happyhappyhappy
January 26, 2009
happy like i wanted to kiss the fedex lady on my doorstep this morning, grab my new camera, then steal her truck and drive to disneyland to do the running man on main street happy. happy like selena on the radio, my mom’s sweet flan, emely’s toothless smile, yellow tulips in a vase, every first kiss and red firefighter truck rolled-into-one happy.
she is
January 26, 2009
big brown eyes, gentle smile and a mind that goes on and on like texas. i was still lost in baggy clothes and cholita eyebrows when there she was: a new friend. maritza. miss honor student off to stanford. the day she graduated i got to ride to the 100th floor of a skyrise i never knew existed. she’s strength, she’s kindness, she makes ten hours of girl talk feel like ten minutes. now, she’s off from new york to florida, one more place i’ll gladly follow .
* photo: new york. january 2009
29 things
January 24, 2009
to do before i turn 30. yes, i’m 28. but 29, she’s around the corner. and i realized the other day that this shiny new year will be the last full year of my 20s.
hence, the list.
1. wear red lipstick
2. write a long letter to an old friend
3. learn to shoot manual
4. read house on mango street for a fourth time
5. go to a drive-in movie
6. walk across the brooklyn bridge at sundown
7. fall in love with three new writers
8. keep my balance on my white and purple roller skates
9. throw a party
10. wander aimlessly through the streets of LA
11. develop film in a dark room
12. swing on as many swings as possible (slides count, too)
13. hike up to that hill in el sereno and take in the view of the city
14. record the funny moments — on paper or tape recorder
15. travel to italy or india
16. start a photography project
17. walk in a field of flowers or an orchard
18. spend a lot more time looking up at the sky
19. find a church where i belong
20. write, write, write for myself
21. photograph my family and friends
22. develop an impressive stationary collection
23. buy a home in LA
24. get away to san francisco for a weekend
25. play tennis with chichi and gumba
26. surround myself with tulips
27. reward myself with massages and facials
28. learn to ride a bike again
29. this last one i will keep to myself
- photo: central park, new york. january 2009.
the day
January 24, 2009
started at 5 a.m. walking in the dark down 18th street with hundreds of strangers. then thousands. and in a few hours, in the national mall, hundreds of thousands. so cold people huddled on the dewy grass like newborn puppies. eyes watery, feet numb, goo running down frozen noses. so cold wind gusts burned lips and cheeks a rosy pink and left us hopping in our boots.
off in the distance, the chants came, “fired up, ready to go! fired up, ready to go!”
waves of people packed so tightly, you couldn’t tell where you were going, where the mass began or where it ended. people buried their faces in strangers’ backs and felt their feet rise off the pavement in the shuffle. there were soldiers in fatigues, secret service agents with ear pieces and police officers with bulletproof vests. there were people wrapped in long fur coats, blankets and garbage bags. they waived flags, trampled the lawns, climbed over cement barricades, did the wave, sang, laughed and danced. everywhere, his face was present: t-shirts, hats, pins, water bottles, banners, posters, jumbotrons. it took six hours to walk just a few blocks to reach the blue gate. but no one complained.
off in the distance, the chants came, ”o-ba-ma! o-ba-ma!”
* photo: washington dc. january 2009.
i walked into
January 15, 2009
the most beautiful neighborhood today. there were banana trees, mosaic walls, victorian homes in blue, terracotta and turquoise. splashes of paint playfully colored the sidewalks, and in a tiny park that used be a garbage dump, bright christmas bulbs still hung from shiny garland.
along a wall, in fading letters: we will always remember you on our street.
i wanted to stay. just pick a house and plant some flowers. wake up tomorrow to speak in spanglish and say “buenos dias” to my vecinos. talk to the lady with friendly eyes and frizzy hair who uses sticks to dig for cans and bottles. just sit outside don edgar’s market and watch the world pass by: joggers with ipods, mothers with grocery bags, children with scooters, cholos with attitudes…
here it is
January 4, 2009
my start. a place to wash the wishy-washiness away. to hear my outside voice. the one without deadlines, bylines or inch-counts.
just me.
because i’m home now. and life … life is spilling out all over the place. i’ve got family, i’ve got journalism. i’ve got God, photography and sunshine. (i’ve got SUNSHINE!) and everyday i’m like a million moths charging toward the light. a million moths that could come crashing down.
but that’s OK.
because this is it. my time to start and wash the wishy-washiness away.
* photo: downtown la. january 2009.
