More than an address, which I hardly remember lets see...
28?? crest????
Rochester Hills Michigan
483??
I remember this home as River oaks, it was a condo neighborhood, where, I still do not understand why, all mexican families who moved to the US, due to the fact that they worked for Chrysler (head quarters about 5 miles away from river oaks) or GM, moved in to river oaks. It still makes no sense to me, what I remember the most is that no one really got along, there was a lot of envy and competiton. People simply behaved differently and I did not like it.
At home, that is with my mom, dad and sister, it was not bad. The magic that existed in Las Alamedas was no longer there, as if I had suddenly woken up to reality at the age of nine. And, I do believe I lost that sense of innocence and fantasy about the world because I began to feel disillusion, I began to understand what missing really meant and I began to feel and see that people do not always fit in.
My sister and I of course, were closer to each other than ever, I think here is were I understood the meaning of sisterly love, not that at that time i comprehended it as such, but looking back, I cherished her presense more than anything. We spent a lot of time together, I remember first moving in my dad was oh so proud because for the first time we had a microwave and we loved making popcorn and watching the bag inflate. For the first time, we had a room that had matching furniture, all in pink and like princesses we lived in this house. It was still small, bigger than the house in mexico. Everything was new though, the carpet was not the cheap kind, but fluffy and beige, it smelled of fresh paint and we had a huge window with slilding doors that took you to a balcony, that was a big deal. The relationship between my parents improved a whole lot, there was much much less bickering and yelling and my dad is present in my memories like never before. I never acknolwedged him for this, but he really took care of us, he made sure we felt welcome and safe and he was so proud to be able to offer us this house. I remember the first thing he bought my sister and I when we moved there was a boom box, a nice one too, I think we still have it and so, for fear of not knowing how the world worked in rocherster hills michigan, we would spend hhours listening to Shakira and coloring Pocahontas coloring books in our parents room. My dad, this makes me laugh so much, he decided that Karla and I were only aloud to watch tv in english so that we would pick up the language, so we did, until he realized that we were losing our spanish, because we spent the entire day speaking english and listening to english, so on one of his trips down to Mexico, he bought us spelling and grammar books for the spanish language and told us that we were only aloud to watch tv in spanish. Its almost as if we lived in our own little world in that house, it was our safe space were we could be the family we were in mexico. In school, people would talk about movies or tv shows and i had no idea what they were referring to, because i only watched tv in spanish. I like it thouggh, I liked that feeling of being safe. My mom became my hero at this time, she was so alone, and I did not see this at first but she never asked for that big change in her life and still today, I don't think she has managed to rid herself of that loneliness or feeling of loneliness. She did it all though, she went out and on her own learned about this little town, and where to go to find things, she tried so hard to embrace the culture like my sister and I had, and so she...made hot dogs for us and instead of cooking everything fresh, she used frozen foods and meat, and she began to understand that life was made easier being here.
I guess this house for us, was a way to embrace an easier life, to understand that things could be different and little by little we did. Still, we were always safe in our little condo, watching tv in spanish and having a sense of wonder at all that we had never had before. It was as if we realized that life did not have to be that hard. Whenever we talk about this phase in our lives, my dad always said, that right there was the moment when we stopped having debts and ever since then, we have never been in debt with anybody.
So it was a great house, but it was not fulfillment, we were all still missing something and with people around us always bickering and gossiping, it was not the place to be.
It did create a stronger bond btwn the four of us though, that I am oh so thankful for, most definitely. We learned to roller blade together, we went to school together (four of us learning from each other about the english language) and we went for walks together, it was like it was the four of us or nothing bc that was all we had, each other.
Now that I think about it, there was also a hill by this house, but instead of facing it, we were on top of it...wow...weird.
I don't know what would happen if I ever went back, I don't know if it would trigger nostalgia, I think it would trigger memories of the smells, it always smelled like dove soap. It was another one of our discoveries I think, nice pink dove soap and it always smelled like new. It was always warm during winter or cool during summer, that we liked and it was just neat and organized a perfect little box where the lights never went out, water never went cold or ran out, all those things, it was just an easier worry free life it seemed.
