That's When I Knew It Was Over...

I finally put away my laundry, you know, the bunch I washed last week, and found a tshirt that sprouted a memory within a memory...

When I was about 12 years old, maybe a couple of years younger, I fell out of love with my mother. I had just written this story, my first one, and I proudly thrust it under her nose waiting for praises and approval. Her exact words- and what does it say of this event that I actually remember her exact words to me?- "This is what you want to write about? Monsters and devils and death?"

No, "Wow, great command of the English language," or "Keep up the good work," just =BAM= with the criticism. Like it would kill her to say something nice and be in my corner this one time.
Right then and there I knew it was over between us.

When I first met my ex-husband, I was a sheltered kid finally let out of her family's homemade prison and proceeded to behave in a manner in which I knew they would never approve: drinking, smoking, pre-marital sex, and many other illegal things I will not cop to right this minute. One thing led to another and the rabbit died...fast forward to 1999: we got married. The ceremony, if you can call it that, was a simple one at City Hall, done quickly so that he could obtain and keep a position at a Jesuit college. I played my role and he played his, and we even liked each other enough to have a second baby.

Fast forward to 2005: I agree to move to NJ to work at a boarding school with him; he's tired of the Jesuit college and wants something else, something better and thinks the boarding school will be it. I resented being asked to leave NYC for the NJ countryside but again, tow the line, play my role.

A few months into the gig, in which, by the way, he is my BOSS, I get a visit from the head of school...let's call her David Koresh. So Koresh comes to talk to me about my "job" in this creepy tone and finally I get why she's really there: my ex COMPLAINED to her about having to supervise me. Actually told her I was UNDERMINDING HIS AUTHORITY at the dorm parent meetings, and just plain being difficult.

She sent us to a "counselor," the type that are supposed to help resolve work-place drama, except that this was no ordinary work-place drama. This drama had made its way into my bedroom. I was SUPER STANK about the whole deal. I hate doctors; with every inch of my being I DESPISE them. And shrinks are the WORST!! And he got us sent to one.

Needless to say, I was uncooperative during the entire meeting. At one point the counselor looked me in the eye and said, "Do you realize you're coming off as cold and uncaring right now?" Right to my face like I wasn't from NYC and wouldn't get one of my deadbeat cousins to pop a cap in her ass. Some fucking nerve! I looked over at my ex and he just looked down at the floor. Said nothing to defend me or us.

That's when I knew it was over. That is the exact moment I knew I could never love this man because, frankly, for all his good intentions, he did not love me enough to tell this doctor to go fuck herself. He just tucked in his dick and let her shit all over me like I was the wicked witch of the west or something. It was just like he criticized my very first and oh-so-important story. Him joining my mom in the opposite corner from me.

That's when he lost all my respect.

I remember thinking back to the moment I told him I was pregnant, and how he so gallantly said he would take care of us, and how I wished he had been an ass and ditched me instead. Then I wouldn't have had to sit there and let that trick ass bitch call me names.

But, perspective folks. If none of this had ever happened to me, I wouldn't be the proud owner of this t-shirt:

It's the little things that bring me joy. Always the little things.

*smooches...the warm and caring kind*
-------------------
i know men are delicate
origami creatures
who need women to unfold them
hold them when they cry
but i am tired of being your savior
and i am tired of telling you why

The Grand Unveiling...

By now maybe some of you are wondering what Hoover and The Toothless Wonder look like...well wonder no more! I figured- you've all been good, loyal readers- why not? But then I though- no, that would be awfully mean to post their pictures up on my blog like that...

So instead I hired a very talented and world-renowned artist to draw up some renditions using the photographs I had...

Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado:

Hoover

and The Toothless Wonder

* thanks to Jack for the awesome drawings...I almost peed my pants...

*smooches...with a sharpie, printer paper, scanner and photoshop*

-------------------

i knew you would always want more

i knew you would never be done

'cuz everyone is a fucking napoleon

yeah everyone is a fucking napoleon

Does Abuelo Know About This?

