mgthatisme

1. California is hot and sunny once again! 80 degree weather makes me want to sit outside my favorite cafe, drink iced coffee and read my favorite book!
2. I am currently obsessed over The Great Gatsby soundtrack! I love EVERY. SINGLE. SONG. Seriously. Amy Winehouse, Lana del Rey, Florence + the Machine and Jack White are giving me the chills, while Quantum Hits makes me wanna party. Available on Spotify now!
3. Sometimes it’s hard to concentrate, whether it be at work, studying for finals or just doing some #work, here is the perfect playlist! http://www.refinery29.com/work-playlist

[Picture: my own. Craving some iced Vietnamese coffee from Elle Cafe in  Saigon, VN.]

(Currently obsessed over this song and part of the Great Gatsby soundtrack! Can’t wait for this to come out in theatres!)

I’ve seen the world
Done it all, had my cake now
Diamonds, brilliant, and Bel-Air now
Hot summer nights mid July
When you and I were forever wild
The crazy days, the city lights
The way you’d play with me like a child

Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful
Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul
I know you will, I know you will
I know that you will
Will you still love me when I’m no longer beautiful

I’ve seen the world, lit it up as my stage now
Channeling angels in, the new age now
Hot summer days, rock and roll
The way you’d play for me at your show
And all the ways I got to know
Your pretty face and electric soul

Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful
Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul
I know you will, I know you will
I know that you will
Will you still love me when I’m no longer beautiful

Dear lord when I get to heaven
Please let me bring my man
When he comes tell me that you’ll let me
Father tell me if you can

Oh that grace, oh that body
Oh that face makes me wanna party
He’s my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds

Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful
Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul
I know you will, I know you will
I know that you will
Will you still love me when I’m no longer beautiful
Will you still love me when I’m no longer beautiful
Will you still love me when I’m not young and beautiful

-Lana Del Rey

1) Pulitzer prize winner and famous film critic, Roger Ebert, 70,  has died today from his battle with cancer. Read article: http://www.suntimes.com/17320958-761/roger-ebert-dies-at-70-after-battle-with-cancer.html

2) Bullying has now become so vicious and mean that kids are committing suicide now more than ever to escape the pain. For some kids, it doesn’t phase them and for others, the torment is just too much. We all play fun and games, talk about each other and in moments of heat say mean things but some take it TOO far. Read this heart-wrenching article: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2303946/I-just-wanted-spared-pain-Mother-shares-heart-wrenching-suicide-note-bullied-daughter-13-seeks-anti-bullying-passed.html

3) The film everyone is waiting for. Stellar cast and now even a stellar soundtrack to match, The Great Gatsby soundtrack is revealed. Jay-Z, Beyonce, Lana Del Rey, Florence + The Machine, The xx and many more will have people pleased right to the very end. Myself included. http://www.refinery29.com/2013/04/45212/great-gatsby-soundtrack-beyonce-jay-z-florence-and-the-machine

Quisiera hablar una idioma universal, poder hablar con cualquier persona.

He buscado esta maravilla, y creo que lo he encontrado.

Es bailar. Siguiendo el ritmo, moviendo cada segundo.

Es sentirse vivo, con una locura de vivir.

En ese momento, no se necesita palabras. No mas sentir la musica corriendo por tu venas.

La musica dirirgendo tu cuerpo.

Los instrumentos dando manera de communicar,

para hablar sin palabras

que bonito es hablar un idioma universal.

3/1/2013

Wow, what an incredible first full day in Vietnam! I am so genuinely excited to share my work here in this incredible and exciting country!

We arrived here (10 students, the dean, our professor and his fiance) in Ho Chi Min City (formally known as Saigon) yesterday, March 1st around 10:30 AM, after what was almost an exhausting 20 hours of flight. We did a quick, and I mean QUICK stop in Hong Kong for a switch in planes and away we headed towards Vietnam. 

My first impression of Saigon was that it was an exciting, busy and fast paced city. People everywhere are on motorbikes and honk their horns for EVERYTHING. What we use our horns to express our road rage, they use them here to communicate. Horns can be heard all day and night! 

We explored the city and walked around to get a feel of Vietnam. It was a challenge to not get run over by motorbikes! 

At night, we headed down to the “night market” where we could barter and buy Vietnamese goods. There were a lot of beautiful handmade items such as scarves, jewelry boxes and handbags. 

We returned to our hotel room to wind down from the exciting day and finally went to bed.

3/2/2013

We visited the tunnels of Cu Chi and the Cao Dai temple in Tay Ninh where, during the Vietnam war, they used the tunnels as a way to hide, protect, and use as a strategy themselves from the opponent. I had the chance to go through one of the tunnels used during the war and it felt so claustrophobic! It was so tiny and my heart was racing as we crawled through the tunnel, I can not imagine living and being under ground for hours in there!

