epiphany was finally realized when I came to Vallarta. A twenty-four hour drive straight here, two weeks of ups and downs and late nights, a twenty-four hour drive back to Phoenix, and a thirty-hour bus drive back.
Holy shit! I thought I was never going to be able to stand.
The lack of sleep and a regular healthy meal (necessities for people of a certain age) had finally taken it's toll. To top it off, I come back to my apartment just before midnight, opened the door, and my feet splashed.
Yes. It had rained for three straight days and nights in the living room. You will understand how at one point I debated whether to mop up the floor at that moment or wait until morning, but my OCD won over my fatigue and hunger. I finished two hours and two buckets full of water later.
How did I feel the next morning?
Like I'd been hit by a brick truck. Dizzy, hungry, tired, and with every bone in my body in pain.
Had I my sixteen year-old self with me the recuperation process might have been a little quicker, but I'm sure she is off somewhere having a grand time and eating all of the crap that made us overweight but we didn't really give a shit about. Back then I could eat anything that was fried or dipped in sauce and wash it down with a soda.
No ma'am not anymore. Now it's fiber-rich cereals (goodbye Cap n' Crunch), fruits and vegetables (and not just any fruit or vegetable. No, each one has to be for SOMETHING), and lots and lots of water (goodbye tasty Coke). Ocassionally I will eat something that I know has no nutritional value whatsoever, but it has to be accompanied by a tiny pink pill so that my stomach doesn't explode.
I miss Mozzarella sticks :(
Two weeks later and Twenty-seven and I have gotten into a comfortable pattern. We wake up mid-morning, do a little stretching, and have some coffee with a wheat-bread. We walk everywhere and I must admit that Twenty-seven has some good things about her. For one thing she comes with a different look. I'm not kidding, this whole year I've changed more in my features than in any other year. It's like I'm maturing or something. For another, even though I tire more easily, I am more active. Walking is a big thing with Twenty-seven. We walk everywhere, and I want to do exercise (if I ever woke up early, I might just do it). Also, in the past two days I've cleaned more than I ever did in my entire life.
We have our arguments. The biggest being my solitude.
Sixteen could care less, she has her handful of trusting friends and her books and the creativity and imagination that make her believe that the world can be whatever she wants and she has all of the time in the world.
Twenty-one? Are you kidding? She thrives in solitude. Don't bother her. All she wants is to see the world. Anyone who wants to come along is welcome, and anyone who doesn't? Who cares. She's selfish, yes, but so is everybody else. There is no need for a co-pilot. Hell, there's very little need for friends. She's off to be something great, she's off to conquer the world.
Twenty-seven wants me grounded. Put the luggage away and stop running around. Maybe that's why I've been dizzy--the world stopped spinning so suddenly and I'm standing still. The future is not impending but it is visible, more than it ever was. I'm punished for my past decisions: walking away from my job, changing my career, spending my savings, retreating into isolation. I have to make goals and actively plan for the future. And in the meantime do that one thing that once, I felt I never needed and another time, I had no wish or desire to do: socialize. It's the lifeblood of Twenty-seven. She wants to meet people, she craves the noise of conversation in the same way that Sixteen craved a good book and a quiet corner. She fears the invisibility that is Twenty-one's super-power. She is afraid of the dark that engulfs her senses every night. There is this unprecedented need to have another human being validate her existance.
I miss my old friends. Their spirits visit me and we reminisce about the good times. They ask me to go back but I can't get the energy to do it. I feel drained, more mentally than physically. I hope that they won't disappear, that they will continue to visit me and that one day I will be able to go with them at least one more time on a great adventure. After all, I still need to get to New York City.

