Ay dolor.

My urge to go to Hometown comes in waves.

Sometimes, I'm ready to jump on the next bus to Mexico, other times I want to slap myself for ever thinking about visiting that war zone.

Some days I'll have some relatives in Mexico trying to convince me to travel down to visit them, other days they're calling my house and telling me it's dangerous as fuck and that I should just stay nice and safe on this side of the border.

While I'm still on the fence about Mexico... and will continue to be in such a state until September rolls around, I've noticed my subconscious has compensated for my indecision:

I am speaking Spanish all over the place... at all times.

Yeah, I DO speak Spanish on a regular basis, since it tends to be the only language I speak to my folks in, as well as my aunts and uncles (actually, I ONLY speak Spanish to my aunts and uncles. My brain is hardwired to do that), but for the most part, when I think and stuff, it'll be in English (except when I do basic math, I always do that shit in Spanish for some reason).

Well, not recently.

Everything I do AND think is in Spanish.

This only bums me out. Here I am being a total bean in the States, but in Mexico, all I do is speak English and listen to English music. It's a constant reminder, Hey bitch, what the fuck are you doing over there in Vegas that is so important that you haven't returned to your roots in two years, huh? Traitor.

My brain likes to torture me.

Ayyyy, dolor! Me quiero largar!