365

Todavia no se como escribir con acentos, asi que por favor disculpen los errores. De hoy por adelante escribire (en espanol o ingles) o pondre una foto cada dia por los siguientes 365. Asi que si hay alguien que me pueda ayudar con mis acentos le agradesco mucho.

Beginning today and going forward I will try to post something in writing (spanish or english) or post a photo every day for the next 365 days. I hope I can keep up.

Foto de una carta postal contra el racismo. La he tenido por unos 8 anos. La carrera 2008 para ser presidente de los estados unidos me hizo pensar en esto.

The above picture is of a postcard I got from Tower Records before they went out of business. I've had this postcard posted on one of my cork boards for the past 8 years. Until recently I had not thought about it but this year's presidential elections made me think about it and its message.

The Christ Child Out of Egypt

(I took this picture at a cemetary in Sacramento. I took the shot from just outside the mausoleum.)

It's been close to year since I last finished reading a book (for fun). I just finished Anne Rice's, The Christ Child Out of Egypt a few weeks ago. It's a fascinating fictional work by the author. It tells the story of the Christ child using the first person as a means of relating what life might have been like for the 7 year old Jesus. The author did her research and brought out facts that occurred around this time in the Middle East. It relates stories that deal with Mary and Joseph and other members of Jesus’ family. Anyway, to the best of my recollection I remember Jesus first being mentioned, in the New Testament, at his birth and then when he was 12. I have always thought about Jesus and what life would have been for him as a child. I always thought of him as a poor child living in the ghetto of the time and his father providing for Jesus and his family, working as a carpenter doing construction work. There was a time when I though I could be a carpenter but after trying to build a simple table that kept falling apart I gave up on this venture. For a long time I thought I could be a man of the cloth and teach the Word. I gave that up as I did not think myself worthy of such work. Anyhow, these and other thoughts remain with me.

I was brought as a Catholic back when mass was still being said in Latin. I loved the language; I was a "Latin Lover". There was also a time when I gave up on the faith and tried others, then I thought I was an atheist, then came back to the faith. I think that my faith has always been there, I just wondered off from time to time. Several of my fondest memories, as a child, was going to Catechism. I always think fondly of the times I skipped Catechism and went to play with my friends. My mom found out once and she almost sent us to hell for doing that, she gave us a whipping’, that part was not fun.

I think back to my pre-teen years when religion began to make an impact in my life. As a child whenever I was in trouble I would offer my prayers hoping for a way out of trouble. This followed me to this very day like when I ran a red light the other night and saw a car's headlights go right behind me. My thoughts were; Oh Lord please don't let that be a cop. A common prayer is Please bring (fill in one of my kid's names in here) ___ home safely. Growing up I also remember my parents fighting; Oh Lord please don't let them fight, don't let him hit my mother, please make them stop their shouting. When we went without food; please sweet lord please don't let me get caught stealing this piece of bread (or whatever eatable item I had taken). Please don't let me go to hell for stealing this. Please bless my mother, my father, my brothers, and my sister. Bless this food I'm about to eat. I still remind my kids to offer a prayer of thanks when they're about to eat a meal. I still offer thanks even when we're out eating. My kids don't say much about this so I'm not sure if they're ok with this or not.

As I grew older I realized that even though I left my faith and came back, even though I picked and chose what doctrine to believe, or even though I did not feel the need to pray or follow my faith I always came back to prayer and my beliefs. I think the only way I could get rid of my deep faith would be if my soul was ripped off (it could happen… maybe) in which case I could not go on. Without my soul I would have no faith, without my faith I would have no soul, without prayer I could not have any hope. I've always prayed; at first it was for food, clothing, and shelter (and that my parents would not fight), this later changed where I would start my prayers by giving thanks. I still begin most of my prayers by giving thanks for having food and shelter, for having been blessed with my kids, for being able to enjoy what millions and millions of people throughout the world cannot enjoy on a daily basis. I pray for the homeless and the sick. I pray for people that I know who are experiencing ill health. I pray and give thanks for all that I have been blessed with.

