Sunday, December 31, 2006
Friday, December 22, 2006
- Swooning over guys with strong arms
- Bringing two kids each into this world to add to the Army we're forming
- L-O-V-I-N-G the movie Chasing Amy
- Holding a place near and dear to our hearts for classic Salsa music
- Loathing people who make IM spelling errors...YOUR is not the same as YOU'RE, dammit!!!
And I really don't have any more apologies left in me, so I felt it was just easier to post something tonight and get it over with.
A couple of weeks ago I read about some kid who got stabbed to death in broad daylight in Union Square while people where there in full swing doing some holiday shopping in the open market. Just this big-ass'd brawl of HS kids trying to kill each other. Sad but true. I've since found out that it might be gang related. One of the gangs involved? DDP, or as they are really called, but I'm embarrassed to admit, Dominicans Don't Play. I mean is that just the stupidest name on gods green earth that a gang could possibly have? This city if full of Decepticons, Bloods, Crypts, Latin Kings...and Dominicans who don't play...
And what, pray tell, do they not play? Jump rope? Backgammon? Red Light, Green Light? I mean, I'm not doubting that they are as ruthless and bad ass as any other knife/gun wielding gang in this city. But that name...it's really just poor marketing. They need a PR rep really bad! I'm just a tad embarrassed because, well, they're Dominican. And I for one do not see what's so bad about playing. I mean, do you feel me?
If It Wasn't for Step 3...
I've really been toying with the idea of sitting in on a couple of the Sexaholics Anonymous meetings to see if it's the missing "piece" in my quest for "peace" but dammit if they didn't throw that god clause in there. Can't I fix this without bringing anymore Judeo-Christian oppressiveness into my life? That's the main cause behind all this in the first place, all that repression I was taught in the church; the shame that it preaches and embeds in your mind- that shit really fucks with a kid's head...no pun intended. Can't I just go to a meeting and accept responsibility for my actions without putting it in some supposed celestial being's hands? That's such a passive way to go through life: it's in god's hands. No it's not- it's in my hands. I can do this; I have to do this; it's my responsibility to bring about change in my life.
Hmmm...maybe I don't need those meetings after all...
MEMO TO SELF: Rent The Brown Bunny RIGHT THIS MINUTE!!
So, um, Vincent Gallo, wannabe musician, D-list indie actor and all around weirdo, who amused me in Palookaville and wowed me in Buffalo '66 and In The House of the Spirits, is upset with PayPal.com because they refuse to do business with him anymore for his website, http://www.vincentgallo.com/. Vincent, sweetie, I'm mad at you for selling a night of sex with you as well as YOUR SPERM on your website. And I'm mad that VG can sell his body online no problem, but if I do it it's prostitution. Is it because he's a man or an actor? To me, soliciting is soliciting. Why isn't LAPD doing their job? Get this nutcase off the streets before he (re)produces again!
No, It's Not Okay to Talk About This with Me
It's bad enough that I've allowed myself to embark on this faux-friendship, in which I pretend that this torch I carry for you is just the latest fashion accessory, and you pretend that the reasons you gave for our demise weren't ambiguous at best, but do I really have to sit on the other end of the phone at two in the morning while you seek my advice on your girl troubles? I still haven't seen a doctor about this knife in my heart, so let's lay off the dating details until my wound heals, k? Say it with me, now: T...M...I...
Some Stereotypes are Just True
Did you know, that in the Christian Bible, the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah were considered sinners by god because of their perverse sexual acts (fellatio, anal sex, man on man action), but in the Jewish accounts of this biblical event, Sodomites were guilty of economic crimes and monetary greediness. People, I cannot make this stuff up. Draw your own conclusions...
*smooches...with new-found respect for racist jokes*
We fall down
But we get up...
For a saint is just
a sinner who fell down...
and got up
Saturday, December 16, 2006
I really hope there aren't any surveillance cameras in my office because they totally have me on tape rolling my eyes at the computer and laughing out loud at the ridiculousness that the NY papers deem "fit to print."
In Other News, Bush and Osama Say to the World: Smile! You're on Candid Camera!!
