ME: But now I also have to get cute for your wedding O_o
FRIEND: Lol it might be in DR. Can we stay at your family's house?
ME: What the...? Is she Dominican?
FRIEND: No. Destination wedding! After knowing you I can't date Dominican women.
ME: LOL wait, what?? What did I do?
FRIEND: You're a special kind of crazy.
I'm not sure if I should be insulted, or proud.
*smooches...with plans to crash the wedding anyway*
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who gon' check me? if they try to stop me, I'll have my uncles shut that whole shit DOWN! lol
Showing posts with label El Generalissimo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label El Generalissimo. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Thursday, June 20, 2013
She Gon' Learn Today!
An email I sent to N's principal, vice principal and the parent coordinator of N's middle school, along with the text of the email I sent N's science teacher. Both speak for themselves. Names were removed because I felt like it.
--------------------------
Hello,
Below is the text of an email I sent to Ms. _______, N's science teacher, this morning, regarding an incident that occurred in the science classroom yesterday. I rarely try to interfere with another teacher's classroom tactics and discipline methods unless I see that it's not constructive. This is one of those instances and I wanted to bring it to your attention.
Thank you,
Raquel Penzo
--------------------------
Ms. ________
I hope this note finds you well.
N spoke with me about what happened yesterday in your class, and I found it very upsetting. While I understand that she was disruptive in your class, and she's been told to apologize for that, you handled it poorly first by shaming her instead of disciplining her, and then by speaking to her in a dismissive and rather catty manner.
Making N sit apart from the class and not allowing her to take notes because she tried to be funny in class seems excessive and unnecessary. All you manage to do with punishments of that nature is shame a child. This is NOT what I send N to school for. But I would have overlooked it had you not then gone a step further and made a snippy comment about being surprised that N didn't raise her hand when you asked that class who'd still take up smoking even after seeing the side effects. What was the purpose of this, besides hurting N's feelings and making her cry?
What you didn't realize with your carelessness, and what I can only assume was a desire to get one more dig in to the student who disrupted your class, is that N's paternal grandmother, whom she was very close to, died last spring from cancer that was caused in part by smoking. She was very upset about what happened in your class when she came home.
I expect that you'll make this right with N today and apologize for being mean. There's no need for that. I've been an educator and have had to run a classroom full of students with learning and attention challenges, and I know that getting them focused takes hard work. But it never calls for shaming.
Please feel free to contact me to discuss this further if you'd like.
Regards,
Raquel Penzo
*smooches...telling bitches off in the King's English*
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she's lucky I didn't just roll up on her and act a fool; my momma raised me better than that.
--------------------------
Hello,
Below is the text of an email I sent to Ms. _______, N's science teacher, this morning, regarding an incident that occurred in the science classroom yesterday. I rarely try to interfere with another teacher's classroom tactics and discipline methods unless I see that it's not constructive. This is one of those instances and I wanted to bring it to your attention.
Thank you,
Raquel Penzo
--------------------------
Ms. ________
I hope this note finds you well.
N spoke with me about what happened yesterday in your class, and I found it very upsetting. While I understand that she was disruptive in your class, and she's been told to apologize for that, you handled it poorly first by shaming her instead of disciplining her, and then by speaking to her in a dismissive and rather catty manner.
Making N sit apart from the class and not allowing her to take notes because she tried to be funny in class seems excessive and unnecessary. All you manage to do with punishments of that nature is shame a child. This is NOT what I send N to school for. But I would have overlooked it had you not then gone a step further and made a snippy comment about being surprised that N didn't raise her hand when you asked that class who'd still take up smoking even after seeing the side effects. What was the purpose of this, besides hurting N's feelings and making her cry?
What you didn't realize with your carelessness, and what I can only assume was a desire to get one more dig in to the student who disrupted your class, is that N's paternal grandmother, whom she was very close to, died last spring from cancer that was caused in part by smoking. She was very upset about what happened in your class when she came home.
I expect that you'll make this right with N today and apologize for being mean. There's no need for that. I've been an educator and have had to run a classroom full of students with learning and attention challenges, and I know that getting them focused takes hard work. But it never calls for shaming.
Please feel free to contact me to discuss this further if you'd like.
Regards,
Raquel Penzo
*smooches...telling bitches off in the King's English*
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she's lucky I didn't just roll up on her and act a fool; my momma raised me better than that.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Birthday Vacation Countdown: Things I No Longer Give A F*ck About
 |
| No fucks given |
They were good years, though. Partying until the wee hours of the morning, surviving on fumes and whiskey, barely making rent because my job paid shit. Oh, early 30s, what life lessons thou hast bestowed upon me!
But enough of looking back (besides, my neck hurts!); I'm looking forward now and have decided that the following no longer remains a priority in my life:
1. Unlimited Alcohol Brunches. First of all, that shit is expensive. Second of all, I get drunk off of ONE mimosa these days, and that means I get sleepy, and that means WELP, there goes my whole damn Sunday. Wasted again in Mimosa-rita-ville. Meanwhile my dishes are piling up and the laundry refuses to do itself.
2. Your Pets. I'm really not going to make believe that all of those photos of your cats, dogs, bunnies, parrots, iguanas and all the other critters you've decided to bond with, are cute or worth a minute of my time. It's not OK if your mangy cat rubs up against my pant leg. I DO mind if your rude-ass dog jumps on me. And if your parrot doesn't want to meet my cleaver, it had better shut up while we're trying to have a conversation.
3. Your Kids. There are only a handful of babies I care about right now. The rest...yeah...no. Other people's kids, especially the ones that talk, are just not my cup of tea. I can barely stand my own.
4. Meeting New People. I always knew I would become one of those older people that kids and neighbors steer clear of, so I'm getting ready now. I don't do small talk because RARELY am I into meeting new folks. I've got my set of personal and business relationships and there are very few openings for your third cousin twice removed. Unless, of course, he wants to publish my stories and pay me a bundle.
5. The U.S. I am slowly transitioning from a full-fledged, ride-or-die American to one who is ready to chuck it all and give deuces to this bitch-ass'd place. No explanation needed. You live here. You see what's happening.
All of my over-35 readers: feel free to share the BS you've stopped caring about as you cruise into the golden years.
