Love, Dating and Facebook: Don't Mix!

I am not much of a "dater." You know Dominicans don't date. You meet, you like each other y son novios. And in today's world, you meet, have sex, maybe hang out a couple times, have more sex and it's over -unless a miracle occurs and something develops. You meet, love eachother and move in, some may marry. Pero vamos al grano de la situacion, the core of the relationship is well in relating -in person. Now with the internet, blackberries, and other gadgets, courtship if you will, has devolved, actually has been thrown out the window entirely.

Recently, I have been confronted with this phenomenon where dudes just want to communicate via text or facebook and they won't even pick up the phone to speak directly to you. I say what is the point. Just to keep in touch with someone. To know that you have someone there if and when you want it. To feel like in you head you are doing everything you can do to be in a relationship. When in reality all of your actions screams that you don't want a relationship, you want nothing serious and you sure as hell aren't looking for love.

So this guy that I see often, sends me a message on facebook telling me that he has been thinking about me and would like to take me to dinner. Now, of course I am a bit excited because it is always cute when someone is interested in you and they let you know about their interest. But then, he never asked me for my number. I didn't quite understand. I see you all the time when we hang out with our friends, we have had extensive conversations in person. We know each other, and you can't ask me or someone in common for my number? You can't pick up the phone and tell me what you think, how you feel and well plain old make the plans for us to hang out?

Once I caught on to this it is safer to communicate via computer attitude, I didn't answer his facebook messages for a couple of days to see what he would do. Would he eventually ask me for my number? Would he call me out of the blue? El tiguere no hizo nada!!! Instead, he sends me a message with his number -dude you are the one interested in me, aqui yo soy la buena. He then sends me a message saying that the night we picked is no good and if we could do another night. Then I waited...I waited and sent him a message with my number and told him to call me. Todavia el no me ha llamado instead he sent me a freakin' text. Esto es el colmo.

I'm about to tell him about himself. He is always bitching and moaning about that he doesn't understand women, what they want, why they basically won't commit to him etc. The deal is that from this brief and short interaction I have learned that he just plain old doesn't want it. Or maybe he realized I don't like him, and that we are not for each other. I don't know but the whole thing has been pretty wack. If he had the courage from jump to pick up the phone, call and talk to me my reaction may have been completely different. I would have so much more respect for him.

Hombres y mujeres, let's bring back romance, the chase, love and lust -the freakin' phone. Let's inspire one another even if the person you are pursuing isn't necessarily the one. Do it with style, con ganas!!!! Avemaria purisima....let's reignite our faith in love and relationships!!! Leave the wackness at the door. Stop hiding behind your laptop! Pick up the phone and call, cono.

Al fin, we all need to open our hearts. I still have much work to do to. For men tips on how to man-up and get back to the basics on finding and keeping love or at the very least impress a woman go to : http://artofmanliness.com/

Muerte and Home III: Luis El Terror Diaz

Luis El Terror Diaz passed away today at the age of 57. I really didn't listen to his music much. More like I would hear it at parties and bars. But today, actually I came to know him and understand so much more about my friends and ex-lover. Luis 'el Terror' Diaz was their inspiration of being a bohemio, of staying true to Dominican roots while exploring, expanding and being. I just called my dad to see if he knew him since they are both from the same town, Bonao. He contributed greatly to the musical, and socio-political landscape of the Dominican Republic. You will be missed and remembered always.

Muerte and Home II: Abuela Pulula

After Friday, I spent some time thinking about my loved ones who have passed over the years and of course I always think of my Abuela Pulula -the matriarch of my family. Abuela Pulula was born in Samana, Dominican Republic September 8, 1906. She was born to Sencio and Anastacia Queri. My Abuela family were cocolos. Cocolos in its' positive context is a term used to describe people who are of African descent, mostly from the West Indies and America who were either freed slaves or escaping slavery. Many cocolos settled in two major areas of the Dominican Republic, Samana and San Pedro de Macoris. My Abuela spoke English, French and of course Spanish -as did and do most cocolos in the DR.

