*I'm publishing this now using my cellphone's internet because there was an explosion just now that took out the lights and the wifi, I didn't do it on purpose, it's Ѯ's birthday and I'm feeling a bit sad because I don't think I'll be able to go to Mexico city*
To me, a super hero is a person who treats you like family and with respect, and puts a 'super' vibe in everything they give to you, to their friends and to the world, they are kind to their neighbors, _no strings attached_, this last bit makes all the difference in space-time.
Super people.
Having the nerve to walk and stand smoking pot under the shadows and under the spotlights of the main avenue of my neighborhood while police trucks pass by and waving hello back and forth with them and saying ‘buenas noches’ to everyone is an experience I pretty much recommend, the smoking bit is totally optional.
After days of other experiences that spawned from my ‘buenas noches’ cultural intervention: Writing about 2006, super heroes, Guadalajara and moving from place to place; lead me to remember a time when I was running away from the law, supposedly "hidden" at Monterrey for a while and then Guadalajara for a longer period as a result of my successful attempt to prove I was immortal by stupid means, I told some part of that story before…
Looking for a way to illustrate how it feels to listen to god, I went searching for a video clip of Anthony Hopkins in the 1998 Meet Joe Black movie, which my helplessly romantic self loves to death. Curiously enough, I had been thinking about that skull painted woman face in the cover of the ‘Lies’ video I talked about before and I remembered a time when I was writing a movie argument about a guy who fell in love with a woman who turned out to be the angel of death, it was an innocent dark-ish comedy, very different tone from Joe Black, I was considering Odiseo Bichir for the main role.
Once your brother stretches the boundaries of your parent’s tolerance, you know you can join in the fun; Ernesto helped me and we figured we had a bunch of video game posters from the Club Nintendo monthly magazines I always made sure to buy, if my dad showed symptoms of forgetting, I would go with him to the supermarket and put it inside the car, sometimes even without asking with anything more than a shy look that I guess he could not resist. He understood I liked that magazine so much he just stopped forgetting and delivered religiously throughout the following years.
Chava looked miserable living away from his friends, he would go up to the roof and play guitar at dusk, he sounded so bad probably because he was barely starting to learn combined with the fact that he was honestly deep sad. I begun to wish and ask the heavens he was allowed to go back to Guadalajara, I even made a comment to my parents about it. I just wanted him to be happy so bad. He was eventually sent to live with my grandparents, back to the city he loved. I’ve always shared his love for this city, whenever I listened to “Paradise City” I would think about Guadalajara, I didn’t care what city Axl Rose was singing about, I later found out he was inspired by Los Angeles, California but I might not remember well.
Having an older brother you admire as much as I admired Chava, living far a way from home, is a very peculiar experience; I remember reading the whole magazine cover to cover was sometimes fun, some other times I completed the task aided by the motivation of having something to talk about with him over the phone.
Whenever he came home he stayed for just about a couple of weeks but we would seize every minute of them, mostly playing the best possible selection of video games, multiplayer were usually our favorite, but having Chava at home Action/Adventure RPG became our temporal favorite, that’s how we learned English for the most part, helping him solve puzzles and quests using a plain Spanish/English paper dictionary.
There were special rules when he was in town, our parents would let us play overnight and we would only sleep a few ours in the morning before we continued. He also reconnected with Scouts one day he decided to explore; wandering around the city he stumbled with some members of 'Group 2', he brought them to the house and the rest of us benefitted from that, my dad agreed to inscribe us.
I really admired him and loved it the few times he made an appearance at my school, felt so proud. People said that he looked more handsome than Leonardo DiCaprio but he looked like an Axl Rose x Kurt Cobain multiplication to me. Looks aside: Chava, Axl and Kurt were some of my 11y/o self's favorite heroes. Watching him go away was a deeply saddening thing to endure every time.
*Pending stories (longer list bellow):*
Francisco Reyna Mayorga
… æ …
The harmonics of this song makes me think about magical adventure; one of my oldest and most treasurable memories of being a kid using imagination involves Germán, Ernesto and I, playing in the withered backyard garden of my grandparents at Colima, holding hands making a circle: pretending we were flying away from that damned place that couldn't be called a home, I hesitate about calling it a house, felt like prison to us: my uncles were the inmates and my father's mother was the custodian.