*smooches...making room for my real life to begin*
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this post brought to you by my birthday and PMS Week. This doesn't mean I don't mean what I've written, I just don't mind sharing it and am not concerned about sparing feelings.
Monday, March 11, 2013
Mari Speaks On...
...me and my lethal tongue, especially when I have to deal with my ex-husband:
ME: I'm not an ogre, I know how to use my words!
MARI: You know how to use your words, but you use them to kill people on the inside...
*smooches...thinking of a few choice words for Mari*
---------
my position is this- sometimes, folks just need to get TOLD
ME: I'm not an ogre, I know how to use my words!
MARI: You know how to use your words, but you use them to kill people on the inside...
*smooches...thinking of a few choice words for Mari*
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my position is this- sometimes, folks just need to get TOLD
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Politics & Self-Hatred Aside...
Happy Independence Day, Dominicanos!!
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| Google doodle from a couple of years ago. Que cute! |
Que viva Quisqueya!!!
*smooches...playing bachatas all day just because*
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feel free to bring me some habichuelas dulce!
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
More Jaded Facts For Your Case Files
I'm feeling generous; here are some more facts about yours truly, in case you were DYING to get to know me better:
1- I'm not a picky eater, but if you put eggplant or salmon on my plate I will fight your face and go on a hunger strike. My grandmother used to cook eggplant and force me to eat it even though the texture reminded me of phlegm. The trauma of it all remains with me always.
2- I abuse every bit of power ever placed in my hands; because of this I've agreed (with The Voices) to never run for any kind of office. If you put me in charge I will be mean and rude and make everyone working for me cry or feel true fear.
3- I looked up my name on iTunes (I also google my name often) and found these songs. Yes, I'm super-vain like that. And look, they're both love songs, because everybody loves me and I'm so loveable men are moved to create songs about me telling me of their love :)
4- During a consultation with someone I sought alternative treatment from, I admitted out loud that I stay up late at night because I'm not ready to accept the reality of the next day, especially if I haven't done anything productive. It's like "Oh look, nothing from the TO DO list is done. You can't go to bed until you do these things because tomorrow you won't have time." Next thing you know it's 3AM and all I've done is watched clips of those hens fighting on "The View."
5- Much to my chagrin, I'm very in tune with my body, and I know the millisecond it's not going to feel well. I can also feel almost every aspect of my reproductive cycle, especially when I'm ovulating from my right side. And let me tell you, it's quite painful. It's also scary as hell; reminds me too much of my own mortality. But on the plus side, if I ever want another baby, I know to wait until I'm ovulating from the left side a.k.a the non-retarded ovary/fallopian tube.
*smooches...wondering what will be left to say in my memoir*
---------
oh who am I kidding; I leave so much out I could fill TWO memoirs! now tell me 5 things about you :)
1- I'm not a picky eater, but if you put eggplant or salmon on my plate I will fight your face and go on a hunger strike. My grandmother used to cook eggplant and force me to eat it even though the texture reminded me of phlegm. The trauma of it all remains with me always.
2- I abuse every bit of power ever placed in my hands; because of this I've agreed (with The Voices) to never run for any kind of office. If you put me in charge I will be mean and rude and make everyone working for me cry or feel true fear.
3- I looked up my name on iTunes (I also google my name often) and found these songs. Yes, I'm super-vain like that. And look, they're both love songs, because everybody loves me and I'm so loveable men are moved to create songs about me telling me of their love :)
4- During a consultation with someone I sought alternative treatment from, I admitted out loud that I stay up late at night because I'm not ready to accept the reality of the next day, especially if I haven't done anything productive. It's like "Oh look, nothing from the TO DO list is done. You can't go to bed until you do these things because tomorrow you won't have time." Next thing you know it's 3AM and all I've done is watched clips of those hens fighting on "The View."
5- Much to my chagrin, I'm very in tune with my body, and I know the millisecond it's not going to feel well. I can also feel almost every aspect of my reproductive cycle, especially when I'm ovulating from my right side. And let me tell you, it's quite painful. It's also scary as hell; reminds me too much of my own mortality. But on the plus side, if I ever want another baby, I know to wait until I'm ovulating from the left side a.k.a the non-retarded ovary/fallopian tube.
*smooches...wondering what will be left to say in my memoir*
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oh who am I kidding; I leave so much out I could fill TWO memoirs! now tell me 5 things about you :)
Thursday, October 04, 2012
The Mistakes Of My Fathers
Growing up, I was pretty much in the dark about the history of the Dominican Republic. The topic wasn't taboo or anything-Trujillo didn't run my family off the island-it just wasn't something we spoke about.
Then a few years ago I read Edwidge Danticat's The Farming of Bones, which included mention of a massacre along the border of DR and Haiti, and I was in total shock. I knew Trujillo was a "bad man" but the extent of his evil astounded me.
Today, in Dajabón, and through Saturday, the two nations that share the island of Hispaniola will commemorate the genocide committed by El Jefe.
From the press release:
Among the notable artists supporting and attending the gathering is author and activist, Julia Alvarez. "Many Dominicans in the diaspora and in the country have been waiting for an opportunity to acknowledge a shameful event in our past, the 1937 massacre of thousands of Haitians, ordered by the dictator Trujillo, and carried out by Dominicans. We feel compelled to do what our governments and our treaties, our accords and our conferences have not done: to express our sorrow for this shameful crime. We would also like to celebrate our many collaborations, our brotherhood and sisterhood. We look to the future and our shared hopes for this whole island and small planet,” says Ms. Alvarez. The project has the support of other leading public figures, including Edwidge Danticat, Michele Wucker, and Junot Díaz.
I met Ms. Danticat years ago at a writing conference and felt compelled to apologize to her for that atrocious blotch on our common history. She looked at me as if I were crazy but that's OK. I needed to say it, for all the years I kept a blind eye to what had happened on the island and for everything my family didn't do to put a stop to it.
I'm still a proud first-generation Dominican American, for sure. Just a little wiser and little less snooty about it.
*smooches...moving on but never forgetting*
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one of these days I'll have to make a pit-stop in Dajabón...
Then a few years ago I read Edwidge Danticat's The Farming of Bones, which included mention of a massacre along the border of DR and Haiti, and I was in total shock. I knew Trujillo was a "bad man" but the extent of his evil astounded me.
