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| The little Things |
| 06.30.04 (2:06 pm) [edit] |
I can’t draw to save my life. I think the closest I’ve ever come was once a long time ago. When a single candle threw her shadow against the wall and I ran my fingers along the lines wishing I could permanently keep it there. I felt the need to find a way to get it out. Everything that goes on inside. I’m not sure it’s a talent anymore. It’s just something I do. I like painting with words. Sometimes it’s not what it’s supposed to be because you can always edit. You can always change what you want it to say.
Today I was sitting in the back of our office. I was watching someone check something things up against our board on the wall. When she reached up her shirt moved slightly revealing her flat stomach. She was on her tiptoes. Her manicured feet reaching to not slip out of her brown sandals. Her faded jeans hugged her thighs and her hips perfectly. The tan sweater hung loosely off of her curvy frame. Her toe nail polish matches her outfit. She pushed her thin framed glasses up her face with her other hand. I’ve tried to fix them. She sat on them once and hasn’t bothered to get them replaced. She likes to wear dangling earrings from random places. She told me this morning she spent $36 on lip gloss and $16 on eye liner because it had glitter in it. I reminded myself to look away.
If you find me with a slight smile on my face its usually because I am thinking of something tender. Something I often protect. My heart beats randomly for things that I cannot have. It has always been that way. So in moments like that I steal them. I put them down somewhere and they become mine. They are probably things that no one else notices. The little things.
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| Alcoholic Blue Balls |
| 06.29.04 (8:58 am) [edit] |
Let me tell you something. It exists. Last night my roomie and I decided we were going to spend some quality time together. He took me to the bookstore and then the CD store after stuffing our faces at Fat Slice. I skimmed the books but couldn’t really find anything I wanted to sink my teeth into. He tells me that I shouldn’t waste money on new books and just buy them used. Which makes complete sense if you can find what you are looking for but I did not and I like the way new books smell. He did find one for me though which caught me off guard cause he remembered the author’s name. (and here I thought he didn’t pay attention). I then purchase a CD. I didn’t have the patience to look for the hidden treasures at Amoeba after looking through all the book titles. So I just took what I found but I want to go back for more I tell you!
We gott home and he had gotten some champagne two weeks or so ago. He’s been wanting to taste it for a while now but didn’t really have a reason to open the bottle. Well yesterday was “roomie” day so he pops open the bubbly. This stuff was no Crystal that’s for sure. In fact it was rather bitter but we drink the bottle anyway. We watch reality TV. I am so hooked on For Love or Money. I can’t believe he sent Rebekah home and kept that conniving bitch Rachel! Of course my other half was amused at my disbelief and the bubbly was starting to make me tingly (could it be that this not getting drunk phase was over???)
“Let’s open the other bottle?” I say.
“I’m drunk,” he says.
I didn’t believe him. Considering we had the same amount. Well I had a little more but who’s really keeping track. He gets up to get some ice cream. It was the biggest bowl I have ever seen him eat. Ever.
“You aren’t gonna drink anymore?” I ask him.
“Nope. I told you I’m drunk. I don’t know why no one believes me when I say that,” he answers.
I look at him, “Well can I open the other bottle?”
“You aren’t gonna get drunk off of it. I’m not gonna waste the other bottle on you,” he says laughing.
Look just cause I have a condition doesn’t mean you are wasting anything on me mister. There are a million reasons you should let me drink it but I can’t think of any at the moment. I ask him what he was saving it for. He tells me for a special occasion or something. I tell him he’s full of shit and the he wants to drink it with SOMEONE else. Man do I feel used and abused.
“Look if you don’t open the other bottle I am going to get alcoholic blue balls,” I tell him.
He looks at me and just starts laughing but it’s a serious condition?! I can’t help but laugh either and I tell him fine. That I was going to open the bottle of wine then cause he wasn’t gonna leave me that way. He’s still laughing at me. We were still laughing this morning. I suppose it is rather funny but I am taking the credit for inventing this medical condition. Let me explain. It’s just like the male version of blue balls only it involves liquor. You know when you are getting that good buzz and everything starts to feel REAL good and then there is no more alcohol left! You even contemplate drinking the Listerine in the medicine cabinet (well not really but you get what I’m saying). You sit there and rock back and forth thinking about whether the trip to the store is that serious. Then you realize that its 11pm at night and some stores don’t sell liquor after that time. All that is left is to go to bed so you can wake up the next morning to re-stock so it never happens again.
Anyway I drank the bottle of wine and went to bed rather late. He thinks I have a chemical imbalance cause I woke up feeling like nothing this morning. Look I’m not having sex and liquor was the only thing left for me to enjoy and now I can’t even do that. I told him that I give up this morning. I give up on sex and liquor. I think I am destined to become a nun. Someone better warn the nunnery cause here I come.
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| Imagine My Surprise |
| 06.28.04 (10:32 am) [edit] |
When I turned around and some of my favorite people were standing there with grins on their faces and rainbow cupcakes with candles in them were coming my way. I thought my manager was going to fire me but apparently SOMEONE had called ahead and o.k’d for it to happen. I was completely caught off guard. Turning 27 for me has just not been a good thing. I’ve had too much time to reflect and think about the things I should have done by now. We’ll get to that in a minute. I was grateful.. It felt good to be cared for. I heard happy birthday from strangers and they sang for me at midnight. It was weird and I missed not having some people there. Kind of selfish I know but there are moments when you wish that you could have it all and Friday was one of them.