Why would anyone be so crazy as to believe that any real strife would befall Belgium? Besides of course their stash of waffles and chocolate falling low. Now there's your story!
But I hear he used his legs to shove Timmy down a well...
Hey, you, tall Doofus, come over hear and yank some plastic shit out of these here dolphins we're holding in some tanks against their will. And while you're at it reach up, grab the sun and tilt it about 2 degrees for me, will ya? I mean geez- it's bad enough he's a doofus, you gotta exploit him, too?
Oh my god...I'm go-go, too!
Dude, you shake your ass so other dudes can jack off to it. I hate to be the bearer of bad news...but that IS porno! Let's call a spade a spade, okay?
Has anybody questioned Elmer Fudd?
That damned rabbit must be putting up "duck Season" signs again...when will those two just call a truce?
Because worrying about his health would probably not be politically correct...
Another reason why I try to stay as uninvolved in politics as possible: I don't want any slime to get on on my leather jacket...
And this is why I got rid of my machete.
I mean really, if you're going to treat your kids like shit, don't make it easy for them to kill you. It's covered in chapter 2 in the new millenium parenting guide...didn't he get the 2006 edition?
He's probably at Osama's house.
Don't even waste my tax dollars looking for this fool. I don't want to hear another word about it.
Sometimes you just need to beat the hell out of a kid...
Oh. Did I just say that out loud? I certainly do not condone child abuse, nor do I promote threatening to put your 6-year-old in the oven and serving her for dinner with a spicy mango chutney...
That's all I got. If I read anymore news the weight of the world will crush my spine.
*smooches...with a side of spicy mango chutney*
Well, if you told me you were drowning
I would not lend a hand
I've seen your face before my friend
But I don't know if you know who I am
Well, I was there and I saw what you did
I saw it with my own two eyes
So you can wipe off the grin, I know where you've been
Its all been a pack of lies
Friday, December 15, 2006
Now this is where I usually insert something callous and witty like: “get over it” or “hmmm…where’s my violin?” and that will usually incite rumbling laughter from you, my loyal readers. But apparently that is just the type of “wit” that has brought me to this post.
Yes, I, Raquel, she of the scathing tongue, want to apologize to all injured parties of previous posts that at the time seemed really funny but was actually really hurtful. And I’m not using my sarcastic voice either. I’m actually taking off my armor, putting down my shield and admitting that I use this mean-spirited humor in a desperate attempt to protect myself from myself, the typical bully mentality. It’s the one thing I remembered from Psych 101…you know, from the one day I actually attended class?
I want to reiterate to that injured party that what I wrote was just words on a screen. That despite what those words connotated and despite how they were interpreted, my feelings for this injured party remain as they always were. And if said party is not sure of those feelings because my armor and shield have gotten in the way, let me tell them here: there is not a day that goes by that I don’t miss you deeply and wholeheartedly. And not a moment passes without a memory of our time together popping in my head and making me smile. Please know this to be the truth.
And while I’m at it, let me address other wrongs. Might as well get it all out before I suit up again.
JS: I don’t know why I never called you back. We had an awesome time that night and I thought you were a cool person. Sometimes when the weekend approaches I contemplate calling you but figure you have already written me off as a flake and deleted my number from your phone. I’m really not this dismissive of people, really. I got caught up in my own stuff and I apologize. It’d be nice to hang out again if you still want to.
Jack: I’m really happy you’ve found something to be happy about. I really am. Please don’t think that my self-imposed seclusion has anything to do with you. It has everything to do with me. But you have an IQ of 144, right, so I suppose you already knew that.
C, Hoover and Toothless: If you ever come across this blog, I want to say that what I wrote I meant, but I didn’t have to put it out there for the whole world (actually only 17 people) to laugh at. I’m sorry.
L: If you ever come across this blog and come to find that there are things I kept from you, I’m sorry, too. Just know that were are really good friends, and if I didn’t divulge something it was only because I was ashamed to admit it to you, because I really admire you and your morals and your friendship, and I wanted to keep your image of me pristine.
And finally, in a last-ditch attempt to keep bad Karma from re-visiting me, I want to apologize to Mrs. McDonald and her baby. I knew it was wrong when I did it the first time. And I knew it was wrong the second time, too. I promise you- there won’t be a third.