Pulula was her apodo, her nickname. Her real name was Carmen Rosa Queri Jazmin. She was and still is the toughest lady I have ever known. She cursed up a storm, used to smoke, drink and cooked up some mean rabo (oxtail) and habichuelas con dulce (yummy), my favorite dishes. I spent enoromous amounts of time with my Grandmother. While my parents were off working, my Abuela watched me. I would watch all of her favorite novelas with her. Actually she loved watching American daytime soap operas not the Telemundo/Univision ones. Her favorites were As the World Turns, ands General Hospital. She LOVED T.V. My Abuela had like every T.V. guide made since like 1980. She collected them and would do the cross-word puzzles in the back. I remember how I would sit in her lap while she would fill out her crucigrama.

My Abuela actually went to school up to the 8th grade, which in her generation was a big deal. Most folks did even know how to read and write. Abuela Pulula, I came to discover, was very powerful -according to my biological grandmother, Morena. You say whhhhaaaaatttt? Yes, it is true. Not until after my Abuela Pulula's death, did I come to know that she was not my biological grandmother. And that my biological grandma was living still in the Dominican Republic.

Days after Abuela Pulula's death, my mother sat me down, she said that she had to talk to me about something. I had no clue. And then she laid it on me. My Abuela Pulula was not her biological mother. Her biological mother is Morena how lives in the Dominican Republic. I couldn't belive it. Then everything started to click for me. I always wondered how old my grandmother must have been when she had my mother. I mean most Dominican grandmothers are relatively younger and mine was already in her 84. She only had two children -Sandocan and my mother, but her older son had passed away many years ago. My mother was 45 when she passed which would mean that Abuela would have had my mom at 41 which really is unheard but not impossible. I remember like today the day that I climbed up on her, looked really really really closely at her face to see what features I had of my grandmothers -her dark chocolate skin, her black/blue eyes, her big wide nose, her salami-looking legs. I asked her Abuela why don't I look like you? She never told me why.

When I think of this, I always wonder how different my life could have been. In 1998, I went to the DR to meet my biological grandmother. I had no idea what to expect but I knew it was something I had to do. Tio Frank took me to the place where she lived. It was a typical run down street near el Ensanche Quisqueya en Santo Domingo. We drove up into the street and I see this very dark, tall skinny man crossing when I notice the front parts of his feet are missing. Oh shit, this guy only has half his feet. I get out of the car, my uncle asks where does Morena live and the guy points to this blue wooden door that is basically falling off of its' hinges. I am welcomed in with open arms. 'M'ja pero tu si eres blanca," says Morena. I am nervous as hell and am in disbelief at how poor she is. Morena was living in a house made out of cardboard and with a tin roof. She lived there with her youngest daughter and her two children. They shared a kitchen and bathroom with three other neighbors. And all I could think, only by a matter of fate I ended up a gringa.

You see the story is Morena was my grandfather's lover. My grandfather who was married to Abuela Pulula. Apparently at the time, they were having problems -you know typical stuff- Pulula's neice who she was raising had just passed away from a childhood disease I believe (I gotta get that part of the story straight) and to cheer her up, My grandfather brought my mother home to Pulula. My Abuela Pulula took my mother in, raised her as her own and lived with her and us til the day she died. Incredible.

After leaving my grandfather (apparently because of domestic violence), she got a visa to come to the US in 1960 and became a nanny for a Jewish family in Brooklyn -and the rest is history (and another story).

I could go on and on about my Abuela. She passed away on May 31,1995. Abuela Pulula lovingly would call my brother cocolo, was greatly respected and loved by EVERYONE and will forever live in my heart.

La Muerte and Home

Death is a unifying force. It brings together all the people of your life, even if they are fighting, no longer speaking, or because of time and space do not see each other on a daily basis. Today, I came home because of death. Not the home of my blood family, but that of my family and friends formed through my politics, passion and circumstance. I learned much about how important that a persons funeral truly reflects the life they have lived.

