Music is life…

It set’s you free well at least for me it let’s me see and it just might be that music is all eternity. I can listen to music all day and will not ever get tired of it. Lately though I have had an obseseion on female rappers. Not sure why, but it’s become my drug of choice. 

I listened to the Queens Latifah and Ivy,  MC Lite, the Lady of Rage, Remy MA, Lil Kim, Jessica Rabbit (ftd by Messy Marv), to the most recent Dej Loaf,  Lil Kayla (ftd by G Val), Rocky Bad, Young MA, Nia Li, BIA, and these are the ones on top of the list that just got me started. 

However, there is one female who isn’t getting the fame she deserves. She has a unique flow, she has been featured in a lot of known name rappers’ album like Chris Webby, Too Short, Scarface, J. Stalin, the Mekanix. just to name few. She has two full amd a half albums, and two mixtapes that are as full albums, some singles and even as she is being exposed she still hasn’t been recognized main stream.

I guess I should be appreciative of that since she would have been (in the words of E-40) “sugar coated and washed up.” She probably wouldn’t have let that happen to her anyway. With what she has been through: her record label, the record label she signed with, having a baby, problems with boo, a new boo, how did she even have time to manage to pop up and she definitly ain’t blown up to keep her from rising and then falling she has mnaged to keep a steady movement to her swag. 

I apologize, I am talkng about Snow tha Product. She has over 200 songs that I have heard repeatedly. From mixtapes to her albums and putting out new hits, she doesn’t get tired. Neither do I. I am going to get off this girls n-u-t-t-s. I have to say, check her out, give it a chance, she will grow on you. I promise. #loveyousnow.

Another female rapper I seem to be jocking is Lil Kayla from Frisco. Her flow really had that male female version to her rap. She spits game on these hoes and she collaborates with another of my faves in the male rapper department G Val. She doesn’t skip a beat not even to catch her breath as she busts them bars. 

But hands down, the female has more spit  then any male rapper out there just because she is a female though is Young MA from Brooklyn. I have a personal connection to her when she wrote the song “Dear Bro” I had just lost mine too. And “Body Bag” sounds like all men nowadays everywhere. Like my friend once said:

The n’gas acting like the b’tches, and the b’tches acting like the n’gas, but the b’tches are acting harder than the n’gas.

 Ain’t that the truth. One more I’d like to give props to before I go: Rocky Badd, putting it down on some real street talk, and some real life talk, and some real guy talk, and some girl talk, but she in’t even talking, she spitting, spraying, and she is not playing. 

I have to thank you ladies, I truly appreciate for letting out my frustrations through your music because had I acted on the voices in my head before I listened to you, I wouldn’t be free to enjoy you all. To all beautiful women making it by putting it down as a real womam should, I appreciate the work, the effort, the pride of the femininity. I am not lesbian, I just love women who are doing what I ain’t but showing some love and appreciation. Congratulations, Ladies!

I had one hell of a story

I am new to this blog thing so I used it as my journal. See I didn’t really want to show my story online at the same time I did, but no one has actually read or even know this blog exsists. So it kind of worked out for me. I don’t have anything fancy, heck, I don’t even have pictures, images, stick figures. Just a recollection of what I went through from. 2009 – 2017/18. It may not be for everyone but if someone someday reads it I hope they could appreciate it. If not I’m fine with that too. This has been a form of therapy for me and I just appreciate how I was able to get it out onto the internet with the possibility of someone reading it. But the chance was in my favor because I really didn’t want anyone to read it. 

Now that it’s posted, I really don’t care who reads it. If they could follow the story. One day after I have finished the whole story,  I will clean it up and make it all fancy for everyone to read. I guess you can consider this my blog draft. The is so much more easier than to be under the pressure of being a good writer. Right now I am just a writer and with some of the articles, books, journals, resousrce, and websites any student could have. 

For me, everything has been a trial and error. Like they say, 

You could lead  horse to water but you can’t make them drink.

I could try to learn or you could try to teach or you could get me to quick or to start doing something gor myself – but in the end it all up to me. I could let people talk about me – but it’s on me to let that get to me. I could let my ego stand in the way of my dreams – it’s up to me to even let me to get to me. All a mind game. If you think you’re smarter than me, you might me. However if I know I am smarter than you, whos’s to say I’m not? We can challenge each other, but is there  point to that besides your ego getting stoked. In the end did you really need anyone tell who you are, what you know, where you came from. 

Just recently I had a rude awakening. I guess I never really took the time to actually think about it. When the ancestry.com craze started, a lot of the Latino celebrities were shocked, some touched, other’s didn’t bother; apparently my uncle got all caught up in it ad so I find out my father and him so I am too, Spaniard. I have to find out on my mother’s side. That’s when I realized, there is no Mexican DNA. Mex (mix) i (well) can (surname for American). Mexico before it became the US waz a mixture of Americans. So unless you are full-blooded Spanish (like my father) English (from London), Romanian, Italian, German etc.. basically Anglo-Saxon, you were mixed with African, one or two of the above and/or Native American and which really means the original people who whete before it was invaded.