My mom's dad has a deep-seeded hatred for the United States. Being former military police I can understand why, but still, it's kind of funny. We finally managed to get him on US soil in '98 for my Aunt Rossi's wedding- it was a grand occasion, but he looked salty the whole time.

Now, while I don't read US news because, well, it's stupid, I do subscribe to the newswire service from DR- don't ask, just accept it, okay? I saw this little piece and it made me wonder if Abuelo was outside plotting to pounce Condi within an inch of her American life. The visual made me laugh out loud.

Leonel and Condoleezza

During a meeting with US Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice yesterday, President Leonel Fernandez said that the United States has decided to aid the Dominican Republic by providing the country with radar equipment and other tools, to be placed on the border with Haiti, aimed at fighting drug, arms and human trafficking. Listin Diario reports that the meeting between the two lasted for about 45 minutes and the Dominican Republic's possible candidacy for the UN Security Council was discussed. The President said that he would consider the Venezuelan government's suggestion that the Dominican Republic could be put forward a candidate for a seat on the United Nation's Security Council, commenting that the United States would not oppose this move. However, the US is likely to continue supporting Guatemala because it could still win the vote, according to State Department spokesman Sean McCormack, as reported by Clave Digital. Fernandez explained that Washington could not publicly support the DR because neither of the two original aspirants had withdrawn from the race. The winner of the seat on the UNSC will represent the region at the United Nations, but some suggest that the benefits of the position go beyond this. A country may use the UN Security Council to settle disputes in their favor. For example Guatemala has an ongoing border dispute with Belize, as has Venezuela with neighboring Guyana. Some believe that both nations could use their position on the Council to find favorable resolutions to their problem. Also, according to a report by JT Nguyen, writing for the Global Policy Forum, the benefits for a developing nation can be financial. Nguyen writes that a "developing country serving on the council expects to receive during its tenure an additional 16 million dollars from the US in foreign aid and 1 million dollars from the UN. The aid may increase in time of crises: 45 million dollars from the US and 8 million dollars from the UN." Nguyen cites a Harvard study when he writes that member countries are "willing to trade their vote for favors: they promote another country's interests in the Security Council in exchange for development aid from a UN agency over which the other country has influence." This has been the tensest volley for the seat since the 1979 contest between Cuba and Colombia, which ran for three months and a total of 155 polls. Mexico was chosen as the compromise candidate. Guyana, Cuba, Jamaica, and Trinidad and Tobago are the only Caribbean nations to sit on the UN Security Council.



First, can't DR and Haiti just freakin' get along already? How long will this feud go on? Both countries are poor and are considered the scum of the earth by The Man, so who cares if one has half a square inch of more land or who brings drugs where? Just get over yourselves. You share such a teeny tiny island. Kiss and make up, dammit!


Second, Venezuela and Guyana have border disputes? Why? Those countries are such nothing places, I mean who cares? Sure, Venezuela produces some kick ass novelas and yummy arepas, and Guyana...hmmm I know nothing about that place. What do they produce (besides assholes who break up with you for no reason...oops, did I say that out loud?)?

Another thing I found funny...buying votes for the UN Security Council? But the UN is such a joke! And excuse me- why is the US handing out greenbacks like we have it to spare? Has anybody cruised down the streets of Brownsville lately? We're poor and developing right here, baby. Keep some of that money HERE!!!

OMG- did I just sound like a Republican? Quick- someone ask me how I feel about gays in the military. Or the diminishing ozone layer. Or gun control! Hurry! Help me redeem myself!!

*smooches...from the left, I promise!!!*
---------------------

i am losing my love of adventure

i'm losing all respect

for me and myself tonight

i wonder what happens if i get to

the end of this tunnel

and there isn't a light

There's Nothing to Fear...

...except a group of teenagers gathered at the far end of the subway platform. Nothing good can come of that. They are not over there planning Suzie Q's surprise party or studying for their English quiz, they are plotting their next robbing and pillaging escapades, and maybe even getting a couple of girls pregnant. All before they go work the late shift at Burger King- if they even HAVE a job.

