Its a biography of some sorts @imantoinette - Tumblr Blog

Durante los pasados tres anos y medio, has sido mi novio y mi mejor amigo. Mi roca, mi luz, mi razon, mi vida. Y ahora? Un extrano. Una cara que deseo poder tocar. Un alma con la que puedo conectarme. Una calidez que es solo mia. No mi mejor amigo ni mi vida. Que es una reina sin su rey? Un lider. Controladora de su mente y corazon. Un corazon roto.

I finally opened my laptop after a few days of reconciliation. I guess we can call it “reconciliation”. At least, from the initial conversation. Have you ever experienced something so completely surreal that you cannot appropriately react to it? The initial conversation suffered from that surrealistic moment. I didn’t react how I should’ve and, more importantly, how I wanted. A few hours I reacted how any person who feels should’ve. I cried. A lot. I questioned. I cried again. I lost my breath and my felt my anxiety playing a bigger role than it has recently. I cried another wave of tears. I’ve never mourned something so much that it scares me how dependent I was am how dependent we are on each other. We are independent people or so we thought. But when we reflect on how much we went to each other for just about everything we really aren’t.

Sharing your life with someone never felt more real for me than it did prior to this decision. I didn’t think I would make this decision or experience a moment like this. I didn’t have “great expectations”. I have moderate expectations and hold both of us to a high standard in the best way possible. We’re human. We make mistakes. We are emotional human beings. We are not perfect though that is not an excuse for anything we do because it’s a reality we face since the forbidden fruit. The standard I hold is to reflect how confident I was in the relationship. How much I put into the relationship. How much I loved and felt loved.

Oddly enough (to you, I’m sure, but not me) I still feel loved and I still love. I can’t flip the switch on this life commitment. We grew and we learned about ourselves and each other. I’m mourning this relationship and I’m taking it hard. Really hard. As someone with a mental illness and someone who doesn’t take it lightly, it scares me to go into the shadows and feel how I did years ago. How trapped in my mind, and in my body, that I wished to escape. My panic attacks have lessened but I worry that this situation prompts another after another after another… Yet I know I’ll be okay. I really will. But right now, I can’t just switch my feelings for someone who I wanted to share my whole life with. I still want to.

My mind is veering left and right and I don’t think my thoughts make complete sense. But talking helps and crying helps even more. But I’ve managed to find a calmness in me because I long for the future. I want this moment to pass. I’ll think more over this time but I will also dream. Not to get my hopes up but to remind myself that there is always a possibility for, well, anything… both good and bad.

Long story short? I love him. I love him so much that I need to let him go for now so we can reevaluate what we really want and to learn how to create our happiness together and to look forward to that when we are apart.