Do you really want to know the seven wonders of the world? Thete’s only one and it’s called peace. I tend to stray far off into what wonders our ancestors when wandering thw great totunda Earth to see if could come up with a solution to their problems. History repeats itself and if it’s true for out future then we’re doomed until the day it won’t repeat itself. Until then, I suggest to not keep silent. Raise your voice, raise hell, but praise [enter your answer here], raise up high and make it to the top. It ‘s not fun d own here.

What are your values?

What do you value the most in life? Are they family values? Are they values you have lived with almost all your life? Are they values that fit into your life everyday? For my, all of my life I valued family above anything else. No matter what, I had the most respect, their best interest, and if I had it they did too. When my broher would sleep in his car because my father wouldn’t open the door for him but wouldn’t give him a key either; I told him to come knock on my door whenever. When my father kicked my niece out, she came to me, I didn’t turn her away. When my cousin’s son who I had only met 2 or 3 times in his life-time came knocking on my door at 3AM, was I supposed to pretend I didn’t know him, point and laugh at him, or act like I wasn’t home? How about when my niece was ten years old and my sister would take off for the weekends which extended from Thursday – Tuesday. Should I had called cps for abandonment? NO! You keep it moving by making them feel as good as they possibly can so they can think about it and work out what they going through. You eliminate everything and anything to stress them out. My life was completely turned upside down and it kept tossing and turning and flippinb and flopping and tumbling and twirling. The next part of my life really helped me build character. I did it with grace and dignity. I had to do evrything and anything to protect my babies. I survived the betryal and the deceit. The physical abuse starts becomng more and more real. It wasn’t a state of disassociation. It is real as fuck.

I am writing

Not for publicity, not for an audience to feel sorry for me, nor am I seeking attention for anyone to back me up or to even understand me. I am writing to write. Hoping that I get better at it so that one day someone will read what I actually write. That’s why some of the stories are shorter. I also don’t want to lose the one and only reader who does read any of the content on this website. And please do not hold back on saying anything you want to say or an emoji rolling you eyes. I will even accept not hate but unlike comments. Because everyone has a right to their opinion. Or to correct my spelling or my compose or fix sentences or thoughts or ideas. Anything. Of course, I am writing for me. It is feeling like therapy to me.

I noticed I didnt’t introduce myself. Hello World my name is Francisca, a female from San Francisco focused on freewriting but taking it from a literal content. This to me is free writing. Just writing with with no particular order just whatever comes to mind. By the way my name means free a word used during import/export trade and eventually the word became the monetary frank. Anyway, I was born and raised in Frisco. And no, I wasn’t named because of the city. I was named after my grandparents on my mother’s side. Ironic their names were Francisca and Francisco. Both have passed. But I named my son after my grandfather. So I grew up in a middle class neighborhood with six siblings and cousins who came for the summer every summer; or aunts and uncles who were there until they got on their feet; of friends; or the daughter/son/niece/nephew of a friend in Mexico; or friends of friends. Basically my house was never empty. We always had parties on the weekends. With so much family and friends and their families, it was always someones birthday, anniversary, babyshower, baptism, quincañera, or it was Christmas, New Years, Jesus Day, magic day, eclipse day, day of the dead, which by the way my family never “celebrated” like they actually do in Mexico. I am six out of the seven and the youngest girl. Like that makes a difference because it doesn’t. I had 4 brothers, one passed, and two sisters. For those who know me don’t try to make look like a liar and try to say that I am. My family and anyone who we consider family (friends) like to play tricks and be funny with lame jokes or make fun of or just like talking $#17 thinking it’s funny.

My nationality has been a shock to me. Not really. It actually makes me feel real dumb. And here’s why. All my life I grew up Mexican-American, Chicana. Until ancestry.com. Curse you a- no I appreciate them for making me feel displaced. Why? Because all of my life I didn’t stop to think about what a Mexican really is. I, a person who consideres self-knowledge the greatest gift, who reads encyclopedias, dictionaries, and thesaureses, researches subjects like history and science, thrives on finding out something new everyday, and learned how to use useless knowledge, found myself in a conundrum. Mexico = a mixture of Americans. Which means that there is no DNA for a mexican. It isn’t a nationality. If you are mexican that just means you are a mixture of either Spanish, English, African, Portaguese, German, Russian, Italian etc. You get the idea. Once again, mexico is not a nationality, there is no DNA that says Mexican. Being a mexican means you are mixed. And that was not any ones fault that’s just what happened when all the other nations came and raped the Natives of America meaning the people who were already in America. Christopher Columbus thought he landed in India so he called them Indians when in fact they were Americans; already living here who migrated from Alaska, the Netherlands, and others that needed to migrate becaause of the climate. And my uncle proved that when he did the DNA test with ancestry.com He and my father are Spaniard. Which explains a lot about my father. The Spaniards were the ones who betrayed Christopher Columbus and did the opposite of what he wanted which was to learn wbout the culture. Instead the Spaniards violated this nation and wiped more than 3/4ths of it’s population leaving a couple of them in reservations others to fend for themseleves. That’s why there are reservations. And if you have no less than a certain about of their blood in you you get an incentive or benefits. So more than likely if you are Mexican chances of you having Native American blood are probably in the 1/4th the Spaniards did not kill. Because since they not only killed them they raped the women and probably some children. And don’t think that only men rape. Women do too. So who knows how many of those women carried children with the same blood but raised not knowing the minor details.

