Ricardo Reyna Jr.

There are a lot of things I want to do here. Though the time does not let me. I have been contemplating about this blog but I think it might help me later on in the long run. So, for now, I will continue to keep it.

I was asked what I was working on, and to be honest. I just said, “On stuff.”

I didn’t want to give my fire out. Maybe one day, I’ll look back at this period, even though I am in a financial rout, it is a period I am working on stuff that will hopefully help me later. It is actually fun, to have the time to write and do something that hopefully, many people will actually take the time to either buy or download illegally to read. There is another thing I have been wanting to do for a while and I began to lay the bricks of foundation for it. Though I don’t want write anything about it here yet.

Other than that for the first time this season I am feeling sick. I think the flu has gotten me. The flu shot I took in October has finally failed. It has kept me going till now. Though I am not that bad, only a little congested, I bought for the first time this year, some Nyquil and Dayquil.

I think my little niece got me sick. She was sick and stayed some days during the week. Little Kira Maria likes to be at my desk; we watch videos of Elmo and Super Why!; songs that, to be honest, have been already blazed into my memory. I can recite “Lickety Letters” in my sleep.

I’m waiting for the results from the universities I have applied to. I hope I’ll have some good news I’ve been looking for some type of menial job. Anything will do I guess. But it has to be temporary though. I don’t know if I’ll be around later on in the year.

Another parking permit arrived in the mail yesterday. This one will last me all the way through the summer. I hope, this will be my last parking permit I every buy to park at UNLV. Not in a bad way, but it’s time I leave. It’s just time.

I have ignored this blog for an obvious reason. The past few months has been busy with sorting applications for PhD programs, re-writing drafts of essays, tracking down professors for recommendation letters, all in all, very busy.

Is this blog a bother, yes, it could be. It’s almost like a love and hate relationship.

There was this writer’s blog I bumped into. The author’s last post there was complaining how much blogging has taken energy away from writing her novel. She indicated she would not ‘blog’ for the foreseeable future. In other words, it became a pain in the culo.

How true it is…

But I will try and get to this more often. This holiday season is filled with preoccupations about finding another gig to “bridge the gap”,  thinking about what new essay to write and more of all find some time to write that damn novel I’ve been wanting to do. Anyway, I think I’ll take it day by day.

A friend of mine sent this to me the other day.

To any Anglo United Statesian it is just another street sign.  Informing whoever wants the name of a stretch of asphalt in town.  It sounds foreign. Just like a Piña Colada, Taco Bellgrande or Tacos al Carbon.

To any Mexican or Chicano in slang Spanish, it means a sexist connotation.

For the record, it is defined as a ‘coarse sugary substance found in Mexico’.  Hence the sexist connotation. My point being, the perception of the sign can signify a multitude of images. Someone Anglo might see it as just a name of a street or might be reminded, if he was educated, about that sugary substance in Mexico. A Spanish and English–bi-lingual mind, it can mean a multitude of other signifiers.

Is it a responsibility to know what language means? Yes, it makes the dominating culture less adherent to other ethnic cultures. It also makes them ignorant.

Furthermore, it is proof of how Anglo United Statesians take a word that sounds and feels exotic, for example, Casa de Fuego and brand it for the market. Here in Vegas and other places, there are housing developments or streets with such Spanish or non-mainstream names: Spanish Hills, Valle Verde, Linda Lloma, Alta; El Capitan, Rancho or Panocha.

Is it faux embodiment of Mexicaness and Latinoness? An experience in being a part–but not really–of the Other. Patrons can safely live in Rancho Lindo or Mesa Grande without actually being where the Other lives. It is interesting how Spanish names readily appear on newer housing developments; socially segregated from the rest of the population specifically built for a higher class.  Living in Panocha sounds almost like Seville… almost.

On a side note, I used to have an acquaintance that lived on this street. This was long ago when I was an undergraduate and president of a Latina/o club on campus. She was a Chicana, who was embarrassed to tell me her address.  When she did, she laughed and said those Gabachos are stupid. This was many years ago.  So I was shocked that the street was still there.

I always thought someday, some smart Latina/o working in the county might inform some higher-up what this name means in the Mexican culture.

I guess I was wrong.