I saw snow for the first time, well not the first time, but legit snow that lasted teh entire winter season, I guess this house provided for a lot of firsts and for that I do remember it with happy tears.
top of hill
lots of first instances
worry free life- which made us all smile
sudden waking up- less of a child
bond btwn family
smells
surroundings- not so pleasant.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
c-o-m-m-i-t-m-e-n-t
So with all this writing and thinking...better word sorting of thoughts, I've realized that I have a fear of commitment, not that I don't want to commit or that I don't believe in commitment and feel that it is an important aspect of living, because I do, I strongly believe it is. Somehow, I cannot give in to it. It is not just a fear of commitment to people, it is a fear of commitment to everything that makes me feel unstable. Like, school, career, HOME, friends, even with God and yes perhaps, most likely, that with my relationship.
I wish I could just trust destiny, I so believe in it and know that it is the way in w hich I wish to live my life because so many times it has been proven to me that, all happens for a reason. Lately however, I end up with a feeling that I do not deserve, that happiness is temporary because I should prepare for what is next to come, I can't just live in utter bliss. I know its wrong, I tell myself, Ana what is up with that!? and more importantly, when you look back at these years so will be hitting yourself against a wall bc you did not enjoy those years....that's a little dramatic, I do enjoy these years and times, I just end up worrying too much about the future and about whats to come because I don't trust that God will carry me through, and that I will be able to identify his love and him being there. That has got to change, I wish to simply give in, to just do to do and enjoy to enjoy, to think about the future, but simply as hope, not as a threat to the events that are going on in my life right now.
Emm...as promised here is the first part of my house series, not as in the tv show but as in all the homes that I have had, it is a recap of what i lived through in these places, the emotions that these have created and left in my heart, the memories I have of these, etc.
I realized that I have more memories from the past, that is, better memories from the past but they are faded, like antique history, sooo long ago that I don't even know if they truly belong to me, but they are beautiful memories, even in their pain, they have shaped me and therefore, i cherish them.
calle pavorreal #77, LAS ALAMEDAS, atizapan de zaragoza, edo. de mexico. Mexico
oh how lovely that house seems, i feel as if i could stretch out and touch it, in my mind it is perfect and yet i know that it was small and full of imperfections, the last time i stepped in that house i cried because i remembered of the last time i had been there and how i had cried bc my mother did not want to leave and my father hugged her like i had never seen. it stands in lovely beautiiful Mexico, in the outskirts of mexico city, it is a duplex home with three small rooms, one bathroom, a small kitchen, a big living room and a dining room. it is surrounded by a black fence all around. The windows have black bars going veritcally infront of the glass, this was suppose to keep us safe, or at least give anyone who ever attempted to break in, a hard time. No one ever did break in. Now I realize that at that time I thought I was safe, that that fence and those bars kept me safe. the back was a concrete patio, the front had a small garden, really only a square of grass, but it was beautiful and my mother took good care of it. here is were I grew up, were i talked and walked and played and learned about the world, it was the perfect little life. It infact was not so at all, at that time I was too young (i lived there till the age of nine) to understand that we did not have a good living situation. Until I was six or seven, my mom sister and I walked about a mile to school everyday because we only had one car. I remember nights of constant screaming between my dad and my mom, those screams still reach the bottom of my soul and make the tears pour out from my eyes. It is distant bickering however, it is simply the feeling of being young and not knowing why so much screaming goes on. My sister and I explored the world through this house however. The best part about growing up, maybe even about being alive is that, I have never been alone. My twin sister and I have shared everything, everything, and without envy for each other, we still share things to this day. We painted an entire wall in our house with markers, my parents laughed and took pictures. We created an entire zoo out of animal crackers in my parents room, she does not remember this, but our mom was not happy. I remember that a lot of the time she would step out of the house to go to the store, or go here or there and we would stay at home alone. My sister hated that, she would cry and run after her, not understanding that mom would always come back, and all I could do was to try to comfort her. It's funny because later on roles switched between us. We also knew how to have fun though. Her and I loved it when it rained and hailed because we would wait for the rain to stop and run out with buckets and collect the little balls of ice, and of course by the time we went back inside the house, we would have buckets full of water, but omg how much fun that was Ana writes as she smiles to herself. We loved to dance and sing. We would have dance parties in our living room and my sister has always been a better dancer than myself but I always loved to follow. The greatest days were when our parents would wake us up early mornings and have us look outside the window and show us how they were setting up our kiddy pool. We would spend the afternoon there and eat cucumbers and pate with crackers. And of course, the christmas season and January 6th, the Three Magic Kings day, when children in Mexico get all their gifts (santa is not so big down there) and mom would play with us and sometimes let us miss school so the three of us could have a play day.
