When you freelance all your life, it is bound to have some ups and downs. My birthday month was definitely an up. I dedicated all my time and energy on a project (TRF) that when it ended, it felt like going down on the Dragster (Cedar Pointe) reaching top speed and in an instant, it is all gone. Just like that, I was at he bottom again. If it wasn’t for friends and family, I would be on the streets right now. Luckily, I have plenty of support, but also, plenty of debt.
More than 20 days have passed since TRF and it feels like it has been years. I felt like I needed to escape from Tijuana or myself. With no money, my escape was to shave my head. I actually just wanted a regular haircut, but my friend that cuts my hair was on vacation. I told a couple of male friends to just shave my head, but they did a horrible job that I ended up doing it myself. I didn’t do a good job myself since I looked like a crackhead mental hospital runaway. Luckily, I found the kindness of a stranger that bought me a beer and help me finish the job (weird huh?)
I already posted about Britney in this blog before. I was there after she shaved her head and talked in weird accents. In the eyes of the world, she acted insane. I don’t think there’s nothing insane about wanting a change in your life and opting on shaving your head. Of course, its way more of a shock when a female does it, but the relief of getting rid of dead weight feels magnificent. In other words, I feel like I comprehend Crazy Spears (to a certain degree).
June is now an uphill battle almost conquered. I’ve been working almost everyday of the month and remain at $0, which is fine since the desire to go out and socialize is null. Instead, I’ve got the World Cup fever, making me miss my first official writing job. I started writing about soccer again, just for pleasure. And luckily, a section that I didn’t know existed in the San Diego Reader picked up my writings.
The last World Cup I lived it in Los Angeles when I lived in Mariner’s Village. Mexico played the opening game and I woke up at 6 am to drink a six-pack of Heineken and watch the game, no one in the area cared about the World Cup except the European paparazzi. Of course I saw many soccer players and took their pictures. In fact, the first picture that I took of someone famous was in January 2001 when my brother recognized Ronaldinho in the airport of Rio de Janeiro. He quickly ran to him and told me to grab a camera. We only had a disposable camera and that did the trick.
(December 13, 2011)I also saw El Pibe Valderrama walking around Tom Bradley terminal, seemingly lost. I decided not to bother him.