Do I sound harsh? So what- I speak truth and you know it. It was truth before I was born. It was truth when I was 15. And it will always be truth.

If I'm alone on a deserted block and a dodgy looking guy is walking towards me, I'm safe in the knowledge that I've been trained to take him down (except if he has a gun of course) and can defend my own honor. But if I'm alone on that same block and a group of four or more teenage boys are walking towards me, regardless of race, I hold tight to my purse and get ready to blow my rape whistle and pull out my boxcutter and turn to take a different route.

And if there's a girl in the group? Even worse. Bitches are vicious and I'd hate to get in the mix with them as they try to prove they're worthy enough to hang with the big boys. It's a sad fact that some of the kids in my neighborhood think they are East LA cholos from Echo Park. Honey, you're not- you're from Sunset Park...not as tough, so get over it. That doesn't make them less vicious, just pathetic.

That gang mentality, though, whether you are in Compton or Bay Ridge, don't underestimate it man! That gang mentality will slit your throat, shave you bald, slap you with your own wallet as it's emptied of its contents, and leave you clinging to life in an alley on Myrtle Avenue. It's a force to be reckoned with, a side effect of a classist society, a by-product of too many people on this teeny-tiny island.

And, as a mother of two young girls, just one of the things that keeps me up at night.

*smooches*

--------------------

everybody's in a hurry

here in purgatory

except for me

i'm where i need to be

at the arrivals gate

Five BMW's on Front Street?

Brooklyn is getting too trendy for me!

I'm in DUMBO (Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass for you non-NYers) today and not only are there swanky little design studios and antique furniture shops and a Starbucks (ugh), but the cars parked along the street look like refugees from Park Avenue. What is happening to my cute little boro?

Last year when I was desperately trying to find an apartment I found that I couldn't afford my old Bed-Stuy (now called Stuyvesant Heights) nabe anymore. And this is the same place where crack vials littered the streets like rainbow sprinkles on an ice cream cone. You should have seen some of the crap going for almost $1500/month- with a credit check and 3 months UP FRONT! I was at my wit's end. So I ended up here in Boro Park/Kensington/Greenwood (who the fuck knows anymore! Real estate people must have too much time on their hands since they've been reduced to renaming sections of Brooklyn to make a higher profit!). And it's not bad- rather quiet and quaint- but I wanted to bring my kids to the HEART of it, you know? Where I grew up. A place with "color" and sazon, not the melonin-challenged outdoor cafe parade it has become. I mean really, since when did Ethopian cuisine become the must-have cuisine on Dekalb Avenue? Whatever happen to the Cuban-Chinese joints? And Tony's Famous Pizza on Tompkins? And anyway, I thought Ethopians were starving- how can they have a "cuisine"?

$1500 a month...situated right across the street from the projects...that woman was out of her goddamn mind!

And it's not just DUMBO and Bed-Stuy; Bushwick- where a Puerto-Rican will cut you on site just cuz- is also feeling the burn; Williamsburg...let me not even get started on what "they" (ya'll know who I'm talking about...don't make me say it...) have done to this place. It's getting so bad that soon really really poor ghetto folk like myself will have to move to, GULP, Newark!!!

I expect this kind of behavior from the 212, but the 718? What's this world coming to?

*smooches...from some new, swanky Brooklyn enclave*
--------------------
we got it rehashed
we got it half-assed
we're digging up all the graves
and we're spitting on the past

Para Mi Familia...

Random photos I had saved on my desktop, for the Penzo/Garcia/Ramirez/Bermudez/Ortiz/Acosta/Mendez crowd, and those who love us.



Create Your Own!

I know, I know, we're all good-looking beyond belief and it's not fair. But hey, ugly people are important, too...you help us gorgeous people look all the more GORGEOUS!

*smooches*
-------------------
i just want you to understand
that i know what all the fighting was for
and i just want you to understand
that i'm not angry anymore
i'm not angry anymore

Unemployment Makes Me All Domestic and Shit...

