It’s a shitty day.
It’s shitty outside. It’s shitty inside.
It was a shitty morning. It was a shitty night.
I turn three years old today.
It’s my niece’s fifth birthday. She’s a bundle of joy. She makes me happy.
It’s the third year anniversary of my mother’s death.
Shit. I thought I could control crying over it better. But typing it made me teary-eyed. And whenever the conversation for some reason comes up. I can’t help but cry still.
My friend Beto’s mom just died around a month ago. I can barely see Beto. I know his pain. And it’s difficult. It’s fucking difficult. Even after three years.
I still remember that worst day ever like it was yesterday. I was coming back from doing a job for the Reader. I was all the way by Santee. My mom had been in the hospital for a couple of nights already. I still didn’t have concerns that she was going to die. The hospital was going to make her better. My friend Kirby called me to ask me about it. I was driving back from Santee and I told him she was fine and in the hospital.
I went directly to see her though I still had other work to do. And while I was telling her about my day and to my aunt… She just said she wanted to go to sleep. And she did. Looking my way.
Just like in the movies.
Everything spiraled out of control, the camera zooms out, and I yell “NO!” They take me out of the hospital room where suddenly everything just goes black and all you feel is pain.
I wrote about it on a google document three months after she was gone. I am not sure what I was going to do with it. I was going to write more about it. I never did. It was too painful. It’s so painful now.
At least I go to therapy this Friday.
Here’s what I wrote:
“This is exactly like the movies,” I muttered to my tía Wendy. We were sitting in the waiting room of the hospital outside where my mom had been for the past couple of nights. I sat on the white vinyl couch weeping.
“We don’t know anything yet, we don’t know what anything means,” my tía Wendy kept telling me as nurses were rushing in and out of the room. The doctor was getting paged over and over on the speakerphone to an emergency in room 03 as we heard beeps and other medical device noises coming from room 03.
My tía Wendy called my brother to tell him what was going on. My brother was nearby at “Flyers” a trampoline park celebrating my niece’s 2-year-old birthday. He rushed to the hospital and said that somehow he knew. His wife, my sister-in-law, arrived moments later.
The doctor came out of my mom’s room after what felt an eternity with that look on his face that you know he is just going to deliver bad news. “There was nothing we could do, her heart just stopped,” he said softly in our general direction.
My mom was gone, age 61 on January, 19th, 2019, around 4:30 pm on the birthday of her second grandchild.
I started shaking and weeping involuntarily. Sounds cheesy, but it felt like my soul left me. It felt like I had no control of my limbs, at any moment I could collapse. Gravity felt heavier. The air felt dense. We hugged and wept as a family. A few minutes later, they let us in the room to see my mom’s body.
And there she was. Inside a white bag as if she was a suit going to a laundromat. Only exposed above her shoulders. I’ve seen that face before a lot. It’s the same face she does when she sleeps… I mean… the face she used to make.
I collapsed on my knees put my arm around her and started weeping for unsure how long. I am weeping as I type this. Again, it felt like in the movies. I could see the camera pulling away from over my shoulders as I wept over my mom’s corpse and kept saying “you were supposed to be fine ma!”
Fade to black. And scene.
For the following hours, I kept pouring little cups of cold coffee that sat on the counter of the hospital’s waiting room.
I wanted to move from this place shortly thereafter. I’m still in this place. A friend just sent me a screencap of google maps asking if I am still in the same place. In the screencap, you can see my balcony window and a cardboard man of a politician named Castro Trenti. He has been hanging on my balcony window for years now.
Not much changes.
I’m broke again.
The brokest I’ve been a while. I feel like I say that every passing day. But I am. I have a lot of work to do. I did some work yesterday, it didn’t go great. I did some work the week before that. It also didn’t go great but it’s the cover story this week. I like it.
There is some photoshop magic. The girl jumping is from a stock photo. Sorry, girl that posed for a stock photo and didn’t know she was going to be on the cover of a magazine.
I have a lot of work to do. I’m broke and it’s my own fault. I had nothing in my schedule. And instead of trying to save money, I ended up going to Ensenada like an addict to drink more beer and eat more seafood in the name of research. I met a woman in Ensenada. Older than me. With four kids. But she is fucking beautiful that I couldn’t help to go see her again. Nothing really happened. I just enjoy her company and drinking beer. And she enjoys my company and drinking beer. But I spent money that I didn’t have in the name of doing research.
I have to finish that story. The Ensenada story.
I wanted it to be a cover story. I told the boss that I will have it ready for Friday (that’s in two days) and that I needed the money. He is going to pay me. But not as much as I wanted. So I’m still broke.
The story is mostly done. I only have to finish up some details. I say is 80% done. I have all day today and tomorrow to finish it. On Friday, I work as a cashier in a taco truck. On Sunday, I work again as a photographer.
