Tag: human
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Mirror, Mirror on My Desk…
We spend a lot of time looking outward. At expectations. At what other people are doing, saying, or thinking. We compare, we react, we adjust. Most of our day is shaped by everything happening around us. But we rarely stop and look inward. There aren’t many moments in the day where it’s just you and…
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Watching Things Become
I stopped by our high school’s main campus today. It wasn’t anything formal—just a few quiet minutes between responsibilities. Long enough to stand off to the side and watch the construction crews preparing the site for the upcoming concrete pour. The ground was already undergoing transformation—leveled, measured, marked in that familiar orange construction paint, lines…
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Alone at the Happiest Place on Earth
Most people would say the Disneyland Resort isn’t a place you go alone.That doing so feels equal parts pathetic and depressing. And maybe… on paper, it is. But I did it anyway. I was there for a two-day excursion—an Arts Education Leadership Summit. Work. Professional development. The kind of trip that comes with lanyards, schedules,…
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Elegance in Monochrome
Right now, I see myself in black and white—as if life pressed pause on everything unnecessary,leaving only what’s real enough to hold its shape in light and shadow. This is me channeling the elegance of the Charros of Mexico’s golden era—when presence meant everything, and even silence carried dignity. This is an older photo, but…
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Between Tradition and Memory: A Mariachazo Reflection
We’ve all been to concerts. We all know what it feels like to sit in a crowd, to wait for the first note, to remember pieces of music long after the night ends. We all carry our own memories of them—the sound, the crowd, the moments that stay with us in different ways. But Mariachazo…
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Life Is A Notebook
I came across this idea the other day, and it stayed with me longer than I expected— the kind of thought that doesn’t just pass through, but settles in. Maybe it’s the way we hold onto moments—like scraps of paper, like old notebooks tucked away in drawers. Every now and then, something reminds you that…
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Mariachi Me… Same Traje, Different Mileage
Being a Mariachi isn’t just about the music. It’s about what you carry before you ever play a note. The traje—sharp, tailored, unmistakable—has a way of teaching you that. At first, it feels like a costume. Something you put on to look the part. The shine, the stitching, the silver botonadura, the way it commands…
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Little-Known Facts About Me
If you look back long enough, you start to notice the strange little things that were always there. Not the big milestones. Not the obvious moments. The quieter details— the ones that didn’t make sense at the time, but somehow explain everything now. I don’t usually sit around listing facts about myself. Feels a little…
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Pieces of Eight
Education has been my formal career for the last twenty-seven years—but teaching? That’s something I’ve been doing since.. geez I can’t even remember. Coaching, community art classes, day camps… if there was a group of people and a semi-organized activity, I was probably in charge of it. Not officially, of course. Just… spiritually. Looking back,…
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Like Buttered Toast With Jelly and Coffee In The Morning
Sometimes, in my early morning musing with my coffee, I get philosophical. That sometimes makes me want to kick my own ass. I mean, why am I complicating a beautiful quiet morning with deep thoughts? That guy in the mirror is still half asleep and wont listen anyway. Funny how we wake up, sit down…
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No Schedule, Just Sunlight and Shortcuts to Nowhere
I grew up in the 70s and 80s, in a city that felt like it was still learning its own edges. Streets weren’t lined with development yet, and blank spaces—lots of dirt, weeds, and sun-baked patches of ground—were waiting for someone to claim them. We claimed them. We ran through them. We made trails, shortcuts,…
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Scraped Knees and Torn Jeans
There was a time when play was king—not the quiet, sit-down kind, but the loud, dusty, borderline-dangerous kind that required sunscreen you never used and rules you barely followed. It was the kind of play that guaranteed you’d come home a different person than when you left… mostly because parts of you were now missing…
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The Making of the Self – Layer by Layer
It doesn’t begin with clarity. It begins in fragments.A shadow here.A rough line there.An outline that almost feels like you—but not quite. You step back.Tilt your head.Erase a little.Darken something you were afraid to see. And slowly… it starts to emerge.Not the version you imagined—but the one that’s honest. The lines aren’t perfect.They’re restless.Smudged in…
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Throwing Words Into the Wind
Let me tell you a story…something I learned about myself, and only fully recently acknowledged. This won’t be a confession of weakness, nor a tale of courage or inner strength. Those are just labels. And the truth is, labels are strangers to far more people like me than most realize. If anything, this story is…