Why I dislike the holidays

There are several reasons for which I dislike the November/December holidays.  On the surface, I dislike them because these are massively commercialized events focused on generating profit.  I also dislike how the population loses their damn minds – I think we see the worst side of people on the holidays; for example, yesterday some woman almost rammed her car into me as she was driving 20 mph in a parking lot to beat me to a parking space that I was not even interested in (I usually park far far away from the door to get some exercise).  I dislike the hypocrisy of the holidays, the fake love and caring that we display one another – We should be kind to one another year-round, not just in specific holidays. 

There is also a more deeper personal reason for why I dislike the holidays.  Perhaps there are a few reasons.  Number one:  Well, my mother passed away on Christmas day of 1998 from a heart attack while she was making our pozole for dinner that night.  I accepted my mother’s passing a long time ago, and it’s not that Christmas makes me sad because of her passing, but it does make it awkward for me to celebrate joyously.  I do not only think of my mother on Xmas day; I think of her  year round.  Second:  Most of my family is in Mexico.  Here in America there are only a handful of us and we are scattered over the West Coast.  For me, the holidays really outline my lack of a family structure – Yes, it’s true that I wholly believe in “Family is best loved from afar”, but at times when everyone else in the world is running home to a family gathering you find yourself looking around analyzing your support system, those are times when you question your environment.   Now, I want to be clear that I don’t feel lonely and I have many friends who each year are kind to offer to host me for the holidays and usually I decline and prefer to stay home and veg out.  Bottomline is that for me, the holidays make me force into perspective the family and culture that I exchanged for financial stability when we immigrated to America.   

I met a man.

Let me tell you a story, but I am going to tell you my version of it – meaning that I am going to edit the truth in such a way that you will find my story amusing and maybe giggle a little at the end.  I am going to tell you this story, in the way that I want you to remember it.  In the way that I want to remember it, and so that maybe after telling it a few times, my mind will begin to believe my altered version is an accurate depiction how the events played out.  I am going to omit the parts about awkward conversation, the whiskey, and the annoying drunk invasive straight girls with big purses.  

My Scorpio horoscope for Saturday 11/17 said to get out and meet people.  I already had plans with a friend to go see a drag show that evening, but the smoke from the Camp Fires up north lingering around the Bay Area apparently was yanking out his lungs and his sinuses and he was not able to go meet people with me.  I was going to call it; once again, one of those Netflix Saturdays where I sit at home eating something microwaved while a cat purrs on my lap, my eyes pretending to watch the show, but my mind wondering what all I am missing out on.  Fucking hashtag FOMO! (FOMO = Fear Of Missing Out! In case you’re in your forties too and senile).   But I am an obedient individual and I follow directives well.  My horoscope had instructed me to go meet people, and so I did.  I showered, purposely put on an old set of clothes on and left for the city.

As so I  met a man.  The type of man that I had created a “must have” list for, and he met almost all of my criteria.  Holy fuck he does exist, I thought.  It was as if the God Of Love had finally said “Send this bitch a man already!!  She’s in her forties!!!”.  He was Italian.  Tattooed.  Brown-reddish hair with a full soft beard.  Tall.  Funny.  Sweet.  Great Kisser (I know, I know, I skipped a bunch of bases, but remember… I am in my forties and can’t waste any more time!!  My ovaries are drying up!!).  He had the body of a Greek god plus a box of donuts.  Sexy.  Charming.  Lord have mercy!!  It was true what they say, about “the right one comes at the right time”!!!

We danced.  We talked.  We laughed.  We kissed.  We held hands like a high school lovers and all that fairytale bullshit.  I was in such a state of euphoria that I forgot that some ugly old fat woman in a mildew-y dress and tiny tiny wings that barely supported her massive ass had told me that my pumpkin would turn to shit around 2 AM.  She gave me to extra hours – because I am in my forties, she said. 

Come 1:30 AM and the party is about to end.  We kiss one last time.  And I am ready to surrender my love.  Take my heart and all I own, no prenup needed!!  When we get ready to leave and I ask for his contact information, that’s when he tells me that he’s married, to a woman and she’s simply out of town.  And then he leaned over and kissed me one last time.

