Mig In America
America! Wow! What can 4 year old Mig say about the land of the free? Well, he'll probably tell you, "Oh we moved? I'm fuckin 4, I didn't even know"
(captivating intro, y'all taking notes?)
I mean, I don't have a first impression that I can remember, so I must have not been too impressed. Like, how am I suppose to catch cholera if there's no open sewage drains? Smh, C'mon America!
We stayed with some family in Frisco when we first came here. I don't remember them much. Probably some random relatives or something. They had a few generations of their family living in there and which includes a son that was a few years older that I was. I liked him immediately.
Haha, I remember the first time we met. I can almost picture the face he made when he came home to find a 4 year old..just...writhing on the floor, grinding right next to his 15-inch die-cast voltron toy set. Then seeing my face look up and say, “can i watch you play zelda?”
We didn’t stay long after that.
We left Frisco after a few weeks and we traveled all the way down the coast to a small suburban town named Rancho Cucamonga. This is a really cute story btw.
Sooo…..Judith and my mom knew each other throughout high school and college. Grew up in the same jungle village, picked the same coconuts from the same jungle tree, you know, etc..etc.. I don't know man.They said they had cars, computers and shit, but who knows really, right? I didn't know they can make cars from mango peels, but anyways Judith left for American after finishing College. Be it by coincidence or by fate, they found each other when we moved to the United states.
(I don’t know if this really happened like that. I’m pretty sure my moms and Judith planned living near each other. That’s dumb not to. Tbh I just wanted to use the line "be it by coincidence or by fate..." That's like some Prince of Persia type shit, like win a Golden Globe for best blog type shit)
Judith has two kids, one girl, Melissa, the same age that I am, and a boy named John, who is the same age as my brother. I know! Pretty Weird! Lol, we stayed with their family for a few months, and just like the previous story, Melissa found me playing super mario brothers in her room. And No! I wasn't writhing on the floor this time you assholes. (They had tile flooring)
She was probably the first girl I ever knew that I wasn't related to. I don't if she remembers, and I doubt she’ll even fess up to it, but Melissa was technically my first kiss ever. We would play house, or doctor, and we would just kinda make out a little bit. We were like 5 or 6, it was all very innocent, but I dunno. I was never really attracted to her. All my friends thought she was cute. Tom even smelled her hair once. I SAW YOU TOM! DON'T LIE TO ME. I mean, I understand her appeal, but she's like my cousin. That’s weird.
I don't remember when we moved out on our own, but my parents finally found a place in Rancho Cucamonga. It was this cool little apartment, 2 bedroom very modest. My mom worked as an optician at a Fedco, aka "broke ass Sears", and my dad worked as a line cook at Chili's.
I didn't see my dad so much since he worked late nights, and by the time he gets off I would be fast asleep. I didn't mind though. Sometimes I would to find pasta or an awesome blossom waiting for me when I wake up. And, whenever he was around, he was a dick so everything worked out for the best. Haha.
I don't know if you know, but Asian dads that are born in Asia typically aren't the most nurturing of fathers. LOL. I mean, my brothers and I are practically raised in America, and I believe that there is this disconnect between us and our Dad. There are cultural and language barriers that he needed to overcome, plus his own personal experiences, if he ever wanted to connect with us on a different level. My grandfather was a judge in the Philippines (might be a mafia judge, not gonna lie. How do I know? Gang tattoos) so I can imagine what kind of shit my dad went through.
We were a working class household and I was too young to go to kindergarten, so my parents would drop me off at my neighbor's house. My neighbor had 2 daughters, one was my age, I think her name was Princess? and the other one was a few years older. They picked on me because i didn't speak much English, and their mom called me a crybaby. Which was true, I did cry a lot, but that didn't stop her from being a cunt.