Today, in Dajabón, and through Saturday, the two nations that share the island of Hispaniola will commemorate the genocide committed by El Jefe.
From the press release:
 |
| Courtesy of CulturalDiplomacy.org |
I met Ms. Danticat years ago at a writing conference and felt compelled to apologize to her for that atrocious blotch on our common history. She looked at me as if I were crazy but that's OK. I needed to say it, for all the years I kept a blind eye to what had happened on the island and for everything my family didn't do to put a stop to it.
I'm still a proud first-generation Dominican American, for sure. Just a little wiser and little less snooty about it.
*smooches...moving on but never forgetting*
---------
one of these days I'll have to make a pit-stop in Dajabón...
Sunday, August 05, 2012
Jaded Photographs: August 2012 Edition
"Bisabuelos"
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| Left: Acosta//Right: Ortiz |
I come from handsome stock. It's OK to admit it out loud.
*smooches...frolicking in my family tree*
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I love learning about these scandalous people from whence I come. LOVE!
Friday, August 03, 2012
Troll Logic
K: I prefer Castro [over Trujillo].
ME: Why? Because he wasn't assassinated?
K: No, because his ghost is still in power.
*smooches...sort of afraid of my creation*
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I did this; it's all my fault. I'm sorry.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
How The Kardashians Pissed Off This Dominican
"Keeping Up with the Kardashians" is my trash TV guilty pleasure. There, I've said it. I relish in all their crappy, fake problems and eat it up like an endless batch of delicious Buffalo wings. I also indulged in the spin-offs and specials; basically, whatever they televise I WILL WATCH. Don't judge me.
The latest episode, however, had me questioning whether or not I can continue to support their shenanigans. Why? Because they kept botching up the name and "image" of my beloved motherland!
FIRST OF ALL the entire clan kept referring to DR as The Dominican. *side eye* Last I checked, we were still a republic and it was reflected in our country's name.
SECONDLY, during scene changes, etc, they kept playing mariachi music and talking about going to snack on some chips and guacamole. *double side-eye* Listen here, non-Latinos, because I'm about to explain something to you once and for all:
DOMINICANS ARE NOT MEXICANS. MEXICANS ARE NOT PUERTO RICANS. PUERTO RICANS ARE NOT VENEZUELAN. VENEZUELANS ARE NOT PANAMANIANS. And so on and so forth. Yes, we all speak Spanish but each country is different, has different roots, a different history and even a different way of bastardizing the Spanish language. You can't just lump us together all the time and expect that shit to go over well, RYAN SEACREST (yes, I blame him. We all know he's the puppetmaster behind this bullshit).
Now, I'm gonna watch the rest of the season ONLY BECAUSE Khloe and Lamar cancelled their show and I'm obsessed with them and I hope to see glimpse of them in future episodes. Still, the Kardashians are officially on Jaded Alert!
*smooches...tired of TVs racial agenda*
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that's right, I SAID IT! TV has a racial agenda and I won't stand for it anymore...right after this season of "Keeping Up with the Kardashians"...
The latest episode, however, had me questioning whether or not I can continue to support their shenanigans. Why? Because they kept botching up the name and "image" of my beloved motherland!
FIRST OF ALL the entire clan kept referring to DR as The Dominican. *side eye* Last I checked, we were still a republic and it was reflected in our country's name.
SECONDLY, during scene changes, etc, they kept playing mariachi music and talking about going to snack on some chips and guacamole. *double side-eye* Listen here, non-Latinos, because I'm about to explain something to you once and for all:
DOMINICANS ARE NOT MEXICANS. MEXICANS ARE NOT PUERTO RICANS. PUERTO RICANS ARE NOT VENEZUELAN. VENEZUELANS ARE NOT PANAMANIANS. And so on and so forth. Yes, we all speak Spanish but each country is different, has different roots, a different history and even a different way of bastardizing the Spanish language. You can't just lump us together all the time and expect that shit to go over well, RYAN SEACREST (yes, I blame him. We all know he's the puppetmaster behind this bullshit).
Now, I'm gonna watch the rest of the season ONLY BECAUSE Khloe and Lamar cancelled their show and I'm obsessed with them and I hope to see glimpse of them in future episodes. Still, the Kardashians are officially on Jaded Alert!
*smooches...tired of TVs racial agenda*
---------
that's right, I SAID IT! TV has a racial agenda and I won't stand for it anymore...right after this season of "Keeping Up with the Kardashians"...
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Some Of My Issue With Cabbies: An Overdue Jaded Rant
Let me let you in on a little secret about me: I have a severe dislike of mediocrity and ineptitude. People who do things half-assed or sloppily or lazily turn me into the Incredible Hulk, smashing shit left and right. Since moving back to Brooklyn in 2006, more often than not, I've experienced many a HULK SMASH moment with this City's cab drivers.
I guess what upsets me the most is this- if I'm about to spend all this extra money for a taxi, I need my experience to be worry-free. If the train acts up well, guess what? You get what you pay for ($2.25). That's to be expected; the NYC MTA is janky and we all know this. But if I'm shelling out well over the cost of a MetroCard swipe for door-to-door service, at the very least I need my driver to know how to get to my destination. BECAUSE THAT'S HIS GODDAMN JOB.
I become so annoyed when I give an address (with cross streets, borough and neighborhood for accuracy) and the driver says "How do I get there?" Sir, are you for real? If I tell you I need to get to East 41st Street and forget to mention it's in East Flatbush and you take me to Manhattan, that's my bad. NYC is a big place and many street names are repeated throughout. But if I gave you the general area then it's not unreasonable for me to expect you to know how to get there.
Here's how it usually goes down when I get into a cab:
I am not your map or your GPS. Your freakin' job is driving people to destinations around the City so please, for the love of my blood pressure, KNOW HOW TO GET AROUND!
Then, of course, we have the issue of cost. Yellow cabs aren't a problem in that regard because there is a meter and whatever the meter says is bible law. But these damn Gypsy cabs and their arbitrary pricing...I haggle and argue all the time because give me a freakin break! Brooklynites, help me out here: it should not cost $20 to go from Atlantic Center to my neighborhood (Greenwood/Kensington) if it costs LESS THAN THAT to go from my house to Bed-Stuy or Williamsburg! (For you non-Brooklyn folks, Bed-Stuy and Williamsburg are a lot further out than Atlantic Center. Wayyyy further, in fact.