*smooches…with so much love for you all that my cup runneth over…*
Siempre me quedara
la voz suave del mar,
volver a respirar la lluvia que caera
sobre este cuerpo y mojara
la flor que crece en mi,
y volver a reir
y cada dia un instante volver a pensar en ti.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
I have not been able to write in weeks. None of my stories for my thesis have an ending and it's just not coming to me. The 25-pg "craft" paper is holding steady at 12-pgs with not a single, new original thought popping into my head. That damn blinking cursor on my computer screen is mocking the hell out of me, and I swear, yesterday it said, "You're a fraud. You're not a writer. All of your stories are the same. All you've done is changed the protagonist's name."
Fucking, stupid, bitch-ass voices!
It's made me a bit self-destructive and careless and I really thought I'd left all that behavior behind, but no, it's been there the whole time just waiting to be reactivated. My insomnia is getting worse. I'm getting sloppy at work. I've gained five pounds. I'm so mentally exhausted that it's causing a disconnect inside of me. I just need to shut down and re-boot, so to speak.
So that's what I'm going to do.
This is driving me nuts because I've never really had writer's block before and I'm scared that I won't get my flow back. I feel like a singer who has lost her voice and I'm freaking out. Is there some sort of lemon tea thing I can take to revitalize me?
And I swear to god if someone says "therapist" or any variation thereof I will snap you in two! Literally. There will be two bloody pieces of you lying about. Don't test me.
Now some of you will think this is a cry for help, but the rest of ya'll know me better than that. I say what I mean, and I mean what I say. I'm not looking for sympathy or an outpouring of love. I really truely just need a couple of days to regroup and get back on track. I just didn't want anyone to think I was ignoring them.
But I'll give you this, a present, a relic from my childhood that sort of calms my soul. Hushes the voices, if you will. No matter how low or crappy. This is my self-esteem secret weapon. You should feel honored to know it:
*smooches...from me for me for once*
I've took it farther on the outside
I've took it nearly to the brink
And if you've seen me on the outside
You would have barely seen me breathe
Saturday, December 09, 2006
MY DIVORCE IS FINAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'm officially legally unbound to that man! It took exactly one year, one month and 28 days from the moment his sorry ass left my momma's house to this moment, and I have to say I'm a little overwhelmed.
First I'd like to thank L in Cali for all of her support, perspective, advice and comic relief throughout this whole ordeal, even though she doesn't read this blog (I'll be thanking her in person later on this month!).
I'd also like to thank my family who didn't choose sides or say, "I told you so," but instead were there as a constant source of support.
And to C's and my mutual friends (is that gramatically correct?) and fellow AU alumni who may have been a little thrown by the split- you guys are amazing and I ♥ U!
Finally, I'd like to thank the Academy...you like me, you really, really like me...no seriously, though I want to thank the Queens County court system, Michael Ciarlo and Kenny the Paralegal at Nadel & Associates who really helped me out a lot with all the gory details of this divorce. You guys ROCK!
Now that it's over, I suppose I can reflect on the 13 years he and I spent together- both the good and the bad and the ultra- mega- funky- awfulness that brought us here. I've made our time together seem like a ride through hell on an oil soaked rickshaw, but of course there are two sides to every story.
I'm sure he would say I was difficult, bratty, moody and unpredictable, and that I had this standard of perfection that no one on earth could possibly live up to...but you all knew that about me already. And I'm sure you're all tired of hearing me say how boring, financially irresponsible, and unhealthy he was, and how irritating he became in those last few months. There were other, more serious underlying problems, too, that I won't go into out of respect for his privacy (look at me, all grow'd up!), but if you ask me I'll tell you one on one.
There were many times I tried to leave, he tried to leave, I tried to kill him (lucky for him he had really good reflexes and caught my wrist in time or that knife would have seriously still be stuck in his throat!)...the usual ups and downs, but it was magnified by the 10th power in my mind and I've known for a while that it had to end.
So here's to love, marriage, babies and divorce- not necessarily in that order. And here's to my new life: May the road rise up to meet me...May the wind always be at my back...May the sun shine warm upon my face, and rains fall soft upon my fields...
