I tend to have this habit of introducing myself to my journals, sort of as token of good will, or an attempt at befriending my inanimate, and in this case, non-tangential, object. This journal will be just that: and introduction to myself. Considering that I'm being very open with this journal (I'm posting it pretty much on both FA and SF) , this is also a practice in open-ness, as I'm embarrassingly enough, shy...at least online. I'm strangely more open in public, but before I derail my own journal, allow me to introduce myself to all those who were kind enough to look at this journal.

My name is Jose Ricardo. I'm a Mexican American dude living in sunny Southern California. I find myself in my 20th year of existence, about to enter my 21st, where I can claim that all the barriers have been broken, and that I can have a drink without having to ask my parents for permission. Not that I'm some sort of innocent flower. I'll be honest when I say that I not a straightedge. Boy that word feels weird in my mouth. Do people even use that term anymore? I have a close circle of friends, both online and off, as I am a firm believer that quality beats quantity. I also have a single sibling, a sister. We have an age difference of almost exactly 9 years, and I am in fact, the baby of my household. Perhaps this is why I am so young at heart. My sister is happily married with two kids, and I am still in my parents' household, where my need for independence, (coming in due time, I hope) often puts me at odd with my parents. They're loving folks, so we manage pretty well.

I wonder how far I should go into my life...well, maybe I should start at my true beginning, because, it should help explain a couple of things in my life.

...Before my conception, my father was not exactly the kindest person to my mother. He was prone to nights out, and pretty much lived a life of recklessness. So one night, after drinking and having an overall good time, dad was driving home and got into a terrible car wreck. While I've never seen any pictures of the state my father was left in, I am told that he nearly died, and what they've told me always makes me shudder. Luckily, my father survived, as is obvious, or I would not be here. After mending out, dad was detained for a DUI and well...convicted. Somewhere in the whole process of the law, an uncle of my father placed the deed of his farm as the bail for my father, and during the period of his release...well...I was conceived. I realize here that although this is from the private lives of my parents, it is as much a part of me as it is a part of them.

Mom's pregnancies were never easy, but mine was especially problematic. She had no one to support her, and vicious rumors were spread as to my conception. I imagine mom cried a lot. She didn't and couldn't waste her time though. With a daughter to support, and another child on the way...mom pulled through. I'm always in awe of how strong she is. So time went on, and on October 9th, 1992, I was born.

I grew up in a world of Latino influence, with Cumbias, Rancheras, Rock Latino, and Tejano Pop being blasted on the radio (Anybody remember Selena?). My roots are deeply ingrained to my heritage. In the city of Los Angeles, my childhood began it's development with few father figures and male peers, my own dad behind bars. I was raised in a world of women. On the female side, there was mom, my older sister, my aunty Alba (she's my godmother), her daughters, my grandma...it's no wonder why I was one of those unfortunate graces that befall Mexican men...I was a feminine child. That's not to say I was devoid of men in my life. For a while, I had my uncle Hermel, and my cousin Rene (Reh-Neh), as well as the lessons my dad could supply during our visits. My memories of dad during this time are like a gray photograph. Faded and incomplete. Dad and I didn't get along well. It was as if dad would try to impart the wisdom of males on me every time he scolded me during the visits...wisdom on how to not be limp-wristed, how to not cry so much, how to be strong, how to not be female. It's a lot of pressure for a kid. When I would cry in my bedroom in later years, I would think him cruel and heartless. Now, I'm all too aware with painful understanding of what my dad was trying to do, as well as what he was going through. As for my tio Hermel...sometimes I dream of my uncle...he was shot in front of our apartment when I was very young. It's strange for me to think how tragic this was, because my recollection of it is very poor. It's a very painful topic for my family, one that has lead me to learn harsh secrets as to what happened on that fateful day. This however, is private, and I'm sure you won't fault me when I tell you that I cannot tell the truth of that event.

The story of my life continued when dad got out of jail, and a big change occurred in my life, as my mother moved my sister and I from all we ever knew in the streets of Los Angeles to the messy city that is Tijuana, Mexico. It was in this town bordering the glorious United States, where my life became a difficult tale of two worlds...