Not being allowed to physically torture us children like they did to my father during years, their strategies turned psychological. Notice that I said "using imagination" in the previous paragraph, instead of "using MY imagination". Germán was leading the trip, he was so good at making it feel real and we would follow his imagination, helping us ease the pain, this time totally forgetting there was such a thing called 'dolor'.
— somos ángeles, somos super heroes — Germán said
— somos halcones — I borrowed from a TV show trying to expand the possibilities
— somos ángeles — Ernesto would follow and repeat Germán verbatim, like baby children do.
If you pictured a camera POV 'alla that 70 show', you are using your imagination masterfully.
— estamos cayendo pero un viento sopla fuerte y nos lleva de vuelta a las nubes! — he shouted with such a positive energy
— siiiiii — an overwhelming feeling of freedom rushed through my veins, uncovering a previously unknown sensation I became addicted to.
— aaaahh woohooo! — Ernesto's smile was marvelous!
The imaginary camera traveled around us, raised upwards tilting down, the dusty pathways disappeared, the maltreated plants warped into the faraway landscapes bellow us, the worm infested mango tree branches and leaves morphed into clouds and the bats nested in the guava tree turned to magical birds capable of high flight.
At the absence of dad, my mother would be the one fighting with the crows and taming the witch. She was not home this time:
Ernesto's cry was not loud, not because he didn't have a reason to ask for help, but because we were not allowed to vent our feelings. In just 2 months, they had managed to sumerge us in misery. Chava had already shut himself inside books, but the 4 of us were always alert to the slightest omen of doom, protecting the rest from danger.
— no te metas con Ernesto, ¡está chiquito! — Germán confronted the beast incarnated in Miguel
— ¡metete con alguien de tu tamaño! — I would borrow from culture to empower my hands as I squeezed a fist, following Germán on his righteous quest of protection
Ernesto was no longer crying out loud, but still sobbing. He was 2 years old, I was 5, Ger was 8.
Being forced to spend 6 hideous months in that nearly loveless pit made me both resent and respect my father, because he left when he was 15, paid for his own studies, law was his second best option after his wealthy father had denied to support his wish of becoming a medical doctor, he didn't manage to negate his dream of being a great dad though. Salvador is a barely decent husband, not that great, but he is an splendid father. He became a great man, never hit or abuse me, and he tried to reconnect with his family once his heart was moved by his own, he even invited them all to his college graduation.
Miguel was above 40, older than my dad, still living at her mom's; his feet stank so bad that you could smell them from outside at the street. This was the first time the universe hinted Miguel was the name of a traitor, the name of miscarried ego. The hints would continue throughout my life. Your name does not define you of course, unless you chose it on purpose or the universe assigned it to you to aid me navigating the labyrinth; I've found all types of characters porting that name.
Whenever I meet someone new, the universe would hint their intentions and I would give them a chance, and I mean a real chance of friendship, sometimes wasted, sometimes honored. If you feel guilty because you have wronged me following the impulses of miscarried ego attacking the universe, attempted against my creation offending god's children, we are all children; I ask you to stop feeling guilty and start repairing your damage.
Mercedes was almost literally a witch, at least it appeared she wanted to be, and she would frequently hire shamans and conduct rituals with sick intentions to damage other's peoples lives, her favorite hobby was to drag my mom to the kitchen and tell her all sorts of sad stories, acting like she needed someone to rely on but the actual result was that she was poisoning my parents marriage with her plots.
It appeared to me she had undertaken the diabolic mission of making her children's lives impossible and making everyone miserable was the ultimate objective of her enterprise. But in reality, she was honestly spiritually broken, my father's progenitor didn't behave like a honorable man nor like a loving dad, not even like a decent person, he was vicious to say the least, until he was about to die. That is, according to the stories I've heard about the guy, because he was actually nice to me and my brothers, my dad says his heart was gradually soften and he noticed it after a car accident.
One of the most prominent churches in town was located in the same block than where we were being held hostage, just a few meters away. Whenever I wandered outside, thinking about escaping, I would sometimes go there, I never liked mass ceremonies, the only part I've always enjoyed about catholic tradition mass celebration is the peace handshake part where you can stop listening to the sad words of the guy on front and you get to see all the nice faces of the people present.
Other times I would go walking to the opposite side of the street and say hello to the watchmaker, he was kinda charming and shared names with my father; Colima is notable for having an abundance of different interesting characters named Salvador and also Miguel. I would watch around his store and be awed by the thought of such small complex machinery performing so smoothly it didn't allow the user to notice its magic on the surface, you had to open its shell to be illuminated.