*smooches...on my way to pawn my wedding ring*
i thought we'd be simple together
i thought we'd be happy together
thought we'd be limitless together
i thought we'd be precious together
but i was sadly mistaken
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Yeah, that's what I said, too.
There is so much information crammed into my poor, beer-soaked brain right now that I think it might implode. Some dude gets shot outside a strip joint by the cops; a boy gets jumped in Union Square; Lindsay Lohan sends some crazy email to her lawyer that is leaked to Page Six...I just can't keep up! The only way to get these stories out of my head is to do the same thing I do when a song just won't leave me alone: write it down.
Here's the recent news, according to me, the Jaded NYer...
1. 50 Bullets
I agree that was excessive, but here's my problem with this story: a) why were they taking the stripper home? b) why did Bell ram his car into the cops? c) why do cops carry around THAT MUCH ammo d) why do black people keep inviting Al Sharpton into their lives? I can't STAND him!
Listen, plain and simple, if dude hadn't been so preoccupied with getting some skanky stripper ass the night before his wedding to his baby momma, his ass would still be alive today.
2. Pelosi and Murtha
I don't usually follow politics, but a couple of weeks ago the NY Times had this cover story on Nancy Pelosi endorsing John P. Murtha as the next House majority leader, and how no one else backed it and they chose some other dude instead. With the article was this pic:
That's Murtha, in the back, to the right, with the STANKEST look on his face, while Pelosi and the REAL House majority leader ham it up for the press. That made me laugh so hard I almost peed my pants!
3. You Mean I Gotta Be Sober on My Commute?
Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!!!
Commuters on the LIRR are complaining because the bar-car may be abolished. Listen you alcoholics, stop being whiny-assed babies and just have a beer at Charlie O's at Penn Station before you get on the train instead, okay? Geez- it's not the end of the freakin' world. Give your liver a BREAK!
4. News from the Dominican Republic:
A) No More Haitians?
Foreign Relations Minister Carlos Morales Troncoso, a former sugar cane industry executive, highlighted the fact that the trend is for increased investments in farming mechanization that will eliminate the need for Haitian labor in sugar cane fields. Dominicans reject the hard work of sugar cane cutting, which has led to thousands of Haitians being allowed to migrate to the country to take their place. These Haitians live in settlements called bateyes, many languishing today as the number of jobs declines because farms are being mechanized.
But, who will be our scapegoats if the Haitians stop crossing the border to do the work uppidy Dominicans don't want to do? Who?? WHO???
In a press release, the Cerveceria Nacional Dominicana (that produces Presidente beer) says that beer drinkers will be most affected by the fiscal reform, estimating that they will pay more than 36% of RD$ 17.5 billion the government is trying to collect. Currently there is a tax on beer depending on the percentage of alcohol, but the fiscal reform looks to impose a selective tax on beer. Teodoro Hidalgo, Director of Corporate Affairs for Grupo Leon Jimenes, says that this tax increase means that beer in the DR will become one of the most expensive in the hemisphere.
First they take our Haitians, now they want to make it harder to buy beer...why even bother living?
5. Hey, This OrthoTriCyclen Tastes Like Hubba Bubba...
Are they kidding me with this one? Chewable Contraceptive? I can see it now: "Jenny can you please spit out your gum? You know it's not allowed in class" "But Mrs. Funkenmeyer, it's my birth control gum!" Now I guess you can be a whore and chew gum like one, too! Whatever happened to the Rhythm Method, huh? Actually, maybe you shouldn't take birth control advice from me...
Okay, that's enough with the news. My head hurts and I need a shower to take the stench of society off of me.
*smooches...with icky newspaper ink all over the place...*
No creo en Venus ni Marte
No creo en Carlos Marx
No creo en Jean Paul Sartre
No creo en Brian Weiss
Solo creo en tu sonrisa azul
En tu mirada de cristal
En los besos que me das
Monday, December 04, 2006
Saturday, December 02, 2006
These are the days that I've been missing
Friday, December 01, 2006
Monday, November 27, 2006
Sunday, November 26, 2006
My mom, kids and I decided to spend Thanksgiving with my baby sis in her new apartment outside of D.C. Originally it was supposed to be the whole family but some couldn't make it, so what I originally thought would be a quiet car ride to our nation's capitol turned out to be a nightmare.
