Don’t you just immediately want to question the nerd quotient of anyone who uses the phrase “Hi there?” I do, so let me start over.
But then if I write that, you’re going to think I’m not interested in you being interested in me. That’s not the case either. Let’s try this again…
Oh my God, what are you doing here?
But since I can’t convey tone as well as I’d like, you might misinterpret that as a frantic question from someone trying to get you the hell away from booking a night at the Overlook Hotel.
I guess that I shouldn’t do what I ALWAYS do which is overthink things and just welcome you to this little blog I like to refer to as the content host of: “stream of consciousness that only equally insane people will enjoy dabbling in” -OR- “I just vomited a little in my mouth and I have to write about it” -OR- “let me tell you what the theory of the world ought to be!”
But before I go on, let me go back.
Why am I Chilean? I was born here in 1977 in a little town (back then) called La Serena. Google it. Apparently it boasts quite the beach and nightlife scene during the summer months (Jan-Mar). I
can’t say I recall much about my early life there. I left La Serena when I was less than two years old, moved to Santiago for an insignificant amount of time and moseyed on over to the larger-than-life USofA, where the gringa me was born. I spent 29 years of my amazing little life in the San Francisco Bay Area, and let me tell you, aint no place quite like it. Granted, I’m the sucker for New York City and it’s grimey city vibe, but give me San Francisco any day because that’s where I call home.
The San Francisco almost-born-and-definitely-bred part of me is exactly as you imagine it. I’m a dog lover and nature admirer. I hate fast food and prefer seafood (especially Dungeness crab) or any type of ethnic food (I do also prefer home cooked meal…organic and I don’t eat read meat or pork). I can’t say I’m the most technologically inclined person out there but do I think it makes life better (and easier)? Um, yeah. I’m a wine lover. I’m not the best dressed as our east coast counterparts and yeah, sometimes I’m a snob about being from San Francisco. Also L.A. is great and all, but not for me.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, this blog. I started this blog a million and a half hours ago and though I’ve abandoned and even re-branded it a couple of times, I always come back around to my core. My reasons for coming around this time have more to do with the legacy I hope my daughter will one day feel proud to have stumbled upon. I enjoy writing. I really do. I mostly do so for myself but this thought kept recurring during my period of abandonment: “How do you want your daughter to know you?” I don’t mean REMEMBER me, but actually KNOW me?
I’ll make sure to be a completely different mother to her than mine was to me. I’m not saying that she was a bad mother while I was growing up, but let’s just say that to this day she still hasn’t had the birds and bees talk with me. Also, when I got my first period I thought I was dying because no one warned me that THAT’S what women’s bodies DO. Oh, and if it weren’t for a good friend of my mother’s back in the day who must have taken pity on me, I might still be going around bra-less despite having hit puberty.
So for what seems like the billionth time (exaggerating! … only second time) I’m back. I’m back for you, but I’m also back for her. The way I want my daughter to know me is through my own words. I hope that one day she’ll have these silly little words in her hand and be able to actually see me as a PERSON. I’ll forever be her MOTHER but wow… imagine having the insight to your parents as people outside of these crazy roles we all fall into? That’s the best gift I can think of ever giving her because it’s as real as it gets.