Little Brothers: No Manual Necessary

Day 11 Post 4

Update: Man. I can't believe that it has been this long since I last posted on blogger. Also, I am aware that I am way behind my goal of 100 post in 100 hundred days--so what, I am a couple of posts behind, no big deal. Well, over the last couple of days, I have been suffering a small bout with a cold-like bug. As it stands at this point, I think I have seen the worst of the illness and I think I am starting to feel better. 

I am writing because of my recent experience with my younger brothers, both equally confusing, energetic, and loyal little teenagers. I rarely get a chance to see them; and when I do, it is usually for a day or a couple of hours. I have come to think about our relationship in two lights: they either respect me and my opinions about their life and conduct with others or they amuse me by listening to my rants in order to get favors from me. Now, I think that our relationship of the former than that of the latter; however, I have made peace with the slight chance that my brothers are using me for their own benefit. Largely, with everyone else, my brothers are uncontrollable and rude. With me, they may act out but I am don't allow their actions dictate my actions. I have taken a gamble with them: I have let my action speak louder than my words. So far, they have reacted positively with my approach towards them. 

Nonetheless, now whenever I have to challenge and agitate my brothers to do something for my mother or a family relative, they are able to accept it--even if they sometimes due tend to state false objections toward the task. To be quite honest, I don't know how long my little brothers are going to keep respecting me as an authority figure. On the other hand, I don't know how long I want to be that authority-type figure in their lives. One time, sooner or later, they are going to grow up to be young adults in this society. 

Flavored Water: Tastes Better Than Regular Water

Day 2 Post 3

All day today I had a craving for 'something sweet.' Don't get me wrong, I enjoy drinking regular water, and I was doing so up until that point, while daydreaming about Kool-aid and other flavor supplements added to water. I guess I just need a change from the monotony of regular, Brita-filtered, H20. At home, I had the option of brewing my own tea to make iced-tea; nonetheless, the idea of washing the tea kettle, waiting for the water to boil, hoping for there to be enough ice to officially call the drink iced-tea, came to equate too much time for me. I mean why spend my time making a beverage for myself when I could use that time doing nothing (hmm, what a dilemma). So I decided to go after the pre-package stuff instead. 

In reality, the time that I spent driving to the store, find the product, finalize the decision, wait in line, drive home, and prepare the beverage, I would've already finished making the iced-tea--live and let learn I guess. All and all, I was able to get m flavored water, and trust me, I savored every single drop of my fruit punch Kool-aid with the alacrity of a 4th grader becoming the first one to make it through the playground's gauntlet of monkey bars. 

Curanderismo: Agree or Not Agree

Day 2 Post 2 

I have been thinking a lot about my family and mysticism. As a child, whenever anyone of us--my brother, sister, and myself--would get sick, my mother would come up with some strange mestizo concoction from her herbal medical corner in the kitchen. Internally, I would always wonder about the validity and potency of my mother's remedies. I wouldn't know if it was my youthful immunity, rest, a miracle, or the actual herbal remedy itself that eventually made me feel better. In the end, I really never gave my mother's curandera medicine any real credit for my wellness. 

My relatives, on the other hand, would travel from all over California to have my mother 'heal' them. Uncles, Aunts, and cousins would ask my mother to cure anything from pink eye to herbal messages--I think that my mother even gave one of my cousin's stitches before because he decided to use his face as a baseball mitt. Afterwards, when my relatives would leave for the evening, I would always give my mother a hard time about giving people medical help and advice. Instead of getting upset, I remember my mother, with English heavily laced with a Spanish accent, telling me, 'mira mijo, people come to me because they know me and have faith that what I do may work for them.'

She could've sat down everyday, after every visit, while having people visibly improve, and I would still be unconvinced. I was unconvinced. Ever since that time, I would unconsciously detached myself from my Mexican culture, as it pertained to Curanderismo. I would detach myself from my relatives when this mystical subject would come up during a family discussion. It came to the point that my family wouldn't even bring it up in front of me. They were unable to talk about the 'C' word when I was around. It wasn't until I opened up to alternative medince--I guess, more specifically, started to due some research--I started to see the validity to herbal remedies. However, I still have told my mother that yet--I don't want her to gloat just yet. 

100 Posts In 100 Days: Or Die--Well, Possibly Develop Carpel Tunnel Syndrome--Trying

Day 1 Post 1

For the next 100 days, I am going write--more than likely ramble--100 new posts. I don't know how I am going to do it; however, I am excited about this endeavor. My sub-conscious probably wanted to try something new outside of my daily routine. I don't want to place a word limit to these posting, on the other hand, I also don't want insignificantly brief posts to count as Actual posts on this or any other of my blogs. Oh, BTW, not only am I going to write 100 new posts on this Blog, the goal is extended to my other blogs as well (so in total, the end result will be...I don't want to even think about it, yet).

I keep telling myself that I need to take it one day at a time and one post at a time. As I am writing this, Sadie looks up at me, half grinning, as if to say, "dad, you're crazy; but because you feed me, I still love you." I think the only person that is giving me support is Shubie (as I am typing, she is excessively, and neurotically licking my left hand). Well, here goes nothing. 

A-Rod: The Steroid Era's Great Brown Hope

It's funny how everyone is making a big deal about his steroid use. Are his numbers tainted? Is his legacy stained beyond repair? No. How old is he again? A-Rod is 33 yrs old; and I really think that he has many years of playing left--he is still in his prime after all. Also, we need to think about the environment in which A-Rod was in when he decided to use steroids. 

In 2001, assuming that the majority of Baseball player's were using some form of performance enhancing drugs--and as we are starting to find out this assumption is being validated as fact quite rapidly, A-Rod saw the results of players like Barry Bonds, Sammy Sosa, Rafael Palmero, players whose best years were definitely behind them, still continue to be productive. Entering the first year of his record breaking contract, his decision to use steroids or any other performance-enhancing drugs was a mere formality. 

A-Rod took his organization's lack of regulating 'performance-enhancing' products as a sign for him to do whatever was necessary to produce his MVP quality numbers, helping increase attendance, boost revenue, and widen their market. Alex, for better or for worst, represents the need for the MLB to create progressive systemic changes that would hold not only the player accountable but the organization as well. 

Dogs Really Do Know How to Bug You

I say this with complete honesty and without maliciousness. Today, my smallest dog--in age not size--Shubie, decides not to wait for her master to take her outside to use "number one." No, little miss sunshine decides to get down to business behind my sofa (I want to state for the record that I always try to allow my pets many opportunities to alleviate themselves outside). It wasn't until the absorption of hot urine by my sock that I realized her treachery.

What was her reaction when I gave her the "mean eye?" She just looks at me blankly, with a shivering and submissive posture. Who can stay mad at that?