The rest of my weekend was alright. Saturday night (yes I am not lying) I was home and in bed before 11pm. I was tired and I had a migraine that persisted and forced me to come home right when it looked like it was going to get good. I was a bit bummed but at the same time I needed to be by myself. I want to thank L PIMP and RAZ for really trying to make me feel better so that I could stay. Sometimes you just gotta know when to bow out. I was tired. I wasn’t feeling the vibe. There was the whole Pride weekend thing going on and I just couldn’t find the groove for it. I tried. It felt like I didn’t belong there so I said my goodbyes and got on the BART to make my way back home. Once I was in bed I fell asleep. I dreamt of angels. Every feel like you don’t want to wake out of a dream? Like that’s where you wanted to stay cause that’s where you felt you belonged.
Sunday was stay at home with the family day. I hit the grill up and played some tunes while everyone mingled inside. For the record I have been trying to get drunk since Wed. of last week. My roommate will be my witness and I will say that it was impossible. I really was trying to get hammered at least once this weekend but somehow it escaped me completely. Even yesterday when I drank a half pint of imported Rum. It just wasn’t going to happen. So I gave up and at midnight I went to bed. I woke up this morning elated and confused with no hangover. Like I had been drinking Gatorade all day instead of the rum.
I thought of all the good stuff that happened randomly last week. Actually Cruzando mentioned it. I got to thinking about it. I was a decent week despite the shit that piled on.
I’m just in a funk about things. I didn’t trip out when I turned 25 or 26 for that matter. Now at 27 I thought of how long I’ve lived. I thought of all the things I’ve done. Then I thought of all the things I didn’t do or should have done. I know there is no purpose in sitting on it but I know we all think of it at some point. You dust your shoulders off. You try not to look back. You wait till things start to happen again and you move on. I’m learning that one day at a time.
So again thank you all for your love this weekend. I had a lot of unexpected calls from people that I thought had forgotten about me.
1. No my birthday is not in October but you are forgiven.
2. I’m glad it’s over.
3. I don’t believe in resolutions or planning too far ahead. All I can hope for is a better year.
4. I’m going to go shopping for CD’s this week and I am ecstatic.
5. Despite it being one of the roughest years I’ve come to know. I think I’ve grown and for that I am grateful.
6. If I don’t say it enough. I love you all. (even when I’m being an asshole).
7. I really want to win the lottery this year.
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| Lindsay Lohan |
| 06.23.04 (10:09 am) [edit] |
That’s right I am not gonna wait until she’s eighteen to go there. Actually, this post was inspired by two co-workers who are obsessed with whether or not her boobs are real. They were chatting about it over the coffee pot. When asked what I thought about it I really didn’t have an opinion. I like her. I think she’s cute. That’s as far as I’m going cause I don’t want to get put in jail. Back to the boob issue. I told them I’d research it and get back to them. It is my conclusion that they are real.
I have been trolling through web site after web site to see what others think. I couldn’t believe the extensive obsession with the topic. There are forums with pictures and discussions that go on and on. It’s her body in my opinion. I suppose the nation has to have something to talk about. So Lindsay is the “it” girl for now since Britney is so yesterday. Where was I? Oh yeah. Look the girl is young and she has money. She can do whatever she wants. After all the fans are the ones having issues. Someone will always have something to say about everything. I don’t think they are fake. There are plenty of pictures out there. And personally since my boobs seemed to have grown this last year I can honestly believe that she was a late bloomer. It happens. What are you gonna do?
Have I mentioned that I think she’s cute? Leave your pedophile comments at home. Like I am the first one to think or even say it. Considering half of the people I know have either A) dated a really young person or B) slept with one. So get over it. Everyone knows I’m devoted to Angelina anyway.
Discuss…….
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| Damn it to hell |
| 06.22.04 (3:50 pm) [edit] |
I feel one hundred years old today. I feel like not going to class. I feel like not giving a fuck. I feel like reaching the bottom of ever bottle. I feel like giving up. I feel heavy and lonely. I feel like singing the blues. I feel like getting older is not good for me. I feel closed in. I feel empty. I feel so helpless. Like I have no control. They say we hold the key to our destiny. What the fuck? Did someone steal mine? Cause this isn’t what I had in mind. What ever “this” is anyway.
Maybe its just this shit that I’ve had to deal with lately. There are those that are going through more than what I’m going through. Usually I’m really good with the “it could be worse motto” but fuck this shit. Every time I think it something else just piles on. Just for writing this I’ll probably get hit by a bus next week. As long as I can walk I don’t care. Maybe I should just jump out in front of one now and get it over with.
I just want to be…..I don’t know what I want. To be left alone? then you can cry about how lonely you are. To be around people? then you can cry about how everyone is doing their own thing anyway . To just sleep? then you can cry about how you missed out on everything To drink? then you can cry about how everyone is always on your ass about your drinking. To be sober? then you can cry about how everyone else is doing it and its not an issue. Fuck.
I wish there was a good bar around here. With a kick ass jukebox. I’d go drown in it tonight but it’s not good alone. Gotta have someone who gets it sitting next to you. Even if there isn’t conversation, there’s an understanding among the ones that get it.
Damn.