Oh Jesus, the eldest daughter, lets call her April, she was fuckin fire yo. She had a real classic 90’s look to her. You know….kinda like baggy sweat shirts, acid wash and tattered jeans, huge plaid button shirts. Ugh...she was this grunge goth chick with glasses. Mercy! Her skin was as pale and bleak as her soul. Oh my dreams! She was like the real life Asian version of Jane from Daria. I just got goose bumps right now. ^_^
I think I would just stare at her all the time. Just captivated. ughhhh….. Anyways, I wonder whatever happened to Princess? She’s Filipino in the 909, and knowing her she probably has a baby out of wedlock with her boyfriend that belittles her and doesn't treat her like he should, but she deserves it because she told everybody that he raped her, and she slept with a bunch of his friends behind his back.....wait what?!?!? HAha, fact IS stranger than fiction! No, that statement isn’t true, but It is tho.
I remember this one time I was so thrilled to come over and visit. My neighbor had promised us we would go swimming, and being 5 years old, I have no idea what that was but was SUPER EXCITED. I had a huge smile on my face, swinging my towel above my head, while Princess and I ran to the pool.
Oh young mig, full of blissful hubris.
“I live on an island! I can totally swim!”.
Ha. You gon learn today! Smile your fat smile young Mig.
Ahhh, finally. The Pool. We didn't have pools in the old country. We had giant wells of unspeakable depths ready to swallow you whole, and when we didn't bathe in wells we took showers in the rain.
That's right, homie. The RAIN, like Jungle SAVAGES. Droves of muthafuckas be out here in the streets, half naked, clutching VO5 shampoos and our pink bars of Likas soap. (Likas is popular brand of soap that made “skin whiter”. Yea we savages but we gotta keep up with appearances ya feel?)
FUCKIN ANIMALS THAT WHAT WE ARE. I’ve been rolling in the pavement. I've been bathing in the streets. Have you ever washed your clothes in the rain? while you were still wearing em? O0o0oh boi!
Ah yes, but wait...I’m in America now, I've made it. I've never seen wells made of concrete. What are these..."Swimming ploods"???
I remember running, and laughing, and smiling as I was jumped into the water and then there was splashing, and kicking, then thrashing, and….giant gulps for air, fighting to breathe, holy fuck i'm drowning! I’M DROWNING? Jesus Christ stop staring and someone help me!! OH GOD IM DYING…
Then a beautiful bright tunnel that seem to get ever so closer. I didn’t have to breathe or even exist. This warmth engulfs me, like a momma bird caressing her young. It's inviting, and oh so bright. It’s like when you start staring into the sun and your eyes get sleepy and you can feel the heat on your face.
(Side note: is that a thing? Like when you stare at the sun and you get sleepy?)
Peace. I can stay like this forever…*a panicked inhale* jars me awake. An abrupt and sudden quake of reality, my neighbors mom’s face so close. She just finished giving me mouth to mouth.
LORD JESUS, did we just make out?!!.
I can never forget what she said to me next. She said, “Don’t tell your mom about this, I thought you said you knew how to swim”.
(I still haven't told my mom to this day)
Well, I don’t know if you know this but...I guess swimming is not a natural gift that is imbued in every island dweller. I suppose that swimming is taught and if you haven't been taught how to swim, then you wouldn't fuckin know how. WELL FUCK, I WAS FIVE. I DIDN'T KNOW. AND I ALMOST DIED. AND ALL THAT BITCH PRINCESS SAID WAS HOW MUCH I RUINED FUCKIN POOL DAY AND HOW WE’LL NEVER GO BACK. WELL FUCK YOU HOE ASS. I HOPE YOU HAVE AN UGLY BABY, AND EVERYWHERE YOU GO PEOPLE WILL ALL BE LIKE, “OMG, WHAT A CUTE BABY” BUT IN THE BACK OF THEIR MINDS THEY’RE ALL LIKE, “FUCK THATS AN UGLY KID” AND THEY MAKE WEIRD FACES AT IT WHEN YOU AIN'T LOOKING. I HOPE YOU NEVER KNOW THE SIMPLE JOY OF MAYONNAISE YOU BITCH.
