I don't know who I am anymore.

I mean, I am part Mexican (Latino), and I am also part white (Caucasian).  I have the Spanish look in my dark eyes, dark, wavy hair, and my build, but on the other hand, I sound more American than a lot of my counterparts.  I also don't like most Mexican food; don't ask me why, but I don't.  I've really never been raised with it; I prefer a good ol' American pizza to tacos anyday!

I do speak English as well as I do my Spanish; however, most people don't know that, especially if they happen to be Latino, like I am.  I find that way past annoying!  Cholos estupidos!

I'm always tellin' 'em to Callate la boca! (Shut your yap!)

I don't know why they always assume that.  They need to get a life!!

For one thing, I wasn't even born in Mexico!  I was born in Gary, Indiana; now I live in San Antonio, Texas, where there's a heavy Latino population/influence.  I look like I could fit in at any Latino bar or nightclub (that is, if I were old enough to go to one!), or at any barrio 'round town. 

Yet I don't feel like I belong.  For one thing, I prefer to speak English to Spanish.  It's how I was raised.  My mamacita (little mother) insisted we kids learn English, so we could get by in this world.  Now, my parents both speak Spanish, but they only do it at home or if they have my granny (mi abuela) with them.  Abuela doesn't speak English, so they have to talk Spanish to her.  I do, too, but otherwise I speak English.

Life for me is pretty good; it's just when I deal with my counterparts that insist I speak Spanish.  That's okay, but there is one problem.  This is America, NOT Mexico!  I have a problem with my kind refusing to assimilate into American culture; it really bugs me to no end!  Like my fellow Latinos who insist I speak Spanish instead of English or they talk to me like I don't even know English.

It's crazy!!

I also get teased at school because I am half-and-half, not full-blood.  They call me "Mexican White Boy", "Half-Breed", or worse, and at times, I get so mad I want to deck someone, put them into the grave!!

It's when I'm at the boxing ring that I feel happiest.  Yeah, I box.  I'm a boxer.  I box to get rid of some of the stress that builds up from school or dealing with the cholos 'round town.  I also do it to get rid of the frustrations I feel about my little brother, Pacquito, who is nine, and autistic.

At the age of nine, Pacquito acts more like a two year old.  He'll only eat mac and cheese for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and if he stresses out, he pulls his hair out in clumps, rocks to and fro, or worse, screams louder than a fire engine.  He drives me crazy at times; and I'm the one who usually has to entertain him a lot of the time because mami and papi work oodles of hours at the cantina they own, and I also have to watch my sisters Carmela and Ysabel, to make sure they stay out of trouble.

It's not an easy life.  This is why I look forward to going to the boxing arena, so I can work on my latest moves.  I want to be as well known, respected as Oscar De La Hoya, who is a legend in the boxing world, perhaps even like Muhammed Ali, who was the Greatest (and still is, in my opinion).

I also can forget about my normal life, the teasing, the demands of babysitting, school, etc.

Well, I am going to go now.  Have to see what mami wants.  Think Pacquito is doing something autistic again; I hate it when he gets like this!  Until later, this is Arturo (Arthur, or for short, Artie) Emilio Bonvilianos signing outta here!  Adios, muchacho!  Hasta luego!

Will write in here again, someday.  Hopefully soon.

~Arturo, age 17.