Back to the book; I would highly recommend this book. This intriguing story touches on faith, family, work, and things that every child thinks about. Christ the child, according to the book, was able to realize early in life (or at least by the age of 7) what his purpose in life was and to question why things happened. He realized that he was part of a large and loving family. He understood the word of God at a young age and loved nature at its fullest. Turmoil affects us all and the story helps us realize that if Jesus was able to question his purpose it should make sense to us that we too will question our purpose in life and whether or not we're doing the right thing. It's hard to walk in his sandals. It’s ok to question what goes on in our lives as Jesus did. It’s ok to question ourselves when things don’t seem to go well. Lately I have been moving away from ‘organized religion’ or I thought I was. After reading the book, especially after reading the author’s notes, I’ve come to realize that I need the support of organized religion. I often think that I can do things alone but in many cases I see that I need the support of my family and friends. I realize that I need the support of others who share my faith to rekindle that light in my soul that sometimes seems to dim. Interaction with my immediate and extended family warms my heart and brightens my soul. I thank God for that every day. I end by saying thank you for all that I’ve been blessed for… Amen.

P.S., Dilbert (the cartoon) is running a Jesus (pronounced Hay-Soos) comic for the past few days, it’s quite funny specially when Wally tells Hay-Soos that he has a coffee stain that looks like him.

(Another mausoleum picture at the same cemetary)

Martin Luther King

We cannot walk alone.

And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.

We cannot turn back.

-Martin Luther King Jr.

(Picture of this morning's march honoring MLK. Marchers arrive at Sacramento Convention Center. As always the children will make it happen.)

Today started out with the sun shining. I thought this was all around but it happened that I woke up too early for a holiday. The sun shone as I started driving towards Sacramento. I parked far enough from my destination and this gave me a chance to walk around the capitol for a short time. It started getting cold and as I looked on the ground it looked like rain had come down not too long before my arrival. The squirrels were squandering about and it looks like some have gotten used to people walking around. I've noticed, not just this time, that some come up to you expecting a hand out. This probably scares some who would not be used to this. Anyway, it had gotten cold and as I got to K Street I began to walk west from 15th Street. I noticed there were quite a few people out here. I started to get cold and began looking for a coffee shop. Many of the shops were closed so I walked to 9th then up to J Street. Cesar Chavez park was empty and only a few people were walking about. I smiled at people as they walked by and to my surprise most smiled back.

I finally found a Starbucks and it just happened to be the one inside the Convention Center. I ordered a medium cafe Americano (I think they call it a grande but I thought a grande was a "big" or "large", no matter I had come in from the cold to enjoy the warmth). This was around 9:30 so I sat down to enjoy my coffee and I grabbed a Sacramento visitor magazine and began reading that. As I sat down I faced the street leading toward the K Street Mall. I noticed people coming in and out and I enjoyed watching them as much as I enjoyed my coffee or my magazine. I thought about Martin Luther King.

Inspiration, for me, comes from above. Today's celebration made me realize that today I was also receiving inspiration from above as I am sure that's were Martin Luther King Jr. is. Thinking of this I thought of his 1963 "I Have a Dream" speech. I closed my eyes and I could almost see the black and white film of the reverend giving his speech. So insightful, so powerful, so Utopian in nature, so motivating, so intriguing, so full of messages, and so full of love. His speeches, as most sermons, touched the soul. I can see parts of the speech as I kept my eyes closed. I could almost hear his speech ring;

"Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

(Exhibit inside the Convention Center)

I finished my coffee and went outside for a little more walking. It had begun to rain a little so I tried to go inside the church right next to the Convention Center but the from door was closed. A side door might have been open but a homeless person was wrapped up in a blanket and a sarape so I decided not to walk over him to get to the door. "Dear Lord please watch over the homeless and the sick" a little prayer that came to mind. Actually this is part of my daily prayer at dinner time and I also take the opportunity to give thanks for food and everything I have. I walked around the corner and to my astonishment I saw a well dressed fox walking in front of me. I kept walking and then came to a marching band that was playing. Actually they didn't march at all they just stood and played. This went on for a while so I sat and enjoyed the music and took some pictures.

The Fox on a Walk

Later on the marchers began to make their way to end of their journey. I think next year I will walk the walk which seemed to take 3-4 hours. Some groups came singing, a couple of marching bands came through, people carrying banners some of the ones I saw; the Nichiren Buddhists for Peace, Education, and Culture, a couple of radio stations, the NAACP, Jewish Voice for Peace, Peace flags, American flags, a big group of Grant High School marchers, and tons of, my main man, Obama supporters carrying cardboard signs showing their support. There were also many children and teenagers showing the promise of the youth, those who will soon shape their thoughts, culture, and convictions. Hopefully they will carry on the dream of Martin Luther King. The future is their hands.