I had lunch with a good friend today and we had  sushi. For some reason, I always feel lazy and not wanting to do anything afterward. Maybe it might have been the amount I ate since it’s all you can eat. The other time I didn’t have a lot and I still felt like falling asleep afterward. I have to figure out some balance or maybe just not plan to do anything next time I have sushi.

We were there a while, so I left a reasonable good tip. I remember one time a friend of mine who was a server would always add a little more in tip since we would take a significant amount of time at the table when we went to dinner or lunch.

“It pisses us off when people hog up tables and don’t leave a reasonable tip,”she told me one time.

Maybe they’ll remember me next time I am there. Anyway, I love that place and plan to go back some more. I wanted to write some more but I think this is sufficient for today.

PS3 here I come.

The Blue Moons Edmundo ordered tasted like shit.
“Why does this taste like shit?” I asked.
“Dude, it’s Edmundo’s Blue Moon. Just drink it foo’.”
“What did you put in them?” I asked.
Edmundo smirked, “Dude, don’t worry, just enjoy foo’.”

We just came from a viewing. Our good friend had recently passed away. It was Edmundo, Luis and I. sitting at a table at PT’s, the one close to the Vegas airport. As we were lamenting our late friend, the UNLV football game streamed on the monitors around us; UNLV was, as usual, getting their collective asses handed over to them.  I took another swig of the tainted brew.

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On Friday I finally took the GRE over again. My emotions after the test were superseded by death of a good friend of mine. He passed away while I was busy within the confines of the test center. The text with the news did not get to me until I was in my vehicle. Vexed with thoughts of how I could have improved the score a little more: I was pissed and perplexed. How a little more effort could of have and a little more might of have; these were the thoughts that fomented in my conscious after taking the five hour test.

I turned my Iphone as I got into my truck and immediately I got a series of texts from people. One was from a buddy of mine, Junior, asking me to call him afterward. One was a notification of a voice mail. The text with Paul’s passing was the last one.

I text Ivet back immediately. While driving away from the test center she text back with the information.  Gone were the vexing thoughts of GRE.

My good friend was around my age. I have known him since I first arrived here in Las Vegas. I knew his family. I remembered the times we all hung out after work, all the times we all shared a laugh or two. The dude was one of the funniest people I have known. Get him and his two brothers together and it was always a laugh riot.

Wanting more information or maybe the comfort of old friends, I drove to the Latin Chamber of Commerce where we had once worked together. We all shared a good laugh recounting old memories. Though still it was odd to mention he was gone.

Ivet called me while driving home. We talked about the passing though our focus was more about the problems we all face in our lives. We recounted our own problems to one another: her new job and the stress it placed on her life, me about getting into a PhD program. At the end we both agreed it was really not worth to stress about it. Being positive, healthy and alive is more worth the effort than having lounging around with hypertension or waking up in the middle of the night with panic attacks.

“It’s not worth it,” said Ivet.

Yeah, it’s really not worth it.  I wholeheartedly have to agree with her.

On my Iphone I have this app in front of me, an app that a student of mine recommended. It is a flash card program that I am at this moment, trying to avoid. For the past two months, I have been living much of my hours studying for the GRE. I singed up for that Kaplan Test Prep course, which in all, was a life-saver. I hope I can make it all worth the trouble and expense.

Now, it is upon me. This week… as of now I really do not care how I do, as I glance down at the word “Pejorative” on my phone. I have no idea, I know it has bad connotations, in fact, it is ‘having bad connotations.’.

I’m having pejorative thoughts about this process. I quit my part-time gig I had to concentrate on the Kaplan course (which I should soon write about), my life has been out-of-whack and I just realized how far I have been away from blogging. I hope I can get back on track soon hopefully after this week.

I was feeling sick to my stomach late Friday afternoon. My Mac Pro laptop was not connecting to the computer in the room at the university.  The connections were all wrong. As I bemoaned the PC world, I remembered I put everything I had for my presentation for the Latina/o Youth Leadership Conference into my external drive. That saved my ass because half of my presentation was on that thing. Good idea to bring it with me.

On the Friday before, while I was busy working on my essay, my colleague, Ivet Santiago called me. It was then I got texts from several girls pleading me to accept their request to be a late presenter. At first as I was talking with Ivet, I was going to nicely turn down her request. My reason were preparation, time and of course, no material. That’s when I got a text from Gina Cortez. Damn, I thought.