Instead, we took one of those super-cheap Chinese buses that leave from Chinatown and go to Philly and D.C. on the regular, and I suppose I was thinking it would be the same as the vans that take us up to Lawrence, MA. They were SOOOOO NOT!!!
First off, there's like 20 different companies leaving from the same East Broadway block, and aparently, not a one of them know what a "sign" is. Second, they over-sell every bus so it's a crapshoot as to whether or not you're getting on the bus when you think you are getting on the bus. Third, those bitches selling the tickets are rude as fuck. I'm not sure if it's a cultural thing or just a requirement from New Centry Travel's HR department. Actually it can't be a cultural thing because all the women at my local Chinese take-out places are super sweet. These women were just rude as fuck. Finally, and my personal favorite, they operate on BP time. Now I don't mind the usual delay of 10, 15 even 20 minutes; traffic can be a bitch sometimes. But the 6:00PM bus got there at 7:15...WTF?
Needless to say, even though it was only $35 RT to visit my sister via the Chinese bus, next time I'm shelling out the extra dough for Greyhound, Amtrak or even JetBlue!
*smooches...after 8 1/2 hours of traveling...*
how can i go home
with nothing to say
i know you're going to look at me that way
and say what did you do out there
and what did you decide
you said you needed time
and you had time
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Friday night. Just finished my first week at a cool new job with a cool new nanny taking care of my wee ones. It was my ex's turn with the kids for the weekend. You know what that means: PARTY!!!
It just so happens that my bestest guy friend in the WHOLE WORLD since high school, Jack (AKA Galaxia) was going to be in NYC, and I hadn't seen his cute face since he came to see me freshman year of college (and my roommate got busted for smoking pot LOL). I was so excited to see him, especially because I'm helping him with his own Break-up Heard Around the World, and nothing soothes the troubled soul than a night out with good friends. Plus it was his birthday earlier that week.
I let him choose the spot, and he suggested La Escuelita, this gay club in Midtown. It was perfect because remember, I've gone cold turkey after the Hoover Incident so I was definitely up for fun in a place where NO ONE would be hitting on me.
Random observations from the evening:
1. I had carefully chosen my outfit to accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative, latch on to the affirmative and not mess with Mr. In-Between. In layman's terms: I've gained 5lbs while I was unemployed so I wore black. So why did I see a female in there, with at least 30lbs on me and two inches shorter, showing her stuff for all the world to see? In RED no less! I turn to Jack and say:
"If she wore her half shirt, why couldn't I?"
"That's a whole shirt!"
I all but pissed my pants!!!
Then of course a Two-Ton Dyke passed by us and he quickly adds, "That's two shirts!"
2. Some bouncers walk by us rolling these little round pedestals to the middle of the club, and you know what that means: G-STRING DIVAS!!!! I was so stoked to see this muscled, chisled, oh-so-yummy, I-don't-care-if-he's-gay dancer up there shakin' what his momma- and Bally's Total Fitness- gave him. Jack and I tipped him so much I think we paid his rent this month! There was a girl dancer, too, and I tipped her on a dare, but her moves were wack and that male dancer had already stolen this Hag's heart. Jack and I considered propositioning him; I'd take the front, he'd take the back...and I was just smitten enough to agree to it!
At the end of night (cause you know we shut that place down at like 4AM) Mr. Gorgeous Dancer Man hugged and kissed us both goodnight. I could've died happy right then and there.
3. The ladies room was so disgustingly gross that I thought I'd walked into the men's room by mistake. Although, it wouldn't have mattered if I had, I guess...
No Worries: I've Got Two Good Livers Waiting For Me Inside K. & N.
Seeing as Jack was nursing a broken heart, I knew that some heavy duty drinking would be going on that night. But as you recall, I'm out of practice and it takes very little to get me hammered these days. Jack forced four rum and cokes down my throat (and by forced I mean he paid for them and only a dummy turns down free booze!) and then made me get up and dance (and by made me I mean he said, "wanna dance?" and I said "sure!"), and for me drinking and dancing makes my vertigo act up. I was D-R-U-N-K!!!
