File Under: T...M...I

Another week has come and gone, and I for one am excited to be done with it. I'm suffering from a bit of sensory overload: too many things coming at me at once...the voices are partying like it's 1999...and as usual I can't focus. But that doesn't mean I can't stop in and let ya'll know what's going on. That would be selfish.

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.

Why Me?
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*
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We fall down
But we get up...
For a saint is just
a sinner who fell down...
and got up

You Call That News?

I'm still not in the best of moods, so instead of the latest happenings in my sorry excuse for a life, here are some more news stories from this week that caught my eye.

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*
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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

Redemption Song

It was brought to the Jaded NYer’s attention that sometimes, she takes things too far. Sometimes what she thinks is funny is just downright mean. And sometimes words do hurt.

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…*
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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.

It's Still Not Easy, But I'll Get There, Kermit...

It's official- I'm in the funkiest of funks. I have just been elected the Mayor of Funktown. As my first order of business I am putting into effect 48hrs of radio silence, which, in Raquel-speak means don't call or write or IM or text me for two days. I need to create a void or vacuum and get centered. There's too much going on around me and it's making the voices in my head all excited to the point where they won't shut the fuck up and focus.

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*
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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

Hip Hop Hooray...Ho...Hey...Ho...

Guess what happened on Wednesday? Guess! You'll NEVER guess! Give up?

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*
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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