Even the "victims" of demonic possession like Miguel are still able to behave in a charming manner and offer good deeds to the universe that will spawn joy into hearts and mystery onto the minds of the people around them. Miguel was not always bad. He once was very insistent to take us to the roof, I didn't trust him but my mom was home and my older brothers were going up so I tagged along, turned out he wanted us to see the Haley Comet passing by… (!) … I was fascinated, went up a few more times and then they stopped giving me permission to go.
Easter came and the house filled with palm leaf crosses everywhere, my mom loved that stuff.
German begun to have strange nightmares and to wake up at night and seeing things he narrated to us in the mornings.
A particular story made a lasting impression on my perception of reality.
— vino un fantasmita negro y lo seguí …— he traced the route to the cosmetic stand they kept from better days when they had a family business
—… el fantasma apretó esa cruz de palma y se fue al patio …— shivers and goosebumps invaded all over my body, the feeling was intensified by the noises coming from the nested bats on the trees
— luego vino un fantasma blanco y la arregló —
I just shed a few tears of joy, realizing this video I love reminds me of that day at the backyard, and it's probably one of the deepest subconscious reasons I want to skydive so badly. I've always liked number 4; whenever my mother visited an honest spiritual man, she would always come back feeling happier because they always noted there was a cross in her aura protecting her. Not the cross of the christ, but the cross of her 4 children, her religion was always to protect and love us.
Not being allowed to physically torture us children like they did to my father during years, their strategies turned psychological. Notice that I said "using imagination" in the previous paragraph, instead of "using MY imagination". Germán was leading the trip, he was so good at making it feel real and we would follow his imagination, helping us ease the pain, this time totally forgetting there was such a thing called 'dolor'.
— somos ángeles, somos super heroes — Germán said
— somos halcones — I borrowed from a TV show trying to expand the possibilities
— somos ángeles — Ernesto would follow and repeat Germán verbatim, like baby children do.
If you pictured a camera POV 'alla that 70 show', you are using your imagination masterfully.
— estamos cayendo pero un viento sopla fuerte y nos lleva de vuelta a las nubes! — he shouted with such a positive energy
— siiiiii — an overwhelming feeling of freedom rushed through my veins, uncovering a previously unknown sensation I became addicted to.
— aaaahh woohooo! — Ernesto's smile was marvelous!
The imaginary camera traveled around us, raised upwards tilting down, the dusty pathways disappeared, the maltreated plants warped into the faraway landscapes bellow us, the worm infested mango tree branches and leaves morphed into clouds and the bats nested in the guava tree turned to magical birds capable of high flight.
At the absence of dad, my mother would be the one fighting with the crows and taming the witch. She was not home this time:
Ernesto's cry was not loud, not because he didn't have a reason to ask for help, but because we were not allowed to vent our feelings. In just 2 months, they had managed to sumerge us in misery. Chava had already shut himself inside books, but the 4 of us were always alert to the slightest omen of doom, protecting the rest from danger.
— no te metas con Ernesto, ¡está chiquito! — Germán confronted the beast incarnated in Miguel
— ¡metete con alguien de tu tamaño! — I would borrow from culture to empower my hands as I squeezed a fist, following Germán on his righteous quest of protection
Ernesto was no longer crying out loud, but still sobbing. He was 2 years old, I was 5, Ger was 8.
Being forced to spend 6 hideous months in that nearly loveless pit made me both resent and respect my father, because he left when he was 15, paid for his own studies, law was his second best option after his wealthy father had denied to support his wish of becoming a medical doctor, he didn't manage to negate his dream of being a great dad though. Salvador is a barely decent husband, not that great, but he is an splendid father. He became a great man, never hit or abuse me, and he tried to reconnect with his family once his heart was moved by his own, he even invited them all to his college graduation.
Whenever I meet someone new, the universe would hint their intentions and I would give them a chance, and I mean a real chance of friendship, sometimes wasted, sometimes honored. If you feel guilty because you have wronged me following the impulses of miscarried ego attacking the universe, attempted against my creation offending god's children, we are all children; I ask you to stop feeling guilty and start repairing your damage.
Mercedes was almost literally a witch, at least it appeared she wanted to be, and she would frequently hire shamans and conduct rituals with sick intentions to damage other's peoples lives, her favorite hobby was to drag my mom to the kitchen and tell her all sorts of sad stories, acting like she needed someone to rely on but the actual result was that she was poisoning my parents marriage with her plots.
