Ghetto Salvadoran Valley girl...?

I have the strangest accent ever, in my opinion. A combination of three influences slip out when I speak (in English, or course). 1) Ghetto (as in Bay Area ghetto, yadadamean?), 2) Salvadoran (there are certain words that I can't pronounce correctly, such as organization; it sounds like I'm saying "organ-isssss-a-shun") and 3) Valley girl (Like totally). But I can't help it! Want to know why?

Well, first of all I like to brag that I come from the Itty Bitty Little City by the water (Vallejo), and I grew up in what I like to call an "urban suburban" community. It rubs off one you, you know? I might have been born in San Francisco (My mom jokes with me and claims that I was born in San Francisco Gotera, El Salvador, but that's not what my birth certificate says! LOL), but the V-town is my home! I might not be the best, but I'm as ghetto as ghetto can come.

If I haven't said it enough, I am 100% Salvadoran. Both of my parents emigrated to the U.S. from El Salvador in the 1980s, and I grew up speaking Spanish first in my own home. I didn't speak fluent English until I was like 6 years old. In kindergarten my teacher was considering to put me in the ESL (English as a Second Language) class, but the ESL teacher said I would be fine. So since I have two languages I fully understand, I sometimes have to stop and think about what I'm about to say, because it can get confusing sometimes. And the accent slips in and out.

And then of course, I am a CALIFORNIA GIRL, so whether I like it or not, I talk like a Valley girl. I say "like" all the time! I annoy myself sometimes, but hey, it comes naturally to me! I use totally a lot, um, and like yeah...hahaha!

So combine those three accents and you get me, Emmy, the ghetto Salvadoran Valley girl, yup!

Meet my Boyfriend, Alex

Back in the days of elementary school, when we looked forward to 25 cent chocolate milk, Air Heads, 4 square, the 40 minute lunch break, and rainy days when we got to paint during recess...

My little group of friends loved jump rope. I remember the top game on the list was "Ice Cream, Ice Cream". I failed at two things: jumping in and double dutch. But anywho, I loved playing that game. I've forgotten like half the stanzas now, but I remember the "ABC" part. We'd say the alphabet, and wherever you stopped, that letter would be the first name of your "boyfriend".

I think it was in fourth grade? Well, I was a late bloomer and still thought boys were icky (long story, another blog entry maybe? LOL). I didn't like any boys, so I always purposely stopped on "A" to get the game over with quicker. Typically, if you didn't like a boy, the girls turning the rope would pick one for you (from class). Since I always stopped on "A", I always made sure to pipe in "His name is Alex" before they could think of anyone.

I never knew any kid my age with that name, so it worked. I got away with using "Alex" and making sure we didn't have any kids or loser jobs or whatever. It was kinda like MASH but in jump rope form. MASH was another thing that most likely involved "Alex"...hahaha!

Oh man, if I end up with someone named Alex, that clarifies it: I'M PSYCHIC!

Haha more like PSYCHO, but whatever!

The Curious Mind of Emeralda

I seriously couldn't be anymore weird than I already am...

I'm possibly the weirdest person I know...

So when I was little (and partly to this present day), no matter how much certain things were explained to me, I always imagined them to be another way. For instance, as girly as girls get, when I was contemplating getting my nails done for the first time in 6th or 7th grade, someone explained to me what went on. This person said something like this: "First they remove all the skin around your nail, then they file your nails and shape them. They glue on the fake nail and they put this powder on top. Then you're done!"

This is what 12-year-old Emeralda understood: Oh ok, so they yank off the skin (cuticles), that must hurt! They probably take tweezers or something to pull it off. Scared! And then comes the fake nail, like a press-on nail maybe? And they sprinkle powder on top, but what for?

Yeah, if you've ever had acrylic nails, you'd know better. And of course, when I went to get them done I made the big mistake of telling the nail lady "Oh, no, I don't want long nails! I want them short!" I seriously thought she was going to leave them that long...

Even waxing was a fail for me. I figured that you'd get your brows shaped by hand tweezing, and that some sort of waxy substance was put on top of your brows to make them look nice! Hahaha that one was worse, because I totally felt the pain when I got waxed the first time (I was thirteen, and as ghetto as ghetto comes, at someone's house).

I have such a strange way of figuring things out, but you know what? It works for me! I'm okay with my weirdness, because it makes part of who I am!

House Girls

This is a term I kinda/sorta made up, about girls like me. A "House Girl" is the girl who lives in a house where she is expected to stay at home. All without her parents telling her to. The House Girl goes straight home after school where she does her homework, chores, etc. If she wants to go somewhere, she always asks her parents. When family is visiting, she plays mini hostess and greets/hugs everyone. She has a good reputation.

Now don't get me wrong, a House Girl is not a perfect girl or whatever. But it's a role that many Central American cultures promote in their families. It's not like my parents ever told me what they expected of me, but they always implied it. "Look at Blah blah blah's daughter, she's always out partying and always disrespects her parents," they'd say about some other girl. Or "Blah blah blah's daughter is always checking in with her parents, she's a good house girl," or as they would actually put it, "Niña de casa".