Mid-Year Update

Well well well, let's see how things have gone so far. As you, my faithful followers, know I set up some resolutions for 2010 and now that half of the year has gone past I think we should do a little progress report.
Here's a recap of the resolutions with updates:

1) Actually move to Puerto Vallarta - This blog is being from Puerto Vallarta (I arrived on July 4th) and my most important belongings are with me (i.e. My Buffy DVDs and my books). So just a couple more things to take care of and I will be living here, hopefully for a while :)
2) Spend more time with my family - Definitely think that I took care of this one. I spent most of first months of 2010 with my grandmother. She has great stories to tell and is full of knowledge. Since I wasn't working I also got to be with my other family members and now that I'm in Mexico I get to spend time with the rest.
3) Become a dual citizen - Set the process in motion this morning, I will keep you updated.
4) Finish the first draft of my book - I'm taking a class this summer where we are writing the beginning of our story, which is harder than I thought. So at least the beginning is getting under way.
5) Lose 20 pounds - Amazingly this is working with very little effort on my part. Me thinks that the body just decides to change all on its own and I have no say whatsoever. So far I believe I've lost about 7 pounds.
6) Travel - One week, three major American cities. I know I can do better, but this was a really good start.

As for that other thing, the one that is not a resolution, the one I'm leaving in the hands of Fate.... I tried to play a little tug of war right at the end. I stumbled. But you find your footing, take a deep breath, and keep going.

We'll see what's in store for the next half.

Seattle

May 12th

It was never my intention to go all the way to Seattle. I was supposed to get to Portland and then head straight home. But...someone told me Seattle was just a couple of hours away and why wouldn't I go? Two hours is nothing. So I got up early and drove and I don't regret it at all.
Seattle is beautiful, Seattle is clean, Seattle was sunny the day I was there (thank you God). I got there early and made my way to the one place I knew I had to see: The Space Needle. I parked my car a couple of blocks away (I only paid for four hours when I should have paid the whole day) and walked over, bought a ticket, and got in. As you go up there is a person telling you these little facts like: The Space Needle...I don't remember the rest because we were going very high quite fast and the guy next to me was really freaked. He kept telling his friend "this is a bad idea, man" and I was secretly agreeing with him. I hate heights.

But once you're up there you can't but be in awe. It's a 360 degree view and you can zoom in on places all over the city. My most exciting moment was when I found my car (I know). I caught some amazing pics and there is this machine that tells you about neighborhoods around town and fun places to visit.
After I descended (with my eyes closed), I took this train into downtown because I was told I should visit the farmers market. It took less than ten minutes and totally worth it. I saw the most amazing seafood I've ever seen, I wanted all those jumbo shrimp (not an oxymoron in Seattle), and crabs, and everything. I decided that this was the place to eat :)
I bought a cup of clam chowder (the best in the city) and holy crap it tasted like butta (that's "butter" with a Jersey accent). I mean this really was the most amazing clam chowder I've ever had in my life. I'm willing to drive back just for that (fat kid has her priorities). Wowzers.
Since I still had some time at the parking place and since the train took me back there, I went into the Rock 'n' Roll museum. The place is nice and you walk through the history of rock and roll, a bit small. The fun parts are making your own video, playing in front of an audience, and recording a demo. All things that make you feel like a rock star. I spent some time in a booth jamming (yes, jamming) on the drums (that's my new instrument btw). You can really let off some steam on those puppies.
Since I vaguely remembered what neighborhoods the machine had told me to visit, I went to the one I was sure I wouldn't get lost heading towards. It has a museum and an old water tower. From here you can see the whole city and everyone was out and about enjoying the sunshine. The houses around this area are friggin mansions, just gorgeous places to be around. I walked a little and took some pics. Saw a guy sitting on the grass naked as the day he came into the world just chillin out. He wasn't in the area where people could see him, and those of us that did just let him be. Maybe he was trying to get a tan, I don't know.
So after that I drove back to the freeway that would take me home but not before catching a glimpse at Seattle's Chinatown (not very impressive but the boba was awesome).
Until the next time. I love you Seattle!

Cali 101 - Redwood Highway

May 11th

Turns out Portland is a bit farther away than I thought so today I have to hustle. Unfortunately, this means that I can't take my detour along the coast of Oregon which I hear is just awesome. On the bright side, I have an excuse to come again.