 

Disclaimer:  60% of the details above have been fabricated or edited to protect his identity and so that you won’t judge me too much! The fat fairy godmother was legit; we have those in Concord.

PS:  I think I hate pumpkin pie now.

Emotional Growth And Falling In Love... Never stops.

Hello.  I am about to turn 42 years old this coming up November.  I don't feel 42.  I might look it, but I don't feel 42 at all.  Specially when it comes to the part about how by this age one should have emotionally grown and reached a certain level of maturity.  I feel that for me, emotional growth is an eternal process.  I am constantly entering new stages in my emotional life.  I just recently entered a very challenging and interesting stage, one that I had totally forgotten existed until I allowed myself to feel a little bit of love for someone, allowed myself to reenter my love life.

After my husband of five years and I ended our relationship in 2012, I was left behind with a mortgage and two cats in the suburbs 27 miles outside of San Francisco - a place where I had never envisioned myself ending up at.  I  was also left with a broken heart that went into some form of emotional hibernation that lasted some six years.  I think part of me was sort of hoping that he would return to me?  That we would mend things?   I don't know.  I mean, we really weren't a match at all  so I don't know why I would sit and wait for his return for six years.  The interesting thing is that I didn't know that I was waiting for him.  I thought I had mourned the loss.  I thought I had healed and was working on moving on.  I guess I was wrong.  If you ask me to account for these past six years, the truth is that I cannot.  I don't know where and how they went, these years.

Just a few months ago my ex  asked me out for coffee to tell me that his new boyfriend and him were moving in together.  At first, I did not have any sort of response to this.  I mean, I was happy for him  and happy that they were taking this huge step together.  But about a month later, I began to experience an immense sadness.  I had this huge desire to cry like a toddler, but nothing would surface - ever.  I tried watching sappy romantic movies, I tried writing and listening to sad music.  Nothing worked. I wanted to emotionally purge, but I had a bottleneck in there somewhere holding it all in.  It was at this moment that I realized that my relationship with my ex truly had truly ended, he had truly moved on to the next stage in his life... and that I should to.  I was finally free.

Then out of the blue enters this  kind, handsome, funny and talented friend with a passion for music.  And in my fragile (confused) emotional state, I slowly but steadily began to somehow get attached to him, and I began to allow myself to  feel the butterflies in the belly for just about anything that he did or said.  I lost my damn mind.  All of sudden I wasn't in my forties, I was 12 and I was crushing over a boy.  LOL  Before I knew it, I had allowed myself to fall in love, or whatever you want to call it.  I should clarify that my friend is straight, so we were not ever going to get anywhere; but the things that I was feeling for him were things that I had not felt for anyone in a very very long time, and specially not this strong - and lord knows I was craving these feelings.  It was very confusing. And Painful.  At first, I told myself that I would allow my heart to just feel what it was feeling, and enjoy the feels for what they were.  But then all of a sudden I was trapped in a little storm inside of a glass of whiskey that I myself had poured.  I had fabricated a complicated love plot inside of my head. Sadly, in a drunken state, I did and said much more than I should ever have and I think along the way I damaged a lot of things - maybe even our relationship, which I truly treasure a great deal.  My best friend had warned me "Say nothing."  But I did.

What's my point with all this?  It's that at the age of 42, I am still growing and I am changing.  And so will you.  And you may be 60, but you too will fall in love with someone that you may not be able to have - but you will fall in love.  But I do believe, wholeheartedly, that people come into our lives to deliver a message and to make us feel things, and so take these "feels" and savor them - they are yours to keep forever!  My message?  That I am ready to love again.

 I want to open up.  I want to take risks.  I  want to be able to surrender everything about me into the arms of someone that treasures me and sees the magical person that I am, flaws included.  I've sat back for six years and just lived life day in and day out, sort of waiting for something magical to happen on its own without any effort from my part.  I can see that I've wasted six years locked away in my suburban home awaiting for the return of someone who left on a one way ticket.  I am totally ready to begin a new.  I am ready to let love back in and take some emotional risks and not hide away from the possibility of getting hurt of heartbroken.  (Plus, heart breaks are mysteriously delicious, and they trigger your artistic talent.  STFU!)