As House Girls we have to place high standards for ourselves, because in the end we reflect our parents and our upbringing on their part. My parents never let me sleep over a friend's house when I was little, and I didn't have my official first "sleepover" until I was SIXTEEN! They always said "Your friends can come to our house, but you cannot stay at their house." I never understood that reasoning until today. Think about it, if I go to someone else's house, my behavior reflects a lot on how I am being raised at home. When you're little, you don't know any better. My parents waited out until they figured I could figure things out on my own.

That's right folks, I became an adult at sixteen...lol just kidding!

But even now that I'm a sophomore in college, I'm still a House Girl. I call home every now and then, when I'm home I still tell my parents where I'm off to. I drive my mom to the grocery store, I help my dad with his taxes and other paperwork. I'm my sister's personal chauffeur, I keep in touch with my grandmothers, etc. It don't matter what else I'm up to, I will always be a House Girl.

House Girls represent!

So much better, hello much better!

Haha so today this genius named Emmy forgot that she had her biology final this morning. I had it in the back of my mind that it was going to be two weeks from now. Thankfully, I was saved!

I walk into lecture a couple of seconds late when I see those dreaded pastel-colored exam sheets and the prof going on about getting your scantrons ready. And then it hit me: I FORGOT!

As plenty of people do I went about like a loser asking for an extra scantron. And as I should have expected, everyone was pulling the "Sorry, I don't" line while not even bothering to look through their binder for that extra one I know they had. Like seriously, one time I was sitting next to this girl, and someone came around asking for a scantron. She said "No" but when a friend of hers dropped into class a little late, not only did she save him a seat but she also pulled out an extra scantron she claimed not to have.

What...a meanie! At least I am honest and truly don't bring more scantrons. But luckily for me, this guy offered me one out of the blue. I was offering to pay him for one but he said "No, it's okay"...THANK GOD!

So I get my final and I look through it, and thankfully enough, it wasn't as difficult as I thought it was going to be. On top of not coming prepared to class, I didn't even study. I'm just so thankful that I actually decided to show up to class, instead of thinking this was going to be another lecture! Phew!

Now more than ever I am motivated to do better next semester. No matter what class or where I end up staying, I will be better!

No fregués niña

Me siento entre la espada y la pared. Dios ha sido tan bueno conmigo; me ha dado trabajo, estudio, y hasta alojamiento aqui en San José. Pero tengo un lucha ahorita en mi apartamento.

Me siento algo triste porque se me va mi compañera. Y la razón por la cual estoy escribiendo en español es por si de casualidad una cierta persona se dedica a leer esto. No sé qué hacer.

Pero cómo para Dios no hay nada imposible, me voy a poner a orar. Estoy en una situación en donde sinceramente no estoy felíz. Una amiga mía tiene una malacostumbre (un vicio) que no beneficia a nadie. Pero aunque le he tratado de decir que no lo haga por el bien de todos, lo sigue haciendo. La quiero mucho como amiga y compañera, pero es algo que me está afectando.

Estoy en un reguero de problemas. Si me voy, estoy capaz de perder mi amistad con ella, y tendría que explicarselo todo a mis papas, y ponerlos en preocupación por algo que no les conviene. No sé qué hacer!

Por un lado me quiero ir de aqui con mi otra compañera. Quisiera vivir en un apartamento en donde no tendría que preocupar por vicios de otra gente. En donde no hay problemas parecidas. Pero todavia me falta como cinco meses para vivir aqui, y tengo que encontrar otra compañera para pagar la renta. Ay Dios mío, qué hago?

Yo ya le he hablado en varias ocasiones, pero yo misma sé que no la voy a poder cambiar. Señor mi Dios, solo pido que le cambies su mente y su corazón. Yo sé que ella tiene problemas y dolor en su vida, y ella misma sabe que las cosas que hace no le están ayudando. Ayudala, por favor, que pueda ver el daño que se sigue causando, y que yo le digo las cosas no por ofenderla si no por ayudarla. Ayudame a mi también, Señor, para seguir adelante con esto y seguir viviendo en victoria.

The Power of Prayer

Oh what great joy...hahaha. I'm planning on going to Sunday school at my home church tomorrow for the first time in a long time. It's going to be so weird, feel so strange, going back.

I know for a fact that people think I'm different or weird. People probably think I'm such a sinner or whatever because I have different ideas now. But there is one thing they probably never think about: Because God has never given up on me, I have no reason to give up on him.

God is such an important person in my life. He's done so many things, great things, and has been my stronghold wherever I've been in life. He's never given up on me.

My ideas have changed about lots of things, but I always talk to God about them. I talk to God the most, as He is always waiting with his ears destined to listen to an open heart. I used to have this perception about prayer in where you had to take the time to say all of these big words like the preachers did in church. But as my relationship with Christ grew, I learned that all it takes is to pour out your all to God. He listens to you, no matter how little or big your concern may be. He listens to your heartfelt praise, your writhing pain, your everything.

There are times when I'm alone, and I just start to talk with God. He's been the shoulder that i cry on, he laughs with me, cries with me. He is always there for me.

I pray for the protection of others, for the blessing of others, for our needs, or hopes and desires. God always answers our heartfelt prayers, and all we need to do is be honest and patient with Him.

I love to pray, no matter how informal it may seem to other people. I have changed, but those changes are God-approved. You can have any opinion of me, but I know that God loves me and the person He has shown me to be.