It appeared to me she had undertaken the diabolic mission of making her children's lives impossible and making everyone miserable was the ultimate objective of her enterprise. But in reality, she was honestly spiritually broken, my father's progenitor didn't behave like a honorable man nor like a loving dad, not even like a decent person, he was vicious to say the least, until he was about to die. That is, according to the stories I've heard about the guy, because he was actually nice to me and my brothers, my dad says his heart was gradually soften and he noticed it after a car accident.
One of the most prominent churches in town was located in the same block than where we were being held hostage, just a few meters away. Whenever I wandered outside, thinking about escaping, I would sometimes go there, I never liked mass ceremonies, the only part I've always enjoyed about catholic tradition mass celebration is the peace handshake part where you can stop listening to the sad words of the guy on front and you get to see all the nice faces of the people present.
Other times I would go walking to the opposite side of the street and say hello to the watchmaker, he was kinda charming and shared names with my father; Colima is notable for having an abundance of different interesting characters named Salvador and also Miguel. I would watch around his store and be awed by the thought of such small complex machinery performing so smoothly it didn't allow the user to notice its magic on the surface, you had to open its shell to be illuminated.
Even the "victims" of demonic possession like Miguel are still able to behave in a charming manner and offer good deeds to the universe that will spawn joy into hearts and mystery onto the minds of the people around them. Miguel was not always bad. He once was very insistent to take us to the roof, I didn't trust him but my mom was home and my older brothers were going up so I tagged along, turned out he wanted us to see the Haley Comet passing by… (!) … I was fascinated, went up a few more times and then they stopped giving me permission to go.
Easter came and the house filled with palm leaf crosses everywhere, my mom loved that stuff.
German begun to have strange nightmares and to wake up at night and seeing things he narrated to us in the mornings.
A particular story made a lasting impression on my perception of reality.
— vino un fantasmita negro y lo seguí …— he traced the route to the cosmetic stand they kept from better days when they had a family business
—… el fantasma apretó esa cruz de palma y se fue al patio …— shivers and goosebumps invaded all over my body, the feeling was intensified by the noises coming from the nested bats on the trees
— luego vino un fantasma blanco y la arregló —
Victor de la Cruz
Nombre que pronuncio con orgullo y alegría cada vez que tengo el honor de mencionarlo en una conversación, pues dejó una marca indeleble en mi espíritu cuando lo expulsaron injustamente; el niño “de barrio” que cargaba una navaja porque el mundo en el que vivía así se lo demandaba, nunca me pareció correcta su partida pues me dijeron que él simplemente se estaba defendiendo de los bravucones que abundan por ahí y ni siquiera había lastimado al sujeto.
Victor fue el primero en inspirarme " ˆunderdog admirationˆ " debido a que su baja estatura siempre contrastaba con su alto espíritu y con el tamaño de sus oponentes, nadie se metía con él, pero él sí arremetía con quien me acosara a mí.
Víctor era sensible al sentido de justicia natural que yo le inspiraba:
—no te metas con Retamoza, él nunca te ha hecho algo malo y hasta nos ayuda a entender y con las tareas— palabras de Victor que engendraron la materia prima con la cual forjé la hombrera derecha y el brazo izquierdo de mi armadura invisible, delirio lúdico de caballero medieval; en aquel entonces Exilon.
Una vez Victor levantó del suelo un sobrante de acero con forma de espiral alargado, cerca del "taller de máquinas herramienta" y le dio vuelo en círculos para protegerse como si fuera la cadena de Andrómeda, al ver que ya nadie se le acercaba, por un momento le pasó por la mente la idea de usarla para vengarse del maltrato que le habían puesto, al leer su mente corrí a detenerlo y no me quedó otra opción más que agarrar su arma con mi mano, se detuvo inmediatamente claro porque el jamás hubiera querido lastimarme a mí y me acompañó corriendo a curarme la pequeña cortada en mis dedos.
— perdón perdón perdón Jorge —
— ya pasó, está bien —
— no me acuses por favor —
— no lo vuelvas a hacer ¿ok? —
— ok — ¿merecía ser expulsado? pues no, así que no lo acusé.
Victor fue el primero en inspirarme " ˆunderdog admirationˆ " debido a que su baja estatura siempre contrastaba con su alto espíritu y con el tamaño de sus oponentes, nadie se metía con él, pero él sí arremetía con quien me acosara a mí.