PS:  I want to write more.  I am going to try and commit to writing one blog each week.  Might be random craziness, but at least it will be a writing exercise for me.

My Negative Experience with VW of Fairfield

My very first car, was a used 1977 Rabbit that my mother bought for me.  It was a turquoise color and it had black tinted windows.  This was 1994, and I absolutely loved this car.  I also had a 1992 Jetta, and a 1998 Beetle which I lost in 2001.  I loved every single one of those cars.  I always felt that they fit my personality better, that I connected with the car and the brand, and I felt safe within them. 

I didn’t need a car until 2011, and I went for a Honda Fit because Honda had a leasing special for zero down, zero payment for a month, zero interest, etc.  It was such a painless positive experience that I returned again for a 2^nd Honda Fit in 2016.  Again, the experience with the dealer was direct, honest, painless and with no stress.  I assumed that the culture of car dealerships had changed during the decade that I hadn’t had a car, given the ample competition in the market and access to car sales online. 

As part of an assignment for a class, I had to read an essay on Volkswagen and the introduction of the New Beetle back in 1998.  It brought back a lot of memories about being a proud owner of a VW.  Although I had no need for a new car (my 2016 Honda Fit I had gotten brand new and after two years of ownership, I had only 8000 miles on it), but I had been wanting a VW for a while, and finally I decided that I would treat myself to one. 

A couple of miles from my house in Concord, there is a VW dealership in Walnut Creek.  I texted them via their website to see if there was a way for me to trade my Honda Fit,  and possibly get into a VW lease without being out of pocket.  I didn’t want to be out of pocket because in reality, I didn’t need a  new car, but I wanted to see what it would take to get me back into the VW family.  VW Walnut Creek did not reply; I assumed that my ask was not feasible. I probably should have gone in person instead.

I then contacted VW of Fairfield via their website and I got a response.  I made my asks very clear:  I want to trade in my 2016 Honda Fit EX with 8000 miles and a balance of $15,200 (there was some equity for sure), I don’t have a down payment, and I want a stick shift – this was very important to me.  I got a reply from the dealership and they asked me to come in, and they texted me a link to a Golf GTI as a possible car I could get into.  I looked up the model and it was $32,000 or something, way out of my league so I texted the salesperson back and told her that I had done the math and that the car was way out  of my league and that I would not be pursuing the purchase.  She responded with “we will work with you, but I need you to be here in person”.  I apologized to her for wasting her time.  The following day (6/9) I got a text in the morning from her asking if I wanted to come in, and I told her that this didn’t seem like a possible deal, she again stated that the dealership would be willing to work with me, but I needed to be there.  Later that day I got curious, I started to wonder what this “we will work with you” was all about.  I had had such amazing car buying experiences with Honda, and I loved VW so much that I got excited and decided to drive the 20 miles to Fairfield and see what they had to offer. 

Upon arriving to the dealership, Briana welcomed me and showed me this amazing red manual Golf GTI.  We took it for a test drive.  Briana was very patient with me as I attempted to drive the manual (It had been nearly 17 years since I had driven one).  I loved the car, although I didn’t really see how I would be able to get into such an amazing car, but then I thought maybe a lease would do.  Briana asked me if I was interested and I said that I was, and she took my key for my Honda.  She disappeared for a few minutes and then came back with a piece of paper; the negotiation tools, and wrote down the value of the car and told me that  in order get me into the car, that she would need a little help and asked that I put down $11,000!!  I was very clear with my expectations when I initially reached out to the dealership:  No money down.  Just my trade in with low miles.  I wanted a stick.  That’s all.  I didn’t mind the color.  I didn’t mind the VW model.  A lease would be okay.

