Nothing In Particular

I started the day by reading some Paredes, and began to play more that devil's advocate. A sense of dissapointment set in when his words appeared based on emotion. The story became less believable and his logic was flawed. That or I'm overseeing some sarcasm, but I can't tell. I think about how we are all called mestizos one way or another. Isn't there some Spanish or European blood in all of us? It seems like it by the way we talk. But I'm thinking, maybe hoping, that I am still pure in some sense. That this brown skin has not changed its tone for the past 100 years. But I cannot honestly tell you, because I don't know my past. I know my grandmother was born in Aguas Calientes, Mexico, at least from my mother's side, and thats' it. I don't know anything about my grandmother from my father's side. The memories of my grandfather is him and my father in simaltaneous argument and discussion. But perhaps, I am more Indian than Mexican than European.
I will always seem lost because the closest I can achieve is American born, from Mexican parents. So, I call myself Mexican-American, but I hope for more. For really knowing my descendants. The term is so broad, just like American is stereotypical...and there is a difference between a Texan and Floridian, and even more from a Valleyite and the rest of the world. Those were my thoughts, and now there is more to consider.
Otherwise, there wasn't much to this day to make it unique.