Mexican experience has ended

For 8 months I went through hell living in Mexico. I think I got sick like a total of 12 times through the whole damn time being there. Normally, it’s an event if I get sick once in a whole year. For starters, I had horrible stomach pains. But it’s not those diarrhea cases. It’s like you swallowed a razor and your body hates you for it. Then there’s the cabin fever I got from being in such a small town. It all lead to insomnia and writer’s block. And there are some things I just won’t share. Secrets I’ll never tell.

I moved to Nuevo Laredo on March 14, 2010. The city has a bad reputation and is infested with drug cartels. It was the type of environment I wanted to see for myself. And with the fact that I’m a writer working on a movie about drug cartels, it was my benefit to get a good feel of this city.

Anyway, a few days later, my dad got married to his long-time girlfriend. I was my dad’s best man, but only as a last minute choice. Not that it would bring him good or bad luck in his marriage if somebody else was the best man, but I think he went with the best guy available in picking me. Fast forward 8 months later and I’m living back in Houston. I was expecting to move back in December, though.

Before living in Mexico, I was living in California a little over 2 years. Combine that with my time in Mexico and I have not lived in Houston for nearly 3 years. My daily routine in Houston was boxing training, reading, and writing. Those are the things that brought so much life and energy to me. I was unhappy for nearly 3 years because I was not doing those things during that period out of my hometown.

Many years ago, I saw this biopic movie with Edward James Olmos, ‘Selena’. He plays Selena’s father, Abraham. And I remember this scene in which he is ranting about how it is tough being a Mexican-American. First, he says, you have to be real Mexican to be accepted in Mexico. And you have to be real American to be accepted by the white folks in the USA. Then he says how you have to speak both English and Spanish perfectly, otherwise you’re just considered garbage.

“It’s tough being a Mexican-American!!!” he shouts.

“Geez, what a bitch”, I thought.

I have always thought the character was just exaggerating and was bitching about his failures. During my time in the Mexican side, I learned that it’s actually quite true. If English is being spoken in Mexico, these are the possible outcomes: First of all, there are no exceptions. White, black, or Chicano- if you speak English, you will get some nasty looks. Also, people will assume you have money and you’ll be treated like shit- or maybe even kidnapped. I’ve been lucky enough to have this horrible treatment, even from relatives. Like some racists remarks. You’d think if everybody was the “same race” in a city, then everybody would get along. This is far from the truth, of course.

If there is one thing I learned, it’s that the only good human is a dead human.

On the other hand, if you’re around hot Mexican girls, English may come in handy. A lot of the women here actually love the American dudes. My brother and I had no problem being the life of the party on more than one occasion. Too bad all the girls I ever attracted were fat grandmothers in their 50’s and just one cute receptionist at the dentist I went to.

Crossing the border bridge is a nervous experience sometimes. Let me clear things up. I’m an American, okay? It’s very important that you get a passport and all that shit. I’ve seen people get rejected and were not allowed to cross into the USA for giving some suspicious answer on their reasons for going to Texas. And I would always get suspicious looks from one border patrol guy in particular. I hate that bastard. But he’s just doing his job in being an asshole. I wish I could be a border patrol guy, too. You get paid to be an asshole to innocent people, pretty much how I am most of the time. And I bet you don’t gotta go to school and study that.

“Excuse me sir, can you step out of the line so we may search you?”

FUCK YOU.

If I get cavity searched, did I just lose my virginity?

I dress up in real nice clothes. I’m not surprised to know that border patrol and citizens of Nuevo Laredo assume that I’m a powerful drug dealer. Sometimes it got to the point that border patrol had to scan the car with some type of huge X-ray machine to see if we had drugs inside.

I’ve counted a total of 89 days in which I didn’t go out into the streets of Nuevo Laredo from March 14 through November 15. In my old life here in Houston, it would have been less than 89 days in a whole year in which I would have gone out. I didn’t really meet all kinds of people. Everybody was the Mexican version of everybody I knew in the States. There was even a Mexican version of a store located in my Houston neighborhood near my Mexican home. And of course, there was a Mexican version of the American cashier working in the store.

One time, my dad was smoking a cigarette and he didn’t want to finish the one half of it. So he threw it away and a couple of homeless guys immediately picked it up and shared it.

Last June, my brothers were visiting me from Houston. We went out to eat some tacos at this little place and a police truck stopped by. Four police officers stepped out with their machine guns and ordered some tacos. My brother was nervous since cartels tend to start gunfights with armed cops, especially when you least expect. A movie-like experience: People stopped eating to taunt and insult the cops.

Boom.

It’s only been like 4 days since I left Mexico. I’ve been working out by shadow boxing for like four rounds and jumping rope for 10 minutes, all while listening to music at a very loud volume. I’ll slowly increase the jump rope time to 30 minutes one day. But for now, the work outs will be light, unless I want a heart attack. It’s great to be back home. I feel recharged. I plan on writing even more, especially now that I feel more energetic and happier.

In the days to come, I even plan on going out more. Black Swan comes out December 3. So I guess I’ll go to the movies to see that. The movie looks pretty good. If you’ve seen the trailer, there’s a part in which the faces -in numerous paintings- begin to frown. And I am reminded of the bizarre dreams I had during my stay in Mexico. My dreams are pretty vivid sometimes and very Salvador Dali-esque.

Smeared shit on your face. Pay attention.

But seeing the frowning faces in the Black Swan trailer reminded me of a dream I had when I was little. The dream will probably not sound impressive in text form. But I remember that in the dream, I was in a state of sleep paralysis and there was a picture of Jesus Christ on the wall. Before seeing the picture, I was trying really hard to move my eyes and head. Eventually, I was able to turn my head and I saw the Jesus picture on the wall. It was this picture of Jesus that was in the dream, which is a common one of JC.

Then the Jesus in the picture opened his mouth and began screaming at me. I tried waking up and he (or He) began making fun of me (in Spanish) for it. It’s one of those dreams from your childhood that you never forget.

"You'll never be king of the world!!"- Jesus Christ Painting to me.

I’m gonna leave the blog at this and I’m leaving to puff on a cigar. Oh, and trust me, I don’t really smoke. Smoking sucks. It’s just something I do once in a great while.