This is where things got really shitty.  Briana takes off and then returns with a different car to show me.  It was a used 2017 Golf TSI with 14500 miles that someone apparently had owned for 7 months  before me, according to the Car Fax.  It wasn’t really clear that Briana was showing me this car as a possible purchase, she just mentioned that she just needed to get gas in it, so she drove it to the gas station and I got to drive it on the way back.   It was not a stick, it was an automatic.  But I liked it.  I could make it work.  It wasn’t 100% what I was after, but I thought the numbers could work.

The sales manager then came in to negotiate.  I do not recall his name.  These are some of the things that happened that totally ruined the experience for me:  1) the manager told me that the price for the car was $22,000 but  that he was willing to make me a deal and drop it to $20,000.  2) They collected my information for my payoff on the Honda, but they didn’t tell me how much they had valued my car at and that they had calculated a negative $3000 equity on it, which they would roll into my new load – this was not discussed at ALL.  3) They asked me for a down payment, I then thought that I could squeeze out $500 out of my budget without restraining any other bills or responsibilities, and the manager mentioned that I most likely would not have to make a payment on the car for two or three months and to see how much I could come up with, so I agreed to put down $500 now, and in a month or so another $1000, 4) even though they had seen that I had perfect credit, during discussion I asked the manager what my loan rate would be and he said “I don’t know.  That’s a finance question”.   5) I told him that I had a pre-approval loan from my credit union, and the sales manager said “oh, I don’t know.  That’s a finance thing.”  6) When I asked him about getting into the lease and my credit, he said that I did have the credit to get into a lease, but why would I, that I should let someone else deal with the depreciation from buying a new car and just buy the used one, which brand-new he said was worth $30,000.  (I did some research, and I think the Golf Wolfsburg went for about $23,000 or so new last year.)   I agreed to buy the car anyway. 

I waited for maybe half an hour in the waiting area while the paperwork was being put together.  I was by then pretty excited about having a VW again.  Even though I wasn’t feeling good about my deal with the manager; I wasn’t going to let that ruin my excitement for the car and to help me fall in love with it I decided to look it up on the VW of  Fairfield dealership website and look at pictures.  I found the car posted online for $18,500, not $22,000.  So, when I went in to talk to the finance person, I asked him for the VIN numbers and I compared the it against that on my mobile and they were the same, so I confronted him about the real price of the car and the fake “deal” I had been offered by the sales manager from $22k down to $20k.  The financing manager informed me that on his database, he had the car indeed noted at $18,500 and he brought in the sales manager to clarify, I confronted him  and he apologized for the “confusion”, there was no confusion – it was clearly deception.  I also then found out that on top of the $1,500 down payment they wanted, that my loan was being upped by the $3000 negative equity that my Honda supposedly had.  It was then that I told the gentlemen that I would not move forward with the deal, that I was angry that I had been lied about two very important pieces of the deal, that I could not go forward with it because I didn’t need a  new car and they were totally under-valuing my Honda.  I asked to please cancel the sale and that I wanted to leave.  I clearly told them that they had damaged the trust. 

The Finance manager (Richard?), then apologized and offered to “make it better”.  He upped my Honda trade-in value so that only $600 would roll into my new loan.  He offered me five years of maintenance for free, of which because of the low mileage that I drive annually, he reduced the frequency of service to once a year.  He then offered me some “packages” at employee price – insurance for bumper to bumper and 2^nd I don’t even recall what it was for, but on my loan it totaled $4000 worth of added cost.  The finance manager was able to process my loan thru my credit union, and he even stated “If I had known earlier… “, I was thinking “I did tell your sale manager.  He wasn’t listening to me.  Dismissed this important piece of information.” 

I walked out of the dealership with a $25,000 load and a used automatic car.  Now, don’t get me  wrong, I love the Golf.  It’s a beautiful machine.  I love the way it drives.  I’ve always loved the way my VWs drove. They make me one with the road.  Totallly awesome.  The following day, I decided to take a look at my loan documents to understand how the car purchase got to be $25k, that’s when I saw the $4000 worth of extended warranties (on a car that still had some factory warranty to go, these extended warranties expire within six years or 60k miles, whichever comes first – the mileage I put on a car <which makes a lease perfect for me> is about 5000 a year and it would take a while before the factory warranty expired, so the extended overprized warranties were not needed.)   I went back to the dealership the next day, drove the 20 miles again and signed a form for the extended warranties to be cancelled and the $4000 refunded to my loan/bank.