#thoughts life relatable

raizablade

My Story

I don’t believe reality is a universal blanket- rather something we all experience differently and our very own versions are shaped by those around us, our experiences, environment and a number of other factors. We tend to be wrapped up in our own realities and often act like that reality or perspective is the universal truth, with this in mind, I believe that in order to have compassion, kindness and a connection with other human beings, it is our duty to actively work to step outside of our own perspective and place ourselves within the perspective of others, especially those who can seem so different from us. With that said, we are now all faced with the reality of the events that occurred last night, though it still seems like some form of alternate reality. On this note, I feel the need to share my own perspective as I can no longer keep silent about it. With my reality being pulled out from under my feet, I wish to no longer be ashamed, apologetic or discrete, so please allow me to share it with you. I was born in the capital city of Guadalajara in the state of Jalisco, Mexico. At two years old my family moved me to Puerto Vallarta in hopes that the warmer climate would ease our severe bronchitis-and it did. My family and I enjoyed a nice life in Vallarta, spending every weekend at the beach or walking the famous boardwalk and watching sunsets unlike any I’ve seen since. My dad worked at a transmission shop and sometimes earned US dollars, my mom had the commodity of being a stay-at-home mom. We weren’t rich but but we didn’t lack anything. The most I can say about our economic status is that new toys were mostly just a luxury from my family when they visited from the US and that eating McDonalds was a rare occurrence. We were happy in Vallarta and at some point my parents began having a new house built for us. Then in December 1999, just one month before moving in to the new house, my mom lost my grandma to a heart attack. This sent my mom and I into depression, but still, in January we moved into our new home. After such a loss, my parents decided to visit my dad’s family in California, arrangements were made, we got visas and by August 2000 we were ready for a one month vacation with family in California. As we got ready to leave our home for the airport my sister and I made a game of saying goodbye to everything in the house and then one final goodbye to the house itself. We then boarded our plane and landed in Tijuana. From there we reached the border, where we presented our visas and passports to customs. I remember a man holding up my passport and asking me if I was Raiza Alejandra Dominguez De Anda- a question directed at me, requiring only my answer. After a while we were let into the country. After that it took a couple of days but on August 4th my family and I arrived in Modesto, California. Upon waking from the car ride my first image was of my grandma, perched atop a boulder in front of the sign for the Pine Ridge apartments in Ceres. We got off the car and my dad embraced his mom after so long without seeing her. For the next month we were lodged at her apartment and spent it traveling to Disneyland, LA and San Francisco. It was the first time we ever interacted with my dad’s side of the family and we spent good times together. Then came the end of our month vacation. During this time my dad realized how old his parents were becoming, and after the recent passing of my mom’s mother, he could not bear this being the last time he saw them alive. Having experienced this grief, my mom wanted to keep my dad from ever feeling that he missed out on time with his parents or experiencing regret. Thus, the love they had for each other and the love my dad had for his parents led them to come to the decision of staying to live in the United States. This meant that we would overstay our visas and become what most refer to as “illegal” immigrants. For eight year old me this meant that I would no longer be returning to my home and my life. After the decision was made, my dad returned to Puerto Vallarta to pick up essential papers and things for our new life- he went on his own because my mom knew she wouldn’t be able to leave home if she went back. Then in mid September, I found myself starting third grade in a foreign school where I had only my sister to get me through. I remember being terrified on that first day, I cried because I could not understand the language and it terrified me. Then when the teacher and my mom nor sister could do anything to ease my cries a blonde blue-eyed girl stepped forth and said she could speak Spanish. From then on this girl was me and my sister’s lifeline, she translated everything that we needed in order to thrive in that classroom. Not long after, my sister and I were placed in ESL classes that took place twice a week. From that point on my sister and I soared. We picked up English in about eight months and essentially were left with no distinguishable accent. We finished the year with good grades and somehow spelling was our favorite part of the curriculum. Then came fourth grade, where we were set to start at a new school. This became our chance. Upon entering the fourth grade my sister and I made an unspoken vow that no one would know where we truly came from. See, at eight years old, we understood that overstaying our visas made us something that was not allowed- we knew we were different and we knew we could be targeted and so we were ashamed and afraid. Our lack of accents, the fact that we didn’t fit the profile of a Mexican immigrant and our rapid assimilation made our new personas easy to portray. From then, being an undocumented immigrant meant that I tensed up and became fearful at any sighting of a police car, it meant knowing I was different and people would judge me if they knew the truth. It meant lying and saying I was born in Modesto when people asked my place of birth. My dad worked hard those first few years. He was employed as a transmission technician and worked his way to a position where he was able to open his own shop under his brother’s name. The shop allowed him to purchase a home not long after- we finally had a house of our own, no more small apartment or sharing one with my grandparents. In 2002 my little sister was born. At ten years old I understood that she was born with privilege that I didn’t possess and that her childhood would be much different from mine. Along with my new sister came the reality that at any time we could all be deported and she would be left alone. Then in 2005 my grandpa passed away due to complications from Huntington’s disease. Experiencing that loss made me realize that my parents had made the right decision- my dad was able to be next to my grandpa in his last days and he had the shoulders of his brothers and sisters for support. Now, my dad only had his mother left, but this tough time brought our family together. My undocumented status brought more problems and complications as I grew older. It confined me more and more, and more than anything my status became the thing that defined me. I remember being fifteen years old and having lunch with my family when the topic of immigration came up. Somehow this conversation ended with my own uncle telling my sister and I that we were “illegal aliens” and were basically