Another highlight of the Cu Chi tunnels was the shooting range they had towards the end of the tour. There were several types of guns that were used during the war, I shot an AK 47! I must say, shooting the gun was the scariest thing I have experienced so far, I’m almost sure my blood pressure skyrocketed after it! After the tunnels we drove about another hour and a half to visit the Cao Dai temple.

The Cao Dai temple was such a sight to see and hear. The women and men are dressed all in white. There were about 4-6 men who are dressed in either yellow, red or blue. These colors tie in with their religion and only men (representative of their religion) are allowed to dress in these colors during the ceremony. All the participants in the ceremony were singing a beautiful song I wish I could understand, while on their knees and bowing down to the floor.

After a short bus ride of only two and a half hours (yikes) we stopped at a live market where meat was cut fresh right in front of your eyes and fish were still flipping in a large bowl with water. It appeared to be almost like a drive-thru farmers market, where you could pull up in your motorbike, grab a slab of meat in a newspaper then leave. It was a really awesome and vivid experience. 

Back to Saigon we went and had dinner. After, one of my roommate’s friend (who is an American living here in Vietnam, teaching) took us out for Pho (my first time!!!) and beer. We experienced Saigon through the eyes of a resident and it was so much fun! I fell in love with the city night life, it was so exciting! We went to a couple of bars and danced with locals and expats. So much fun! We were so tired we fell asleep right away. 

Au revoir!

From top to bottom:

Nightlife in the expat district

Amazing Pho and other food

Motorbikes at night

Crying is for babies. I don’t like to cry. I don’t like to hear people cry. Crying is a sign of weakness. This is what I thought a year ago. Then, life changed.

It was 5 o’clock in the morning of July 23, 2011 and my mom was lecturing me all the way to the Los Angeles International Airport. She told me not to give out personal information while traveling and that my aunt and grandfather were going to pick me up from the airport in Zacatecas, Mexico. She was paranoid I was going to get kidnapped by the drug cartel in Mexico. I told her if I did, I would make sure not to say I was American so if I was held up for ransom, they wouldn’t ask for much. She scolded me.

As I said goodbye to my family and made my way through security, I spotted a Starbucks kiosk upstairs by the boarding gate. Perfect, I thought. I definitely need a coffee fix before facing who-knows what kind of coffee they have in Mexico. I ordered my black iced coffee and waited. Finally I got my order and proceeded to the waiting area and along the way, took out my phone and updated my social media accounts with a status about being at LAX and leaving for Mexico. I sat and started reading a book I brought and occasionally glanced up to survey the people who would join my flight.

 Across the room, I noticed a dark-haired, full-bearded man holding a huge briefcase staring at me. He then got up about a minute later and walked towards me. I felt slightly uncomfortable as he walked past eyeing me up and down along the way. Gross, I thought.  About 15 minutes later he made his way back to his seat holding a Starbucks cup. Well, maybe he wasn’t being creepy and was just staring at my coffee. About five seconds later, I took that thought back as he sat next to me. 

He started bombarding me with questions. “Do you live in Mexico? What are you drinking? Are you American? Are you a student? What’s your name? What are you reading? Do you have family in America? Are those your real eyes?”  I carefully thought out my answers as the possibility of being kidnapped became a potential outcome. My insides tingled as I remembered my conversation with my mom that morning.  So I lied and avoided the majority of his questions. I told him I was drinking a vanilla latte, (when clearly my coffee was black) I lived in Mexico and no—these weren’t my real eyes. He answered with telling me he knew these weren’t my real eyes as Mexicans don’t have green eyes. I rolled my pretty-real green eyes at him before continuing to read my book and ignored his presence.  He walked back to his seat. Finally the call to board our flight was announced. Thank God, I thought. 

Everyone boarded the plane and the captain was heard over the speaker introducing himself. The safety procedures were now being viewed on the television screens. I made sure to pay attention to the “in-case of emergency” part, as my mind flashed back to the September 11 terrorist attacks. I memorized everything.

I took out my iPod and listened to music as the plane took off.  Later, the stewardess made a round giving people a snack and drink of choice. I ordered coffee, I needed my second fix. I drank the coffee and before I realized it, I fell asleep.

I finally awoke and I peered out the window and saw tiny patches of green, brown and yellow. It seemed beautiful and surreal. I couldn’t believe I was finally here. The plane landed, I exited and made my way through customs. I turned on my phone, texted my mom that I hadn’t been kidnapped yet and had arrived safely. She was glad. I finally got through inspection and grabbed my luggage from the conveyor belt and spotted my grandfather, aunt, and two little cousins. I was ecstatic and a wave of comfort came over me. I was overjoyed to see my family.

As we drove through the country side, I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful and artistic everything was. Even the graffiti and street art looked cool. Driving through downtown, I snapped pictures of historic cathedrals and buildings. I was in awe of my surroundings.