It was a nice day in the neighborhood.

Three Words

It was almost a month since the last time I went to Stockton for a Marga(Rita). I have (had) a "drinking buddy" and we get together every so often. We visit a place a couple of blocks from Rita's place. She knows the bartender and we usually have a couple of drinks once in a while. I spoke to her a few days ago and the topic at the time was school, she had decided to take some classes at UOP. I usually don't talk much on the phone but when she talked about school I was interested. Anyway, she said she had some good news and wanted to get together to talk about that. I told her I could go down there Friday or Saturday and we could hang out for a while.

I was excited about going down there for a bit and this weekend was supposed to be nice (weather wise). I headed out after getting some things at the store as I was planning on going out for a picnic at one of the parks down from Rita's. We chatted for a while. Everything seemed honky dory until I had to go to the bathroom. As I threw a tissue in the trash I noticed a pregnancy home tests kit (I think it said Aimstick or Aimstrip), either way I felt like someone hit me in the face when I saw the kit. Whop! I saw like a bright light flash for a second and I leaned on the bathroom sink because I thought I was gonna fall over. I could feel my heart beating, actually I could see it beating on a jugular on the neck, or so I thought. So I stood dazed and quite confused for a few seconds. Oh my God, I prayed for a couple of minutes. Amen, I said and splashed some water on my face.

All kinds of things were going through my head. I looked at the strips again and saw some blue; I think I saw a beer commercial about seeing blue. For some reason I looked all around the bathroom and my eyes stopped at the small window. Too small for me to crawl out of. I took the cell phone out of my pocket, who am I going to call? 911 was the most logical choice but too far fetched. Ok, I decided to go face the music my head was pounding, I looked in the medicine chest to see if there was some aspirin, damn more of those test kits, some Nyquil, but no aspirin. Splashed some more water on my face and looked down on my pants to make sure I had not peed on myself. Phew, no pee but I had forgotten to zip up. I zipped up and NOW I was ready to face the music.

"So Rita, what was the good news you wanted to share with me?" I asked in a nonchalant way but I think my voice cracked. Things seemed to be spinning now. Time for another prayer. I think she said something but I did not hear. "What?" I asked. "I said ..." Again, I did not hear what she said and I was sure I was about to faint. I said something but who knows what it was. I stared at another window; she got up and left the room. I moved my eyes to the door and I got up. I was about to move towards the door when Rita said "here" and handed me some aspirin. I tossed them in my mouth like a handful of sunflower seeds. I chased them down with some water she brought. She said she was ready for our picnic.

The panic subsided a little. I drove where she told me to and we ended up at the big park by the movie theaters, I don't know what it's called. There were some musicians playing and I slowly began to recoup. There was sunshine, the musicians were playing "Don't Worry be Happy" firkin ironic. I could hear some loud teenagers from across the street they seemed to be waiting for a movie, they were near a fountain running around, screaming, and splashing each other. This went on but when the two guys playing Don't Worry be Happy ended their song the screaming stopped the teenagers and a security guard were talking about something, I don't know what but it was quiet. A family walked by with a couple of toddlers and a baby in a stroller, seeing them made me smile. I smiled at the kids as they passed by; they were waving so I waved back. I still had a smile on my face as I turned to Rita. "That reminds me" she said. I thought to myself oh shit here it comes, my smile faded oh so quickly. I could feel my head throbbing; I tried to regain my composure. "Yeah" I said, or something like that, things are a bit hazy even two days later. I could see her mouth moving but I'm not sure if she was saying something or if she was lip-syncing. As I calmed down a bit I could hear her saying her last two cycles had been late (I was about to go psycho on her, no not really) and she thought I would be happy. I'm sure I gave her a WTF kinda puzzled look. She said something about how WE had discussed what we would do if something like this happened and how happy I had seemed about accepting another child, this and that, blah, blah, freaking blah, blah, blah. I don’t remember any of this, so out of my moth comes “I said that!!!?” it must have been the way I said it because I see her smile disappear and her lower lip began to tremble. She kept talking but I could not hear, my head was throbbing some more, I was beginning to get sick, I looked around trying not to see her eye to eye but it did not work.