Once you leave San Francisco the name of the highway changes to Redwood Highway and it's pretty self-explanatory, no? There are thousands of Redwoods hovering over you as you drive by. The road winds its way around them so as not to disturb them. At one point they are so close together and so high that they block out the afternoon sky. Never drive this highway at night. Last night I thought I'd drive a couple of hours more until I found myself in complete darkness on a winding road. I had no idea what was around me. Was I on a mountain? Was I still surrounded by vineyards? If I keep going will I be sucked into a time vortex and find myself in 1955? It was very scary. Plus, if you drive at night you'll miss the view. And it's a hell of a view.

The highway meets up with Route 199 which is very narrow and windy. Because I had to watch my speed I was now definitely cutting it close to Allende's lecture. Finally I caught Interstate 5 and it's full of Christmas trees! They're everywhere, you'd think Santa would live here instead of the North Pole. Plus it's crazy clean because they have a littering fine of up to $6,250. They don't fuck around to Oregonians. I don't think I can find a single bad thing to say about Oregon. Like not a one. I'm so going back.

I reach Portland with about an hour to spare and that is not good because I have no idea where the theater is. I pull into a 7-Eleven to buy a map but get something better: cops. They're in an unmarked car (?) but both very cute and very nice. Apparently I'm close, but we know that means nothing because I will still make it with a couple of minutes to spare. I will take a wrong turn and pass the place I'm supposed to be at twice without knowing and then find it by accident. And I do.