I attended the funeral of the mother of one of my neighborhood's foremost community leaders, Juan Villar. She was known as Dona Juanita, a woman committed to revolution. Rev. Luis Barrios led the group in a prayer and participatory memorial of who Dona Juanita was. I learned she was committed to sharing, defending, and creating identity. I learned how she loved to work, be with her family and eating patita de puerco con yuca y aguacate. Los mas inpactante is that she was buried with a gun. You would ask why would this old lady want to be buried with a gun. Her son Juanchi explained that on the night of Balaguer's death she said that when she dies to please bury her with a gun so that if she meets Balaguer she could shoot him dead. What a vivacious and gutsy woman. Even in her death she is a revolutionary.

Tonight, I was inspired and proud to be a part of such a great movement of revolution. That I didn't know her personally, but I too am a fruit of her life. To know that she has influenced so many and those people of have touched my life as well is mind-blowing. Things don't just happen. There is interrelatedness and interconnectedness to our lives. Eventhough every day is a challenge, people continue to fight off the dehumanizing life of New York, of living in an unforgiving capitalist society that strips you of compassion, love and joy -la sabrosura of life. It is sad though that these are the moments when we celebrate our lives together in a real and authentic way. Our struggle, our urban struggle.....

I dedicate this to all my family, friends and those I didn't know so well who have passed to the other side that have touched my life so deeply, gracias eternally....

Bachata y el Bajo Mundo

Today, I ended up in a hole in the wall spot in the Bronx to grab a couple of beers, picadillos and of course listen to some crazy loud bachata. Now, it was a bit surprising to run into this spot full of dudes, 2 or 3 ladies -most of them waitresses and Univision on in the background. The men ogle you as if they just got out of prison or detention (which might be true of 1 or 2 dudes in the spot). El Bajo Mundo, where there is mad love among the hardest of the hard, is strictly for music, dancing and la vida ludica y cruda.

Bachata was once considered the music of the brothels of the Dominican Republic known as "cabarets". It talks of unrelenting love, sordid affairs and hounding hatred. Coco Cabrera, one of New York's beloved DJ's, every Sunday as he plays his Coco Clasicos describes his adventures en los cabarets in the Dominican Republic as a young man. The colorful characters of prostitutes and their "consumers" listening to this rauchny, blues type music to drown out their day-to-day sorrows.

At the turn of the 21st century, Bachata music was redefined and reinvented. I remember when I started listening to Bachata music and my mother had a heart-attack. She could not believe that I was listening to music of el Bajo Mundo. My mother demanded that I stop listening to it. However, over the next couple of months, my parent's generation understood that this was no longer the music of the poor/working/deviant class. Now listened to by Dominicans of all classes and with a global audience, groups such as Aventura.

A Bronx-Dominican group, Aventura is an atypical cross-over group who took bachata to new heights. So much so, Aventura was a semi-featured group at the Hispanic Heritage Celebration at the White House with President Obama. This very group reaching its' zenith, has decided to no longer perform as a group, having their last and final performance at Madison Square Garden in February 2010.

Bachata and el Bajo Mundo go hand in hand. Bachata is fueled by the struggle and lives of the people, of the poor, workers, and immigrants. El Bajo Mundo is soothed and healed by Bachata. Bachata is its' voice.

Check out Santo Domingo Blues, a documentary about the history and evolution of bachata through the work of Luis Vargas. (http://www.santodomingoblues.com/) to learn more about bachata.

OM: Yoga and Opening My Heart

For the last several years I have taken yoga classes on and off. Since high school, I have loved yoga. It is very difficult, it stretches you, gets all the kinks out and just by doing it once you already feel like you lost pounds of stress and toxins. One of the most beneficial aspects of yoga is the concept of opening up ones' heart -not only spiritually, emotionally but also physically. We spend so much time behind a desk, hunched over a computer, to dealing with all sorts of drama and emotions throughout the day from co-workers, family members and friends. All of life's trials and tribulations makes it very easy for someone to close off their heart. The closing of one's heart results in becoming negative, bitter, depressed and at times a hateful person.