I looked at her and began to pay attention. I watched her mouth move and then the words coming out of her mouth began to make sense. I paid attention and she told me about the pregnancy test kits she had bought. She told me she had stopped seeing other guys (later that day I found she had lied about this) and was thinking about looking for a new job in Sacramento but since she enrolled at UOP for a couple of classes she thought about going back and getting a degree. I was happy about that.

She then came out and said the unthinkable. She looked at me, I was lost in her eyes, and then she said those 3 lovely words. Those 3 words a man, my age, loves to hear. “I’m not pregnant”. Music to my ears, the sky seemed to open up and the sunshine came through the clouds, I could hear a chorus of Hallelujahs emanating from the clouds. Amen! Amen, amen, amen. Can you hear me my brothers? Amen, amen, amen.

I was so relieved, I pretended to be disappointed, I pretended to be sad, I pretended, such a great pretender. Chrissie Hynde would have been proud. I felt like the last of the great pretenders. Such a relief, OMG, my prayers were answered; I shouldn’t say that it seems sacrilegious; I hope I don’t go to Hell for saying that. Ok, after I calmed down I did tell her how much I cared for her and how great it would have been but I also told her I was too old for that shit. I told her I may turn celibate after this, ok I didn’t say that part. But can you hear me brothers? You too would say something as desperate as that after such a scare. I was scared. Not since I saw the Exorcist, as a young lad, was I so scared. Even the IRS has not scared me as much. Even the time I was taken to the Van Nuys Police Department and had begun to get fingerprinted (another story for another day) I was not as scared as I was today.

We spent more time enjoying our picnic, by now I had begun to enjoy the day. We made plans to go to her favorite bar for drinks and dancing. I said sure, sure and kept smiling. At this time I had begun to think that perhaps another little one running around the house might be nice. I then realized that it must the alcohol making me think like this. That would not be a good thing as much as I love kids I’m too old for that stuff. We enjoyed some quiet time until her phone rang; she walked off to talk to whoever called. I laid on the grass looking up and giving thanks to the man above, for the sunshine, the company, and for letting me off. My mind began to wonder some more. After a few minutes she came back and then my phone rang, it was a restricted number; all they said was “wrong number” and hung up. I said “what?” I looked towards the musicians who had stopped playing “no I’m in Stockton, what? Ok, are you sure, ok, well I’ll let you know in a few minutes. I’ll call you back, bye”. There was no one on the other end but saw this as my way out. I told Rita that my daughter needed to be picked up downtown as she had been visiting some friends in Chico. Mariana was still in Chico but I had to lie to get back home. “You want me to come with you?” She asked. I had to tell her no, but that I would call her later that night.

Since I got a restricted call I could only think of 1 or 2 people that call with a restricted number and I don’t like either one. This time I was glad they had called. We rode back to her place and I dropped her off. I couldn’t wait to get out of town. I rode back in a pensive mood and did a lot of pensing (ok I know that's not a real word). How am I going to break up with her? What excuses can I make? Should I break up in person? Should I drive through In-N-Out? I decided on the last choice.

Things slowly get back to normal. I don’t think I’ll be back in Stockton for a while. Whew, close call.

Note to my kids; use protection unless you're ready.

Chanclas

This morning we celebrated Christmas. All the kids were home and our closest extended family came to visit. Cheryl, DJ, and Alice made the long drive up here and made this Christmas that much more special. David and his girlfriend came over as well last night and some of us watched A Christmas Story a very funny movie. -A side note, DJ almost shot my eye out this morning.-

When I was growing up we did not celebrate Christmas, we celebrated "Dia de los Reyes" I think we call it the Feast of the Epiphany here. Anyway, we celebrate this on the January 6. Dia de los Reyes was when the 3 Magi brought their gifts to Christ the child in Bethlehem. We celebrate this day 12 days prior, with, as I recall piñatas being smashed every night (so were many of the parents if my mind serves me correctly). Someday I will go into the whole thing of this celebration but today let it suffice that we celebrated gift giving on this day.