nothing and had absolutely no rights. Despite trying to explain that as humans we had the right to dignity, respect and humanity he shot us down and insisted that we were nothing nor could advocate for any right because as illegals the government did not have to grant us any rights. I became more afraid after that, if that was the response that I received from family than surely anything from anyone else would be much worse, now I had to work harder to hide my truth. I knew I could never accept those words, but words have a way of creeping into your heart and shaping who you are. Though another uncle had petitioned my dad for citizenship, my time to qualify under that petition was a ticking time bomb- for I needed my dad to become a resident before i turned eighteen in order to receive automatic residency otherwise my future would be unclear. But time was passing and with that came struggles in high school. While my classmates began planning their prerequisites for college during Freshman year I wondered if that was even a possibility for me as an undocumented immigrant. I knew that tuition would be much higher for me than the average citizen- my parents had two of us to worry about- and I wasn’t even sure that people like me were allowed to pursue higher education. So as high school progressed I took honors classes but never believed that they would take me anywhere. And then sophomore and Junior years came around and everyone around me began to get their drivers licenses and first jobs. I knew these things were impossible for me and I always felt like I was living on the sidelines just watching everyone around me reach milestones that were not a possibility for me. I would sit waiting to be picked up after school and watch my classmates get in their cars with their friends and I’d wonder if I would always be dependent on rides. Then came senior year and with my 18th birthday looming closer and closer I grew more and more nervous and uncertain about my future. That year I discovered that I loved psychology and that helping people was what I wanted to do for a living but that dream was not reasonable. Then one day my high school had a workshop on applying for community college and my sister and I decided to go. Once we were in the computer lab we were made to start the applications. Everything was fine until the form asked for a social security number- we were stuck. Out of shame that the students around me would realize I had nothing to fill that blank space with I considered walking out of the classroom. Then one of the mjc reps came over to us and we quietly told her the problem. She then said that was no problem, pulled put her phone and asked someone on the other line for an 800 number for each of us. By then I was mortified, feeling that everyone around me was aware of what was happening. But then the rep entered the 800 number into the computer and We were given access to the rest of the application. A few weeks later it was official, my sister and I would be attending college after graduation. This was exciting but also a reminder that no matter the amount of education I received, my lack of documentation would prevent me from ever pursuing a career. And so the end of the year came and we aged out to be eligible for residency when my dad received his. Though I would be attending school my future was obscure now more than ever. My only options at this point were either marry a citizen or wait for my little sister to turn 21 and then petition us for residency which would then take another 10-15 years. It seemed that my life would be spent waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen. Then in the winter of 2011 a bill called the DREAM Act made it to congress. This bill would mean our liberation as it would allow any undocumented person with a college degree that arrived in the country as a child to obtain citizenship. This bill would be our path to freedom. It would allow me to pursue my career, to travel, to live freely and unafraid. It would mean I would finally be like just like everyone around me and I would have the same opportunities. But ultimately the bill failed to pass. I remember following the updates o. The DREAM Act, resting all my hopes and dreams on it and seeing it fail to pass was heartbreaking. That was the closest that bill had come to passing and now it was essentially dead. With that loss it became hard to work for something that was unattainable. I can tell you that working hard for something is almost unbearable when a silver lining is not in sight, and so I kept going to school but my heart wasn’t in it. At that point I was going to school because there was nothing else I could do and there was no point in getting through it fast as there was nothing to look forward to once that was over and so I failed classes and found t hard to be motivated. Then in August 2012 our president, through his power of executive action enacted a new program called Deferred Action For Childhood Arrivals. This new program would provide relief from deportation proceedings and work permits to young adults that had been brought as children to the US and had graduated from a US high school. Suddenly, my silver lining materialized before my eyes. Thus, in December 2012 I sent in my DACA application along with a $365 fee and two passport pictures and with that went my rekindled hopes and dreams. About a month later I went to the social security office where my fingerprints and picture were taken and then some three months later I came home to a thick envelope. I opened the envelope and in it was a blue and red card with my picture on it. I was my permit authorizing me to work in this country legally for two years and along with it was a letter stating that I was safe from deportation proceedings for the same amount of time. With that card in my hand I suddenly saw the doors of opportunity opening before me. This card would allow me to go get a social security number and with that I would be able to get my driver’s license and open a bank account. Aside from the possibilities these documents now granted me a name. They meant that I was now allowed to feel like a person of worth, my identity was valid and my name was as good as any other. For the first time in 12 years I felt like I was a whole person. With my new documents I began to move fast. The first thing I did was get my license. After driving without one since age 18 I was now allowed to drive without fear and freely at the age of twenty one. I’ve rarely felt as free as when I first drove around town with a license, unapologetically and with my head held high. My license also gave me a valid ID, one that I showed proudly any time anyone or anyplace required it. This ID was like everyone else’s, and unlike my id card from the Mexican consulate, this one offered me protection and confidence. After obtaining my license I opened my first bank account. Then my search for a job began. At the age of 21 I was more than ready and eager to prove myself in the workforce and get my first job. I told myself that I would never allow myself to complain about not wanting to go to work, for this was a privilege and I more than anyone knew that the alternative was not something I ever wanted to go back to. I also told myself that I would never allow myself to complain about paying taxes, for they were a