CORTEZ, VIVIANA CHRISTINA

[VIVIANA CHRISTINA CORTEZ]

cortez, viviana christina

TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR
something that were like those years

[/b] viviana christina cortez
nickname(s) viv, vivi, ana, vic, loca
age twenty-nine-years-old
birthday february 11th
member group tourist
sexuality heterosexual
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SICK OF ALL THE INSINCERE
so I'm gonna give all my secrets away

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"It's just me and my mamá, my grandparents died before I was born and my father disappeared shortly after creating me. I know that my mother still holds out hope for him but I know he's dead, there is just no other explanation for it and to be honest, I think I would prefer him dead to being tortured endlessly every day. I have the tendency of 'adopting people like I adopt causes' according to one ex-boyfriend, truth is my friends become my family and it suddenly becomes like we are related because I'll cut a puta that harms my friends or my mother.

Speaking of friends, I've got amigos from here to Canada, I shit you not. When I find someone staring at me I strike up a conversation with them, if I see someone with an interest choice in clothes I talk to them, I see vibrancy in people and I go after it like a moth. Not to steal it but to be close to it, the truth is I hate being alone. There. I said it. I, Viviana Christina Cortez, HATE with all my heart and soul, BEING ALONE. HATE. It's not a sex thing at all, it has more to do with the need for companionship and entertainment. My mom says I should get a dog but I don't think my parrot Brindis would appreciate that. Brindis is pretty much my avian life partner and he loves me, he's a blue and gold Macaw and very vocal and territorial where I am concerned. The only loyal male I've ever met."

hometown

medellin, colombia

history

"Well, obviously the day I was born is muy importante, what moron would leave that out? My mamá was protesting out in the streets against our current government officials, power to the barrio and justice to the missing people, my father among them. Medellin, Colombia is a dangerous place, you know. I picked just the moment when she had clubbed one of the police officers with her sign to begin forcing my way into the world a whole week earlier than I was supposed to. In labor for seven hours my mother's body finally gave up and let me into the world as I desired, she was so pleased to see me that not even the fact that I was born in a grocery store on a bag of flour could wipe the smile off her face. I remember her telling me that I was destined for something far greater and that every star in the sky, every valuable gem stone, all of them had come from modest beginnings.

Moving to America was another big deal, my mother was lucky enough to have applied for a work visa a few years before I was born and when they finally accepted her she also claimed asylum due to more disappearances of old friends that were also protesters. With citizenship granted we first came to New Mexico and that is where I originally grew up and no, I did not live in Roswell although I DO believe that it is more than likely that aliens exist. I mean, how could they not? Were we really smart enough to make jet fuel and space crafts without modelling it after something else or having a little help? I don't think so, tonto. The only reason I speak Spanish so well is because my mamá somehow managed to find the Latino Central in every state we lived in.

When I was 15 we moved from New Mexico and somehow got all the way up into Seattle, Washington of all damned places. I swear to you, hombre, I did not see the sunshine for MONTHS. And I might have been a little angry at my mother for moving me so abruptly, I mean, I was on the very cusp of getting myself a boyfriend. Seattle turned out to be my miracle spot however and I discovered a very widespread art community and I dabbled in beat poetry before discovering my passion for the guitar and the paint brush. I have my first love to thank for helping me discover my voice and my mother for showing me the path towards canvas, before I knew what was happening I had several pieces featured in little galleries around town and the perras ricas even gave a nod to several of them even though I am sure they did not understand the concept at all.

When I was 18 I moved out on my own, going so far as to leave the state of Washington entirely in favor of Los Angeles. I will admit that my ultimate goal was to get discovered and I did, after a fashion...the producers liked my voice, the agents liked my body and for a while I went along with it, drunk on the possibilities of people hearing my voice on the radio and singing my songs. After several phone calls to my mother however, I discovered that I had not been safe in this sea of flashing lights after all. I was new blood in the water and if I was not careful the sharks would come to attack the weak and lonely Vivi-fish. I shunned the popular record labels entirely and decided to go with an independent label and began learning the process of producing my own music. I had too much fun with it, I think...I traveled all over the U.S. hungry for new sounds and new sights to inspire my paintings. I was like a gypsy, my home was my beat up Toyota...I paraded through the homes of many friends I had made on said travels and I was staying with one in particular when one of the most catastrophic events aside from 9/11 occurred.

Hurricane Katrina stormed the Gulf while I was staying in New Orleans and I have to tell you the absolute, God's Honest Truth. I almost didn't make it out of there with my life intact. My friend's abuela REFUSED to leave the house that she had been raised in, and her children after that. The old bat just WOULD. NOT. GO. And then we couldn't find the damn cat. Well, let me tell you I have learned that even in the face of certain death they will still reappear for a can of tuna. We finally forced the old woman and the cat into the car and drove like Hell was after us. A few hours later we were sitting in a bus station watching the news unfold and knew that the house was no more. Nada, pasado, finito. So much tragedy had arisen out of this one event that I stayed in New Orleans for a year and a half doing volunteer work, calling my mother every day just so that she knew I was alive. It was during that time I almost entertained a thought of becoming a nurse but then thought against it, college is expensive and I do not do well with structure.

I continued my gypsy lifestyle after that and began donating my time to trying to help troubled youths in whatever city I happened to be in. Somehow some reporter got a photographer to snap my picture and some article came out about me but I have yet to read the damn thing, I'm not quite sure if I'm even interested in fame anymore. After witnessing all that death I wanted to contribute my time to a cause that was actually worth something, so that my life had meaning and another purpose beyond being a volatile artist.

Oh boy, now I'm going to have to tell you the story about how I came to this city...it will make you laugh, promesa. So, the old Toyota and I are bouncin' up and down on this damn pot hole road at night right? I'm singing along to Kelly Clarkson, mi favorita and then BOOM!" Smacks hands together, "A FUCKING DEER RUNS OUT IN FRONT OF MY CAR! Dios mio, I thought for sure I was a goner, the last thing I remember is yelling something about 'waiting your turn' and some expletives in my home language that I shouldn't translate. I woke up in the hospital here with a concussion and since then I haven't found a reason to leave...weird, si?"

anything else you want us to know nope!
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