The ride home to my place was...well I barely remember getting home, only that Jack peed on the wall by the Foodtown and that I passed out in all my clothes with my makeup still on. I did manage to fix up the couch for him, so I wasn't too far gone.
Next morning after Jack had already stumbled on to his mother's all the way in the Boogie-Down, my stomach reminded me that I was no longer an 18 year old co-ed. That bitch was pissed! And it went a little something like this:
The last time I partied like that was Montauk for my 23rd or 24th birthday; it was so worth it!!!
Jack, I hope I was able to get your mind off Cabroncito; thank you so much for the treat!!!
Second, I just want to point out that I am DRASTICALLY behind on my thesis…my professor actually had to contact me to ask what’s up. I try and try to get into it but am just not motivated to work on it- I think I’m burnt out. I’ve been in school since I was 5 years old…I think maybe it’s time to take a break for a while…
Lastly, did ya’ll know Doogie Howser was gay??? OMG I was totally shocked (and no, that’s not my sarcastic voice. I was TOTALLY shocked). My gaydar must be broken! He had a blurb in People Magazine about how he’s a proud gay man living a very content life. Well you go, boy!
My first week went very well, considering that the night before my first day I had horrible nightmares about my ex-boss from The Basement trying to kill me. I actually woke up in a cold sweat! I was so nervous, anxious, and a whole slew of other –ous words on the whole commute over there. Am I wearing the right clothes? Will I do a good job? How’s my hair? I was a straight mess.
But I get there and they’re all super sweet and everything…and then pile a shit-load of work on my desk. I was like: “What? Oh, you want me to WORK at work? Why didn’t anybody tell me?” My boss took us all (yeah, all FOUR of us) to lunch and I sat there eating my portabella mushroom sandwich as they went on about stuff I know very little about. I get the feeling I’m going to have to actually read the paper and keep up with the news while working here…and oh, look; it actually says so in my employee handbook…
The work itself is not difficult and I actually enjoy it. For right now I’m editing articles for three different environmental newsletters, so I get to use some of my undergraduate knowledge…nice to know that $30G I borrowed to go to Alfred is finally paying off. BTW- New England is headed for a HUGE energy crisis come 2010. You heard it here first.
So that bitch ass trick Jamaican whore I had hired in September left me stranded the Monday before Election Day- can you believe her? And after I kept her on even though I was not working! This is what I get for giving her a second chance; she quit before claiming she needed to find a fulltime job because she wasn’t able to make rent with only part-time work, like it was my fault. She KNEW I only needed part-time help. And she set her own rate and I agreed to it. So because she’s an idiot who can’t handle her money I get stuck without a sitter. And if I hadn’t called her on Monday, I get the feeling she was not going to tell me until right before N. needed to be picked up from school.
I said to hell that shit and just went to an agency, and now employ a very nice, sweet and nurturing Trinidadian woman who actually plays with my kids while she’s caring for them. It costs a helluva lot more, but it’s worth it, if only for peace of mind.
But you should have seen some of the other candidates: one woman came in here like she was Queen B and so I had to give her the ole, don’t-call-us-we’ll-call-you; another woman was so meek I could already envision N. eating her alive, just for kicks; this one girl was like two hours late! Yeah, I think I made the right choice.
I finally had to swallow my pride and grow some balls and call my credit cards. Confession time, folks: I’ve not made a CC payment since July of this year. Needless to say they were rather peeved with me and were blowing up my phone like 20 times a day EVERY-FUCKING-DAY!!! So I sat down and called them and made payment agreements with all of them. Can I just say- I owe a LOT of money! What the hell was I thinking???
The reality of how badly I just fucked up my credit, after I worked so hard to rebuild it since The College Years, really has me down. Initially I wanted to be in a position to buy a place in two years; I’ve already been in this apartment for a year so technically next year I was going to start looking for property to purchase. Now, with all these blemishes on my credit, I may have to wait a couple of extra years and that is so depressing! How can I be this old and STILL be renting? I’m absolutely pissed with myself over the whole thing!