Here's how that exchange goes:
I won't even bother to single out any ethnicity in this diatribe because I think you all consider me racist enough, but just know the depending on what shade of brown I see behind the wheel, I already know some level of bullshit is about to go down and I'll have to come out my face at least twice.
All this drama just to get somewhere on time... It's enough to make a girl buy another bike!
*smooches...thinking this might be what pushes me to drive*
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the issues we suffered with cab drivers this weekend were just too much. TOO MUCH!
I guess what upsets me the most is this- if I'm about to spend all this extra money for a taxi, I need my experience to be worry-free. If the train acts up well, guess what? You get what you pay for ($2.25). That's to be expected; the NYC MTA is janky and we all know this. But if I'm shelling out well over the cost of a MetroCard swipe for door-to-door service, at the very least I need my driver to know how to get to my destination. BECAUSE THAT'S HIS GODDAMN JOB.
I become so annoyed when I give an address (with cross streets, borough and neighborhood for accuracy) and the driver says "How do I get there?" Sir, are you for real? If I tell you I need to get to East 41st Street and forget to mention it's in East Flatbush and you take me to Manhattan, that's my bad. NYC is a big place and many street names are repeated throughout. But if I gave you the general area then it's not unreasonable for me to expect you to know how to get there.
Here's how it usually goes down when I get into a cab:
ME: Hi, I'm going to [insert random address here]
CABBIE: (repeats address back to me and stares off into space) Ummm, where is that?
ME: [insert borough or neighborhood plus a landmark just in case]
CABBIE: (repeats what I just said and starts to drive off slowly) Ummm...so which way should I go?
ME: Listen, if you don't know how to get there just let me out and I'll find someone who does!
I am not your map or your GPS. Your freakin' job is driving people to destinations around the City so please, for the love of my blood pressure, KNOW HOW TO GET AROUND!
Then, of course, we have the issue of cost. Yellow cabs aren't a problem in that regard because there is a meter and whatever the meter says is bible law. But these damn Gypsy cabs and their arbitrary pricing...I haggle and argue all the time because give me a freakin break! Brooklynites, help me out here: it should not cost $20 to go from Atlantic Center to my neighborhood (Greenwood/Kensington) if it costs LESS THAN THAT to go from my house to Bed-Stuy or Williamsburg! (For you non-Brooklyn folks, Bed-Stuy and Williamsburg are a lot further out than Atlantic Center. Wayyyy further, in fact.
Here's how that exchange goes:
ME: How much?
CABBIE: [insert insane price that I refuse to pay here]
ME: [insert Jaded stank face] I don't think so; get your dispatcher on the line and let me talk to him... I won't even bother to single out any ethnicity in this diatribe because I think you all consider me racist enough, but just know the depending on what shade of brown I see behind the wheel, I already know some level of bullshit is about to go down and I'll have to come out my face at least twice.
All this drama just to get somewhere on time... It's enough to make a girl buy another bike!
*smooches...thinking this might be what pushes me to drive*
----------
the issues we suffered with cab drivers this weekend were just too much. TOO MUCH!
Thursday, February 09, 2012
Dominican Heritage Month, Day 9
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| courtesy of TruTV.com |
Also, my family members didn't get run off the Island. No one was in immediate danger with El Generalissimo's regime (that I know of) and simply came to New York "for a better life." Us kids had nothing to suspect.
So color me stupid when I found out about this huge black cloud that still hangs over our piece of Hispaniola:
Using the Army as his enforcer, Trujillo wasted no time in setting up a repressive dictatorship and organized a vast network of spies to eliminate any potential opponents. His henchmen did not hesitate to use intimidation, torture, or assassination of political foes to terrify and oppress the population to ensure his rule and amass his fortune. Before long he consolidated his power to such a degree that he began to treat the Dominican Republic as his own personal kingdom. He was so arrogant and confident that, after just six years at the head of government, Trujillo changed the name of the capital city from Santo Domingo (which name had existed for over 400 years), to Cuidad Trujillo (Trujillo City).
When I dug deeper, trying to understand where this animosity with/toward Haiti came from I found out that (besides there being tense relations since colonial days) even though Trujillo was of Haitian ancestry, he:
...never [hid] his racist ideas about the "inferiority and unattractiveness" of the black-skinned Haitians, so in 1937, after first negotiating an internationally lauded border agreement with Haiti's president, he ordered his army to oversee the massacre of all Haitians on the Dominican side of the border.
And how was El Generalissimo just allowed to be all Hitler-like and not start a war? Well for one, no one ever gave (gives) a shit about the Brown Nations. Let's just be real about that shit. And secondly:
 |
| courtesy of repeatingisland.com |
Trujillo received American support of his leadership because he offered generous and favorable conditions to American businessmen wanting to invest in the Dominican Republic. More importantly to the U.S., after World War II, Trujillo showed his political support of the U.S.A.'s stand against the evils of communism.
As the information began to unfold before me, I realized that Abuelo was former military police, and while I was always so proud of his importance and great standing in the community- I mean imagine being 10 and having a maid, chauffeur, cook and armed guards at your door! I felt like royalty- it occurred to me that he would have been employed with Trujillo's government. The evil Raquel in me was all HELL YEAH, BITCHES! We BAAAAADDDDD MotherFuckers! Then the empathetic Raquel felt bad for all the people that never made it out alive from under Trujillo's boots. Like the Mirabal sisters. And then paranoid Raquel realized OH MY GOD! Those guards were there because my very 10-year-old life was in danger just by being related to this man! It was a lot to process.
I still don't know much about my family's experience under Trujillo. I fully intend to get more from them while I work on the biography of the Penzo, Acosta and Ortiz clans from whence I came. But for now, just know that Trujillo plays a role in my family, in every Dominican's family, and even if they said it wasn't bad...it really was. Perhaps nothing is more telling of how terrible it truly was than the deliberate silence I grew up with.
