Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Holding True

There's this man. I loved him. I love him. I'm not really sure if it's past or present. But in my heart, it feels like it's still there.

I've never thought of love as being complete. You hear women say it all the time, I'm looking for the man that completes me. I'm not. I need to complete me. I'm looking for the man that compliments the woman that I am, that challenges me to grow, that will help me to be a better person. That's what I'm looking for.

This man, he's an amazing man. Talented, hardworking, loving, caring, and so funny! From the same home state as me. But he grew up north of where I did. We share the same religion, passion for music, and love of life. But our dreams and hopes for the future, lead the two of us, on two very different roads.

He recently started a blog. And I'm not sure what to think of it. I know how he feels. I know how I feel. But does that make something like this logical? I'm not sure...

Yesterday morning, I watched this video, read this tweet, and read this blog post. It just made me think, I need to stick to my guns. He has a lot to prove to me. A lot to apologize for. And he needs to work on gaining my trust again. I didn't do anything wrong. And I'm not compromising who I am, because he suddenly woke up.

It's crazy. He was the person I went to for everything! We'd hangout at school. He'd bring me a peanut butter sandwich between classes. I would have class from 6AM-10PM. We'd talk about life. Things we wanted. How many kids we wanted. What we'd name them. Where we'd live. The fact that I want to stay home with my kids. And he always felt like he needed to be able to support a family on his own.

When things were really bad, I went to him. There were many nights, that he helped me out. Just listening. Helping me to work through one of the worst things that could ever happen to a young girl. Something that I had buried deep down inside. Never told anyone. To this day, the only 2 people I've told, are him and my counselor. And as a young adult, it came bubbling to the surface. He helped me through it. Encouraged me to get help. And to work on putting it behind me.

He was also the one I ran to when I lost my uncle. I cried. I held on to him like he was the sole reason I was alive. He reassured me. Held me tight let me cry. And arranged for me to get home for the services. In mere hours, I was on a cross country flight home.

This man, held my hand before surgery. Before a surgery that I didn't tell my parents about until 4 or 5 years later! He was there. Took care of me. Literally helped me do everything I needed to do for weeks after. Besides my mom and grandma, I don't think anyone else has ever washed my dirty clothes. But he did. And bought me groceries. Tried to cook. Carried me to and from my house to his truck. Drove 90 minutes my doctor's appointments and back again. He was there for me.

He knows more about me than any other single person on this planet. Everything! My deepest and darkest secrets. The horrible stuff that I endured as a kid. The loneliness I felt growing up. My insecurities. All of my accomplishments. My likes. My dreams. What makes my blood boil over. How to get me to fall asleep. He knows it all.

I never felt safer, more loved, or more comfortable than I did around him. His hugs, they were like a warm blanket, that wrapped around my soul. He made me toes curl with a single grin. And my heart race every time he sang. No place felt more safe, than tightly wrapped in his arms. Listening to his heart beat.

He was the one. We joked many, many times about getting married. At 19, I almost did. In "Sin City." We were working a gig. And as poor as they get. We had just realized, we could get some help with our tuition, if we got married. It would cost less than $100. We seriously considered it. But ended our night with a mini wedding cake instead. When he got the big job in Florida, he asked me to marry him again. For real this time. Ginormous diamond ring included. Down on one knee. Tears in his eyes. Arms held out. Because he loved me. And he wanted us to have a life together...

We talked about. About marriage, life, work, careers, moves, homes, and babies. But I knew he needed to chase after his dreams. He wanted to be a musician. And he had every right to do it. He worked hard for this job. I didn't want him to give it up for me. To one day regret not taking the job. And blaming it one me. I knew he had to go. And I knew that I needed to stay here. To work. To go to school. To accomplish all those things my parents wanted me to do.

So I stayed. He left. We tried to make it work. And it was going OK. Until he moved out of the country. And our lives really took different paths. Jealousy set in. Accusations started. The fighting began. The horrible fighting. I couldn't stand to hear his voice, much less see his face. Every single time we saw each other, it turned into WWIII. No lie!

And last summer, it was like the volcano erupted. Just everything the two of us had been holding in, came out. 6AM, in the middle of my front yard. I'd worked 4 days straight. Just drove into my driveway. And he had just gotten back from a tour. I knew in an instant, he had changed...

This wasn't the same man. He had hatred in his eyes. It was like his soul was empty. Missing something. The life, it wasn't shining through his eyes anymore. That, was the last time we talked. The very last time.

Because we have the same friends, work similar gigs, and well, have to see each other from time to time, we've become civil. Not that it's been easy. He did get punched out in a rehearsal. And was asked to leave. Not by me. But by our boss, and my friend. It was shocking. But real life. Slowly, we've begun to heal. We e-mail each other from time to time. But we haven't really talked.

