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August 2015

Stop Bullying My Parents By Calling Me An Anchor Baby

I never touch on politics because, frankly, I’m never confident enough to think I have all my facts straight. Once I hit college, all political talk just sounded like contradictions. Everyone sounded the same or maybe I just couldn’t grasp the lingo faster than the candidates could flip flop what they just said on live news. Years would pass and every candidate would promise their country better lives. While this was going on in the background, I saw my father and my brother become citizens. My eyes still tear up when I see my father’s smile in the picture they took of him and my brother passing their citizenship tests. My father looked so proud and so happy. I am not one to ever discredit anyone, especially my family members but I know the reason he had the opportunity to become a resident in the first place was because of me.

My parents came to the UNITED States illegally many years ago from Ecuador but before they did, they had my brother. Both my mom and dad wanted to come to the U.S. to better, not only their lives, but for my brother as well. Then in 1987, I was born. I was born during a huge blizzard at the end of January. Except for the time I visited Ecuador when I was a year old, I had never left the country. The U.S. was all I knew. I grew up with A.C., I grew up with Barbies, I got roller blades for my birthday, my dad got me a guitar, I went to private school all the way until I graduated High School. I danced to Madonna, I would watched Saturday morning cartoons. Hell, I learned English faster than I did Spanish and yet, today, August 26, 2015, there are people out there who don’t believe I should be a citizen.

Some people say I shouldn’t be a citizen, they refer to me as something else instead. They call me an Anchor Baby. What’s worse is that these people are proud to call me that. To get my point across on how much that word offends me, is simple. Go to an all black community and shout, “YOU’RE A NIGGER.” THAT’S how offensive I find that word. I never even took offense when someone called me a “spic.” Maybe it was my ignorance to think n* wasn’t that bad, maybe I became numb to it but the moment I heard Anchor Baby, it was as if someone punched me in my solar plexus – knocked the air right out of me. I get it now. NOW, I get it. I understand how the black community can feel a slap to the face whenever they hear that word being said to them. It’s not right and it will never be okay.

Being an American is all I’ve ever known. Yes, I do realize the U.S. does has its own issues, it’s not perfect, it doesn’t have any shame for breeding Miley Cyrus, the world knows we are fucked up but I know enough to say I am proud to have been born here, gone to school here, be in total debt for going to college here. I’m lucky. I’m luckier than my brother because I didn’t have to jump through extra hoops to go to school. My parents loved us. Both my parents worked their hands to the bone. They both worked in factories and the both moved up. Some people may think they didn’t because my mom is a housekeeper while my dad does maintenance and security but these people didn’t see how my parents were treated at those shitty places. My mom worked for as long as I could remember and always, made us dinner every night. She had a cold? Didn’t matter, she cooked. She had a migraine? Didn’t matter, she cooked. My father worked hard and still had time and patience to take us to the beach, lakes, Florida, parks, anywhere you can think of because he loved us.

My parents were honest people who, indeed, gave my brother and I everything they didn’t have. We knew our parents worked for us so much so we wouldn’t tell them the expensive toys we wanted as children because we knew they would work extra hours or skip a meal at work so they could save money just so we could have the expensive toys that I, without a doubt, would break within a week. My parents wanted to become citizens for years and the one time they thought they could trust someone to do it for them, the scumbag ended up stealing their money. I became their safest option. Once I became 21, the paperwork began and before I knew it, both became residents. My father studied English for years, took night classes, and studied for the citizenship test. I had no doubt in my mind, he was going to pass. The Monday came for him to take it and he passed. They gave him a little American flag and his document. I don’t think I have ever been prouder of my dad. My mother is due to take her test soon.

My parents worked hard their whole lives, gave my brother and I the best they could with what little they had so how does your parents differ from mine? People are so quick to jump on immigration and shout to us, “Go back to where you came from!” and these are the same people who went to school and read the same history books I did. Excuse me, wasn’t it an immigrant to came here and said, “This is all ours now. Give me your land and your resources and get to stepping!” I don’t hear your ancestors complaining because if it wasn’t for THAT thieving immigrant, NONE OF YOU would be here. The difference between that immigrant and my parents: They didn’t steal, they earned what they had. Before you argue, “Immigrants are stealing jobs.” Please, dunk your hand in your own filthy toilet. Clean your own kitchen. Hire a horny 16 year old kid to take care of your baby. Or better yet, spend hundreds of dollars for “legal” citizens to do these tasks. Immigrants do the jobs that no one wants to. I’m proud of what my parents went through and where they are now because they are honest, hardworking Ecuadorians who taught my brother and I to work hard, be honest, and be good people.

What makes you better than me? What makes me a citizen? What makes your parents hard work different than my parent’s hard work?

Stop bullying my parents. Stop shaming them for being born in another country and wanting them to  give their kids better lives. STOP SHAMING ME FOR HELPING THE ONLY TWO CANDIDATES WHO PROMISED TO GIVE ME A BETTER LIFE AND ACTUALLY DELIVERED!!

Happy International Dog Day!

In celebration of National Dog Day, I will display photos of my pups. You’re lucky you’re not following me on Instagram or Facebook b/c this is pretty much all I post 🙂 So enjoy!

P.S. I am now freelancing (go me! yay!)

Here is my article for National Dog Day !


Whiskey is my first dog. He is about 9 years old. He was maybe 7 here 🙂
Left is Jack Daniels and Whiskey to the right. Jack passed away at 6 about 3 months ago…
Jack, I believe at 4/5 months
Whiskey when he was the only “child.” He was the only dog in the household until Jack came.
Brothers ❤


Seriously, how can you think he’s NOT cute?


Whiskey last year. My old man.