But I have a good job and if I manage to not fuck it up it could lead to bigger and better things…like a pre-War on the Upper West Side…
*smooches...now with direct deposit!*
i had to leave the house of privilege
spend christmas homeless and feeling bad
to learn that privilege is a headache
that you don't know that you don't have
and i had to leave the house of television
to start noticing the clouds
it's amazing the stuff you see
when you finally shed that shroud
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Remember when you first met them and everything was new and undiscovered and you'd stay on the phone for hours on end talking about everything and nothing at the same time? How the sound of their voice and just one look into their eyes make your knees all wobbly? Remember how you'd fantasize about your future together in the shower? The summer house in Montauk? The brownstone in Fort Greene? The Mediterranean cruise?
And your first fight? Remember how stupid it seemed after you made up? And how you joked about it, how you were being so irrational? Even if deep down you still thought you were in the right and let it go in the name of...dare you think it...love? Was it love? Was it?
Remember when you knew it wasn't the same? And how you felt it unravelling, slipping from your control and there was no way to stop it? Remember THE phone call? The one that put the nail in the coffin of what you were afraid of? The one where they say, "It's not working out" or you say, "I can't go on like this" even if it's something you never thought you'd hear or say?
And the moment you hung up...the HEARTACHE! How you clung to your pillow sobbing like you haven't sobbed in so long! How you curled up into a ball and felt so vulnerable and just wanted to be held by the very person that just made you curl into a ball. And the whole world just became you and them and the heartache.
You only ate out of habit, for nutrition, because nothing tasted like anything anymore. You got out of bed and went to work only because you had to. If you could have, you would have stayed in bed for days, staring out the window in between crying fits and obligatory trips to the bathroom to blow your nose.
It's like someone died and you remember the Kübler-Ross book you read that explained the stages of grief:
1. Denial and isolation - The "This can't be real" stage.: "This is not happening to me." "There must be a mistake"
2. Anger - The "Why me?" stage.: "How dare you do this to me?!"
3. Bargaining - The "If I do this, you’ll do that" stage.: "I'll change and be what they want...they'll want me back after I make this one change..."
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
First, my 18 day standoff with the labor force has come to an end. Yes, it's true. You are reading the blog of the newest staff writer/account executive of a boutique PR firm in Gramercy. One of their biggest clients? The Uniformed Firefighters Association of NYC...all those yummy firemen in and out of my office...don't you just love a job with benefits? Or wait- were those NOT the kind of benefits they were talking about? Damn!
Second, a Latino cutie was taken aback with my beauty at the Dominican restaurant I've recently fallen in love with on 4th Avenue in Bay Ridge (I'm not being conceited; I was just repeating what he said to me!). We spoke for a few minutes while I waited for my morir soñando and pasteles. He was sweet and good looking, but I'm fasting from men until New Years' since my horrific Hoover incident so I left it at goodnight and we went our separate ways.
And finally, I got a response from a random craigslist shopper for the kids clothes I'm giving away. She was very grateful and said she couldn't believe that someone was generous enough to just give away clothes like that and not ask for anything in return. "God bless you, " she said. Little did she know, I was getting something in return. Something I've really been missing these past 18 days, especially since Saturday's horrific Hoover incident:
I suppose I won't have to move to Damascus after all...
so i walk like i'm on a mission
cuz that's the way i groove
i got more and more to do
i got less and less to prove
it took me too long to realize
that i don't take good pictures
cuz i have the kind of beauty
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Monday, November 06, 2006
Friday I was good- I ordered my enchiladas and stayed in, watched a movie, cleaned up a bit. Saturday I shut off my phone and worked all day on some freelance assignments, emptying out more boxes (only two to go!!!) and worked on some school stuff. When the sun set, I found myself with a pretty bad case of cabin fever. I decided to get out of my apartment. Mistake No. 1.
So remember that I said I wanted to just be friends with Hoover, since a romantic relationship was out of the question? Okay, keep that thought in mind as I continue this story.