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| Can it get any worse? |
| 06.21.04 (10:15 am) [edit] |
I’m not sure how to start this post. It’s Monday morning and my eyes are a little puffy from crying. I tried to call in and come in later so that I could sleep more. I didn’t have the most solid of dreams. For background purposes I want to say that my mother and I have never had a working relationship. There is too much detail to go into and I don’t want to go there. I am her daughter. She is my mother. I grew to see past her hate and her discomfort with herself. Sometimes I feel like hugging her but I don’t. You see my mother is an alcoholic. It’s been that way for as long as I remember. Like I said there is too much darkness there to jump into. I prefer to be where I am now with her than when I was say 18. Maybe my own battle has given me more insight. Maybe I want to make sure she doesn’t die alone. No one deserves that, even if they cause pain. Sometimes I think she does it cause she hurts inside too. No one makes the effort to understand her. She comes home every night to an empty house and an empty bed. Maybe emptiness is all she’s ever felt. Maybe her life and the promises that were made never turned out the way they were supposed too. Our family is bonded. No matter how bad it was or is we never miss a birthday or a holiday. Even if its just for a couple of hours. Being that its all most of us can take of each other. Sometimes I wonder if we do it just for the sake of doing it.
I can’t speak for my siblings. I know that I love my family. Even if its dysfunctional in so many ways. It feels like if I just apply a little more glue here and maybe some super glue there we can make it.
Saturday was like many of my days these last couple of months. I am up and running and I don’t stop until about 5 in the afternoon. I was tired from working and going to class. I came home and my roommate cooked dinner (thank you). I tried to go to sleep at a decent hour I had to get up on Sunday and do it all over again. My phone rings at 930pm. It’s my sister she has something to tell me.
“Hey I just wanted to tell you that mom kind of burned her face today,” she says.
I sit up automatically, “What do you mean kind of?”
“Well you know how she is on the weekends and she was cooking this afternoon. I’m not sure what happened but the grease hit her face,” she said.
My heart started beating fast,”Well is she alright?”
“Uhm they had to take her to the hospital. They said she’d be fine though,” she said.
Her reaction scared me. There was no emotion. It was like she was telling me that my mom had choked on some food but she’s fine now. Maybe I was over reacting before really knowing what happened. I sat there for a second and thought about what I needed to ask next.
“Who took her to the hospital?” I asked.
“Dad did. I don’t know what the doctor’s said though,” she answered.
“What time did this all happen?”
“Early this afternoon. Before me and **** went to the movies.”
Once again I listened to her tone. Nothing. I needed a reaction. I wanted to make sure she saw the whole picture. I want her to understand that no matter how much drama my mother brings to the house she is worth more than a fucken movie.
“You left her to go to a fucken movie?” I asked.
“What?” she said. I don’t curse at her. Only when I am angry. It seems to be the only way to get to her. I know where to push. I know how to push.
“You don’t think that it mattered enough to stay and make sure she was alright?” I pushed.
“What do you mean? You know how she is on the weekends. She’s fine. I didn’t call you to argue with you. I just wanted to tell you so that when you saw her you wouldn’t freak out,” she said getting testy.
“Are you kidding me?” I asked.
“What?”
“You really think that it was alright for you and **** to just leave her like that?” I asked.
“What do you want me to do? She was already burnt. She didn’t want to go to the hospital. So we left.”
“Oh well right? She’s just a fucken drunk anyway. Oh well that she burned her face with grease. Oh well right? That’s your answer to everything isn’t it?” I was furious.
You can’t just brush people aside. You can’t just treat things like they don’t matter. I wondered what was going through her head. I wondered what it felt like to think that no one cared. That they left her to go to a movie. I wondered and remembered what it felt like to realize that you are disposable. I hung up the phone and called my brother. He was supposed to know better. He was older. I went through the same thing with him and wound up hanging up the phone in his face.
Let me make it clear that the way they told it I didn’t think her face was that bad. It was the principle. I wasn’t asking them to save her. I wasn’t asking them to fake caring. All that I wanted them to understand was that no matter how much she has fucked up that it wasn’t alright to treat her as if she didn’t matter. I am no better. She frustrates me. I hate that I don’t know what a mother/daughter relationship feels like. It’s something I’ll never understand. There is resentment. Sometimes even this immense hate. I feel guilty about some of the things that go through my head but even after all that I understand her loneliness. I try give her compassion and forgiveness. That is all that I have to offer. I wish they understood that.
I went home yesterday. I fell apart yesterday. I wanted to yell at them for being selfish assholes. When I walked in she was hiding behind her hands. I laughed and asked her to stop playing and pushed her hands aside. I couldn’t control the emotions that overwhelmed me. My mothers right side of her face was swollen and she could barely see out of her right eye. Her skin was red and blistered. I was in disbelief. How could it not matter? I went to reach for her face and she just took my hand. Her hands where shaking.
“You can’t touch it. It’s still tender,” she said quietly. “Things like this happen.”
I don’t know if she was trying to reassure me or herself. I took a deep breath because I couldn’t answer. I didn’t want to cry in front of her. I didn’t want her to feel like she had to hide her face. I washed my hands in the bathroom. It took me 15 minutes at least to compose myself before coming out. I went to say hello to my dad.
“Don’t get like that. She’ll be fine,” he said as he hugged me. I didn’t hug him back.