Jack and my brother. Jack was about, 4 years old here.
He was BIG.
Suddenly, a wild Potato appeared.
She was a shy little booger.
She was also a lazy booger.
But no matter what, she always found comfort in her dad.
Jack and Whiskey meeting their first little sister, Potato.




Women Period Shaming – Shame On You!

A few days ago I stumbled upon an article on the Huffington Post . Kiran Gandhi had trained for a year to race in a marathon that I believe was to raise awareness to breast cancer. I started this post over a week ago and I am glad I held back from posting so I could do some research on this. In the beginning, I wanted to rant and say that no one cares that a girl has her period but then I realized, I was being naive.

Courtesy of
Courtesy of

Kiran wanted to raise awareness on period shaming and let people know that there are other women in less fortunate countries that do not have easy access to tampons and pads. I do feel like her doing this took away from the actual breast cancer awareness she was running in the first place but in a ironic way, she was genius for what she did.

In my opinion, this generation has gotten over the period scandal and stopped seeing it as dirty. I was wrong. My favorite YouTuber Jenna Marbles refuses to make a video poking fun at periods b/c she thinks it’s disgusting. I also read comments about the Kiran article and was shocked to discover women shaming her. They were shaming her because she had the nerve to run and show her period. Are you fucking kidding me? This isn’t Carrie! I can understand men acting obliviously hypocritical: I don’t trust anything that bleeds for 7 days… but I’ll fuck as many as possible & love the child that comes out of there.

Courtesy of
Courtesy of

But for women to dare shame any other woman for her period? THAT is disgusting and you are what’s wrong with the world.

I couldn’t believe how many women were commenting, “Ew! Period blood is disgusting! No one needs to know she’s on the rag! She is so gross for bleeding!” I don’t think they realized Kiran did that to POINT THESE WOMEN OUT FOR THEIR PERIOD SHAMING! So when a 12 year old girl gets her period in class for the first time, it’s okay to shame her and say, “Ew! Period blood is disgusting! No one needs to know she’s on the rag! She is so gross for bleeding!” Her point literally went over what she was trying to prove and what’s worse, when I tried explaining it to them, THEY STILL DIDN’T GET IT. Grow up, people. It’s 2015, we shouldn’t shame other women for going through a natural cycle. We have crazy women carrying out a pee stick to prove to their baby daddies that they are pregnant but bleeding every month is gross?  GTFO.

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Courtesy of


My dad always bought the correct pads for me when I was younger. I asked my mom one time and she got me the wrong ones. My dad was on point. Shout out to my dad, you da real MVP, Pops!

Don’t be stressed the fuck out

We are moving again and with that comes lots of stress. I’m trying to organize everything with time to spare so I don’t lose my mind. Whenever I do get stressed out and feel like I’m ready to punch something or someone, I try my best to do something else to release that frustration.

Despite my physical appearance, I actually find going to the gym very relaxing. I even went to today to relieve some tension and stress after not going for over a month. I was reluctant at first to cough up the money but after they allowed me to use their gym I had a change a heart. All I needed was less than 5 minutes of cardio to realize this does make me instantly happy and because I focus on my breathing, I don’t think of anything else. Of course, the perfect song playlist also bumps up the energy.

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Speaking of music, sing your little heart out! I don’t know about you but I may not have the best sounding voice but I can belt it out – when I’m alone… and off key. I like to turn off my phone or leave it somewhere on vibrate and just sing along to whatever good song I hear. I’ll YouTube the shit out of lyrics, although you could get lost in YouTube and then end up watching a cyst removal and completely spend the rest of the afternoon being grossed out and intrigued. I made this weird, didn’t I? Anyway, honestly, I think any type of music will help you relieve stress, however, pick the wrong tune and you’ll be stuck overthinking the situation you’re trying to run away from.

Physical activities that do not involve a gym. I have always been attracted to rough sports. I did TaeKwonDo, Muay Thai, and paintball. Trust me, it will keep your distracted from whatever it is you need a break from. You have to concentrate in everything you are doing. In paintball, if you’re  not focused, you are going to get shot and that shit HURTS. Wanna know what happens when you’re not concentrating in martial arts?

Thinking of something else and not your target in paintball?
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Shit is no joke. I have a high tolerance for physical pain and I got an intense adrenaline rush when I was running from point A to point B with my paintball gun. The only difference between martial arts and paintball is in martial arts, you are focusing on your form and how you are performing with kicks, punches, kneeing etc. In paintball, you’re on a team so the pressure is on. You can’t be thinking about what happened prior while you are on the field. The outcome are both the same, though: You get a hit in & it feels amazing.

As I write this, I am also comfortable saying writing is also an outlet. Fellow bloggers, I hope you know what I mean. I can always depend on writing to take out my frustration. I can sit down and start writing away, delete what I didn’t like, not worried about who will see it, etc. It’s like turning on a faucet, the words and the emotions just flow out and like the sound of running water, it’s relaxing for me. I’ve been writing on blogs, my college newspaper,  HelloGiggles, journals since I was 11 years old and it’s always been something I’ve been committed to. Just because I don’t update as often as I should, doesn’t mean I’m not writing in general. It’s something that comes natural to me whether it’s feeling my fingertips push on a keyboard or feeling a pen in between my fingers, it’s a calming sensation.

Finding something that calms you is hard, especially if you don’t have hobbies but don’t let that discourage you. Try different things and activities to figure out what eases your nerves. Walking a dog could help, too. I like to walk Potato and leave my phone behind so I just enjoy the outside noise and watch Potato lose her mind. Whatever floats your boat but I would highly recommend the activities I have done and still do 🙂 😀

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