Going into Day 4 of not having a job, I must admit I'm going stir crazy. Not because I'm worried about money running out or being kicked out on the street or having my lights shut off- worrying about that stuff is for pussies! I'm going stir crazy because with nothing else to keep me out of the apartment, I'm forced to stay in...and clean it.

Yes, folks, I, the Jaded NYer, have actually been reduced to doing laundry, cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner, washing dishes, vacuuming- daily, mind you- and finally unpacking my boxes. I've even put up ads on craigslist looking for people to come and take some of this crap off my hands. Today a nice woman came to purchase my used clothing. Lovely woman but who was she kidding about being a size 14? On what planet? But- none of my business...she paid cash and took like two bags worth of clothing out of here.

I've organized my closet, sorted and cataloged my CD's, filed all the papers that were cluttering up my table, and washed clothes that were sitting in the basket so long they almost got up and walked to the laundromat by themselves. And I wish they would have: not only did I brave the cold yesterday and today to wash these damn clothes, but apparently it was so long ago that I'd graced the doorway of the laundromat, I actually got lost going there. Sad but true.

I bought a new file cabinet, a web cam (why not?), double-sided tape to mount my mirror inside the closet door (worked like a charm!) and picture frames for N's artwork.

Tomorrow...I'm baking a pie, cleaning my bathroom, sorting and cataloging my books and DVD's, and trying to empty out more boxes. Hopefully by Christmas I'll be able to use my bedroom for, oh, I don't know...SLEEPING?? Just a thought...

Folks- I need a job like, yesterday! One more week of this and I'll be sewing curtains and knitting booties for Irene's baby. Don't laugh- I own a sewing machine and I know how to knit. It's only a matter of time!

*smooches...wearing an apron and carrying a feather duster...*
---------------------
life used to be life-like
now it's more like show biz
i wake up in the night
and i don't know where the bathroom is
and i don't know what town i'm in
or what sky i am under
and i wake up in the darkness and i
don't have the will anymore to wonder

What a Weekend...General Observations...

Saw this chick reading "Thug-a-licious," a book, on the subway.

Thug-a-licious? This is literature? I think I'm going to be sick...
----------------------

Old HS teacher+too much red wine+hip hop music= trauma I will need much too much therapy for...
----------------------

Art- even that of undiscovered and not-that-popular-yet artists- is EXPENSIVE!!!
----------------------

To the cute Latino Thug on 103rd and Lex...I saw you checking me out while I was on the phone; I was peeping you from the corner of my eye. But you waited until I was already going into the subway to tell me I'm sexy. A real man would have told me from the moment I crossed the street in his direction. Your loss because I am DAMN SEXY...
----------------------

My pack-rattishness (new word I made up...literary geniuses like myself can do that) is hereditary. I got it from my mom who got it from her mom...my kids have it, too. I think it's a side effect of poverty.
----------------------

Break-ups are hard- whether they were mutual and for the right reason or something your ex flung at you from left field. The downside is the depression that forms lines around your mouth and forehead and dark circles around your eyes, and steals your ability to just BE. The upside? Did I mention that I've recently lost 20lbs?
----------------------

According to a dream I had (induced by lots of red wine...NOT with my old HS teacher...you pervs!) Gene Simmons is really good with kids and can cause newborns to start talking.
----------------------

Even my Allah-loving, devout, observant neighbors find it necessary to drop the F-bomb when things don't go their way. At 10AM on a Sunday morning. When I'm trying to sleep off the one-too-many glasses of red wine. And they won't tolerate any backtalk, either!
----------------------

My hair is really long!
----------------------

Portabella mushromms, grilled just right, tastes just like, if not better than, steak. YUM!!
----------------------

The L-train SUX AZZ!!!!!
----------------------

As much as I hate to admit it, I love it when my kids go with their dad for the weekend. And as much as I try to fight it, I miss them when they're gone.
----------------------

If I can surround myself with words for the rest of my life, I'll never be lonely.
----------------------


*smooches*
----------------------
so here i am at my most hungry
and here i am at my most full
here i am waving a red cape
locking eyes with a bull

A Piece of MySpace...