Cali 101 – San Francisco

May 10
Get your motor running…
What's that?
Head out on the highway…
There's this tingling sensation in my blood.
Looking for adventure…
Yes! I think it's time for a road trip!
Born to be wiiiilllld!
Yes friends the opportunity has presented itself for me to, once again, get in my car and drive, drive, drive. I found out a couple of weeks ago that my favoritest writer in the world, Isabel Allende, is doing a book tour and she would be in Portland, Oregon on May 11^th. "Portland isn't that far from LA, I could probably make it there and back in three days," I thought. Of course my plans never EVER work out which is why I bought the ticket on a whim and informed my family a mere two days prior that I was going to leave. The more random the better, we all remember what happened during The Great Phoenix Escape of 2008. Exactly, no more plans for me.
Well, no concrete plans. I still need a route of course. So looking at a map I decided to drive north on Highway 101 which starts here in Los Angeles and is known as the Hollywood Freeway and ends in Washington state in Port Angeles. Yes, that Port Angeles and yes, it takes you right through a once-unknown small town called Forks. Stop smiling now, I didn't go that way. I'm just giving you some info so you know. Actually, had I the time I might have been tempted to venture to Forks and take a picture with their sign, go to the hospital and see Dr. Cullen's parking spot, and go to the local café and order a "Jacob Blackberry Cobbler" (Am I the only one who thinks that sounds dirty? It reminds me of "pie-flavored balls"). But tempting as that great cultural event might have been, there just wasn't enough time. Also, the weather was warm and sunny so there wouldn't have been any vampires anyway.
As I was saying, the route I chose was Highway 101 to San Francisco all the way up the coast of Oregon and then a small highway to Portland where I would catch Allende's program, get my book signed, and then take Interstate 5 South and be back in LA on Wednesday. Sounds simple, no?
We begin Monday very early in the morning and excitement running through my veins because today I get to go to San Francisco, a city I've wanted to visit since my young days plastered in front of the television and watching Full House. By the way, I found this out after I had purchased my ticket, Allende was also going to have a program in San Francisco (where she lives) which included a dinner. But spoiler alert I'm not regretting any of it.
I had my healthy breakfast of donuts and coffee very early and needless to say that fat kid was hungry as the morning went on but I was planning on arriving in SF early and I thought "I should go to Chinatown and eat Chinese food, I bet it's bomb there." I should travel with someone just so that they can contradict every plan I have, things will go smoother.
In the meantime I am driving with clear blue skies, my iPod blasting all kinds of randomness, the ocean on my left, and vineyards on my right. It's absolutely gorgeous. I stop in a little place called Morro Bay because the sign said that Hearst Castle was that way (it wasn't) and I walked along their town for a little while to stretch my legs. The people where very nice and the town was serene (and the bathrooms clean). I took a few pics and headed on my merry way and then…it took a while for me to get back on the highway. See what happened was that I had to get off and get on Pacific Coast Highway (US 1) to get to Morro Bay but on my way back I apparently took a different route and well I didn't get lost per se but it took longer for me to get back to where I was. On the bright side the views were incredible. The road winds through a forest full of trees, rivers, and creeks and vineyards. It was awesome.
Regret Number 1: With all of the views that I saw and the nature surrounding me the whole way I totally regret leaving my film camera in Mexico. BOTH OF THEM. I had my mom's digital camera with me and it takes good pictures but a) it puts the date on every picture and b) call me old-fashioned but nothing captures the beauty and light of Mother Nature like film. Digital cameras are great because you can see the picture you've taken but in the end they are just millions of pixels attempting to re-create reality, it's just not the same.
After a while I get back on the 101 and then reach San Francisco (yay!). Of course as soon as I reach the city things get crazy and I take a weird turn and then I'm in a random neighborhood and I can't see the Golden Gate Bridge or the city. Shit shit shit. To top it off I tried to follow my instinct and keep heading north and I ended up going around in a great big circle. By this time I'm lost and starving AND I had wanted to take the ferry to Alcatraz which stopped making trips at four. So I stop at Walgreens and buy a map and realize that I'm waaaay on the other side of town. Ok. So drive to downtown and I pass right by Chinatown like three times and can't find a place to park. By now I've given up Alcatraz, by now all I want is to eat and screw the city. There are people everywhere, in cars and on foot, the parking costs are extreme, and at one point a cop is driving behind me for like ten minutes making me even more nervous than I already am.
Finally I find a parking spot and I only have enough change to buy thirty minutes worth of time and it's downhill. So I say a little prayer that my car doesn't give up on me and fly downhill and rush to see as much as I can (actually I was rushing to get some food). Somewhere on the street there is this woman handing out coupons for dim sum and I tell her I want some Kung Pao Chicken. I think she says ok and we go inside where it's completely empty (never go in a restaurant where there aren't any people) and she writes down my order. As this is going on my stomach growls and I ask for a side of fried rice too because just Kung Pao Chicken isn't going to fill me up. She asks me some more questions and I just nod because I don't quite understand what's going on and then my total comes: $27.70.
WTF?!
Since the price of parking is ridiculous I briefly think that the food is also very expensive until I look at the ticket and see that she has charged me the same amount four times. Um…I just want one. I tell her as much but I don't think things are getting through to her and I'm signaling to the cook not to start anything. I mean maybe a few weeks ago I would've made a fat kid joke but I lost five pounds! No way am I going to eat that much food, I'm even a little offended. So she understands that it's just one order but they can't make it for one so I have to leave, and honestly I'm probably hungrier than when I went in. Turn the corner and there's a place that sells Chinese food a la mall food and I quickly order because by now the meter is running low. With food in my hand I trek back to my car.
Confession: I also have wanted to go to San Francisco so that I could go up a steep sidewalk and say: "Girl I been shaking my ass all the way up this hill". Except it's funnier if there's someone with you.
Afterwards I drive and try to capture as much of San Francisco as I can and after an hour or so with the random rain coming down I decide it's time to leave. In all honesty I didn't like San Francisco very much and I know I can't decide in a couple of hours if I like something but the first impression counts for a lot and I wasn't all that impressed. Did I mention that I found the Hispanic neighborhood? I did, it was all very sudden but it just goes to show that wherever I am I have no trouble finding my peeps. Because I'm so hungry and because it's called Taqueria Vallarta I jump in a quickly munch on some beef tongue tacos which left me quite disappointed, not unlike the city itself. Going towards the Golden Gate Bridge I get lost for another hour (how hard is it to miss the damn thing? Have I mentioned that I haven't actually eaten my food? It's just sitting in the car).
When I finally see the bridge and I'm pretty sure that I can't possibly make another wrong turn, the clouds open up and the sun shines down. It's beautiful you guys, absolutely beautiful. It's also huge and overwhelming. I can't even begin to understand how this thing was built. It is high above the water and just the materials are gigantic and it stretches high into the sky. I'm not gonna lie, I shed a little tear and I left the sense of disappointment behind.
Tomorrow: Will I actually get to eat my Chinese food?