Check out my pages

I am really telling my story and it’s bringing out every emotion I felt. Every moment I remember that I blocked. I am having a good time doing it. I hope you take the time to read it. It really isn’t something to laugh about but the fact that I’m doing it! I’m writing my story.

Walk on water with me

But we should wait until it freezes!

Better yet, I think I’ll stick to the ground ~Footprints in the Sand~

The last six years I had endured a lot of hardships, not that my struggles are worse than yours. Not the worse, not the least, not even close to, nonetheless they were very hard to have gone through them. But during the time I was going through what I was going through, not until I got out of that storm, and the earthquake and the afterschocks, then came the tsunami, and hurricanes bringing floods so when the twin twisters hit I prayed one would take me to a far off land. But just like Dorothy, I would have wanted those ruby red slippers to come back home. When I finally did come home, as I watched my life flash in front of me. Well I am pretty good journaling so I could picture as I was writing almost every detail I could briefly describe. Some things I remembered others I wish I hadn’t, I cried, I smiled because you can’t laugh by yourself. I had to prove my insanity I mean that I am sane. I took a hard look at what I was writing about. I realized, “this was MY life?” No wonder I had to prove I wasn’t insane. Then I thought well was it a good thing or a bad thing. Because what I just read, any sane person would have thought you were insane for allowing your life to go there. Legally, I am not insane but boy had I been. Thank God I could’ve plead insane. My point being is that could it possibly have been temporary insanity? I haven’t seen a professional about this and I’ll get to that in a bit. But let me just list a few of the things I was faced with: 

My grandmother died, the father of my children deported, my children victims of bullying, adjusting to their dad not being there while I fight the school and the district for my children being bullied, maintaining a job, my son running away, my best friend passing, my house getting raided, my locks changed, my children not coming home, family betrayed me, boyfriend betrays me, my physician of ten years retires…

This was just the beginning without details of what really happened. What could possibly get worse than that you ask?

Family betrayed me by calling CPS on top of what I was already going through but wait, remember my doctor left me too. Hence, not seeking professional help. And I go and get pregnant twice. The father turns out to be a woman beater, but shows the world differently while making me to look as if I was crazy. Well that’s what I am sorting out. I had to make decisions based on my state of mind, the depth of the situation, the consequences I didn’t think of as short-term rather for long-term, and considering all involved with lack of judgement for myself passed judgement on me . The doors I walked through, the roads I passed, chances I took, the power of prayer and the faith I had in them is what kept my children healthy, safe, loved and have been given opportunities endless to them.

I don’t know any one in their right mind go through something like this and not be dead because she killed herself or having him killed for just being him. Or having a nervous breakdown, or driven and gotten lost in drugs on the streets. In case I forgot to mention, I was homeless. Up there along the lines of house being raided and locks being changed. From 2012 – 2018, my life was a living hell and I took the devil by the horns and rode him until he couldn’t have me ride him no more. 

The bitter/sweet of that is more sweet than bitter. Even though I had to endure ….. I have no words to what I went through. I could only share what the experience was like. Regardless, I know given the circumstances in every situation I made the decisions with the best interest of them, for their well-being, and not once for my selfish need of anything. What I needed was to keep what God gave to me as gifts to protect at all cost. 

In 2014 a month shy of my second daughter’s first birthday, I lost a brother in a fatal accident. Six months later, my cousin who are up with us so he was like a brother passed after years of alcoholism. And just recently, the one who got deported, since 2017 we have not heard a word from or about him. He was deported to El Salvador. And last year in December, his mother just passed away. The only four people who actually had my back and tried to help were now in heaven with my grandmother. That’s why that poem kept me to believe that God had to have been carrying me and my grandmother had my wings in case I flew out of his hands because the devil had a good grip on me. Every blink of an eye something else was falling over shoulders adding to the burdens, the nightmares, the tears, the madness, the chaos of a world I called my life

The Lord replied, my previous child, I love you and would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.

~Footprints in the Sand~ Author Unknown