...for those of you who miss it.

I was able to retrieve a photo slide show I had created right before I cancelled my account. It was something I did on a whim with a random mix of pictures my kids and I found in a box. This is a good time to mention that right now I live amongst, at least, 8-10 boxes-o-shit surrounding me: art supplies, vinyl records, Christmas decorations, wrapping paper and gift bags and TOYS; all refugees from the Uhaul storage room I emptied out in July.

"July?" you're asking yourself. "She still hasn't unpacked boxes from July?"

Yes, JULY, goddammit! Is there a problem with that? You want to come over here and unpack them for me? No? Then shut the fuck up! I got rid of the back issues of Martha Stewart Living...what else do you want from me???

Enjoy the fucking slideshow!



Create Your Own!

*smooches...from a tiny corner of my apartment not occupied by a box...*
---------------------------------
we get a little further from perfection
each year on the road
i think that's called character
i think that's just the way it goes
better to be dusty than polished
like some store window mannequin
touch me where i'm rusty
let me stain your hands

Is It Ever OK to Lie?

I've been doing so much of it lately I can barely keep track of my tall tales. Oh not to you folks- I reserve this blog for the kind of truth you can only tell perfect strangers (and nosey friends) via cyberspace. If there's something I don't want you to know, I won't lie about it, I'll either be vague or just not bring it up at all.

Some of my recent whoppers? One guy I met thinks I'm a lawyer and that's why I can't date him- I'm too busy. Another thinks I'm a very in-demand event planner and am so busy planning Diddy's "White" party to date him. Another thinks I have to care for my elderly grandparents, and that's why he can't come over. Yet another thinks I share a three-family home with my mother and that's why HE can't come over.

All these little lies to keep me from having to spend time with anybody in particular.

Oh yeah...true love is right around the corner for me.

Right around the corner.

So is this kind of lying wrong? How about the lies I now have to tell Hoover and The Toothless Wonder so that I don't have to see them again- are they wrong, too? I was thinking something along the lines of, "My ex and I are getting back together to give this marriage thing another shot." Would that be wrong?

How about if I try to backtrack with Hoover and just be friends? He's anxious to pick up where we left off and I'm seriously running out of excuses to keep him at bay. But he'd be a cool friend to chill with, just not a boyfriend. Have I gone too far to go back? Now Toothless Wonder I don't EVER want to see again! That bastard tricked me into dating him when HE KNEW HE AIN'T HAD NO DAMN TOOTH so fuck him- I'm lying to hiss ass for real! But Hoover...before the whole kissing/hickey mishap, he was cool people. How do I lose the kisser and keep the friend?

This is what I get for trying to be a playa-playa- I'm not cut out for this shit. I'm going back to staying home, reading my books and magazines and watching movies- nice, safe indoor sports.

*smooches...from the safety of my apartment...*
---------------------
she crawls out on a limb
and begins to build her home
and it's enough just to look around
and know that she's not alone

I'm Speechless Because He Was...

TOOTHLESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Let me backtrack for a moment.

I know some of you think that sometimes I exaggerate my posts for entertainment value, but honest to god- I don't. Even I'm not that good- I CAN'T MAKE THIS STUFF UP!

Now back to the show:

I ventured out on my first post-Hoover date, over the trauma of having to OD on cover up because of all the hickeys on my neck (oh did I not mention the hickeys? Yeah, I don't call him Hoover for nothing...I was SOOOO SALTY!), and ready to begin anew. Enter Q. from S.I., a tall, nice, handsome and funny guy who's job eludes me because he won't just come out and tell me what he does. But that's alright. Maybe he works in a basement and is embarassed...I've been there so I understand.

