What Got Me Started Writing The Way That I Do?

What Got Me Started Writing the Way That I do?

        What event in my life got me started writing the way that I do?  Well, it is a little personal, but I will do my best to tell you.  During my summer years between school I would spend time down in Los Angeles area with my family.  I have got family that lives all throughout Los Angeles area.  My cousin and I were driving down the street at the time that this tragic event happened.
      
       My cousin at that time was around my age now, 19 or 20 years old.  He owned a very nice & completely restored pearl blue 1963 Chevy Impala Super Sport.  He and I were very close; actually my whole family is very close.  Anyway, let’s get back to the topic.  I was with my cousin at the time that this tragic event happened.  We were in his car heading home, it was right around dusk (sunset), and we had stopped at a street light, waiting for it to change.  On our side, the road had a total of three lanes; we were in the dead center lane.  When we were at the light, two vans rolled up next to us, one on each side.
      
       All of the sudden the van doors busted open and two guys came out, one from guy from each van.  They pulled out guns and held them to our heads and told us to get out of the car.  What would you do, of course we got out?  Something was wrong though; my cousin did not want to get out.  He tried to be brave, but ended up getting shot in the head.
      
       The two guys took off in my cousins Impala.  Leaving my cousin, dead in my arms, stuck in the middle of the street.  Having this tragic event happen to my cousin and I completely changed my life.  It made me realize that some people just don’t care about their own race.  What was even worse was that the two guys that held us up and killed my cousin were Mexican also like my cousin and I.
      
       That event that happened in my life made me think real hard.  How can one race kill its own people?  It is sad when you think about it, at least that is the way that I feel.  By this event happening in my life it really changed me. It made me think, what’s going on?  Why are we acting this way?  Why does it always seem that the Raza is always trying to kill itself?  Why is it that most Mexicano's live in the ghettos, the projects, or bad neighborhoods.  Why are we stuck with the screwed up jobs?  Why is it (not to put any other race down) that the Koreans and Japanese own most of the shopping malls and mini-marts?  We get mad because they own everything.  But, who are we to say that they’re no good?
      
       We should be learning something from them!  One of the reasons they live in luxury homes and are not in jail is because they work together and don’t go off and start killing their own race.  They stay in school and learn how to make it in this world.
You’re probably thinking this Mexican must be a nerd that gets good grades, and doesn’t have any friends, etc.  Let me tell you this Mexican gets good grades because he tries!  I used to go gang banging with the homies, I don’t kick back with them any more though, it just didn’t feel right what I was doing.  I started to get into the gang life because my friends got into it, but I saw that it wasn’t right so I left the gang and my friends too.  Let me tell you, I’m only 20, so it is not too late for people to change at this age!
I started thinking about my future, and what’s to be of my Raza and me.  You’ll probably be at a family reunion 20 years from now.  What are you going to tell your family?  Oh, I just got out of jail.  Or, who knows, you could be in jail or worse, dead.  So please Raza, start thinking that’s all I ask of you!
      
       Let me tell you something.  If you started to cry or were sincerely touched while you read this, you’ve understood and have gotten the message!  You know that this is true.  You can relate to this if you’re a proud Mexican and don’t want to see our Raza go to waste!  Remember that we can set our own standards and achieve them as well.
This event in my life really brought me down.  When I feel or felt down as low as I did at that point I started to write my feelings down.  The funny thing is though, when I write I am not the same person, I am a totally different person, it sounds funny, but it is true.  When I write I am at a totally different level of intelligence and maturity, it's like another side of me that is rarely revealed. Almost every summer day after that event I would look for the most remote spot, a table where I could sit and read or maybe write a poem or tell a story, like I am doing now.  The sun warmth and the breeze always calmed me.  Sometimes after a few thoughts were jotted down on my note pad or the echo of a poem or story coursed through my mind like a gentle stream, I would silently meditate, savoring the surrounding sounds of singing birds or rustling leaves.  Writing; I love writing on my culture.