It was a long afternoon. I couldn’t look at her at first. It took everything out of me. When my mother was young she had this beautiful face. It was full of life and dreams. I have an old picture of her laughing. My sister has a striking resemblance to her. Seeing her like that yesterday has fucked with me. I don’t understand a lot of things in life. I don’t understand why things happen the way they do. I think I am trying to convince myself that this will make us all stronger in the end. My mom. She is a proud woman. When she takes pictures she does this thing with her head. She lifts it a little and turns to the right like a model would when posing for a picture. I used to tease her about it and she would throw something at me. I wonder when she’ll be able to do that again. I wonder when she’ll be able to look in the mirror and not let any tears fall. I wonder when I’ll be able to look at her and not feel sorry. I hope it doesn’t scar. The doctors said that she’s lucky it didn’t get into her eye. They say that she’s lucky it didn’t burn her through to her tissue.
I came home last night and cried. I tried to watch a scary movie so that I could make all the other emotions go away but it didn’t help. So I poured myself a couple of drinks to numb some of the pain. That didn’t help either. So I allowed myself to cry because that’s what I needed to do and even then I hated that I was shedding any tears at all.
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| My Brother has a date..... |
| 06.18.04 (11:43 am) [edit] |
Yesterday he came to get me from work. I found this a bit odd being that he never offers to really do anything for me. But hey it’s better than taking the bus so I was like “hell’s yeah”.
He is so cute. He’s quiet but cool. Its weird to really think about him. But he’s never really had a girl. He hardly ever goes out to do things. He stays home. Smokes some bud. Watches TV. Occasionally he’ll have his buddies over for a BBQ. He’s that kind of guy. Always wanting to chill. He’s cool with everything.
He comes to get me and is kinda quiet, “So what’s up with you?”
“Nothing the same old same and you?” I ask. I am aware of his body language. Something is on his mind and he doesn’t know how to bring it up.
“I didn’t want to stay at home today. I get tired of being by myself all the time,” he says.
He’s driving slower than usual. He’s listening to depressing music. His phone rings and he picks up quickly. He has a brief conversation with some girl. I look at him when he hangs up. He keeps his eyes on the road. Both hands on the steering wheel.
“Who was that?” I ask. I know that’s what he was waiting for.
“Some girl. You don’t know who she is. It’s a friend from high school,” he says quietly.
“Oh yeah? You gonna hang out with her later?”
“Yeah I was waiting for her to call me back. She works right around the corner from you. She wants to hang out after work.”
“How long have you been seeing her?”
His hands relax and he lets his breath out. I don’t know if he stopped breathing cause he was nervous about telling anyone. Obviously he wanted to tell someone and he picked me. I smile, waiting for his answer.
“We’ve only hung out twice but I don’t want to say anything yet cause I don’t know if we’re really dating. We’re just hanging out right now. You know how the family is. I don’t want anyone to bust my balls about it.”
I laugh. I think it is the best thing to happen to him. I haven’t met the girl so right now I can’t make any judgments but I am excited for him. He seems like he wants more out of his life right now and that makes me happy. Cause he deserves to be taken care of and appreciated.
When he was a kid he was this chunky cry baby. I know that seems harsh but he was and I was his worst fear. I hated that he cried all the time. I used to literally kick his ass when he would cry over things. He hated me. Once I slapped the shit out of him cause he tried to hit my mom. I think he was 10. He never did anything like that again. Instead he would punch walls and cuss and throw things. I would bust his chops. Calling him all kinds of names just to see him cry. He was a softy and I couldn’t stand it. I wanted him to be a man about things. I wanted him to know that life was tough and that crying wasn’t going to fix anything. What did I know I was only 13?
We got to my apartment and got out of the car. I noticed his car was clean. He had combed his hair and shaved. I smiled. He just looked at me for a second.
“Don’t say anything o.k?” he said.
“It’s all good ****. Handle your business. I’m glad you are getting out,” I respond.
We walk in and I make him a drink. I offer him a sandwich and his phone rings again. He takes a sip and says he’s gonna go. I walk him to the door and tell him not to worry about calling me later. I tell him to go and have fun. He stands at the door and just looks at me.
“What do you order a girl when you go the bar?” he asks me.
“A cosmo,” I tell him. “It’ll get you laid.”
He just shakes his head at me and laughs. I want to ruffle his hair. I watch him go. I hope he remembers to just be himself.
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| Its Been A While |
| 06.15.04 (12:24 pm) [edit] |
So last night as I was sitting on my couch eating waffle cone ice cream and watching For Love or Money I came to the realization that I haven’t had sex in a year and a half. I don’t care that most of you reading this know me personally. It’s not a secret really. Then I started thinking about why. The list could go on forever. I have issues with intimacy, which does not allow for random one night stands. Though I could come up with a list of people that I could get dirty with that’s all it really is. A list.
I’m not sure where it stems from. It’s always been that way. When I was a kid I hated when people slept next to me. I didn’t like the way their body heat rose. I think the first time I was o.k with it was when my little sister was born. She didn’t hog the bed or toss and turn. She was just there. I let her sleep with me till she was about five then she had to learn to sleep on her own. At sleepovers I was always the one with my own sleeping bag. Unless there were none then I had my own blanket. I didn’t care about the pillows as long as I had my own space to sleep in.
When I got older there were people that broke me down along the way. None that I will go into detail with. Little things began to change. Then I fell in love. I couldn’t sleep if that warmth wasn’t there. It became enough to just have someone laying next to me. I didn’t sleep around even when I had the chance. Though there were those drunk blurry nights……I still can’t figure out why I did it even then. Maybe it was just the need to have someone want me. Whatever the reason I was satisfied with whom ever wanted to lay next to me. It was hardly ever sexual. If I had to classify it as anything it was just comforting. I liked that anyone (mostly my old roommates) would come knock on my door and ask if they could stay with me. I never said no.