School was a little difficult for young mig. (great transition, hahah)
I was some short and stocky fobby kid that no one ever wanted to hang out with. I probably smelled because I put deodorant over my shirt and not under. (Haha, I did this for years) It also doesn't help when your mom dresses you, and so you end up wearing the same fuckin garfield shirt like 2 times a week. Jesus, I was a fuck boy, and I didn't give a fuck, bo0o0iii!!!
In Kindergarten I was cutting hair, bullying other kids, picking fights. This kid Timothy was sitting on a bouncy ball one day, and i just kicked the fuck out the ball he was sitting on. The ball smashes another kid in the face and starts crying, and the kid that was sitting on the ball fell flat on his ass and he started crying. Dont fuck with me. My english is bad and I don't know how to accurately convey my thoughts into words, bitch!
This is probably why I hate kids so much now, because I realized how much of an asshole I really was. *Sigh*...It was a transition period really. Being the only child at the time, and trying to socialize with new kids was hard man. Shit. Plus it wasn’t like my english was perfect too. Shout outs to all my homies in ESL. We made it!
I remember that my first grade teacher wrote my mom a letter. It said that, “maybe you should pack Luis (Luis is my government name) a quicker snack other than chicken, rice and a soup, because by the time Luis would finish his lunch, recess would be over and he doesn't have time to play with the other children.” Haha, Jesus christ. Little did our teacher know that the other children picked on me because I would eat boogers and run with my arms behind my back Naruto style.
It creates less drag ok? You fuckin assholes. See me at a 50 yard dash, bitch
The teacher had good intentions, and I appreciated her for that. Haha, I can just imagine young Mig just sitting by himself with his spoon and fork eating and watching the other kids play. Fuck, I was a fat ss kid. My mom fed me. Babied me really. You know in retrospect, this is probably why I am the way I am. Insecure. afraid to take chances. Dependent. Thanks Mom!
I guess, I was pretty close to my mom. My brother stayed in the Philippines until we were all settled, and most of the time it was just me and my Moms watching Jeopardy and cooking dinner together. My brother finally came maybe a year after we arrived in America. The transition from a family of 3 to 4 was pretty seamless. I think I was still too young to comprehend what was going on, and it was a nice and simple part of our lives that I will always cherish.
Well, as our nuclear family was growing and we decided to move and rent a house for the time being. It was the house on Betsy Ross, this was probably in 1992? I was around the second grade. It was awesome because we had a huge empty playroom, it was kind of a quasi fancy dining room/ living room kinda swag. So my brother and i would play forts or have lego fights. My mom hated that house. Years later she would tell me that she thought it was haunted. Apparently, I’ve been saying weird shit to her over the course of our stay there.
“mom, whats this man doing here?”
“who was that person up stairs?”
Quick note: I once heard this from a professional exorcist on youtube or I am completely making this up, but you got to have your house blessed by a priest if you are first moving into your home. It turns out that if left unoccupied, rooms and homes can harbor wandering spirits. The logic is that if a home or a room has been occupied by someone and they move out, a wandering spirit is drawn to that lingering energy and can inhabit such rooms. So, if a family moves out from your home and the room is left unoccupied for a few weeks, then it can become haunted. Freaky shit. So you gotta occupy that room every so often to ensure that positive energy remains and doesn’t get replaced by a void.
After a few years we finally got our own house. it was this one story, 3 bedroom home right next to my elementary school. (Like literally 5 streets down) fuck, i loved the house on lighthouse. great back yard, nice open living room. carpeted. i love carpets (for obvious reasons, GRINDIN MY DICK IN IT). We lived in that house for over ten years, and that's where the dumb shit really happened. you see, when we moved in, my parents were both working full time jobs, and when they couldn't find anyone to watch us, we were just left to own devices. We would get into fights of the most biblical proportions. Those are stories for another time tho :)