Then I get back to writing. Then back to photography for a middle school. Then back to writing. And more.
I’m trying to keep myself busy. I’m trying not to fall into depression. I feel better about myself. I know I can do it. I am motivated to make money and grow this year. Especially through photography. In any type of photography. I want to do weddings. And XV años. And other events. And more. Any type of photography. Even porn. Or call it “boudoir” if you want.
I started a new Instagram for that. It’s called “Baja Boudoir.” It started as “Tijuana Eye Tacos” but not that many people would get that name. “Eye tacos” is the equivalent of arm candy. But it doesn’t really have the same ring to it. Then I changed it to Baja Babes. And finally Baja Boudoir. I don’t really like the word boudoir. Sounds pretentious. But people like it. Especially in the photography world.
Hire me as a photographer. I’m doing boudoir shoots at home for cheap. Or at the comfort of your home for more expensive. Or a hotel for even more expensive.
Those are my prices. Cheap. Expensive. Or more expensive.
$50. Cheap (at home).
$150. Anywhere near me (San Diego / Tijuana).
$250+. Anywhere near me that requires an extra expense or if I have to travel further than my area.
All types of photography. Food photography. Portrait photography. Concert photography. Pet photography. Boudoir photography. Fucking paparazzi photography. I can do it all. And for the most part, I’m great at it all.
I need to change this website. Make it cleaner and adjust prices accordingly. I’m going to become more expensive. And here is where I type a bunch of more photography stuff for SEO reasons.
Seriously. If you need a photographer in the San Diego or Tijuana area, I’m available and I need the gigs. Or all the way in Los Angeles. Or down to Ensenada (please more down to Ensenada, I love Ensenada). If you want a wedding photographer and you like my style. That’s even more expensive. But contact me and we can talk about it. I have a padawan that can be my second shooter.
I have decades of experience in photography. I need better gear. And to get better gear, I need more money. And the more money I have, the better gear I get, the more expensive I am, the better my photography goes. I’m working with a fucking 7D and still do great shit with it. I need way better gear (youngsters, gear ain’t all but it helps a shit ton).
You don’t need a photographer but you need a Tijuana tour guide?! The same rules apply. Cheap. Expensive. Or more expensive.
Cheap. $50. A quick hour chat of Tijuana and a beer or two.
Expensive. $150. You got me for hours. I can drive you around. We can drink, eat, learn, and more.
More Expensive. $250. A full tour with a group of 4-8 people. I cater everything to your specifications and we have a blast touring Tijuana.
For tours. Visit Tijuana Adventure… another website that I have to fix. Another Instagram that I have.
When in extreme pain is best not to indulge in sadness and distract yourself as much as you can with work. That’s what I learn from a lesson on NPR with a US senator. Ok. Perhaps not. What I remember is that the US senator lost his son to suicide. Then instead of dwelling in the pain, he got obsessed with work and then wrote a book about it.
I wouldn’t be able to do that years ago. I feel like I’m able to do that now. When in pain. People also seek all types of comfort. I don’t know this guy, he owns a brewery, but I know his wife just died of Covid. And to deal with the pain, you seek comfort in people, in work, in beer, in sex, in whatever you can get to mask the pain. I do the same. I’ve gone from woman to woman leading up to this week. But now… I concentrate on work.
There are two new videos of drinking beer with Matingas up on YouTube.
I ended up in Coronado brewing to meet with a friend so he can deliver me my mail. It was a jury duty mail. I have to figure that out. I don’t think I can make it.
So I got an interesting beer from Coronado. I drank another can yesterday. Definitely a one beer per night only with this beer.
And this one I did yesterday about Chikilla Craft Beer…
I liked their taproom so much that I am disappointed the bottled beer wasn’t nearly as good.
My website is in total disarray. I need to fix this. I need to finish the Ensenada article. I need to fix my Patreon. More things will be coming to my Patreon. Maybe a Patreon tier for the boudoir photography (with models’ permission). Maybe me naked on Patreon (if that’s what you want). But definitely sending goodies out to the people that have been supporting me. I owe them a lot.
This year… Will be a year of growth. Massive growth. And for the patrons who have supported me since early on… They will get special things. Believe me. Just give me time to grow.
If you like me or my blog or my videos or pictures or whatever and want to support me… Please do so on Patreon. My drunk ass heavily appreciates it as I still don’t have a real income. Making it as an “artist” is not easy. Every $ is appreciated.
One response to “Post 601: Three Years Without Mom – Ensenada Research Has Me Broke – Photographer for Hire”
No es fácil ver morir a un ser querido pero es algo muy gratificante haber estado con esa persona hasta el final 🙏
Como dices tú este año es de crecer bien cabron. Yo estoy orgullosa de ti y lo bueno que eres con tu trabajo, siempre cuenta con mi apoyo. 💖
Ya deja de comprar tanta cheve 😂