Víctor era sensible al sentido de justicia natural que yo le inspiraba:
—no te metas con Retamoza, él nunca te ha hecho algo malo y hasta nos ayuda a entender y con las tareas— palabras de Victor que engendraron la materia prima con la cual forjé la hombrera derecha y el brazo izquierdo de mi armadura invisible, delirio lúdico de caballero medieval; en aquel entonces Exilon.
— perdón perdón perdón Jorge —
— ya pasó, está bien —
— no me acuses por favor —
— no lo vuelvas a hacer ¿ok? —
— ok — ¿merecía ser expulsado? pues no, así que no lo acusé.
Ernesto
Coming back from my first meeting with a messenger from god during that evening, I passed by the ^middle school^ I used to attend to pick my little brother whom was attending and had gathered with his team for homework.
He noticed I was distraught, I tried to talk about something else for a few minutes but I still had one foot in trance consciousness.
— entonces ¿qué crees que vas a estudiar cuando seas grande? —
— hmm… he estado pensando en Medicina —
— wow que padre, y también creo que…· — I was having a vision of the future
— también… ¿qué? —
— nada …— smiled nervously
— ash, dime—
—… estemm… ok …— cleared my throat
—… creo que un día voy a necesitar tu ayuda, posiblemente llegue a tu consultorio malherido y te pida que me ayudes — this happened already, only I was not physically injured
/// Ernesto had indomitable spirit, he stoped caring about the harsh climate conditions and the intense fiery sunlight, he got into med while still assisting to military service /// pending ///
Coming back from my first meeting with a messenger from god during that evening, I passed by the ^middle school^ I used to attend to pick my little brother whom was attending and had gathered with his team for homework.
He noticed I was distraught, I tried to talk about something else for a few minutes but I still had one foot in trance consciousness.
— entonces ¿qué crees que vas a estudiar cuando seas grande? —
— hmm… he estado pensando en Medicina —
— wow que padre, y también creo que…· — I was having a vision of the future
— también… ¿qué? —
— nada …— smiled nervously
— ash, dime—
—… estemm… ok …— cleared my throat
—… creo que un día voy a necesitar tu ayuda, posiblemente llegue a tu consultorio malherido y te pida que me ayudes — this happened already, only I was not physically injured
/// Ernesto had indomitable spirit, he stoped caring about the harsh climate conditions and the intense fiery sunlight, he got into med while still assisting to military service /// pending ///
Victor Contreras Saiz
— necesito decirte algo por si algo me pasa y porque sé que tú sí guardarás el secreto —
— simón Reta ya sabes ¿pero estás bien? — guess I had that look on my face…
— sí, hmm me han estado pasando co… …—
% jeez I'll just go straight to the point and explain later %
—… decidí que voy a infiltrar la CIA y usarla a nuestro favor o destruirla desde adentro — a thunder struck at the same time I was pronouncing those words, Victor jumped from the impression while I stood still looking at his eyes.
Victor is the greatest guy, he's partly responsible for my knowledge of cinema, I met him and Bilham the very same day, it was my first day at UAT and I was totally disconnected, I hated being there when I had the opportunity to study at Guadalajara's ITESM with a scholarship, I loathed the idea of being there so much I didn't care about starting clases the first official day, it was only until about two weeks after school started that I made an appearance.
But these two guys were so friendly and had such interesting conversation I got reengaged to human emotion. I mentioned my interest in taking acting classes and they started to talk about film, conversation which eventually led to video games.
Victor had a rebel attitude always welcoming to the spirit of honor, he became my ^partner in justice^ and in mischief. We had some very good laughs pulling a few practical jokes that acted at the same time as wake up call for people to notice what was going on around us.
We made a mockumentary about the failing tutoring program deployed by university officials, and a "politics" campaign for one of our pals to compete for the representative post, in which we offered «pura peda y diversión, voten por mí» if the guy won and he did, haha, only to regret it while still giving a thank you speech
— no, no, mejor que siga siendo Jessica, era broma, ya haha, gracias como quiera — JP was so nervous about the responsibility involved
Victor was an idealist and I hope he still is because we haven't talked in a long while. He wanted the world to be better, he demanded people to behave as if they really wanted to be alive.
But most importantly, he was a good friend:
He was the guy who would take you to the hospital if you had a tooth ache.