A very close friend of ours, she wants us to talk. She sees both sides. She travels with him and her husband. She's one of my best friends. She really wants us to sit and talk about it. To work through this. We were the "Happy Little Couple." Everyone just expected that one day, we'd make it official. I'm not so sure anymore. But I would like my old friend back. Especially since, we still have to sing together. In less than a month, we're singing for a friend's wedding. Then a show 2 weeks after that.

But listening to the end of this video, reading this tweet, and reading Kandee's letter, it makes me think, I don't ever want to compromise my beliefs, values, and morals. I'm 27 years old. Successful. On my own. No man, and I mean NO MAN, owns me. I'm a person. Not a piece of property. And I deserve and expect to be treated with respect.

It's funny. So many men, they just want sex. That's it. Plain and simple. Being a female performer, I see this a lot. Guys think they're all that and a sack of potatoes. Throwing around cash. Acting like fools. Thinking that will get my attention. Funny how it doesn't. What you see on stage, that's a character. I get paid to be that person. When I leave the stage, I wash off the makeup, throw on a pair of sweats, and comb through my hair. The HUGE and oh so fancy hotel suites, well, I go back alone. To read, study for my classes, and to go to sleep. I'm really not that exciting.

He got that. He understood. I think he actually preferred me in sweats, no makeup, and my out of control hair. He never pressured me into anything. Just realized that I was me. And I had my own time table for things. Beliefs in life. For love.

The ring I wear on my left hand. It's more than a piece of jewelry. It means something to me. I don't care if I'm 27 or not. Or if people think I'm an "Old Maid." That doesn't matter to me. It's a ring I bought for myself. A promise I made to myself. Because one day, I'm going to find the right man for me. That loves, honors, and respects me, for the person I am. Maybe it will be him again. I don't know...

I guess, only time will tell. But I do know, I have to stay true to the woman that I am. I'm special. I'm the only person that is like me. No one else even comes close. Because God has made us all unique. Maybe I'm not right for this man. But there is someone out there. Someone that God made just for me. I just need to be patient. And I can never lose myself in other people. It hurts too much. And through these 3 very different women, I got the message. Loud and clear. I need to be true to me. Because in the end, it's just not worth it to lose yourself in a man. ♥

Thursday, August 26, 2010

A Change in the Air

This morning, I woke up to a chilly house. The first chilly morning since last Spring. It's more than welcomed here. Because 100+ temperatures are more common than not.

I just love when the seasons start to change. We're far from being in the clear. The summer heat is still going strong during the day. But I have a feeling, I'm going to need to start covering up with some of my favorite blankets. Snuggling up with my books on the couch. And enjoying a few warm drinks at night.

My windows are open. The air is crisp and cool. Definitely a difference from the last few months. Clean and crisp. Like the air has a bite to it. Time to start bundling up. Pulling out more of my scarves. Layering my clothes. And enjoying the weather.♥

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Mi Cucu

Oh, this song! It brings back so many memories. So many! Have you ever heard "Mi Cucu?" Well, when I was about 3 years old, my Nanie used to blast this on the radio. But the english version, "Don't Mess with My Tutu." And we'd go wild. Singing and dancing. I think my Tatie thought we were going nuts. And it was my song until I was at least 12 or 13 years old. That's when I stopped going to sleep at their house.

Fast forward a few years. I think I was 19 years old. And I started singing with a Nortena band. Just when we didn't have Mariachi gigs. It was a favor to one of my professors/friends, Memo. Well, this song came on during a break at our first gig. The first gig I was at. And I knew all the words. Hello! I'd been listening to it for years!

So I sang along and danced with one of the guys from the band. Have I mentioned? I love me a good cumbia too! We had a good time. And by the next gig, I was singing this onstage. Soon, my friend Sanchoncito seen me singing this song. And he told the Mariachi. Well, it became "La Chiquitita's song." No lie! We'd walk into the Convention Center to play, and another Mariachi (our friends) would start playing it!

"Mi Cucu" just took on a life of it's own. Something like "Who Let the Dogs Out" did with the Mariachi from my hometown. Yes, the same thing! So I sang and I danced. No matter where we played. Mexico, here, on the road. Wherever! And that is probably the first song I ever learned how to flirt with the audience with. I will say, that teal traje really came in handy. The one that I could barely sit down in. Perfect for a good Cumbia.

Well, these days, I stick to dancing to this song. Although, a few weeks ago, we did break it out. I sang it at a gig. Berto and I danced with each other, then with some of the people at the party we were playing at. I still love it. It makes me smile every single time I hear it. And who doesn't like a little Cumbia action? Especially with a good dance partner. ♥