Pick up a copy of Julia Alvarez's "In The Time of the Butterflies" to read a fictionalized-realistic account of what life may have been like for my ancestors in the Dominican Republic, and why they don't ever mention it even today, and it might give you a small taste of what it was like to have grown up like me.
Wonderful, beautiful, Dominican me.
*besos...uncovering new mysteries everyday*
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shout out to Hispaniola.com for helping a sista out with facts (as they were) n shit.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Where I Get It From
My great-grandmother, Ramona Ortiz, was one baaaaaaad bitch. And I say this with the utmost respect and love.
She was the only woman I knew who smoked an old wooden pipe. I loved getting her tobacco for her, and usually waited around for her to light up so I could inhale the sweet smell it emitted. She used to torture the mice that got caught on the traps around the apartment, cursing them out in Spanish before setting them on fire, scalding them with boiling water or flushing them to eternity.
Back in the day, she carried a weapon on the road to protect herself as the sole provider of her kids. Her husband? Well, he was shown the door via a hot-brick attack after physically abusing her. Yes, hot bricks. How genius is that? But the best bit of history I just got about my beloved Nenena (as we kids called her) is that she went toe-to-toe with my Abuelo's family because they tried to kill my mom when she was a baby. And Nenena held on to this grudge well into her last years- when Abuelo's new wife's mother dared greet Nenena at a party she uttered something to the effect of "Is this bitch crazy? Did she forget I almost took a machete to her neck in DR?"
This woman was four-foot-nothing, ornery, constantly scowling and always judging from her little chair in the kitchen and now I know why. There's always a back story, you know? Especially in a family like mine with a forest of trees of branches of relatives. She was just upholding our family honor. She was just protecting us the only way she knew how.
She's one of the reasons that, of all the clans that contributed to my DNA, I rep the Ortiz women the hardest. My great-grandmother, Ramona Ortiz, was one baaaaaaad bitch, y'all. I can only hope I'm half the woman she was!
*smooches...with love and pride and in remembrance*
------------
I really need to stop with all these bullshit fiction stories and write the tome of my family. That book would FLY off the shelves!
She was the only woman I knew who smoked an old wooden pipe. I loved getting her tobacco for her, and usually waited around for her to light up so I could inhale the sweet smell it emitted. She used to torture the mice that got caught on the traps around the apartment, cursing them out in Spanish before setting them on fire, scalding them with boiling water or flushing them to eternity.
Back in the day, she carried a weapon on the road to protect herself as the sole provider of her kids. Her husband? Well, he was shown the door via a hot-brick attack after physically abusing her. Yes, hot bricks. How genius is that? But the best bit of history I just got about my beloved Nenena (as we kids called her) is that she went toe-to-toe with my Abuelo's family because they tried to kill my mom when she was a baby. And Nenena held on to this grudge well into her last years- when Abuelo's new wife's mother dared greet Nenena at a party she uttered something to the effect of "Is this bitch crazy? Did she forget I almost took a machete to her neck in DR?"
This woman was four-foot-nothing, ornery, constantly scowling and always judging from her little chair in the kitchen and now I know why. There's always a back story, you know? Especially in a family like mine with a forest of trees of branches of relatives. She was just upholding our family honor. She was just protecting us the only way she knew how.
She's one of the reasons that, of all the clans that contributed to my DNA, I rep the Ortiz women the hardest. My great-grandmother, Ramona Ortiz, was one baaaaaaad bitch, y'all. I can only hope I'm half the woman she was!
*smooches...with love and pride and in remembrance*
------------
I really need to stop with all these bullshit fiction stories and write the tome of my family. That book would FLY off the shelves!
Monday, August 01, 2011
Selfish
If you search back a few years, you'll find a post or two of me at my lowest low, when I really felt I had nothing to live for, when I actually surveyed the contents of my apartment for the best way to end my life.I can say that casually now because it was an isolated incident and well, frankly, I'm too afraid of death to invite it over. No thank you, sir. Keep it moving. Come back in about 75 years.
Now, I'm not going to put on airs and act like the fact that NO ONE knew what I was up to on that day makes me better than others who announce their suicide attempts, because in the end, had I gone through with it, I'd have given you all permission to call me a selfish bitch.
Because people who commit suicide are selfish. Point. Blank. Period. (c) Tamar Braxton
Suicides leave behind people who wonder, "What could I have done to help?" and "Why didn't I see the signs?" Family and friends blame themselves and each other for the loss and it's a pain that can probably never fully heal because those left behind never get answers. AND they have to deal with the mess-- physical and emotional mess-- left behind. It's a selfish act because the person committing it thinks their problems are so monumental and beyond anyone's comprehension, and the only way to solve everything is to die. I know because I was there once upon a time.
And it's an affront to people all over fighting for one more day on this earth. It's a slap in the face to the Universe that nurtures us and I'm glad I came to my senses.
So why this rant? Years after the fact?
I was recently privy to some tweets from someone who was posting updates about wanting to die, missing her deceased grandmother and cutting herself (and posting the pictures to prove it). I was 100% disgusted with this display. I wanted to empathize with her because hey- I miss my grandmother like you wouldn't believe, but many of her tweets were about blaming others for how she was feeling. "I blame you," read one tweet. Just like that.
Who was the "you" to whom she was referring? Not me, that's who. And not anyone else for that matter. If she feel bad, that's on her. HOW DARE SHE put the burden of her self-inflicted wounds on someone else? And then after she had her twitter followers all a-flutter trying to help her, she responds with, "I'll be fine. I'm fine." BITCH, WHAT? No. You're not fine. You just tweeted a picture of your sliced up flesh. You need help. From a professional. What you DON'T need is to be all up on Twitter blaming strangers for your depression, then dismissing their attempts to lend a hand.
I'm not trying to poo-poo her feelings or her depression. I know firsthand how crippling it can be, but her behavior on this particular day, with all this blame-game nonsense? NO MA'AM. I hope she gets help and starts to feel better about her life, but in the meantime...selfish shit like that gets NO LOVE from The Jaded Empire.
*smooches...storming back in with some tough love*
----------
some things just need to be said.
Friday, June 03, 2011
Truth Is...