I was then invited to lunch where the girls cornered me and at the end, amongst pieces of sushi, I couldn’t say no to Gina, a kid I’ve known for like ten years. And who else was going to fill up some time for them. Besides, these girls have seen me act and do those monologues when I was still performing. That was roughly around six or even seven years ago.  So, I agreed.

Since I couldn’t say no to Gina, I agreed to do a reading, since I could never begin to plan a full one-man show.  That was Friday, June 17th. I didn’t get to planning it till Tuesday, the 21^st.

Did I record it on video? No. Of course not. It was rough. Though I think one of the kids did. It was a rocky. I relied too much on the text.  Usually it happens when I don’t have enough rehearsal. Though I did a new one I wrote on Wednesday, in hindsight, I shouldn’t have. But I needed one to fill up some time.

Truth is, I lost several really important monologues. I can’t find the files.  There was one of this really racist white old man I wrote. Though the topic was a little too much for that day, I wouldn’t mind bringing it back again. That is, if I can find it.  It’s been like seven years since I have thought about doing this kind of thing.

People I guess liked it. I had some students come up to me and thank me. Several of the student facilitators told me it was good. One even wanted me to come back. Maybe. I don’t know yet.

La mera neta es… I was actually thinking on Thursday night, the 16^th about doing another one-man. There is this—burning inside of me. It’s still there. I popped up the main dude who has inspired me all of these years, Eric Bogosian, on Netflix. Love that dude’s work. That even inspired me more. All in all, I think I was just in the moment.

The moment didn’t last. The next morning I went straight into GRE, essay and PhD application mode. Then, well, I get that call later in the day.

I wouldn’t have done it if Gina didn’t asked. But in a way, I’m glad she did.

Yeah, I have been totally ignoring my blog. First the PhD applications and now a reading tomorrow. Now that everything is kinda ending. Hopefully I will have time here… hopefully…

…I can’t remember.

The reason I bring this up is because my sister wants me to to assist in the baptism of my little niece.  In order to be in it, I have to become a church going guy. Now, I’m not that much of church going guy.  But I guess I can sacrifice a Sunday morning to hear what is going on in the world of Catholics.

I am trying to remember when was the last time I was in one.  I was in a funeral home a month ago or so. They were mumbling Catholic stuff in Spanish, while the congregation repeated things that were foreign to my ear. Yeah, and it was in Spanish too. But it didn’t count as ‘church’.

Well, the good news is that I have to just register at a Church. Even better news after a good conversation with my buddy is that some nice women partake of this weekly ritual I have forgotten called church.  My other sister, who will contribute time on Sundays, since she will also baptize the baby, text me that all I need is a bible thumping woman in my life.

I don’t think I can deal with that.  My Sundays are filled with gym time, reading and getting ready for work.  No time to go say ‘wassup’ to Jesus.

Anyway, if I do step into Church this Sunday and suddenly burst into flames. Like this dude. I have decided to leave my valuables to my friends. Think of this as a quick will or testament:

I leave my collection of books and comics to anyone who wants it. You can contact my sister if you want my library.

I leave my PS3 to anyone who wants it (and all my games and one controller). Contact my sister if you want it.

I leave all of my FC Barcelona kits to my good friend Junior. Yeah, including the Messi and David Villa.

I leave my Mexico Chicharito jersey to my good friend Edgar.

I leave my chones to Goodwill. Contact my sister if you want them… j/k.

I leave my 2010 Mac Pro laptop to Gina Cortes. Gina, contact my sister for more info. Thanks.

I leave my collection of tequila bottles to any lush who want them. Contact my sister.

I leave my 2009 Mac Pro desktop to a lucky UNLV film student. Contact my sister if you want it.

I leave my collection of Playboys from the early 80′s to the middle 2000′s to any pervert who wants such vintage smut. No sticky pages. Contact my sister if you want them.

I leave my vast collection of un-produced scripts to anybody who wants them. Please give some of the cash made to my family if they, for some reason, get produced and make a dime. Please contact my sister if you want them.

I leave my burned charred body to science and to research the phenomena of spontaneous combustion. I find it fascinating. My sister will contact them.

I can’t think of anything else.  But those are pretty much the stuff I can leave to my friends.  Anyway, I will write about my experience in the house of the Lord if I, by mere chance, live to write.