He once took ///
— necesito decirte algo por si algo me pasa y porque sé que tú sí guardarás el secreto —
— simón Reta ya sabes ¿pero estás bien? — guess I had that look on my face…
— sí, hmm me han estado pasando co… …—
% jeez I'll just go straight to the point and explain later %
—… decidí que voy a infiltrar la CIA y usarla a nuestro favor o destruirla desde adentro — a thunder struck at the same time I was pronouncing those words, Victor jumped from the impression while I stood still looking at his eyes.
Victor is the greatest guy, he's partly responsible for my knowledge of cinema, I met him and Bilham the very same day, it was my first day at UAT and I was totally disconnected, I hated being there when I had the opportunity to study at Guadalajara's ITESM with a scholarship, I loathed the idea of being there so much I didn't care about starting clases the first official day, it was only until about two weeks after school started that I made an appearance.
But these two guys were so friendly and had such interesting conversation I got reengaged to human emotion. I mentioned my interest in taking acting classes and they started to talk about film, conversation which eventually led to video games.
Victor had a rebel attitude always welcoming to the spirit of honor, he became my ^partner in justice^ and in mischief. We had some very good laughs pulling a few practical jokes that acted at the same time as wake up call for people to notice what was going on around us.
We made a mockumentary about the failing tutoring program deployed by university officials, and a "politics" campaign for one of our pals to compete for the representative post, in which we offered «pura peda y diversión, voten por mí» if the guy won and he did, haha, only to regret it while still giving a thank you speech
— no, no, mejor que siga siendo Jessica, era broma, ya haha, gracias como quiera — JP was so nervous about the responsibility involved
Victor was an idealist and I hope he still is because we haven't talked in a long while. He wanted the world to be better, he demanded people to behave as if they really wanted to be alive.
But most importantly, he was a good friend:
He was the guy who would take you to the hospital if you had a tooth ache.
He once took ///
Vicente Torres
Xavier Esau Perez
Noel Reyes
Dalila García
Bilham Caleb Tena Medrano
Francisco Carrera
Adria Cecilia
Oscar Prado
Ruth Barrón
Gerardo Gardea
Christopher Cárdenas
Mafer Alvarez
Norberto Martínez
Patty Retamoza
Rodrigo Sanchez
Marelo Leal Gartz
Mónica Cárdenas
Zeidy Karlene Salaiza
Stories for warrior angels will come later, I have recognized just a few of them and I know they've put their lives on the line for the cause.
… æ …
I’ve known the universe is taking care of me since many many years ago, I once even made a berrinche and complained about it to my mom: why was god so specially protective with me and he let some other people suffer the worst scenarios?
Things that happened at Guadalajara during 2001 and early 2002 made me realize for sure someone up there was taking care of me and had a plan of happiness for us.
The wind had spoken to me and suggested that I studied communication sciences.
My dad didn't like the idea at all, he made an ultimatum:
— no me importa que te hayan ofrecido beca. Si quieres seguir en Guadalajara le sigues con la ingeniería, si quieres estudiar eso que tú dices, solo puede ser aquí en la UAT, o nada — he went back to his job post at another city within the same state
I knew I could escape home and God would be making sure I was all right, but my mother would've been devastated, when I started to look for a travel case she made such a scene I had never seen, not even when my father menaced he would leave us.
— no te vayas mi'jo ¡por favor! —
The strange phone calls started again while I was embracing her and telling her I was not going to stop seeing her, my mom answered the first one, her face turned blank and hanged up.
— déjame contestar la siguiente —
The phone rang and I picked up.
— ¿quien eres? — a female voice, I simply improvised some random name but I never forgot it
— Rodrigo, deja de hacerte la misteriosa y dime ya qué chingados quieres o con quien quieres hablar y por que, déjanos en paz — my mom noted that I had been born in St. Rodrigo's day
— ya no llores Ma, me voy a quedar —
She stopped calling.
I've presented myself as Rodrigo occasionally ever since for fun, Rodrigo Rodriguez at coffee shops and restaurants where they want to give the impression they care about you and try to make things "more personal".
A girl named Alejandra once told me she had seen me elsewhere and I just improvised having a twin brother named Rodrigo and kept her wondering, the next time I stumbled upon her I acted as Rodrigo, it was so much fun until a friend of mine spoiled the act. I was not going to use the joke to hurt her feelings though.
I just found out Elle does that kind of acts too, with Uber drivers, she's adorable!
This was one of my favorite 2011 heroes.
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