Since being home however….this last year and a half. Blue eyes, VaNative and (J) have been the only ones to sleep in my bed. All ex-roommates or old pals from way back when. My bed is big and I sleep as though I will be the only one that is ever in it. Where was this blog going again? Oh yeah. Me and no sex. The weird thing is that I don’t find myself craving any kind of affection. A hug is great. My roommate got into this thing last week where he would constantly hug me and I literally had to push him off me. I’d tell him to “get the fuck off me” in a tender loving roommate kinda way.
Sex was never that important to me I guess. Or rather I have never been a sexual person though I can be. It’s just not me. I don’t ooze it the way most do. Its there. Just in a not so obvious way. You have dig for it if it’s going to mean anything at all.
I’m sure there was a point here somewhere but I’ve become distracted. Oh well.
Comment away. I know you all have something to say.
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| My Job |
| 06.14.04 (12:42 pm) [edit] |
OMG this morning I was charged with figuring out who could be here for the "big man's" birthday party. The owner of our company had a birthday last week and his wife wanted to throw him a surprise party here at the office.
All I had to do was find out what schedule everyone had so we could figure out what day to do it so that most of us could be here.
So I compose the email and remove his name from the mailing list so that he doesn't see it. I click save and send. I like to double-check things so I click on the send items to make sure that everyone who was supposed to receive it got it o.k.........
I have never wanted to cry for making a mistake especially here because it's pretty laid back especially if you fix it. Tell me WHY???? his name was the first in line to get the email. Fucking computers. I have a migrain now. He's the OWNER of the company. I had to call his assistant to tell him and she just got really quiet.
"Well uhm you want to call her?," she asks me.
"No, she'll fire me," I tell her half laughing (I do that when I'm nervous).
"Maybe he hasn't read it yet?" she says.
"Shit J**** what am I gonna do?" I ask.
She's laughing now, "I don't know. I guess I can call her and tell her and see where to go from there. We'll take care of it."
Oh sure it's not YOUR job that's on the line and why are you laughing? I have been sitting here trying to figure out how to un-do this really horrific little detail. I don't think there is a way but all I can do here is sit and wait and wait.....damn I guess this is how I know it's really Monday.
Up to this point everything was going so lovely.....
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| Latin Night |
| 06.11.04 (1:13 pm) [edit] |
So yesterday after putting the post about latin beats on my site I went to the latin night at the Café. First off I didn’t know it was latin night. It was (J)’s last night and L P.I.M.P is finished with school (she graduates Saturday!). We all went with the notion of having a few drinks, playing some pool and calling it a night.
Then the beat changed and they weren’t playing “gay music” anymore. I hear Celia Cruz’s voice transport me into a place. We start to dance. It’s over folks. It is only 930pm and the crowd is starting to grow. It’s like this massive pulse that happens. All of a sudden there are beautiful foreign faces everywhere. It was Latin Night at my favorite drinking hole.
L Pimp looks at me and says “So much for not getting drunk.”
I laugh and know that tonight was going to be fun, “Yeah so much for that.”
We toast to her graduation and take it back. I danced till I soaked through my shirts. I drank and laughed and sang till it hurt. My legs and butt are sore this morning. I danced alone. I danced with boys. I danced with girls. There were go-go dancers. Damn those go-go’s. Can I tell you a story that sounds like it’s going to turn into a bad porn?
I was standing by the door where the dancers were going in to change. I was standing there having a conversation with a friend of a friend. The Go-Go dancer couple one boy, one girl were walking by. She stops.
Let me explain something. When I say sexy I mean sexy. This girl was drool material. Of course it helped that she smelled like Victoria Secrets Pear. The tattoo around her pierced belly button seemed to call my name. I wanted to kiss it. L Pimp almost dropped her beer the very first time we saw her. She was spanish with full lips and clear brown eyes. She had long legs and the nicest butt I have seen in a while. In my world I would have ten of her cleaning my house, doing the dishes, running me a bath uhm you get the point. Cause I could go on and on.
She stops and grabs my tits saying that they were nice. She didn’t JUST grab them. She takes my hand and takes me with her and her BF over to where they were gonna dance. This is not real. I am the wallflower. The one that no one ever see’s but not last night. I turn around to see if anyone just saw this cause if I tried to tell them later no one would believe me. I couldn’t see them cause she pulled me up onto the stage.
“Lay down, “ she says.
I look down at the floor. There is liquor and cigarette ashes every where.
“Just do what she says,” he tells me from behind.
“I’m not gonna lay down,” I tell her. She leans in real close I can smell her perfume mixed in with her shampoo.
“Not even for me?” she asks.
I look back at the floor and then back into her eyes, “No.”
“Hmmm I think I like that,” she says laughing. “ Ok then.” She turns around and grinds into me.
Her boyfriend laughs, “She’s not used to no.”
“There is a first time for everything,” I tell him. We danced like this for a little while. I couldn’t stop staring at her ass. Then I realized that I was probably an eye sore up there and costing them some money. They were there, after all, to shake their money makers. I jump off but she grabs me.
“Where are you going?” She’s bending over. I’m sure the crowd was not cheering for the drunk ass that was up on one of the ledges trying to out do the beautiful sweaty bodies standing in front of me.
“I’m gonna go,” I tell her. I’m smiling. She was so sexy.
“Well come back I have something to ask you,” she says squeezing my hand.
