22 Weeks, 4 Days.
My mom showed up in my dreams.
It wasn’t specifically just her. She was barely a part of it from the little I remember. And she was with my dad…
There were two girls in that dream. One was Asian American. The other one was white and not my type but friendly (she was on the plus size). I like the Asian girl but was getting along with the other one better.
Not sure why. But we were in my apartment, which isn’t really my current apartment. And my mom lived with me. And my dad did as well.
And for some reason. The Asian girl opened my parents’ bedroom while they slept thinking it was the bathroom.
And it was an awkward moment where I was like “uhhh this is NAME.”
I don’t remember her name.
It was weird.
After that, we went to the apartment building right in front. Which was way bigger and nicer and you could see my apartment from there. This is a recurring dream. That I go into this other building that is awesome and a way better place than my apartment. Except it’s tilted. And you can fall down easily. And there are cracks where there shouldn’t be cracks. The stairwell is broken and to access the upper floors you have to do a crazy jump. Shit like that.
I have similar dreams of semi-abandoned buildings where I want to live but there are dangers to it.
That might be my desire to move since forever ago.
I also dream about having a dog. I want a puppy.
As I said, mom was barely part of the dream. But when I woke up is when it hit me that she was in my dream. Barely. But it was just normal. Mom and dad live together.
Yeah.
That was forever ago.
I am still avoiding work as much as I can. Work has been mostly slow.
My funds are getting low. That means that I will be WORKING for real soon cuz I hate being poor.
And work is not going to be slow soon. July seems busy. June was fucking slow as fuck when I thought it was going to be the opposite.
Tamara.
The Tamara Vallarta.
Is here in Tijuana.
She is here to go to all these film festival thingys and getting interviewed on her role with the Netflix series Tijuana. It’s cute. She’s cute. Nothing like her character on the show which has surprised people.
Two other guys from the series are here. Eden Villavicencio, who played a minor role on the series, and Luz Adriana, who was one of the writers.
It’s her first time in Tijuana (Luz’s).
She was one of the writers on the series called… TIJUANA.
I like her. She’s super nice and I can tell creative.
But come on!!!!
That was my main issue with the whole Tijuana show… it lacked Tijuanenses… And Tijuana flavor.
The Q&A and the showing of the first episode went great. Not a lot of people were there, but the people that were there were fans of the series. And they want the next season.
Which most likely… won’t come.
There’s like a very slight chance of them doing season 2 and that’s if A LOT OF FUCKING PEOPLE ask for it. That means a lot of people have to watch the show on Netflix… then tweet about it and talk about it and recommend it.
I don’t really see that happening. I hope it does. I could write the series.
I already told Tamara some ideas…
Today I do some work.
Some photo things.
And I’ll be a delivery boy.
A picture I shot a few weeks ago is the cover. It is probably one of my favorite covers ever… Which is rare.
I’m excited to see it. I hope it printed nicely.
The picture I really wanted for the cover is this one.
Because it’s about the secret museum!
But the text on top would clash with the headline, so I knew this was not going to be the cover. Instead, they used this one:
Which I also love.
The picture wasn’t even planned. I was taking pictures for the story… and the very last moment it occurred to me. To tell this girl… her name was Elizabeth? Clarissa?
Ahh, I just checked. Shannon.
Yeah. I told her, who was wearing a lovely red dress, to pose for the picture real quick. Right after shooting a few frames, I knew it. This is the picture we needed for the cover. And good, because they wanted to replace the cover with something that wasn’t the feature story.
Dark pictures or weird lightning are usually not my strength. I should work more on that.
Next few issues won’t be my pictures. Then I have a bunch of work in July so it will be my pictures.
Oh, work.
I do not want to do you.
Coffee, workout, shower, breakfast, and across the border I go.
Shower…
I broke my mom’s mirror yesterday…
It felt horrible. Because I knew it was going to fall. And I still let it happen.
It was a lovely mirror. It looked perfect for cocaine. My mom never did or saw cocaine. I remember I showed her a baggie once. I don’t do cocaine. I don’t like cocaine. My ex-girlfriend asked me to get some for her so she can give it to a dude she was dating.
I don’t know why I did her that stupid favor. But I overcharged them for it anyway (I kept some for myself just in case). The dude she was dating was a total bro douche from San Diego. She later told me it was gross.
Anyway…
That fucking nice mirror broke.
I left in the shower for shaving purposes. But it fell from the ledge before. I caught it with my fucking foot. So my left foot was bruised for a while. After that, I made sure to be careful with the mirror.
I was careful with it. Placed the big bottle of soap for it not to fall down. And after I was done shaving I thought to myself “put that fucking mirror down.” But I thought the bottle of soap was heavy enough for it not to fall.
I left the shower. And suddenly.
PHHH CRASHHH!!!!!!
Broken mirror.
In way too many pieces.
It felt bad yo.
Mom’s stuff.
The little I have left besides the memory and what everyone says “she lives here” as they point to my heart.
Yeah yeah.
I like little material stuff that reminds me of her.
And I know at some point it all will also be gone.
Except for my necklace.
If I lose that… that’s when I’m really going to hurt even more…
Shower.
There’s no fucking water in my apartment.
Thank you, Tijuana.
My brother just texted me pictures of my dad. I’m not really sure what to reply or if to reply. It feels like such a separate life. I’m just like… oh. Ok.
Oh. And my old roommate’s band finally released an official song.
That shit is amazeballs.
Matingas 