The Spark is Lit But Where's The Torch?

Wow, you go home for a couple of weeks and think "I'm gonna rest, maybe do some hiking, go watch a movie..." and instead all eyes are on Arizona because of a law that was passed intended to...well the intention depends on who you ask. My point in this is not to argue the law (yes, I've read it. No, I'm keeping my opinion to myself.) but to talk about the movement that really has a chance at catching fire again. Back in 2006 I seriously thought that "the sleeping giant had awakened," remember the massive marches from Los Angeles to Chicago to Dallas? Holy shit! I didn't know what the hell was going on but I remember thinking "this could change everything."
And then...not so much. The only thing we proved is that there are A LOT of Hispanics in the United States. But by the next day things quieted down and every year when we are called again to march in the streets for immigration reform let's be honest we all have other things to do. And so the Bush administration did nothing and Mr. Obama is all "Wha?"
But then again why should they do anything? It's not like we're going to...march in the streets every single day? boycott public transportation? get arrested for civil disobedience?
True, several people have done what I've just mentioned though not thousands and definitely not the millions of people who are here legally and support immigration reform and not the other millions of people who are here ilegally and want a solution. What are we waiting for? The politicians in Washington? Just in case you weren't paying attention: They don't like each other over there! No way are they going to come up with a solution any time soon (in fact the President said they wouldn't). And even if they did, would that make everything better between the people. Are the people of Arizona going to say "oh, they're legal now everything's fine" (P.S. 50% of the people in the WHOLE COUNTRY support AZ's law). Like when the teacher says "say your sorry and shake hands" c'mon we all know we don't mean it. Because at the core this debate is about how we, as Hispanics, are perceived by everbody else and a federal law isn't going to change that. What we have a right and a responsibility to do is fight. Fight the misconceptions against our countries, our families, and ourselves.

To start, let's clear some things up:

1) We are not all Mexican. Below Mexico there are several other countries where millions of people live and they are not Mexican just because they crossed the border in Tijuana, Nogales, or El Paso. So stop calling everyone a Mexican and learn the countries.
Special opportunity: When the FIFA World Cup starts next month it will be easier to tell where someone is from because we will all be wearing different jerseys to support our teams.
2) We are not all brown. Yeah, not so much. Let's all crack open a history book and read again the story of when Hernan Cortez (from Spain) conquered the Aztec empire and many many Spaniards came over. Also, many Japanese people live in South America and Philipinos tend to have Spanish surnames. Hispanics come in all different colors, sizes (as in my case), and dialects (historia verdadera).
3) Yes we can speak English. Hint: if you can read this, you can read English and since I wrote it, it must mean I paid attention that day they taught the ABCs and the 123s at school.

Ok, since this is "fair and balanced" blogging let's turn to what the Hispanic community can do to help out:

1) Education, education, education. The "better life for our children" argument doesn't work if our children continue to get the worst grades and/or drop out of school. Of the kids that drop out of school Hispanics make up about 20% of that total.
2) Let's clean up. We all know when we are crossing neighborhoods, it's not like we have to go with a guide to tell us "here's where the Hispanics live and here's where the Whites live." And trust me, it's a big issue with people passing through and see junk cars, grafitti, ugly fences, shopping carts all over our grocery store parking lots, cash advance spots, and liquor stores. A big thing in this country is the impression others have of us, let's make a good impression.
3) Let's remember: El Pueblo Unido Jamas Sera Vencido. It's one thing for us to argue about who has the best soccer team but let's remember that here in the United States a long time ago we were all put under one category and despite our differences we have the power to use this as a strength. We have similar values, we speak a mother tongue that unifies us, and we are the largest minority. Imagine all of us working together for a common purpose.

As the great Mahatma Ghandi once said "Be the change you want to see in the world." I want to smile in the face of those who see me and think "stereotype, stereotype, stereotype" and prove them wrong at every single turn. And I believe if we all do it, this law doesn't have two feet to stand on and the kids in Washington will have to stop their bickering and pay attention because this country needs Hispanics, plain and simple.