It is sad to say but, my dad is somehow absent from these memories, I know he was there, he always has been, I feel his presence in my memories, but I do not see him as clearly as I see my mom. He has always worked hard, hard, for us and for his own ambitions, I know ambitions has a negative connotation but not in his case, he just always wished to emerge and stand out.
This house was in front of a...smaller than a mountain, bigger that a hill...we loved to take walks up there, it was always a great achievement when we got to the top and my dad would ride his motorcycle up there, which i loved by the way. Later on though, houses began to be built there and oh how we disliked it because it suddenly felt less peaceful and earthy, it felt crowded...
Since the house was up on the hill, our back windows faced the valley and at night we could see all the city lights, and although my sister and I could barely reach, we loved staring out that window, day or night, we loved to observe.
And finally, that kitchen, we were little mice in that kitchen, climbing up on the counter, reaching cabinets, hiding under the sink, pulling up chairs to reach the cereal boxes above the fridge, it was all a big game and the last time we were in that house, this was the memory that made my mother cry.
dream about house.
Nostalgia
mother and kitchen
absent memories of father,
earthy beauty
fences
observing
I wish I could just trust destiny, I so believe in it and know that it is the way in w hich I wish to live my life because so many times it has been proven to me that, all happens for a reason. Lately however, I end up with a feeling that I do not deserve, that happiness is temporary because I should prepare for what is next to come, I can't just live in utter bliss. I know its wrong, I tell myself, Ana what is up with that!? and more importantly, when you look back at these years so will be hitting yourself against a wall bc you did not enjoy those years....that's a little dramatic, I do enjoy these years and times, I just end up worrying too much about the future and about whats to come because I don't trust that God will carry me through, and that I will be able to identify his love and him being there. That has got to change, I wish to simply give in, to just do to do and enjoy to enjoy, to think about the future, but simply as hope, not as a threat to the events that are going on in my life right now.
Emm...as promised here is the first part of my house series, not as in the tv show but as in all the homes that I have had, it is a recap of what i lived through in these places, the emotions that these have created and left in my heart, the memories I have of these, etc.
I realized that I have more memories from the past, that is, better memories from the past but they are faded, like antique history, sooo long ago that I don't even know if they truly belong to me, but they are beautiful memories, even in their pain, they have shaped me and therefore, i cherish them.
