Gringas, Chilangas, journals — what does it all mean?

A few weeks ago I visited my storage unit here in Redmond to start clearing out the junk I never use but pay $60 a month to store. It was great to throw away crap — old buttons, receipts, fashion risks, and photos I thought I'd someday use for scrapbooks (yeah right).

Then I came across a bunch of my old journals, some written as early as second grade. No trips down memory lane, I told myself. But when you're alone in a Public Storage facility what else are you going to do? So I started reading and laughing and wanting to give 11-year-old Melissa a hug for taking such good notes. (I wanted to give 15-year-old Melissa a slap in the face for being such a whiny brat but that's for another time).

I realized the younger I was while writing the entries, the more I talked about what actually happened during the day — down to the seating arrangements and departure times during our family bus trip from Houston to Mexico City in 1992.

"It was about 12:00 and our bus would leave at 2:00 so we had to hours to do nothing. When we boarded the bus we sat down it was like a Grey Hound bus so it was very fancy. The bus driver said we would arive in Mexico City tomorrow at four. I sat by my Aunt Rose and my brothers sat together. That was a big mistake so my dad sat by brother Daniel and Roberto sat by my Grandma."

Hahaha. Talk about a boring nutgraf. Anyway, I seriously can't remember who forced me to journal at that time but it's one of my first diaries. It was probably a family member trying to distract me from that way-too-long-for-kids bus ride or maybe a teacher who asked me to do extra credit in the form of a journal. I remember we missed a lot of school during that trip.

Anyway that young writer inspired as well as challenged me. Can I write a journal that doesn't center on feelings nobody (especially me) will care about in 2o years? Can I actually talk about what I did, what I'm doing and who was along for the ride? I really hope so. It also helps that I have something to write about.

In March I will be a Gringa (American woman) living in Mexico City (AKA the Districto Federal or D.F.). The people who were born and live in or around the city are called Chilangos. I think it's an awesome word Chilango but it really depends on who you ask and what Wiki tells you. I've read that those in the other 31 states find it annoying that the Mexico City residents embraced the questionable term and now the Chilangos use it all the time. Guess I'll keep asking around to see what's the deal once and for all.

Anyway, so I leave in a just a few weeks for Mexico. The reason? For love. I reconnected with a good childhood friend Said, fell in love during a vacation to the D.F. last September and (we seriously are insane in the membrane) got engaged during my trip out in December. I couldn't be happier.

So that brings me back to journaling and being an unofficial Chilanga for the foresable future, and well, a Gringa for the rest of my life because only a miracle will get rid of this heavy American accent when I speak Spanish.

I hope to be interesting, entertaining and most of all, I hope to load these pages full of videos, pictures and whatever else comes to mind.

Talk soon friends and fam.