I’m not too thrilled with me so chances are
I’ll never be happy with you
I’ll never be happy with you
I don’t want to do all the work it will take
to get what I want
Flirting is fun, dating is tolerable,
relationships are a burden
relationships are a burden
That previous statement is why I’m still single
without that third & fourth baby I want
I’m never satisfied with my hair
I’m unapologetically racist
I could easily kill a person; I know it’s in me...
I've thought about it
I've thought about it
I’m a good starter but a terrible finisher
Most days I’d rather have great sex
than find a great love
than find a great love
This cartoon was unknowingly
made for me
*smooches...wondering what some of your truths are*
-------------
if you feel like sharing, you know what to do...
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
These Fools Right Here, Though...
This weekend I went to DC to visit my smelly-butt sister, and while I was there I hosted a little reading. You might have heard about it...or not since NAN ONE OF YOU FROM THE AREA SHOWED UP.
With the exception of three brave souls, the turnout was a bust, but the after party (of sorts) was a blast, complete with tator tots (I will never again doubt their awesomeness) breast talk (which seems inevitable when people encounter me for the first time) and people watching in Adams Morgan (Santa Claus is a P.I.M.P. You heard it here first).
Mari (my Marketing and Special Events Manager) and I sat down for a post-mortem of the event and have decided to try again but tweak a few things in order to garner a better response. If that doesn't work, well then I will put DC down as an official SUCKY town. There, I said it.
But really, I just want to take a minute and thank the few, the proud, the people who came out and stayed out with yours truly, and made what could have been a really crappy night oh-so-much fun.
(pictured, from L-R Super Dave VanBuren, Johnathan Tillman and Bella.)
With the exception of three brave souls, the turnout was a bust, but the after party (of sorts) was a blast, complete with tator tots (I will never again doubt their awesomeness) breast talk (which seems inevitable when people encounter me for the first time) and people watching in Adams Morgan (Santa Claus is a P.I.M.P. You heard it here first).
Mari (my Marketing and Special Events Manager) and I sat down for a post-mortem of the event and have decided to try again but tweak a few things in order to garner a better response. If that doesn't work, well then I will put DC down as an official SUCKY town. There, I said it.
But really, I just want to take a minute and thank the few, the proud, the people who came out and stayed out with yours truly, and made what could have been a really crappy night oh-so-much fun.
(pictured, from L-R Super Dave VanBuren, Johnathan Tillman and Bella.)
Y'all rock.
The rest of you who stood us up can kiss my ass. And I don't mean that in a jokingly, Jaded way. I mean for real, kiss my ass, fuck off, whatever.
*smooches...burning bridges and not giving two ratty shits*
----------
and there it is: Jaded's Breaking Point...never thought you'd see the day, huh?
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
The Jaded School Of Parenting: Teachable Moments
You've heard me use the phrase both on this site and on my radio show: teachable moments. It's a phrase I picked up during my brief stint at The Waco School for Girls and has stuck with me. It basically means seizing the opportunity to teach a kid a lesson at the moment it needs to be taught.
For example- you're watching a movie or TV show with your child, and on the screen is a misbehaving child. At that very moment- no matter how engrossed you are with the program- you turn to your child, point out the bad behavior, explain why it's bad, and let them know the consequences of them partaking of the naughtiness.
It's not really rocket science and can happen anywhere: at the market, on public transportation, at the playground (OOOH! Especially at the playground!) or in the mall. There is no shortage of bad ass kids in this world with which you can model behavioral (and parenting) expectations with your kids, just to let them know what isn't acceptable at home. I do it all the time and I know it's one of the reasons I haven't had any major issues with my daughters who, by nature, should be pulling the "I HATE YOU!" routine on me by now.
But they know better; Mommy don't play that shit, and they know this because I take advantage of 87% of the teachable moments that cross my path.
Just a little FYI and parenting tip from me to you. Pass it on to someone who needs it.
*smooches...playing the village for bad ass kids everywhere*
-----------
I'm not trying to have my purse snatched by your ne'er-do-well rugrats
For example- you're watching a movie or TV show with your child, and on the screen is a misbehaving child. At that very moment- no matter how engrossed you are with the program- you turn to your child, point out the bad behavior, explain why it's bad, and let them know the consequences of them partaking of the naughtiness.
It's not really rocket science and can happen anywhere: at the market, on public transportation, at the playground (OOOH! Especially at the playground!) or in the mall. There is no shortage of bad ass kids in this world with which you can model behavioral (and parenting) expectations with your kids, just to let them know what isn't acceptable at home. I do it all the time and I know it's one of the reasons I haven't had any major issues with my daughters who, by nature, should be pulling the "I HATE YOU!" routine on me by now.
But they know better; Mommy don't play that shit, and they know this because I take advantage of 87% of the teachable moments that cross my path.
Just a little FYI and parenting tip from me to you. Pass it on to someone who needs it.
*smooches...playing the village for bad ass kids everywhere*
-----------
I'm not trying to have my purse snatched by your ne'er-do-well rugrats
Friday, August 13, 2010
In Awe!
I consider myself a pretty kick-ass writer, and I imagine that when I'm published people will absorb my words and just not believe the beauty they were blessed to have read. Because I'm the shit. No, really, I am.
But I'm reading a book right now, Little Bee by British author Chris Cleave, that just SHAT a huge, smelly turd all over my literary dreams. Not to say that my words are any less because he's great, but, damn, I wanted to be first.
Every other sentence is poetic. Every other paragraph evokes a picture in my mind. Every other page awaits with another cleverly weaved occurrence that makes Little Bee such a page turner.
#sidebar: because I'm slightly hatin' on Chris, let me point out that he is taking AWFULLY LONG to get to the meat of the story. but I'm going to forgive him because the scenic route ain't so bad.
I love this book. I love that Cleave can write a woman's voice so brilliantly. I love that he's writing for TWO different female protagonists and does so flawlessly. And I love that his use of the Queen's English is so bloody amazing I can't help but step my game up.
He's basically SHA-LUNGED me to write a better book. I bet he thought I'd back down. Foolish mortal...he must not be familiar with El Generalissimo. I come from warriors and soldiers and militia men that SCOFF in the face of Blanquitos. We eat dudes like him for almuerzo, and when his cronies come looking for him we'll just be all, "Perdon, pero no speeky dee eenglish."
*sigh*
Meanwhile, even though I'm only on page 97, this is already the best book I've read all year.