As tradition goes, or as I recall, people put their shoes out and the Magi leave gifts for them. I put the picture on top because, again as I recall, we wore shoes on special occasions (mainly going to school). I remember getting a new pair of shoes every couple of years so to make them last we would wear them to school and take them off as soon as we got home. Besides school I recall wearing my shoes to church on Sundays. Needless to say school and church were my favorite places to be. Most of the time we played barefoot (mainly soccer). You were a lucky kid if you happened to be the youngest in your family as shoes would get passed down. Luckily I only had one sister, unluckily I was the oldest. I had/have 4 brothers and one sister.

So on Dia de los Reyes all shoes were put side by side and we eagerly awaited the Magi's arrival. Most of the time we got one toy. The first and maybe the only day that I remember a gift was a day I got a bag of toy soldiers. There were like 50 in a pack. It would take a while to describe so here's an image I downloaded:

When I awoke that day I recall counting the soldiers to make sure I had the whole set I think I did count 50. I just wanted to make sure my brothers did not end up with some of these toys. I don't recall what anybody else got but these little guys lasted for a long time. They provided hours of entertainment. One thing I do lament was that I asked for new shoes but did not get them that year. Actually, I really don't recall how old I was but I do remember the toys.

So today as my children opened presents I had to thank God for all that I have and especially for anything and everything that I can provide my children with. I was also specially happy that Cheryl, DJ, and Alice were here to celebrate with us. They inspire me and I am glad they are part of my life.

I thought about my mom today. As the year goes on I notice how much I really miss her and how big a part of my life she was. I miss her stupid jokes (not that mine are any better), I miss her cooking, I miss her presence, and I thoroughly miss her love. I love you mom, I think of you every day, my eyes swell with tears that sometimes leak out, and my heart cries out for you. Rest in peace mom, thank you for everything you did for me, thank you for your loving.

P.S.; The title chanclas means shoes, well worn shoes. Well work shoes that are old, comfortable, and have holes here and there.

Stop... in the Name of Love

I went to a Goodwill store today (for the record today's date is 12/20/07). This brought back memories when we didn't have very much. I recall going to the second hand stores and looking for shoes. Shoes that were marked with chalk. Chalk was a way for the store to check for shoes (or maybe other items) that were being snuck out without paying for these. I remember one of my aunts telling me to make sure I rubbed the bottoms of the shoe on the store carpet in order to get the markings off. The shoes that we walked in with were left on the racks, this was before surveillance cameras came into being (obviously). I guess this worked because we had used shoes (which to us were new and were without holes) to wear to school. Anyway, as I looked around the store today it brought back many memories. One memory brought back a flood of other memories.

Memories are something I have kept. I have kept these in my mind and some vivid ones close to my heart. At the goodwill store I spotted a violin that was for sale. This brought back memories of a girl I knew in school. Janet Zaelke was her name I remember her back in Jr. High we were both in the 7th grade. We had nothing in common but we found the time to choose the same reading groups, the same art classes, and she was my English tutor for a while. We would sit outside the classroom during certain periods and she would go over our reading assignments. I don't think she was very pretty at first but she was quite smart. Up to this point she was the smartest person I had known. Up until the 7th grade the smartest people in the world, in my perception, were priest and teachers. I think she was my first love.

I ended up measuring all other relations to my relationship with Janet Zaelke. I remember going to school just for the sake of seeing her. We lived in different neighborhoods on different sides of the railroad tracks. I lived in Watts, which at the time was an almost exclusive black neighborhood, and she lived in South Gate which at the time was a very exclusive white neighborhood. At a time when Spanish was forbidden to speak in school, and which was the only language I spoke, our relationship was looked upon with disgust by many. She was very well off while my family had to put the children to work to make ends meet, she was white I wasn't which, again at the time, these relationships were not looked on with approval. Well to say the least we should not have been together at all.

I looked forward to Jr. High for a couple of years. I would look for Janet as soon as I got off the bus on my way to school. I would look past friends and teachers until I spotted her. Once my eyes felt upon her my heart would fill with happiness, my eyes could see nothing or no-one else, my soul, I believed, would sing. I saw my angel, my friend, my teacher, my beloved. I was so young, so naive, so in love. As noted before, I would judge all other relationships to this one. I knew her for a couple of years and one day she told me her family was moving to Chicago since her dad got a new job. My heart sunk, my eyes watered, my soul seemed to boil over, I was depressed for quite a while. My heart was broken for the first of many times.

