Inspired by your love and those
around me is my song and dance,
so why should I keep it private.
around me is my song and dance,
so why should I keep it private.
Welcome students and colleagues, friends and family, if you have made it this far, I encourage you to stay a bit longer and read about some of my work. The writings reflect many of the thoughts that I carry with me throughout the course of a day, evening, and often times, the dreams that take hold of me while I sleep. The verses represent the inner voice in me that speaks of the past, the present, and the future. Writing is my ultimate form of expression that allows me to reflect, inspire, get well, and grow. The energy that feeds my work, I pull from themes that correspond to Mesoamerica, my ancestral place of birth, and the area I study. References to symbols of the past, deities, and natural phenomenon, dominate certain pieces, and blend with current verses of life, love, and death. I have never taken a writing class... the only "style" that exhibits my work is the one that I create from my imagination, heart, and dreams.
I’m an avid builder and horticulturalist, and so I spend a lot of my time building things and growing different types of herbs and plant food. I do not identify as an artist nor do I make art for aesthetic purposes; my work solely materializes a ritual-ceremonial or utilitarian function. The craft of working with wood I learned from my father, by watching him design and build homes throughout much of my adolescent youth. I also learned how to work with stone by watching my uncles construct brick and rock landscapes, in the wealthy neighborhoods were they labored during much of the 1980s, when construction was booming. My paternal grandpa Juan was also a craftsman, hence why all his sons became builders of some sort, and so building has always been an integral part of my family’s trade history. I learned about plant cultivation from my abuelita Mercedes on my paternal side and my abuelito Severo on my maternal side. Much of the landscaping strategies that I learned from my grandparents came with them from Mexico when they migrated to Alta California, in the early 1960s, along with my parents. A lot of the building and planting strategies that my family has implored have been in use for over 3,000 years. It is my purpose to revitalize and sustain these ancestral practices through ceremony, household building, and plant cultivation.
My fascination with building and growing food is not only familial, but also physical-skeletal (see my Physical Anthropology 101 blog), and because so, I have an admiration for the morphology of the human hand. The hand is unlike any part of the body, and because we use our hands every day, we literally take them for granted, sometimes failing to notice their full potential use. Our hands are our first weapons of choice in an attack, yet they are the first part of the body that we extend when helping or consoling someone. With our hands, we build shelter, writer letters, prepare food, and unknowingly, make love. Our hand-digit coordination is unique because it is precise, well adapted for creating, and for using and making tools. Hand-digit use coordination has been a part of our human evolutionary past since we inhabited arboreal environments, way before we developed bipedalism. When combined with tool use, the creative use of the hands has the capability of decolonizing our minds and bodies.
My inquiry into the relationship between hand-bone morphology usage and social behavior remains in the early stages. Nonetheless, some preliminary findings I modeled in a recent paper where I discuss the role of the hands, and early human tool making, in the creation of spatial wellness. The paper is published in Vol. 3 No. 4 of the International Journal of Development and Sustainability.
Quisiera ser algo grande
Quisiera ser algo grande, asi como
un scientifico, para buscarte con más calma.
Pero solo soy un poeta, perdido en mis
palabras, asi como un niño…
un scientifico, para buscarte con más calma.
Pero solo soy un poeta, perdido en mis
palabras, asi como un niño…
Si no somos amigos...
Me quito la vida perderte.
Y si me da coraje pensar
qué nunca nos despedimos.
Que jamás cerremos amigos.
Que nos tratamos fijamente,
sin tener nos ningún cariño. Que
no mas quedamos ofendidos.
Ya se que nade de lo que digo
tiene un sentido… son
las palabras de un dormido,
al despertar.
Para que decir le
a la gente que te quiero, si tus
fotos ya las han visto… y
yo lo vi con mis ojos, que te
dio el mas motivos.
Discuto haberte conocido y
quisiera preguntarte si en verdad
fui el primero o solo un amigo,
un cual quiera.
Cera que solo soy un tonto,
buscando su camino, un tonto
buscando su camino…
Mis últimos recuerdos
de tu perfil, son los mas triste de
mi mundo y quiero perderme
al recordar.
Crea me que me roban la vida.
El brío de mis ojos.
Si pierdo mi voluntad pensar en
lo profundo, en estar sin ti.
¿Para que siguiere té buscando?
Si todo se perdió en un tormento
del olvido...
Y si me da coraje pensar
qué nunca nos despedimos.
Que jamás cerremos amigos.
Que nos tratamos fijamente,
sin tener nos ningún cariño. Que
no mas quedamos ofendidos.
Ya se que nade de lo que digo
tiene un sentido… son
las palabras de un dormido,
al despertar.
Para que decir le
a la gente que te quiero, si tus
fotos ya las han visto… y
yo lo vi con mis ojos, que te
dio el mas motivos.
Discuto haberte conocido y
quisiera preguntarte si en verdad
fui el primero o solo un amigo,
un cual quiera.
Cera que solo soy un tonto,
buscando su camino, un tonto
buscando su camino…
Mis últimos recuerdos
de tu perfil, son los mas triste de
mi mundo y quiero perderme
al recordar.
Crea me que me roban la vida.
El brío de mis ojos.
Si pierdo mi voluntad pensar en
lo profundo, en estar sin ti.
¿Para que siguiere té buscando?
Si todo se perdió en un tormento
del olvido...
Ya se que tu no sientes nada,
eres un frió… un corazón entumido.
eres un frió… un corazón entumido.
Discuto haberte conocido.
¿Para que seguir enamorado?
No ahí porque volverse uno loco,
si ni somos amigos.
Nunca jamás, nunca jamás.
¿Para que seguir enamorado?
No ahí porque volverse uno loco,
si ni somos amigos.
Nunca jamás, nunca jamás.
Olmec articles during mass...
Forgive me father for having to read
Olmec articles during mass... :) My native
half it boils my blood and burns my skin,
and so I read to ease the hurt.
Olmec articles during mass... :) My native
half it boils my blood and burns my skin,
and so I read to ease the hurt.
Damn these dreams
Today, for the first time in my life
I boarded a plane drenched in tears.
God keep my love ones safe and
faith please keep us together. Damn
these dreams of mine.
I boarded a plane drenched in tears.
God keep my love ones safe and
faith please keep us together. Damn
these dreams of mine.
Played for a Fool... LOL
An unfamiliar face answered your door.
He first told me that you were not home… (liar).
He then said that you were in your room… (nervous liar).
Then he said that you didn’t want to
talk to me… (fuckin coward).
Was this your idea of friends or just you at your best?
Surely you had been disgraced because you never spoke
to my daughter again.
How sad… You traded us for a pelón with baggy pants
and a tattoo. All that time I was being played
for a Fool… LOL
He first told me that you were not home… (liar).
He then said that you were in your room… (nervous liar).
Then he said that you didn’t want to
talk to me… (fuckin coward).
Was this your idea of friends or just you at your best?
Surely you had been disgraced because you never spoke
to my daughter again.
How sad… You traded us for a pelón with baggy pants
and a tattoo. All that time I was being played
for a Fool… LOL
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