Basically because this scenario went on for most of the night, I’m gonna break it down. I was asked to go back to the hotel with them. Little old me. Damn I thought about it but in my head there were a million reasons why not too go. I had to ignore the heat that this couple was causing in my loins. At the end they told me they’d be here until Sunday and that they lived in LA. I know the bar they’ll be at tonight.
“This way if you change your mind you know were to find us,” she said before kissing me bye. Hmmm strawberry lip gloss. I didn’t even get their names.
I danced the rest of the night away. I heard it about all the way home about how I should gone. This morning when I got up it didn’t matter too much about what I should have done. It was fun last night. It was fun while I was in the moment but it was done now. We’ll be going back to latin night. It’s the new Monday for me. It felt good to just dance. All that release was so good.
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| Van Hunt |
| 06.10.04 (3:18 pm) [edit] |
I have no idea who this man is or where he may be. If I had EVER wished to write a piece this would be it. It's alive with how I feel. It drips with truth. If I could have started this blog four years ago this is what it would be full of. Now everything feels so censored. Like no matter what I do someone will judge it. I didn't care then. Sometimes I want it back. Sometimes I want to be there instead of being in this "better place".
"But, I also became curious about what it was that happened during the day that made people do the things they did at night. And, later on I found out. I found out that the morning can be beautiful, but it also wakes the troubles of the mind. It opens your eyes to the reality of your situation, the problems in your relationships and the demons in your head. A tattle of wills rages from within. And, come nightfall under the cover of darkness, you run into the arms of your vices. It is the inner-turmoil and the struggle to remain sane that stimulates me. And, ultimately it is my personal struggle that reveals itself on paper. But, I love it. And, I live to write about it. And it all began with my father and his friends."
--Van Hunt
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| The Latin Beat |
| 06.10.04 (10:52 am) [edit] |
Sometimes when I hear a good strong beat I feel my skin crawl. Come on it says. Its slow sway makes your heart skip a beat. It causes a slow rumble in the pit of my stomach and I want to dance. I tap my feet. I type to the beat. Then the words wrap themselves around my soul and its warm. It’s then that I can feel alive. As I am typing this one of my co-workers dances by my computer. I have to laugh and wonder if it’s that loud but it doesn’t matter cause that’s what I want to do.
Walk out the door and dance into the world. Feel free and awake. Come kiss me the world says. Come slide your tongue down my spine. Come experience what this is all about. Come take me into your arms and sweat with me. Come slide your body against mine and feel me pulse through you. Come close your eyes and let the throbbing of your heart take you over the edge.
There is where my passion lays its head. There is where I find my muse. There is where I want to stay. This world can be so cold and lonely except when I am there. There is doesn’t matter and I can just be. There is where I find my center and my focus.
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| I feel like..... |
| 06.09.04 (1:56 pm) [edit] |
I feel like I am lacking substance. I want to create worlds and then tear them apart. I feel so random about things. I want to be passionate about something instead of being so passive about everything. I want, I want… we all want right? Nothing moves me right now. I want to feel things. I want to travel. I want to experience life. It feels like I just work and work and work some more. What for? So I can make ends meet and have a bed to sleep in. Is this all its about anymore? Lets all work until we are driven into the ground so that when we die we can ask , “what the hell was that all about?”
If I could own a house, on an island in Greece with a hammock and the ocean lulling me to sleep at night. I would be happy. That’s all I would need. I want things to be magical for me again. I don’t feel like it is. I feel like I’m drowning in the same old thing.
I don’t even know if any of this posting makes sense….I just know that this feeling is nagging at me….pulling me….taking things from me…...
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| For Love or Money |
| 06.08.04 (1:09 pm) [edit] |
It started off simple then took off and all I can think about is a cold beer waiting for me at home. I’m whooped and have gotten a slight cold from (J). He has extended his stay until Friday. I am an excited girl. We have been dancing. We have played pool and darts. He managed to survive a family get together on Sunday. We made our cab driver from Brazil tell us her life story cause we were drunk and wanted to listen to her accent. We had a small BBQ at the apartment. We watched the third season of Queer as Folk and he found a new friend. I forget how bold he can be but was quickly reminded as he jumped up at the Bar on Castro to show his moves off to the crowd. We laughed and people watched. He rode a bus for the first time and didn’t get too lost without me. I feel bad because I could not take any actual vacation days off but he’s managing really well.
Today I got stuck in the elevator with the Costco guy, the Costco supplies and “the girl”. It is a small elevator and all I could think about was whether or not I smelled good. I could feel her breath on my neck. That was the longest elevator ride I have ever taken. She wrote her extension on my phone list at my desk so I won’t “forget” where to find her. (Like I could).
I must have been the only one that didn’t know that Reagan passed away. Am I going to hell for that? Oh and on the show “For Love or Money” (I watched the two hour premier last night) I swear to you Jenna Jameson’s twin is on that show. I kept hoping that he wouldn’t kick her off or the Spanish chick with the long hair. If and when he does I am no longer going watch it. Reality TV is so damn addicting but I can only stand so much drama so my excitement over this one probably won’t last.
Have I mentioned that I’m tired? I believe I got the job as bar-back at a local bar in my area. I’m supposed to call tomorrow for the final details and then hopefully I will be back there getting my hands dirty. I’m looking forward to it.
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| In those Jeans |
| 06.04.04 (1:07 pm) [edit] |
Well its happened my friends. I have something to look at here in this small little hell. I have an office job and usually I complain about my co-workers and the things they can do. Other than the Temp that was around during Christmas I hadn’t had anything to look forward too. Until now. They hired a couple new people for the new facility.
