I met him in the middle of my 8th grade year. All my friends would talk about him. How amazing he was and how great he made them feel. He was the boy next door; an all-Mexican-American boy. The boy all our parents wanted us to end up with. I fell in love with him 4 years later. Country Music, my second love, my first TRUE love.
At the time, I was at my rebellious stage. I was into NOFX, the Misfits, Blink 182, and Motion City Soundtrack (to name a few). I would wear skinny jeans, Spitfire logo shirts, and DC’s. All my jewelry had some sort of spike on it. I was convinced my parents knew nothing and that they didn’t really care about me. At school, I would get made fun of or talked bad about. I was weird, I was a “slut” (fun fact: actually lost my V card in college), I was too smart, I wasn’t smart enough, I was too dark, I wasn’t dark enough, I was too “white”, I was too Mexican, and many many more things people didn’t like me for or didn’t give me the time of day because of. Continue reading
“I Used to Love Hearing Every Rhyme.”
“I Used to Love Hip Hop in its Essence is Real.”
The day I fell in LOVE with Hip-Hop. Thursday, February 17, 2011. I was 21.
I had just been dumped by a guy who fell for his classmate, Victoria, who he would “tutor”.
It was the first time since my freshman year of college that I had been left for another woman. This time, though, I wasn’t left wondering. He straight up told me, “I like Victoria, so we need to break up.” That summer he told me the fling lasted 2 weeks and that he regretted his decision immediately after. Haha Funny how things work out that way. Continue reading
I was 7 going on 8 in the Fall of 1997. My mom was pregnant and I wasn’t particularly excited for the baby’s arrival. For a long time I felt as though my parents didn’t care about me. And I realize now that it was only because they knew I didn’t require as much attention as my brother because I was always “on the right track”. At the age of 7, the thought of having another person enter our lives meant that my parents would pay even LESS attention to me.
On September 29, 1997 my parents weren’t at school to pick me up. My “cousin” Pepe Martinez came up to my brother and I to tell us that his mom was to take us to her house because my mom was in the hospital delivering our baby something (we weren’t sure of the sex until the day of). I remember that Pepe’s mom, Lourdes, made us spaghetti, my favorite. I was skeptical and kept looking at the clock so that someone would take us to the hospital to see the something that would be a part of our lives now. Continue reading
I have already read several posts that say something like this, but honestly, I have never been so sad over a person I never met’s passing.
Robin Williams was a part of my childhood, like most of you. I grew up with him being in most of the movies I watched. He made me laugh when I was sad. His characters taught me life lessons that I only paid attention too because it was Robin Williams teaching them.
His life and his death go to show us that you never know what a person is actually going through.
Two years ago, I had a friend from church who I grew up with pass away in the same way as Robin Williams did. He was probably one of the happiest people I knew and he always found a way to make something funny.
1 (800) 273-8255. That’s the National Suicide Prevention Hotline.
“Please know that someone loves you dearly. You positively impact so many more people than you could ever know. Remember that everyone is battling something, be it depression, or something else we can’t see – or even something we can see! Above all, be kind. Smile and say hi to people. You never know whether or not you’ll save a life.” – Lauren Milius (friend) Continue reading
My Zumba Journey began in January 2012.
Just fresh out of my latest breakup, I found that working out made me feel better. I started running again and began weight lifting in an effort to lost weight, tone up, and potentially catch the eye of my ex again. I stumbled upon a Zumba class on accident when I was at the university gym one day.
In high school, I took Salsa classes at a local gym and also started attending a “dance fitness: Rumba” class. Looking back on it now, I realize it was basically a Zumba class without the name or the structure. I also took the high school curriculum dance class because I wanted to be on the dance team more than anything. I tried out for the dance company every year and didn’t make it even though I knew that I danced better than some of the girls that did. I am not cocky about a lot of things, but I KNOW I am a great dancer.
Once I discovered Zumba, I was hooked. Not only did I feel better because I was working out, but I felt sexier. It gave me the confidence boost I needed to get over my ex and realize that it really wasn’t me that was the problem. Continue reading
In case you missed it (which I doubt because this has been the IT story on social media other than the #BringBackOurGirls campaign).
TMZ leaked security footage of what is supposedly a Solange (Beyonce’s sister) and Jay-Z having an argument in the elevator. Solange goes ahead to slap and kick Jay-Z.
There hasn’t been a public statement made from either party and no one is really sure if it actually happened. And if it did happen what was the reason behind all the rage?
Here is the TMZ video again for all of those who have yet to see it.
Being RICH is not about how much you have, BUT about how much you GIVE.
Ever since I can remember my dad has always told my siblings and I, “We are poor.” The thing is I always knew we weren’t REALLY poor. My parents worked hard and eventually earned really high positions in their firesides. But, I knew that because of their humble beginnings, they wanted us to grow up with the same mind set.
There was a time period in my teens that I resented my parents for thinking this way. I didn’t shop at A&F or Hollister like all the “cool kids” and learned how to find gems in Ross and Marshalls stores at an early age. Even though I was basically wearing the same type of clothes, I hated my parents for not buying me the “real deal”. Continue reading