Dammit.
*smooches...happy that I've started reading again*
----------
special shout out to Mari who, by inviting me to join an impromptu summer book club, helped me reignite my reading addiction.
But I'm reading a book right now, Little Bee by British author Chris Cleave, that just SHAT a huge, smelly turd all over my literary dreams. Not to say that my words are any less because he's great, but, damn, I wanted to be first.Every other sentence is poetic. Every other paragraph evokes a picture in my mind. Every other page awaits with another cleverly weaved occurrence that makes Little Bee such a page turner.
#sidebar: because I'm slightly hatin' on Chris, let me point out that he is taking AWFULLY LONG to get to the meat of the story. but I'm going to forgive him because the scenic route ain't so bad.
I love this book. I love that Cleave can write a woman's voice so brilliantly. I love that he's writing for TWO different female protagonists and does so flawlessly. And I love that his use of the Queen's English is so bloody amazing I can't help but step my game up.
He's basically SHA-LUNGED me to write a better book. I bet he thought I'd back down. Foolish mortal...he must not be familiar with El Generalissimo. I come from warriors and soldiers and militia men that SCOFF in the face of Blanquitos. We eat dudes like him for almuerzo, and when his cronies come looking for him we'll just be all, "Perdon, pero no speeky dee eenglish."
*sigh*
Meanwhile, even though I'm only on page 97, this is already the best book I've read all year.
Dammit.
*smooches...happy that I've started reading again*
----------
special shout out to Mari who, by inviting me to join an impromptu summer book club, helped me reignite my reading addiction.
Monday, August 02, 2010
Turning Up The Mommy Dial
I think I've been doing a pretty good job raising K & N almost-kinda by myself since I left their father in 2005. At first I was all, "What do y'all eat for breakfast?" and "Why are you waiting for ME to cook dinner?" but now we're pretty much comfortable in a chaotic routine that works for us.
There are a few things I wish were different, though, and never were they so evident and in my face than this weekend.
C went ahead and married his girlfriend in a private ceremony, and then called K to inform her. Yeah, go ahead and let that marinate for a minute...
...
...
...
Right. K came out of her room and said, "Daddy just called. He and B got married this weekend," and then went back to her room. Needless to say I was seething, and began tallying up the million trillion ways he's been pissing me off all summer:
1- quitting his job w/out having a new job in place
2- moving in w/his fiance; a home w/no extra room for my daughters
3- mouthing off to me when I demanded he give me his DEFINITIVE plan for providing support and a place to live to my babies
4- making ME out to be the bad guy here for not understanding his decisions
5- marrying his fiance in a private ceremony that DID NOT INCLUDE HIS DAUGHTERS.
Of all the asinine moves he's made to date I take THAT ONE personally. So, what... my kids aren't good enough to be a part of your wedding? WHAT THE FUCK??? So I discussed it with a few people, just to gauge if maybe I was overreacting, as I'm wont to do. But everyone I mentioned it to was also pissed and disgusted. I was then ready to retaliate, but first I thought I'd check on my babies.
I asked K if she was alright with her dad getting married without her, and that's when she dropped the bomb on me: he'd already told her he was planning a small, private wedding in early July instead of the big wedding they had initially planned in September (one guess as to WHY!). K also informed me that when he told her she was very upset because she (and rightly so!) felt it was going to upstage her 15th birthday, and that's probably why he waited until the end of the month.
Then she uttered the words that really broke me, "I already talked about it with my friends and I'm over it."
Her friends?!?!?! What about ME?? Her MOM?????
It felt like she'd turned my own machete against me when she said that. What is it about me that she feels she can't come to me about this stuff? I was (and still am) so hurt by this slight that I really had to reflect on it that night. Clearly I dropped the ball along the way, but I don't know where and I don't know how to fix it. ME. El Generalissimo Mommy of Brooklyn. Having parenting problems.
Perhaps she thought I'd go off on her dad and was protecting him against my wrath? Or maybe I really am the LAST PERSON she'd ever confide in. I don't know. But during my self-reflection I decided that maybe I need to be more accessible to these girls. Be home more. Not so attached to my computer/blackberry/cellphone/iPod and spend some real time with them. Reinstate our family cooking nights and take more day trips with them. Just be PRESENT when we're together.
Especially because I'm getting this nagging feeling that their father is ever-so-slowly becoming more and more absent.
I will NOT have my daughters turn out to be anorexic, meth-head prostitutes because they weren't parented properly. Not MY babies!
*smooches...looking for mommy and daughters activities in the city*
----------
I'm on a new mission. get on board or move out of the way!
There are a few things I wish were different, though, and never were they so evident and in my face than this weekend.
C went ahead and married his girlfriend in a private ceremony, and then called K to inform her. Yeah, go ahead and let that marinate for a minute...
...
...
...
Right. K came out of her room and said, "Daddy just called. He and B got married this weekend," and then went back to her room. Needless to say I was seething, and began tallying up the million trillion ways he's been pissing me off all summer:
1- quitting his job w/out having a new job in place
2- moving in w/his fiance; a home w/no extra room for my daughters
3- mouthing off to me when I demanded he give me his DEFINITIVE plan for providing support and a place to live to my babies
4- making ME out to be the bad guy here for not understanding his decisions
5- marrying his fiance in a private ceremony that DID NOT INCLUDE HIS DAUGHTERS.
Of all the asinine moves he's made to date I take THAT ONE personally. So, what... my kids aren't good enough to be a part of your wedding? WHAT THE FUCK??? So I discussed it with a few people, just to gauge if maybe I was overreacting, as I'm wont to do. But everyone I mentioned it to was also pissed and disgusted. I was then ready to retaliate, but first I thought I'd check on my babies.
I asked K if she was alright with her dad getting married without her, and that's when she dropped the bomb on me: he'd already told her he was planning a small, private wedding in early July instead of the big wedding they had initially planned in September (one guess as to WHY!). K also informed me that when he told her she was very upset because she (and rightly so!) felt it was going to upstage her 15th birthday, and that's probably why he waited until the end of the month.
Then she uttered the words that really broke me, "I already talked about it with my friends and I'm over it."
Her friends?!?!?! What about ME?? Her MOM?????
