Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Boricua in Texas
Once upon a time, a long time ago when I thought I would grow up to be someone important, I wrote a few short stories. Two of them got published in a book in the mid nineties. My claim to fame is that one of those stories was picked up to be used on a school text book back home. Not that I got much from it, really. A check for $300 about 4 years ago, I think.
Anyway, around the time that my stories were first published, someone tried to interview me. I can't remember who it was or in what context. Those years of my life are kind of a blur. All I remember is someone asked me a question about my voice and whom I represent. And I said I am not speaking for anybody but myself, a middle class female Puerto Rican of a certain age group and educational background. I would never presume that my voice or my writing is all-encompassing and representative of all Puerto Ricans. I can only write/speak from my circumstance. I can only write as Ingrid and for Ingrid, even when I am writing about the world beyond the tip of my nose.
I recall that interview often, when I think about my blog. Lots of people find their way into my blog by looking for the word "boricua" on the web. Some of them are searching for boricuas in Texas. I often wonder if these visitors are disappointed with what they find. I am not keeping a shrine to all things boricua. I am not selling tchotkes with coquíes or Puerto Rican flags in them. I am not usually talking about the latest celebrity scandal on the island. I am neither idolizing, nor am I bashing Americans. And I deliberately choose not to write about partisan politics. In short, I am very much a boricua female (and damn proud of it), but I may not be what they expect.
I do often allude to my native Puerto Rico and some of the cultural aspects that I miss the most. But overall, this blog is very personal in its scope. I write about my life, about what catches my fancy. I write about my family and the trials and triumphs that we go through. Mostly, I use the blog to chart the evolution of my mood, as someone who is prone to depression. However, lately I have been a bit reticent to open up online. Some things just need to be kept offline.
Anyway, around the time that my stories were first published, someone tried to interview me. I can't remember who it was or in what context. Those years of my life are kind of a blur. All I remember is someone asked me a question about my voice and whom I represent. And I said I am not speaking for anybody but myself, a middle class female Puerto Rican of a certain age group and educational background. I would never presume that my voice or my writing is all-encompassing and representative of all Puerto Ricans. I can only write/speak from my circumstance. I can only write as Ingrid and for Ingrid, even when I am writing about the world beyond the tip of my nose.
I recall that interview often, when I think about my blog. Lots of people find their way into my blog by looking for the word "boricua" on the web. Some of them are searching for boricuas in Texas. I often wonder if these visitors are disappointed with what they find. I am not keeping a shrine to all things boricua. I am not selling tchotkes with coquíes or Puerto Rican flags in them. I am not usually talking about the latest celebrity scandal on the island. I am neither idolizing, nor am I bashing Americans. And I deliberately choose not to write about partisan politics. In short, I am very much a boricua female (and damn proud of it), but I may not be what they expect.
I do often allude to my native Puerto Rico and some of the cultural aspects that I miss the most. But overall, this blog is very personal in its scope. I write about my life, about what catches my fancy. I write about my family and the trials and triumphs that we go through. Mostly, I use the blog to chart the evolution of my mood, as someone who is prone to depression. However, lately I have been a bit reticent to open up online. Some things just need to be kept offline.
I hate this weekend
With the exception of Paula's talent show, this weekend has been an absolute failure.
New blog banner
I needed a pick-me-up this morning, so I just updated my blog banner. What do you think?
Friday, March 27, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Sunday
Not much to say lately. Today it will be a week since we came back from Puerto Rico. Amidst the mess, stress and clutter of my life in Houston, the trip is already starting to feel like a distant memory. I try to keep the memory close by calling my parents and fiddling with my pictures on flickr. Here are a couple of nice ones.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Home
After spending nine days in sunny Puerto Rico, with its warm weather, green mountains, blue skies and gorgeous beaches, coming back to a cold and rainy Houston yesterday was a bit of a letdown.
Houston has other things to offer, but the truth is it is not a pretty place in terms of natural beauty. I miss that about the island. I also miss my family. More than anything, I miss being on vacation. It was much too short, and I am not ready to get back to work this morning.
An elderly man in our flight got ill and required medical assistance. For a brief moment, I wished I was him. Then I felt bad about it.
Houston has other things to offer, but the truth is it is not a pretty place in terms of natural beauty. I miss that about the island. I also miss my family. More than anything, I miss being on vacation. It was much too short, and I am not ready to get back to work this morning.
An elderly man in our flight got ill and required medical assistance. For a brief moment, I wished I was him. Then I felt bad about it.
Parque de las Palomas
Paula went to the Parque de las Palomas with her father, who took this picture.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Monday, March 09, 2009
Thursday, March 05, 2009
An old poem
You’re as mine as you’ll ever be
As close to my heart as you could ever be
Yet I keep running into endless walls
And I am tired of walking in the sand
Please come home
As close to my heart as you could ever be
Yet I keep running into endless walls
And I am tired of walking in the sand
Please come home
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