 We finally arrived at my grandparents’ home in the city and I explored the house. It had been 12 years since last I set foot in that house. Everything looked the same and smelled the same. The same plates lined the china cabinet and the smell of warm bread filled the air. It hadn’t changed one bit. Even my grandmother’s room looked the same. Her perfumes and makeup neatly lined her vanity, her slippers were at the foot of the bed and her hairbrush was sitting on her dresser. It looked the same as it did 12 years ago. The only difference was that it didn’t feel the same. Her room felt empty. It felt cold. I felt uneasy and headed back upstairs; I still hadn’t faced the reality that my grandmother was dead.

My grandmother had died almost a year before my visit. She didn’t make it past her second heart surgery. She died just 15 days after her visit to the U.S. The day she died was a blur to me, I couldn’t grasp the concept and I couldn’t believe it. I just remember holding my crying mother and sister for the longest time as their screeches and howls of despair filled my ears. I have to be the strong one, I told myself, I can’t cry.

When I walked upstairs, more family members had arrived to see me and I talked to them about life back home in California. I talked to my aunts and uncles about school and my parents’ separation. They told me the reason why they needed me to come to Mexico. It turned out that I was listed under my grandmother’s bank accounts and since she passed away almost a year ago, I had to claim the money she had in those accounts and transfer it to my grandfather’s before the year-long deadline—otherwise the government would seize the money. I was completely shocked. Why out of over 20 grandchildren would my grandmother pick me? I couldn’t understand it. It didn’t make sense. I asked questions of why I was chosen, why my name was on that account. No one knew. I was frustrated.

 I wanted to know the exact reason why. I didn’t have much luck as my grandmother was a very private person. The closest thing I got to finding out were memories from my aunt Esmeralda.  She told me that my grandmother worried about me constantly. She knew I was working two jobs, dealing with my parents’ separation and always taking care of my baby sister—on top of school and other extracurricular activities. She knew I was strong but she didn’t know how strong I could be until I would break. My grandmother and I were close and every time she would visit me, we would sit down nightly and talk just about anything, but I didn’t know she thought about me constantly. After a long day of catching up and seeing my family, I still went to sleep that night thinking about why my grandmother chose me. I couldn’t figure it out. My head was exploding with questions.

Weeks went by and for the first time in my life, I felt extremely close to my family. Not that I didn’t feel that way here in America, but I was so caught up in school, work and extracurricular activities that for the first time I discovered  a part of me I never really appreciated—my heritage.

My time in Mexico made me appreciate my family more than ever. Everything was centralized around our cultural traditions and the importance of family. For the first time I felt wholesome and I felt vulnerable to my family. I truly understood I couldn’t live without them.

August 16 came sooner than I thought.

It marked the one year anniversary of my grandmother’s death. I woke up thinking of my mother and sister, wondering how they were dealing. Probably crying, I thought.

I got dressed and headed downstairs towards where my family was sitting in the living room. The house smelled of warm bread and preparation for dinner was already intact. We ate breakfast and headed to church. My grandmother’s 10 sons and daughters along with more than 20 grandchildren combined filled the pews and “Ave Maria” filled the cathedral.

Mass started, and the Father talked about the meaning of life and how we are supposed to celebrate the lives of those who are dead. I felt a burning in my throat and in my chest. I felt paralyzed and I couldn’t look anywhere but straight ahead.

A song called “La Madre” (The Mother) started playing after the Father’s sermon. I listened to the lyrics. It carried the message of the importance of a mother. Her role as the head of the household, our guardian and protector—how a mother keeps us all together, all united.

My eyes started watering. I could feel my cheeks burning and I knew my makeup would smear if I cried. I wished I could wear my sunglasses inside. I didn’t want anyone to see me if I were to break. I wanted to be strong. I had to stay strong.

Mass ended and we all walked to the cemetery to where my grandmother was buried. I walked alone. I didn’t want to see anyone and I didn’t want anyone to see me.

We got to her grave and I looked down. Her grave read, “Hilaria Lopez Dominguez,” and there were so many flowers surrounding it, I couldn’t see anything else inscribed on it. It was beautiful.

 I couldn’t take it any longer. I let out a howl so loud and so painful that I wanted to fall to the ground. I couldn’t see out of my eyes, my vision was impaired from the tears that filled them. I could no longer hold myself up and be strong. My uncles tried to hug me, but I walked away. I didn’t want them to see me like this, I couldn’t face them. I was vulnerable.

I cried all the way back to my grandparent’s house. I locked myself in my grandmother’s room and cried. I thought about my mother and my sister and I thought about my family and how important they came to be.  I realized that they were a part of me.

There in her room, it didn’t feel cold anymore. It felt warm, I felt a presence. In that moment, I realized that I was a strong individual but I was also human. To this day, I still don’t know why my grandmother left me with money responsibilities, but I do know that because of her, not only did I learn to change my mentality about crying but it’s also made me a stronger person that I ever was before.

Crying was no longer just for babies.