calle pavorreal #77, LAS ALAMEDAS, atizapan de zaragoza, edo. de mexico. Mexico
oh how lovely that house seems, i feel as if i could stretch out and touch it, in my mind it is perfect and yet i know that it was small and full of imperfections, the last time i stepped in that house i cried because i remembered of the last time i had been there and how i had cried bc my mother did not want to leave and my father hugged her like i had never seen. it stands in lovely beautiiful Mexico, in the outskirts of mexico city, it is a duplex home with three small rooms, one bathroom, a small kitchen, a big living room and a dining room. it is surrounded by a black fence all around. The windows have black bars going veritcally infront of the glass, this was suppose to keep us safe, or at least give anyone who ever attempted to break in, a hard time. No one ever did break in. Now I realize that at that time I thought I was safe, that that fence and those bars kept me safe. the back was a concrete patio, the front had a small garden, really only a square of grass, but it was beautiful and my mother took good care of it. here is were I grew up, were i talked and walked and played and learned about the world, it was the perfect little life. It infact was not so at all, at that time I was too young (i lived there till the age of nine) to understand that we did not have a good living situation. Until I was six or seven, my mom sister and I walked about a mile to school everyday because we only had one car. I remember nights of constant screaming between my dad and my mom, those screams still reach the bottom of my soul and make the tears pour out from my eyes. It is distant bickering however, it is simply the feeling of being young and not knowing why so much screaming goes on. My sister and I explored the world through this house however. The best part about growing up, maybe even about being alive is that, I have never been alone. My twin sister and I have shared everything, everything, and without envy for each other, we still share things to this day. We painted an entire wall in our house with markers, my parents laughed and took pictures. We created an entire zoo out of animal crackers in my parents room, she does not remember this, but our mom was not happy. I remember that a lot of the time she would step out of the house to go to the store, or go here or there and we would stay at home alone. My sister hated that, she would cry and run after her, not understanding that mom would always come back, and all I could do was to try to comfort her. It's funny because later on roles switched between us. We also knew how to have fun though. Her and I loved it when it rained and hailed because we would wait for the rain to stop and run out with buckets and collect the little balls of ice, and of course by the time we went back inside the house, we would have buckets full of water, but omg how much fun that was Ana writes as she smiles to herself. We loved to dance and sing. We would have dance parties in our living room and my sister has always been a better dancer than myself but I always loved to follow. The greatest days were when our parents would wake us up early mornings and have us look outside the window and show us how they were setting up our kiddy pool. We would spend the afternoon there and eat cucumbers and pate with crackers. And of course, the christmas season and January 6th, the Three Magic Kings day, when children in Mexico get all their gifts (santa is not so big down there) and mom would play with us and sometimes let us miss school so the three of us could have a play day.
It is sad to say but, my dad is somehow absent from these memories, I know he was there, he always has been, I feel his presence in my memories, but I do not see him as clearly as I see my mom. He has always worked hard, hard, for us and for his own ambitions, I know ambitions has a negative connotation but not in his case, he just always wished to emerge and stand out.
This house was in front of a...smaller than a mountain, bigger that a hill...we loved to take walks up there, it was always a great achievement when we got to the top and my dad would ride his motorcycle up there, which i loved by the way. Later on though, houses began to be built there and oh how we disliked it because it suddenly felt less peaceful and earthy, it felt crowded...
Since the house was up on the hill, our back windows faced the valley and at night we could see all the city lights, and although my sister and I could barely reach, we loved staring out that window, day or night, we loved to observe.
And finally, that kitchen, we were little mice in that kitchen, climbing up on the counter, reaching cabinets, hiding under the sink, pulling up chairs to reach the cereal boxes above the fridge, it was all a big game and the last time we were in that house, this was the memory that made my mother cry.
dream about house.
Nostalgia
mother and kitchen
absent memories of father,
earthy beauty
fences
observing
Monday, February 26, 2007
true essence
Oh man, do you ever just feel the need to write, the words just pour out from your fingers and your fingers type as fast as your mind can think??? It is a sense of need for release, and I don't know why or what from but it is oh soooo needed. It's not a bad thing, not at all, its not even anxiety or anger, it's just a creative need to let go of something that once out, will make me see this world differently, it is a good shift as I like to call it.
So I will write and write until I can write no more and maybe then, I will see, just what it is that needed so badly to get out :)
you know, growing up is good, growing up just creates the chance for memories and those are great things.
Lately I have been thinking a lot about this concept of memories and it astonishes me just how complicated we are, our world is really. How can something only present and tangible in our minds be real? Did we create it, is it really there, Will one day I wake up and realize that it was all a dream and that I live in a very disticnt world? and if not...think about this, our memories are usually from years past so, really, the only way we ever see ourselves is at a younger age, a younger version of ourselves and soooo...is that younger version of ourselves true to who we are now? does personality and characteristics withstand who we are today?