Hoover and I talk occasionally. Just a simple, "Hey what's up, how have you been, how's work," etc. General BS that you say when what you really want to say can't be said. I mentioned that I was shutting off my phone and working all day Saturday. He mentioned he was working an event in Manhattan that night, and if I wanted to meet up for a drink later. I said maybe. Mistake No. 2.
As I got ready to escape my little cave to get some fresh air and catch a flick, I looked through my phone to see who I could convince to come out with me, but it was 9:30- anybody who's anybody on my contact list most likely already had plans or was in bed (alone or otherwise occupied). Choices were limited...I was desperate...I'd spoken to maybe one person all day...I was sick of my own company...I called Hoover. Mistake No. 3.
He couldn't make the movie, but said to call him when it let out and maybe he'd be done with work by then.
I went to see Babel. Alone. On "date night." It was all a single girl could do to not slit her wrist in a movie theater full of Noah's Ark rejects: "oh sweetie, what do want to do after the move?" "oh, baby, I love you so much" *kiss* *hug*
And then the movie- although very well-acted and written and directed- was so depressing and left me feeling so sad and helpless...I, all of a sudden, was not the tough-as-nails chick I usually am. And at that moment I just didn't want to be alone.
Hoover left a message on my phone. He was nearby at a Mexican place on University Pl. I met him for drinks and we talked about nothing in particular. When my vision became blurry we decided to leave. Somewhere along the way, he mentioned and I agreed that he should come over my place. Now I KNOW this is the Patrón talking because I don't allow ANY MEN in my home. AT ALL. It's just a policy I started after The Break-Up Heard Around the World. But goddamit if Patrón didn't take over my power of speech and say, "Sure, you can come and hang out. We'll watch a movie." Mistakes No. 4, 5 and 6.
More like MAKE a movie...Mistake No. 7, 8 and 9.
Do I have to say it? Don't make me- okay? I feel bad enough. I'm not the kind of person to feel shame for anything I do. I'm a big girl and I deal with my decisions and the subsequent consequences. But this...this was...I can't even believe that I'm writing about it I'm so ashamed of it...
Needless to mention his skills in the boudoir were JUST AS BAD as the infamous make-out session that left me bruised and bitter. And that's just what I deserve, too. A friend of mine likes to tell me: Those who don't hear, must feel. I didn't listen to the little voice telling me to just be friends. And now I have to wear the scarlett "L" (for LOSER!!) for all eternity. I let the idiot touchy-feely couple sitting next to me at the movies make me feel like less of a person because I was in there by myself. Which was so stupid because I go to the movies by myself ALL THE TIME!!! Why should this time be any different?
Why? Because the person I WANTED to speak to/see on Saturday didn't even bother to take or return my call. There. That's the plain truth of it. So now you know.
I just hope Hoover doesn't think I'm his girlfriend now. Shit! Now I have to move and change my phone number. GODDAMN YOU, PATRÓN, GODDAMN YOU!!!!!!!!!
*smooches...bruised, bitter and ashamed...*
but i've had a lack of inhibition
i've had a loss of perspective
i've had a little bit to drink
and it's making me think
that i can jump ship and swim
that the ocean will hold me
that there's got to be more
than this boat i'm in
Friday, November 03, 2006
i will be picturesque
Thursday, November 02, 2006
I spend the bulk of my morning combing the want ads but then- it's off to see what hilarity YouTube has in store for me. Usually I only find some mildly amusing stuff and then I'll move on to more job hunting and some thesis writing (ok...so there's no thesis writing...I watch DVD's and eat cereal all day- what do you want from me? I'm UNEMPLOYED!!). However today I found some rare gems and just had to share it. I hope your sense of humore is just as twisted as mine:
1) Penis Piercing. That's right. LIVE! It was so train-wreck funny that I actually watched the WHOLE 9 MINUTES of it.
2) Paxilback. A parody that is so witty I just had to share it. And the video is almost as good as Justin's.
3) We Need to Fund More After School Programs. Or more videos like this will resurface.
Okay, so...it's 12:09...back to the hunt.
*smooches...without a job or a plan*
how much do you want
how much are you willing to do
baby, this is no business
for a sweet little girl like you