She’s mixed Nicaraguan and African American. Remember that carmel skin thing? Yeah. It works really well right now. So she knows I’m Hispanic. She tells me she’s been to Guatemala. She was there last summer. Oh I am doomed. I can see my little obsessive heart beating in her direction. She falls perfectly into my ever present habit of being attracted to girls that are straight and have boyfriends. She also likes to drink, wears hip huggers and mid-riffs with shiny lip gloss and this musky perfume. I haven’t asked her what it is yet but I’m sure I’ll know soon. We won’t even get into the tattoo on her hip which I only noticed today cause she’s wearing low rise pants.
She’s already said that we should have a competition to see who can drink more. I know she can’t drink gin or champagne cause she blacks out. Maybe if she agrees to Bacardi I’ll have a chance. My birthday is coming up after all. The more the merrier I say. I’d say tequila but God knows what kind of trouble I’d wind up getting into.
I will not watch her when she walks by. I will not watch her when she walks by. Usually if I chant this it never works. I am a sucker for sexy girls. If you were around in Hawaii and you wore a bathing suit and you had tattoos I chanted this a lot. Not that you all didn’t notice me looking….I was never very good at hiding it.
“You don't know
what those jeans do to me
Make me wanna get down on one knee
You got that thunder
And it only makes me wonder how it
feels
To get up in those jeans
Oh those jeans”
--Ginuwine
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| My Pimptress |
| 06.03.04 (10:18 am) [edit] |
”I like that when I call her and tell her to be in bed naked waiting for me she’ll do that for me. I want her to be happy with me how do I do that?”
People tell me things sometimes that make me go hmmmm. I wanted to take this conversation seriously but I was distracted by them kissing and grabbing and teasing. There in the middle of the gayest bar I watched these two falling slowly in love. I was envious because I don’t remember what that feels like anymore. She asked me again.
“I suppose she wants what everyone else wants,” I said into her ear.
The base line throbbed and her partner watched us curiously. I threw her a kiss and she smiled. I like the way the light from the pool table outlines her soft face. The way she leans over the table and you can’t help but look at her curves. I smile a little. The one sitting next to me watches her too and I wonder what she is thinking. I take a drink of my beer and scan the crowd. Nothing. It always seems that way and I wonder what the hell I am looking for.
“What is that?” she asks.
I look at her. She’s tall and sexy. Her curly hair is tied back into a high pony tail. She is wearing (J)’s Playboy visor. She looks into my face waiting for an answer. Am I supposed to know what to say. Who am I to answer a question like that anyway? Me who can’t let go of something that happened six years ago. Me who hasn’t had the will to let anyone in since then. I can feel the liquor start to numb me. We were supposed to leave and hour ago but (J) was having fun dancing out on the floor. He’s on vacation. I didn’t want to leave their company.
“The same things you want. To be loved and understood. It doesn’t have to get any more complicated than that I don’t think,” I said.
I just wanted something to say. I don’t like to talk about it sometimes. Love is like magic. Its dust settles on your heart. Loves kisses the wounds that have been left behind. Love is what makes this life worth living if you are lucky enough to find it. It makes you drunk with emotions. She walks over from her pool game to steal a kiss. I try not to watch them but something holds me to them. I want to put them into my back pocket and take them home with me. I want to protect them.
“I am happy with her, “ she tells me later. “I haven’t felt that way in a long time. I just want to make sure she’s happy with me.”
“She’s happy, “ I say. “A little protective but happy.”
I thought about how long I’ve known the pool player. A year this summer and it feels like much longer. I’m glad that someone feels that way about her. She deserves so much after all the shit she went through last year. We’ve gotten drunk together. We’ve stumbled. We’ve danced and hugged and finally admitted that we adore each other. I love the sound of her laugh and how she says “I’ll have one if you have one” and I am always having one. I want to see her happy. I think we all want that for the people we love.
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| Climbing into Bed |
| 06.02.04 (10:18 am) [edit] |
You think I am kidding. We all know I am vertically challenged. I stand 5 foot even. My bed is probably 4 feet high. I think. Let me explain a little something something. My mattress was laying on the ground. I didn’t have the money to buy a queen frame. I had gotten really used to sleeping down low. In fact I literally would just fall into bed and call it a night. My boss had offered me her old frame months ago. I figured it wasn’t going to happen since she hadn’t mentioned it since. Well this weekend she decides to bring it to me and I put it in the living room to tackle at a later date. Imagine my surprise when I came home last night and my Cruzando had taken the liberty in putting it together for me.
Now I do trust that the man knows how to put a bed together but I will not tell a lie and say I didn’t give a good shake first to make sure it was stable.
The frame is overwhelming and my room doesn’t have the space it used too. I may have to move things around a little to try to make some more room but I don’t think it will make that much of a difference. Anyway I literally have to climb into the bed. Its actually rather funny and Cruzando said that I’m gonna fall out of the bed until I get used to it. In fact this morning when I reached to shut my alarm off I slightly slipped and had to laugh out loud. I may have to buy a helmet to avoid a head injury and shin guards to avoid me hitting the frame as I get in. I like it though. The air is different up there. I can smell the incense better too. Yum yum. Nothing like a big comfy bed to climb into at night.