I would like to think so, I would like to think that the person I was 10 years ago, is simply a younger greener version nof what I am today because if this is so, then it means that I have created a true person, that I do not seek to create myself or renew myself in the eyes of others, only in my own eyes and of course in the eyes of my faith.
I saw a picture of myself from when I was five or six years old and I compared it to one taken 2 months ago, and I have the exact same grin on my face, it is a grin of funny discontent most likely because I did not want to have my picture taken, but its the same face, and it made me laugh and it made me happy because it means that my true essence is still there.
Speaking of true essence, i have been thinking long and hard about this too and home...house...place to live...place to grow, what is a house to me?
I don't think I really understand but these two ideas, home and memories are clearly strongly intertwined (is that a word?) when it comes to talking about my crazy i don't know what to call it anymore life. I used to want to find an explanation for all the moving, like maybe there was some sort of secret plan waiting for me at the end, im not sure of that anymore and sooo with this, I wish to recall every single house I've lived in and write about it, just simply record what is so great and specical about it and maybe then I will find links btwn each house, a clue to lead me to the true sign and root of it all, I think it is quite possible, and I think going back in time will also help me gain a higher understanding of myself.
Oh my goodness how fun this will all be, I cannot wait and can I just say that as far as being home in Shebly these past days, it has been amazing, some of the best memories yet and I cannot wait to be 40 and look back at these years because oh how glorious these memories will seem.
Anyhow...here begins a series of writings and notes about the places I've been, how they have marked or not marked my lilfe and the root of it all, what is it that we are looking for in a house that we have not been able to find????
that is...it will begin tmw, right now it is beauty sleep time.
So I will write and write until I can write no more and maybe then, I will see, just what it is that needed so badly to get out :)
you know, growing up is good, growing up just creates the chance for memories and those are great things.
Lately I have been thinking a lot about this concept of memories and it astonishes me just how complicated we are, our world is really. How can something only present and tangible in our minds be real? Did we create it, is it really there, Will one day I wake up and realize that it was all a dream and that I live in a very disticnt world? and if not...think about this, our memories are usually from years past so, really, the only way we ever see ourselves is at a younger age, a younger version of ourselves and soooo...is that younger version of ourselves true to who we are now? does personality and characteristics withstand who we are today?
I would like to think so, I would like to think that the person I was 10 years ago, is simply a younger greener version nof what I am today because if this is so, then it means that I have created a true person, that I do not seek to create myself or renew myself in the eyes of others, only in my own eyes and of course in the eyes of my faith.
I saw a picture of myself from when I was five or six years old and I compared it to one taken 2 months ago, and I have the exact same grin on my face, it is a grin of funny discontent most likely because I did not want to have my picture taken, but its the same face, and it made me laugh and it made me happy because it means that my true essence is still there.
Speaking of true essence, i have been thinking long and hard about this too and home...house...place to live...place to grow, what is a house to me?
I don't think I really understand but these two ideas, home and memories are clearly strongly intertwined (is that a word?) when it comes to talking about my crazy i don't know what to call it anymore life. I used to want to find an explanation for all the moving, like maybe there was some sort of secret plan waiting for me at the end, im not sure of that anymore and sooo with this, I wish to recall every single house I've lived in and write about it, just simply record what is so great and specical about it and maybe then I will find links btwn each house, a clue to lead me to the true sign and root of it all, I think it is quite possible, and I think going back in time will also help me gain a higher understanding of myself.
Oh my goodness how fun this will all be, I cannot wait and can I just say that as far as being home in Shebly these past days, it has been amazing, some of the best memories yet and I cannot wait to be 40 and look back at these years because oh how glorious these memories will seem.
Anyhow...here begins a series of writings and notes about the places I've been, how they have marked or not marked my lilfe and the root of it all, what is it that we are looking for in a house that we have not been able to find????
that is...it will begin tmw, right now it is beauty sleep time.
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