I still can’t get over the several attempts to deceit me.  We live in an age where technology gives us so much information and so many purchasing options – I don’t know why the dealer thought that I would not research the car.  And furthermore, why even risk the negative feedback over a couple thousand dollars?  There are so many online platforms for anyone to get on social media and rant and review about a negative experience.  The dealer had the opportunity to wow me and send me off happy and would  have earned a client for life, because that’s what I  wanted – I wanted to be back with VW, be a proud owner of one and look forward to many years of happy driving.  Unfortunately, every time that I get into my car and I drive the automatic Golf, I think of the stressful situation at the dealership that day and really wish I had not gone there.  Although I have five years of free service on the Golf, I might just forgo those because I really don’t want to go back and deal with those people, dishonest people. Once the trust is gone, it’s extremely hard to re-establish.

Lastly, buying a car is a milestone in one’s life and a dealership has the opportunity to create a life lasting bond.  Why not capitalize on that?


 Thanks for giving me the opportunity to share my experience with you. 

Jose  

Some thoughts on Mother's Day 2018

Here are some thoughts that have crossed my mind this week about Mother’s Day. 
First of all, in Mexico we celebrate Mother’s Day on May 10th, regardless of what day it falls on.  So this year it was on a Thursday, and I totally forgot about it.  It wasn’t until my sister posted a picture on FB of her at my mother’s grave that I was reminded of the holiday.  And then here comes the following Sunday the 13th, which is the American Mother’s Day and everyone suddenly really really loves their mother, but on any other day they secretly hate her.  But this post isn't about negative feelings we sometimes have for our mothers.  Read on. 

I remember one time when my mother was cooking something in a giant pot and stirring it with a metal spoon and I don’t remember what I asked her for and she rejected my demand and so I called her a bitch; well, she did not hesitate and took the metal spoon and pressed it against my lips, and I never called her a bitch again.  I was seven or eight years old. 

I was also reminiscing this past week of the many times when my mother would take us out on a this "budget" field trips.  I miss those field trips.  My favorite ones were the trips to the Chapultepec Zoo in Mexico City, and she would bring tostadas, deli sliced ham and cream and we would find a spot in a grassy area and pic nic to our heart’s content. 

I also remember that my mother bought me my first pair of figure skates when I was 12 and I was learning how to figure skate in Sparks Nevada; she knew I really wanted a pair of professional skates and she saved up the $300 or so to buy me a pair.  My mother also bought me my first car, which was a VW Rabbit 1977, one that I had specifically had been eyeing for a long time – the car was not on sale, but I loved the design and the turquoise color and the sunroof, and I dreamed of it being mine and then one day my mother said “I don’t want you riding that bike after work in the dark and so we are getting you a car" – and so we walked to a nearby place and when we got there I squealed like a little girl with excitement and my dad told me to STFU because if they saw how badly I wanted it, the seller would raise the price.  I adored that car.  Still, one of my favorites, and when I traded it in for my very first “modern” car, it actually ached. 

I remember that my mother didn’t demand things from me, although she needed things.  I also remember what a dick I was to her a lot of times, for example, one time I told her that I was going to start eating yogurt in the mornings, and so when she went grocery shopping she bought some and brought it home for me and I remember how excited she was to tell me that she had brought me my yogurt, and then I picked it up and saw that it was regular yogurt (not the low fat, low carb that I wanted) and I threw a fit, and she simply said “Just leave it then.  I will eat it.”  But I knew I had hurt her feelings, and to this day, it makes me tear up a little bit.  I'm an ungrateful dick.

I remember one time when she asked me to buy her her smokes, and I told her that I would, but that I would not pull into the driveway to deliver them, but that I would throw them out the window into the yard of our house (on a main avenue) and she could pick them up from there.  I did just that; today I wish I had gotten out of the car and handed her her smokes, because she deserved much more than that. 