privilege that meant I could finally contribute to this country that I call home. But I soon found out that employers aren’t keen on hiring 22 year old with no work experience- my struggle was now different. Amidst my search for a job, I decided that I needed to be grateful and volunteer my time and efforts to something I believed in. And so I became a mentor/tutor for children in the foster home and adoption system. This opportunity gave me purpose and I knew that it was this environment that i wanted to pursue a career in. So I fell in love with every child I mentored and I stayed with them for a year and a half. Soon after obtaining my license, my sister and I boarded the first plane since the one that began our journey to this country. This time we headed to New York City. One of the most exhilarating things Ive experienced was handing my ID to a TSA agent and him not questioning anything and letting me through. Our first day in New York we boarded the ferry and visited The Statue of Liberty. I found myself before her and I stood there for a long time pondering on her meaning. I realized that standing there was something I had never thought would be possible. I pondered on the meaning that she holds for this country and the thousands of people that have passed by her on their way to new lives. I was was reminded that she stands for liberty and the promise that she will protect “the huddled masses yearning to be free” and I took in the fact that I now felt free after all the longing I had spent my entire life feeling. I was reminded of 4th grade lunch assemblies where the whole school would sing This Land is Your Land, This Land is My Land and I felt that for the first time I could say that too. At this time I came to understand my privilege. I realized that I now enjoyed a freedom that my parents didn’t and there was also people like me that couldn’t benefit from the things I did only because they didn’t qualify due to minor details. Upon my return home I continued my search for a job throughout 2014, until I gave in and took an under-the-table job cleaning factories. Waking up at 3am and cleaning filthy areas made me feel like an immigrant more than ever before even with my possession of a social security number. But this job taught me hard work and not to take people that do these kinds of jobs for granted because its true, they do the work no one is willing to take on. Then the end of that year brought a new opportunity- because of some connections I was able to land my first real “legit” job working in a dentists office. At the same time, the adoption services agency that I had been volunteering for offered me a job. So I began 2015 with not one but two jobs that I loved. But March brought along the expiration of my work permit and my renewed one had failed to come in in time. This meant that without a current work permit I could not legally work. And so just like that I lost both my jobs and everything I had been working hard to build for two years. My drivers license also expired and I was back to driving in fear. I felt powerless and frustrated. It was an awful thought to think that someone let my paper work sit on their desk for longer than it should have and this had a very real impact on my life. I felt that my life was once again not in my hands. My renewed work permit took a month to come in and with it I went and renewed my license. It dawned on me that though these provisions had changed my life and made it better, I was now confined to living my life in two year sections- never knowing if I would receive a renewed work permit at the end of each section. This was a reminder that underneath this privilege I am still not allowed the luxury of feeling free like everyone else. One of my biggest dreams is to travel the world. I grew up dreaming of distant places with lakes, mountains and wonders that I can only see in pictures. For sixteen years now I have also dreamed of visiting my former home in Puerto Vallarta. I long to revisit the life I left behind and dip my feet in the waters of the beaches I used to play in as a child. At the same time, I want to be able to come back to the place I call home once Ive accomplished that dream. The documents I have do not allow me to travel outside the country and again, it is another painful reminder that I am different and I am not free. This all brings me to what has now occurred in our country. In light of our new leader, I find myself deeply troubled and afraid. I now realize that I have 71 days until inauguration day. 71 days left to be as free as I have ever been and will be for a while. You see, my life will be immediately affected by this decision. Within this president’s first 100 days he has declared that he will take my DACA away. This will force me and hundreds of thousands like me back into the shadows, back into hiding. The worst part is that now, they know who I am and have my information. They know where to find me. I’m watching my life fall apart before me, everything I have done in the past three and half years has been for nothing. Suddenly the plans that I had past this December are no longer a possibility, my life has come to an abrupt pause where I am immobile waiting to see what will be done with me. At this point I don’t know what I feel, and I don’t think my mind has wrapped around all of it. All I know is this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach that life as I know it will be changing very quickly. Within the coming month I will ready myself to lose my job, my driving privilege and any sliver if independence that I have slowly gained. At the same time, I want to put my perspective out there- and though I acknowledge that my reality is one of high privilege within my own confines it is still a reality that is immediately affected by these results. Ive never told my story publicly before, though as of late I don’t actively try to hide it. In this life I’ve learned that the term “illegal” does not define me, above everything I am human and I deserve to be treated as such, thus I reject this term and I recognize that using it to describe myself is an attack on my self esteem and my person. I am just as American as the next person. The only thing that separates me from you is the place I was born. So with that, I am done being apologetic and I refuse to going back into hiding and denying my reality. I’m going to face my reality with my head held high, dreams in my heart and hope in my soul.

imantoinette

A beautiful anecdote by a beautiful person. This is real you guys. We cannot change who the current President-elect is but we can support one another and continue to unify ourselves. We are not enemies. We are not going to be defeated by the extremists who ruin the majority.

#Election election 2016 daca humanrights americans weareone WeAreUnited UnitedStates Freedom repost

as-warm-as-choco

Before the computing era, ILM was the master of oil matte painting, making audiences believe that some of the sets in the original Star Wars and Indiana Jones trilogy were real when they weren’t. They were the work of geniuses like Chris Evans, Michael Pangrazio, Frank Ordaz, Harrison Ellenshaw and Ralph McQuarrie ! Forever thank you, to their handmade art and the work of their colleagues, that made us dream of impossible worlds and fantastic places across Earth and the Universe.