It felt like she'd turned my own machete against me when she said that. What is it about me that she feels she can't come to me about this stuff? I was (and still am) so hurt by this slight that I really had to reflect on it that night. Clearly I dropped the ball along the way, but I don't know where and I don't know how to fix it. ME. El Generalissimo Mommy of Brooklyn. Having parenting problems.
Perhaps she thought I'd go off on her dad and was protecting him against my wrath? Or maybe I really am the LAST PERSON she'd ever confide in. I don't know. But during my self-reflection I decided that maybe I need to be more accessible to these girls. Be home more. Not so attached to my computer/blackberry/cellphone/iPod and spend some real time with them. Reinstate our family cooking nights and take more day trips with them. Just be PRESENT when we're together.
Especially because I'm getting this nagging feeling that their father is ever-so-slowly becoming more and more absent.
I will NOT have my daughters turn out to be anorexic, meth-head prostitutes because they weren't parented properly. Not MY babies!
*smooches...looking for mommy and daughters activities in the city*
----------
I'm on a new mission. get on board or move out of the way!
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
"Without Me Your Pimpin Ain't The Same"
You might find this hard to believe, but even a JadedNYer like myself is still amazed at people behaving like assholes. Yes, I know. Shocking.
But honestly, I don't see the point in that sort of behavior (anymore. Yes, I acknowledge that I was a total asshole to my ex-husband the whole time we lived on campus at Waco. I've already admitted to this. Why y'all gotta be bringing up old shit?! Dang! Can I live?!) And why anyone would choose to be that way.
I bring this up because it was brought to my attention that a guy I used to talk to is a complete asshole. This information was related to me by two different people, unrelated to me, him and each other, thousands of months apart. I can only assume it's true.
Except he was never an asshole to me. Well, maybe towards the end he was, but that's because it was ending, however during I can't say that I ever experienced any asshole tendencies from him. He was sweet, considerate, giving, fun- all that shit, so when these two people regaled me with their tales of his assholery I was honestly dumbfounded.
Especially because during a recent PMS week I found myself missing him, cyber-stalking him, wondering what went wrong and if it was salvageable. But just when Lady Estrogen was about to cry and get all swoony, El Generalissimo came thru with a vicious backhanded slap of reality for that ass:
"You don't want him back and you don't miss him. You just hate the thought that he's not after you. You are bothered by the fact that you can't flaunt a bigger, better, faster MORE you in his face. You want to stroll down BK with a lovely Rasta on your arm just to rub his nose in it. You want a lush and lavish writing career so you can pop bottles in his face. You only want to get in shape so he can see what he missed out on. You want all his friends to say, 'daaaaamn, son! You gave THAT up? Yo, you STUPID!'
"And you want to be able to walk up to him and smile and say hello and appear to be the bigger person. But you're not. You're petty and immature and quite bitter about the whole thing. You, my dear, don't want him. You want him to want you like the vain bitch you've always been. Snap out of it!"
In one wordy monologue of real talk and tough love, El Generalissimo enlightened me about why I'm not moving forward as much as I'd like; why I can't get rid of these last 10lbs; why my love life is still ghost: I'm still too concerned with what others will think and how they see me. Not just this dude but everybody. I thought I'd licked it but I didn't.
If I'm gonna get ahead it's gotta be for me. The weight? It won't leave til I love myself enough to make it leave. My aspirations have to be pure of heart or The Universe will just continue to shit all over me. I need to let go of MY inner asshole. Only then will I get all the good stuff I deserve!
In the meantime, tho, don't let me see that fool in the street *side eye* He WILL regret all manner of thangs. And that's some MO' truth for YOUR ass, from one Asshole to another *b-girl stance*
*smooches...trying my darndest to GROW UP*
----------
but it's hella hard, y'all... hella hard!
But honestly, I don't see the point in that sort of behavior (anymore. Yes, I acknowledge that I was a total asshole to my ex-husband the whole time we lived on campus at Waco. I've already admitted to this. Why y'all gotta be bringing up old shit?! Dang! Can I live?!) And why anyone would choose to be that way.
I bring this up because it was brought to my attention that a guy I used to talk to is a complete asshole. This information was related to me by two different people, unrelated to me, him and each other, thousands of months apart. I can only assume it's true.
Except he was never an asshole to me. Well, maybe towards the end he was, but that's because it was ending, however during I can't say that I ever experienced any asshole tendencies from him. He was sweet, considerate, giving, fun- all that shit, so when these two people regaled me with their tales of his assholery I was honestly dumbfounded.
Especially because during a recent PMS week I found myself missing him, cyber-stalking him, wondering what went wrong and if it was salvageable. But just when Lady Estrogen was about to cry and get all swoony, El Generalissimo came thru with a vicious backhanded slap of reality for that ass:
"You don't want him back and you don't miss him. You just hate the thought that he's not after you. You are bothered by the fact that you can't flaunt a bigger, better, faster MORE you in his face. You want to stroll down BK with a lovely Rasta on your arm just to rub his nose in it. You want a lush and lavish writing career so you can pop bottles in his face. You only want to get in shape so he can see what he missed out on. You want all his friends to say, 'daaaaamn, son! You gave THAT up? Yo, you STUPID!'
"And you want to be able to walk up to him and smile and say hello and appear to be the bigger person. But you're not. You're petty and immature and quite bitter about the whole thing. You, my dear, don't want him. You want him to want you like the vain bitch you've always been. Snap out of it!"
In one wordy monologue of real talk and tough love, El Generalissimo enlightened me about why I'm not moving forward as much as I'd like; why I can't get rid of these last 10lbs; why my love life is still ghost: I'm still too concerned with what others will think and how they see me. Not just this dude but everybody. I thought I'd licked it but I didn't.
If I'm gonna get ahead it's gotta be for me. The weight? It won't leave til I love myself enough to make it leave. My aspirations have to be pure of heart or The Universe will just continue to shit all over me. I need to let go of MY inner asshole. Only then will I get all the good stuff I deserve!
In the meantime, tho, don't let me see that fool in the street *side eye* He WILL regret all manner of thangs. And that's some MO' truth for YOUR ass, from one Asshole to another *b-girl stance*
*smooches...trying my darndest to GROW UP*
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but it's hella hard, y'all... hella hard!
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