Approximately about 1 year ago, I got a reiki massage that in essence helps align one's chakra's and assures that the energy is moving fluidly. I discovered that my heart chakra was closed and that the energy that is supposed to move through my heart chakra was moving along sides my shoulders. It had even changed color. Green is the color of the heart chakra. My heart chakra had no color and had become pinkish. My masseuse worked with me to unblock my heart chakra and help me open up my heart. We discussed at length what could have been the major events in my life that have led to this moment. I thought of so many things: my father's infidelity towards my mother, my parents always saying no to me, my cousins making fun of me for being la gringa, my 'friend's' betrayal, my first love dumping me -the list can go on.

Once I again, I find myself working towards opening up my heart -spiritually, emotionally, intellectually and physically. After having reached one of the lowest points of my life, I am working to let it go. To let go of the hurt and the hate. Once again to embrace the positive side of life, love and joy. To know that all of life's challenges are best confronted with easy, love and compassion. I pray everyday to love myself and others. This is difficult especially in a city that moves so fast y que no tiene pena. The challenge today is to take out your moments, slow down, breathe and open your heart. For me the answer is yoga.....OMMMMMMMMMMMM......

NO A LA GUERRA Y SI A LA PAZ...PERO...

I have always worked for peace and have been against the war both in Iraq and Afghanistan since day one. But I am also cognizant of the reality that has already been created and the importance of America being responsible for its' actions which includes having a clear plan to get out of both countries in a organized and effective manner. President Obama has ONLY BEEN PRESIDENT FOR 1 YEAR! He is not God, a savior or free of sins. He too must weigh all of the issues, options that only he knows. I fully support my President. He has been clear since day 1 on his stance on these two wars. He has not back tracked, he has not lied! On the campaign trail he discussed defeating Al Quaeda and he is following through on that promise, it does not surprise me at all.

My own cousin has been to Iraq twice. Both times it tore me up inside to know this beautiful young man with a young daughter would have to fight for this empire and possible die. He is a lucky person and has returned and I pray everyday that he is not sent on another tour. I have spoken to him about war and what he has seen. Iraqi children being killed by gun shots from American and Iraqi soldiers, by mines and other weapons of mass destruction. Of the guerrilla warfare tactics never knowing if your friends are out to kill you. Has Iraqi society really changed for the better? For whose purpose? Now Afghanistan is another story and there America is fighting back -fighting back against 9/11.

So yeah, I am not surprised with Obama's speech. I do not expect him to change everything overnight. One thing I have learned is that it is all a process. This process takes time, evolution and I believe that 1) his manner of addressing the nation, 2) his clear and succinct plan and 3) his heart really are signs of evolution. For me this means that Obama will end the war in 18 months (June 2011). When I heard him speak tonight, I know that it was one of the hardest things he ever had to do. I felt it in his voice, his eyes, his face. I believe in him and his judgment.

This doesn't mean that we stop holding him accountable, protesting and demand the end of the war and that our troops be brought back home. We must keep a watchful eye, we must continue to organize, organize, organize!!!!

I am against war, I support Obama -what a contradiction. I refuse to abandon him -even if he has abandoned us- and just characterize him as another war president, that is he just like all the rest of them. I refuse to let the military might claim him and take him captive. He is our president. I voted for him, I mobilized for him, I went to witness his inauguration and to make sure that world knew that no one can mess with him without reprecussions.

As my friend Jacqui says, once you are an official part of the establishment you must act accordingly. He will not act in any real radical way unless we make him. He will bring about change when the time is right, when it makes sense and most importantly when we as a nation demand for him to act accordingly. Voting for him is not enough, we must fight for his heart, soul and mind everyday to do what is right for the world.

(picture credit: www.zoriah.com)