I’m not interested in anyone but when I am, they don’t give the same amount of effort that I do.
Stop asking for 2014 to be good to you. Fucking grab your balls and make it good.
Grabbed balls and just ended up masturbating. Instructions were unclear.
[…] Early in my freshman year, my dad asked me if there were lots of Latinos at school. I wanted to say, “Pa, I’m one of the only Latinos in most of my classes. The other brown faces I see mostly are the landscapers’. I think of you when I see them sweating in the morning sun. I remember you were a landscaper when you first came to Illinois in the 1950s. And look, Pa! Now I’m in college!”
But I didn’t.
I just said, “No, Pa. There’s a few Latinos, mostly Puerto Rican, few Mexicans. But all the landscapers are Mexican.”
My dad responded, “¡Salúdelos, m’ijo!”
So when I walked by the Mexican men landscaping each morning, I said, “Buenos días.”
Recently, I realized what my dad really meant. I remembered learning the Mexican, or Latin American, tradition of greeting people when one enters a room. In my Mexican family, my parents taught me to be “bien educado” by greeting people who were in a room already when I entered. The tradition puts the responsibility of the person who arrives to greet those already there. If I didn’t follow the rule as a kid, my parents admonished me with a back handed slap on my back and the not-so-subtle hint: “¡Saluda!”
I caught myself tapping my 8-year-old son’s back the other day when he didn’t greet one of our friends: “Adrian! ¡Saluda!”
However, many of my white colleagues over the years followed a different tradition of ignorance. “Maleducados,” ol’ school Mexican grandmothers would call them.
But this Mexican tradition is not about the greeting—it’s about the acknowledgment. Greeting people when you enter a room is about acknowledging other people’s presence and showing them that you don’t consider yourself superior to them.
When I thought back to the conversation between my dad and me in 1990, I realized that my dad was not ordering me to greet the Mexican landscapers with a “Good morning.”
Instead, my father wanted me to acknowledge them, to always acknowledge people who work with their hands like he had done as a farm worker, a landscaper, a mechanic. My father with a 3rd grade education wanted me to work with my mind but never wanted me to think myself superior because I earned a college degree and others didn’t.
Saluden Muchachxs, saluden.
MR. SALAZAR! <3
this hit home
^ this.(via notorious-upper-county1904)
Yes, yes i love this(via rhymewithme)
Life is so damn short, for fucks sake, just do what makes you happy.
Compliment people. Magnify their strengths, not their weaknesses.
Not everyone is going to want, accept, or know how to receive your energy. Make peace with it and move on.
Kindness. It doesn’t cost a damn thing. Sprinkle that shit everywhere.
Slow down, calm down, don’t worry, don’t hurry. Trust the process.
Spend more time making yourself a better person and less time worrying about what everyone else is doing.
Find a way, not an excuse.
Religious freedom doesn’t mean you can force others to live by your own beliefs, and you do not have to endure this from others either.
We are not our failures.
You can’t live a positive life with a negative mind.
The more you close yourself the unhappier you’ll be. You’re not alone, open up to people.
People come and people go. That’s the way the world goes. Live and learn, don’t live and regret. The best is yet to come. Look forward.
When you lose yourself in what you love, you find yourself in what you are.
Forget everything you’ve been told and open your mind.
Forgiveness is the greatest indicator of strength. Admit when you’re wrong, but if someone makes you feel like shit for the mistake, move on. Similarly, when someone makes a mistake, be good enough to understand why they did. You don’t attack people because of a mistake. People learn.
i want to write the kind of short stories you read in english class that are on this weird level of surrealism that they still haunt you years down the road