(J) will be here tonight! We will be drinking beers and being retarded later. I am excited and to add to that I fit into these pants which I bought months ago thinking they would fit. I told Cruzando that I REFUSED to return them and that I would fit into them damn it. Three months later I have accomplished that goal unknowingly. Guess all the walking around has finally paid off. Granted I want to lose more but I’ll take what I can get for now. I am not and will not become obsessed with the way I look. Been there done that and fuck that drama. None the less I am as giddy as two school girls kissing for the first time (hahahahaha).
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| Dwelling |
| 06.01.04 (12:09 pm) [edit] |
It was your birthday this weekend. I didn’t forget but it was the first time in six years that I didn’t call. I wanted too but our conversations are so random and few and far in between. I thought of you. I wondered if you were surrounded by the people that mattered to you now. I thought about when you turned twenty-one and I followed soon after (a month and three days later). At the time I saw us growing old and now I just see the distance between us. My emotions have been laid to rest. I know it seems impossible to believe. I’ve written letters and then thrown them away. We do things that help us see clearer. Things that may not make sense to anyone else but us. I got tired of talking to the answering machine and trying to make sense of the ghosts that haunt me.
We’re getting old aren’t we? So many things have changed. So many things have happened. Its hard to imagine that when we existed in each others space that this is what we would have become. It seemed impossible to breathe unless you were next to me. Your memory makes me still. To think that we are almost nothing. Almost. There will always be something that brings me back to your memory so it will never become absolutely nothing.
I hope this year is full of hope, love and dreams.
If you are reading this happy birthday……
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| Weekend what weekend? |
| 06.01.04 (9:52 am) [edit] |
Damn it was a long weekend. I busted my ass taking care of business and I look like a roasted tomato. Wish it had come from sitting around a pool while drinking some margaritas or from driving a speed boat on a big clear lake but alas it was not. I spent the weekend picking up trash at the Marina (which is actually really tranquil at 700 in the morning). Where do I begin with the little mishaps that happen when one is tired and sun burned?
Well for one Saturday after the whole picking up trash and walking around the Marina for hours I forgot that my Saturday class was cancelled. I took the BART and walked over the overpass only to realize that the place was closed. I stood in the parking lot laughing at myself for being such and idiot. It was hot and I was hot and I was tired and I was sweaty. Damn it to hell I thought. There was this other forgetful head sitting in the parking lot and she offered me a ride back to the BART. I spent the rest of the afternoon with a friend of a friend at the Pyramid Brewery. I hadn’t been there in ages and the only reason I went was because it was his treat and I needed to get out and have a cold one after such a long morning. BIG MISTAKE. First off every time I went to the restroom he’d order me another round. Any other day I would have been grateful but I just wanted to go home. Then he started to rant and rave about who does coke and who does what with whom in the restaurant. Needless to say by the 5th beer I didn’t believe anything he was saying and I made my peace and denied another beer. I left him there because he wanted to wait for his friends to get off work. I wasn’t sitting there until 10. My bed was calling me and since I wasn’t going to be visiting the magic dust I had no need to stay. I was thankful for the company for the first two hours then realized that this just wasn’t going to pan out the way I had planned.
Sunday morning I skipped the whole Marina thing and went into work instead. I had to make ends meet for rent. I was a little early so I planted myself under a tree waiting for the boss lady to show up. I’m going to establish that where our location is set up is also on the same corner as the street walkers. There is this guy that comes around the corner as I’m sitting there with my walkman on and he says something. I’m thinking he’s going to ask for the time.
“I’m sorry I didn’t hear you,” I say taking the headset off.
“Oh I was asking if you dated, “ he said.
I’m confused, “Excuse me?”
He clears his throat, “You know do you “date”?”
“Uhm no, “ I say. I am dumb founded. First off I know I’m not dressed like a hooker. I looked like a white girl who got too much sun. My hair was a mess. I was wearing my work clothes and I sure as hell don’t look like a crack hoe. He just stands there and looks at me. My boss pulls up and he walks away. She asks me what that was about and I say nothing. I am half embarrassed and half grossed out. Oh no ladies and gents this gets better. After the long ass day in even more sun I go to wait for the bus on the same corner. It must have been the dirt on my forehead that got this guy to drive around the block three times to see if I’d get in the car. I am at this point not only tired but even more sun burned. I have dirt on my hands and my clothes. I have made a decision to no longer catch the bus on that corner. I am going to walk the two blocks over from now on. It made me think of how weird people’s taste can be. They should have been trying to pick up the girl across from me in the hot pink mid-riff shirt and daisy dukes but no.
I finally get to my place and think of what to make for dinner. I put on some beans and go take a shower. That water felt so good against my skin. I soaked in it for a while and checked the food out. They weren’t quite done so I decide that I am going to walk to the store and get some things. I wasn’t going to be gone that long. Well it turns out that I was gone too long because when I get back the apt stunk like burnt beans and there was smoke everywhere.
“Fuck,” I think. “He’s gonna kill me.”
I open all the windows take out the fan and the Febreeze, light all the candles and go get my incense. I take the pan outside and let it cool off before even attempting to clean it. I wasn’t worried that I was gonna burn anything down. I was worried about what he was gonna think. At least it wasn’t because I was drinking. The smell isn’t completely out yet but at least it doesn’t stink the way it did on Sunday. Not that I think its gonna be a good enough excuse but I’m to tired to think about it right now. It’ll go away after some airing out I hope.
On the flip side (J) will be here tomorrow and I am more than excited. I just saw him at Halloween but its always good to have buddies come visit. I also have a job lined up as a bar back in Berkeley. I will know for sure tomorrow as well. Wish me luck.
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