maria

I couldn’t believe it was Friday this morning

the man who owes money to sky

They don’t call every day. They don’t even… no, that’s wrong, they do call at least once a week. I almost always answer. It’s the people from the collection agency that works for Sky. They are looking for Nivardo De La Torre Osuna (he is a Mason, and I also have his home phone number, but I am not calling him, nor am I giving this data to the collection agency. They could find it all out on their own, if they had the wherewithal to Google him, which I think is too much to ask, or they would not be looking for him at my home) who owes them around 3000 pesos. Every time they call, I tell them I don’t know who this man is and this is my telephone, but, of course, they don’t believe me, because they are used to people saying that they’ve never heard of this or that other person. So they’ll keep calling. The thing is, this is Sky. I’ve had Sky before, I know how it works, you sign a contract for a year, maybe a year and a half, you let them take the money from your debit card, and then they pretty much own you. Until you cancel your debit card, really, at which point they suspend service and that is the end of that. Isn’t it? I mean, how did this man get to owe them 3000 pesos? and how effective are these people at collecting if they’ve been calling for the past six months and that is, obviously, all they’ve done? I mean, clearly, if they were any good, they would have already found him and, presumably, shot him dead in the middle of the street. Or just taken his telly away. And his sky console.

 

(BTW, what are the Masons? Will says alternately, that they’re a secret society bound by secret rituals and weirdy handshakes, who all help each other and (which people forget – he says) others; they’re a huge charity watsit and his father hated it in a weird way because he would give money for charity and then when he worked with the rotary, he would inspire people to give to charity by doing things and he felt this was more beneficial than what he did, previously with the Masons; or on other occasions, will will say – that doesn’t look weird at all – that they’re some sort of secret cult; or, then, there are the moments when he says they’re a religion. So. Which is it? What the hell are they? I could Google it, but, obviously, I am now working for a collection agency, therefore, I can’t).

at the pub

We went to the Shakespeare’s Pub & Grille last Sunday to watch a game. Unfortunately, after about a day on the road to get there, the game’s transmission had been rescheduled. It doesn’t usually take us that long to get there, but will had to renew his visa waiver and the queue both on foot and by car was eternal. Still, by February my visa will run out and godonlyknows if I will get another one, so we enjoy these opportunities for what they are. This pub would be fantastic as a local if we could call it a local. It’s hardly “local” if it is that far, is it? So this friday we are going to be going to a couple of pubs with some twitter people, trying to pick the closest thing to one here in Tijuana. We’ll see how it goes.

dia de los muertos

the stars around us

I like doors. I like taking photographs of doors. When people hear about this, invariably they ask me if I’ve seen the door to this church, some church I don’t know about, because that is the thing with churches, they all have a name, and people name them like you would immediately know where this place is located, like it’s obvious “the church of the virgin of the holy memory”, they’ll say, and I’ll go “right, right, yeah, that door is beautiful” and they’ll agree and then it’s time to move on to a new conversation, because I already know they won’t understand what I am doing and I’ve no interest in discussing my work with them.

It’s not that it’s better or worse, really, it’s that I don’t have your sense of aesthetics and you don’t have mine. So you can take photos of the door to the church of the holy heart of redemption and hang them on your walls. Because I probably won’t.

this piece of crap wakes me up every morning

It’s one of those VW vans-type things, and the engine is very sputter-y.

behind the city jail

We went out for a walk last Saturday, because rarely do we get a Saturday to ourselves, and I don’t dare navigate some areas of Tijuana on my own, especially on foot. And of course, taking photographs from the truck is impractical, you either have to find a place to park it so you can get out of traffic and shoot – by which time the moment might be gone, people alerted to your presence (weird how much people change when they realise you have a camera pointed at them) – or you have to try to shoot from inside the truck, which is fucking mental. So we walked down to the Diaz Ordaz Boulevard, across it and then towards the city jail.

I’m trying to find some sort of strength in me. Being who I am, I am constantly dealing with feelings of inadequacy and failure. It’s harder when I find myself thinking about my dad because he expects so much of me and deep inside me I still want to please. Is that ever over? Being the first child, and a girl, to boot, sucks. I’m sure my sister has many reasons why being her sucks more than being me, but I don’t know them.

Maybe some of you are wondering how the thing with my sister went or if it’s going anywhere? It’s not. She’s still not talking to me and I’ve still no idea as to her reasons. I know that she was recently seen out in the supermarket with her kids in heels and shorts that hid little. I found out because my hometown, large as it is, still has a very small town mentality and this is just not done. So people tell me. And I don’t know what to say. This is how she lives. She’s a pilates instructor. Maybe it is part of a very clever marketing plan. Like my ass? ask me how I do it!

I don’t know. I know that there have been moments when we’ve been semi-honest with each other and confessed feeling that the other one was more something or other than the other one. Obviously we’re both right, and we’re both wrong, but I can see it. I don’t think she can.

everything looks like it exists in complete isolation from the universe here

Efrain

Jack Bauer never had to deal with a leaky faucet

The kids went back home last night. It’s a little sad for me because I sort of had the idea that they would be here until at least Saturday night. It takes very little for me to get used to them being around all the time, and so I miss them a lot.

That said, having some space back is always nice.

We went out for a walk today, down to the boulevard and across, towards the “5 y 10”, known in this home as the “five and dime”. The reason they call it “cinco y diez” is because there used to be a huge five and dime store there. It’s been gone for years, but those things stick. We swung by the city jail and by a swap meet that seemed half dead. This is one of the morning’s photos.