I remember how it was 1997 and I discovered the internet, and how it functioned on dialup and how I spent hours and hours online and totally ignored my mother for nearly a year, and I limited her access to the phoneline because I was using it for the internet and I would throw a fit if anyone called and I got disconnected. 

My ma died unexpectedly a year later, and I wish I had spent much more time with her.  Today, I see a lot of young people neglecting their relationships with their parents or people simply holding a grudge against their parents, and it breaks my heart because although I understand that sometimes our parents hurt us and we need to break away, sometime we get so fixated in hating and punishing that we overlook the opportunity to forgive, forget and love for what time we can. 

I miss my mother at random times throughout the year.  And I am thankful for the “other mothers” that I have in my life who care for me.  Thank you , because I did not just turn out to be such an awesome person on my own, I am a product of the contribution of many mothers. 

Anyway, that’s my long-ass mother’s day rant. 

Bye.

Days Like Today

I love those days when I get to stay in my pajamas all day.  Lazy days when even a trip to the grocery store is a challenge and so I rummage thru the cupboards for edibles, and shift around the bottles of mustard and ketchup in the fridge in hopes of finding a delicious gift from the divine – a shifting that’s taken place days before already.  These days of frequent contact with the cats’ eyes, for they are by my side for most of the day.  Days of gratitude in which I realize how blessed I am to be here, with the few old possessions and hoarded books and emotional tokens that surround me; my things – things that I’ve worked hard to accumulate, fruit of my labor, my ingenuity or creativity, things I have collected over time, love letters, cards, journals, calendars.  This is wonderful place; filled with love and cat hair and scratches all over the furniture and hardwood floors… but there’s love.  I love days when I can sit back and see the beauty in what it is.  Days when I allow myself to stop measuring us against irrelevant guidelines and I allow myself to see how great this is.  Days when I allow myself to celebrate this, celebrate us, celebrate me.  I love those days when I acknowledge that every single part of me is beautiful, every single part of me belongs to me, and that is alive!  Today was one of those days – and I am not only thankful for the goodness that surrounds me, but also for the chance to be here and to be me.  Thank you for today!

My cats, the internet and I.

We are becoming an isolated society.  Social media and technology are facilitating and encouraging isolation.  What makes me say this?  Well, first, my commute from Concord to San Francisco takes up two hours of my day, so technically by the time I am home it’s almost seven and I have my daily home tasks to tackle (feed cats, pet cats, clean the litter box, water plants, take out trash, etc.) – so it’s not like I get to go hang out and be social.  And when I do have time to be social, I am actually pretty freaking exhausted from the week running around and all I want to do is sit on my sofa with a cat on my lap and watch Netflix.  Yeah.  But, I love it.  Yes, I do – I LOVE IT!!!  I look forward to my down time.  Alone.  Me. Me. Me.  And I cheat myself into a faux sociability thru social media.  I post thoughts and commentaries and whatnot and a few of you participate in the dialogue, and this leaves me feeling “socialized”.  Check!!  Done.  However, this weekend I left the house and went to see “I, Tonya”.  It was great.  And you know what was great?  To be in the movie theater with other people.  I did not know anyone of the ladies in attendance (to whom I referred to as “white suburban women” in an earlier post), but it was nice to be part of a collective group with a common goal.  We were here, together – elbow to elbow,  to watch a movie about figure skating.   Movie theaters have reported a decrease in revenue due to Netflix and other access to entertainment online (sorry, I do not have a reference), and that troubles me because what if theaters were to close down due to decreased attendance?  Where would we get our people fix?  Church?  Gag.  Is there not something magical about going to a movie theater and being there, transfixed into a fictional story line outside of your existence?  Getting the chance to escape “you” for nearly two hours?  I wish movies were not so expensive.  I mean… a movie in the evening and a soda pop is $20 for sure.   That’s a lot for some folks.  In conclusion, I think it’s important that we keep an eye on where we are headed as a society and what heritage we will leave for the next.  One last point:  NY Times had a few articles about Trump and Oprah, but the key take away from these was how did Trump impact our society and what comes next?  Shit has changed.  Very rapidly.  But, besides the political and governmental – I am more worried about the social.  Amen.