Janet introduced me to the American culture. She introduced me to reading for fun, writing, thinking about the unthinkable, using my imagination, and most importantly she introduced me to music. She played the violin, she wrote and read music, she was a gymnast, she showed me how to respect others and be respectful. Her music moved me, my heart sang and my soul danced. She sang and it was oh such a beautiful sound. She sang and sang most importantly she sang for me. When she sang for me I felt my heart swell with joy. I would look into her eyes and I could see her soul, her big, delightful, beautiful soul. Her music filled my heart and soul.

As I grew older I noticed that I admired and fell in love with girls/women that were strong, independent, free thinking, and smart. Intelligence was more of an aphrodisiac for me than what attracted my friends to females. I think that that has followed me up to now. I admire strong, independent, and intelligent females. I think I notice that before I notice physical beauty. I admire independence and free spirited females. I fall in love or wish to keep these kind of people in my life. My closest friends, male or female, are strong, intelligent, and talented people. I also think of people who bring out the best in me, who are there everyday to support me, who are there through good times and bad, and who pick up my spirits when others bring it down.

What a day. As I write this right now I think about Janet, Cheryl, Mariana, Alice, Betty, Katie, Antoinette, and of course my family, all who I see as strong individuals. Thank you for your support, for your patience with me, and for your love.

Poison

Imagine this; you're frolicking down a meadow, let's say somewhere down a Yosemite meadow. The sun is shinning, the birds are singing, and you can see Bambi on the corner of your eye (Bambi reminds me of a song by the Sex Pistols). Anyway, majestic mountains are all around, a beautiful waterfall is in the background, and it drains into a peaceful flowing creek. God's magnificent work is all around you and then, as if someone pulls the needle from a phonograph record, you hear a screech where once there was beautiful music playing in the background and everything stops. You cover your ears, you make a face, and show your disgust. That happened to me yesterday (for the record this was on Tuesday, December 11, 2007 A.D.).

Maybe the picture I painted, before the screech, was a bit too dramatic but when I picked up the phone at work on this particular day I thought of that. The ex called. XXX marks the spot, ruined the movement, ruined the day, ruined the whole fricking day. Lately she never has anything good to say. She's so vindictive, she seems so inconsiderate, she's such a bitch (apologies to all the nice female doggies of the world). It now seems that when she speaks it's like poison coming out of her mouth when we talk.

To think that once her lips felt so wonderful, her mouth was so sweet, her heart was so pure. What happened? She was the center of my life, my beloved, and a caring wonderful mother to my kids. She would listen to me, she would inspire me, she filled my heart with love. What happened? We shared dreams, we loved the same type of music, we shared political beliefs, we shared our faith. What happened? I guess I will never know. Everything seemed so wonderful. She talked about faith and money, she talked about work and money, she talked about success and money. Soon everything turned to money and we fought over the lack of it as well. She began to spend time away from home to make money. Money became the center of her life and I was slowly pushed away from her life. Her love became money and I was pushed away. She spent more and more time away from home to make money. Sadly, oh so sadly, her children came after her work. More time was spent away and less time was devoted to the children. This became such a sad situation that a separation became a relief.

Although I was expecting the worst it came so unexpectedly. For 18 years she was the love of my life. I thought we had something special. It was like a beautiful sunny day and then as if I was in a bright lit room someone turned off the lights and everything went black. What the Fuck? I seemed to walk aimlessly, I walked into walls, it was like I was walking in my sleep. I could not awaken from a nightmare. The nightmare was that she walked out on her innocent loving children. That was the catastrophe of it all but it was also what kept me going. The children still needed a father, they needed a mother. I became both parents to them for the next 8+ years. They kept me going and the darkness began to disappear. I began to see the light, my children were/are my life. They are my inspiration, my children are the center of my life. My once broken heart has healed, my faith which was almost lost has brought me out of darkness and into the sunshine. All is well. As a friend from work says "Life is Good".

Going back to yesterday... now it seems like yesterday was ages ago. I'm able to write my thoughts and my feelings. I'm able to realize how lucky I am. I am able to think about the love and inspiration that's all around me.

Anyway, I feel much better. I do remind the reader(s) that there are always two sides to every story. I do however feel relief in writing, I feel relief in venting, I feel relief.

I wonder if I can put my ex on my "Do Not Call" list.