The New York Film Academy was kind enough to offer me two passes to a screening of a new movie due out on Friday, and I saw it as the perfect opportunity to go out with him. And here's where I admit that I met him via match.com (Damn you Cathi for recommending it!!!). We'd only spoken on the phone and online, so I had NO IDEA what was waiting for me on the corner of East 17th and Park Ave South. And here's where you all forget that I wrote that and never bring it up again because I have already learned my lesson and cancelled my account.

"What was waiting for you, Raquel," you ask?

A tall, nice, handsome and funny guy who's job eludes me because he won't just come out and tell me what he does...WHO'S MISSING A TOOTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Right there, on the right side of his face, in between his front tooth and his canine tooth, a hole so prevelant I can't believe that he actually left his house to go on a date and SMILED at me when I showed up. Just SMILED like nothing was wrong. Like I couldn't drive a Mack truck through his mouth, like I couldn't see his tonsils through his smile, LIKE HE WASN'T MISSING A FUCKING TOOTH!!!!!!!

I give up, people. That's it! I strongly believe in the theory of "Three time's the charm." It's why I stopped at two kids when I realized that my 2nd darling was 100% evil. It's why I only saw American Pie 1 & 2. The number three is unlucky. I can't go out on another date- I just can't. The next guy...he might have six toes or have ex-girlfriends in his basement or worse- a short Mexican from Sunset Park! I won't do it. You can't make me.

I mean GODDAMMIT!!!! Is it too much to ask that a tall, nice, handsome and funny guy who's job eludes me because he won't just come out and tell me what he does...HAVE ALL HIS FUCKING TEETH????????

*smooches...with ALL my teeth...*
----------------------
but underneath
there's another expression
that the makeup isn't making
life under the big top
it's about freedom
it's about faking
there's an art to the laughter
there's a science
and there's alot of love
and compliance
welcome to the freakshow
here we go...

On A Lighter Note...(well, not really lighter, but, well, you'll see...)

Another divorced friend of mine, also unfamiliar with butterflies and all that shit has an ex that is just begging for a good ole fashioned beat down from yours truely. Here's a letter I wrote the ex, for your viewing pleasure:

Dear Puta Face,

It has come to our attention that you have recently taken it upon yourself to make our client, Jack, miserable, inundating him with accusatory emails and using your children as pawns in a sick game of "Watch Me Ruin Your Life." I'm not sure what your intentions are with this relentless and vindictive harassment of our client, but I assure you that we, at the offices of Kicking Ass andTaking Names, are not pleased with the course of action you have chosen to take.

My associates, Q-Dog, Ray-Ray and J-Bird, and I insist that you cease and desist from this campaign of terror you have undertaken. It would be in your best interest to resist any urges you may have to point fingers at, tell half-truths about or cause more stress, financial and/or emotional, to our client.

You have ten (10) days to withdraw any libelous statements written to or said about our client before we take action. If you choose to ignore this letter, we will be forced to handle the situation using all of our available resources here in New York City, and with the help of our affiliates in Chicago, IL.

We hope you will reconsider your options in this matter, if not for your children, then for your own safety and peace of mind.

Warm regards,
Raquel I. Penzo
President and CEO,
Kicking Ass and Taking Names, Inc.
"When Your Ex Just Won't Let You Be..."
572 Greene Avenue
Brooklyn, NY 11216

*smooches*
---------------------
back back back in the dark of your mind
where the eyes of your demons are gleaming
are you mad mad mad about the life you never had
even when you are dreaming

What Is It? What Do You Want? And Why Are You Here?

If you loved something and set it free, and it came back to you, do you trust in the cliche or suspect that it is settling for you because other prospects were less desireable? Do you hold out for the glimmer of hope of what you think is your ticket to happiness, or do you give up the ghost and move on? And what if that ghost is being all vague and non-commital at the same time it says, "I love you"... two and a half months too late? Is it too late? What is too late? Jesus-fucking-CHRIST: Why are you still here?

As if I needed another reason to stay up at night, these are the questions that fill my head when I should be trying to eat, sleep, breathe, live. It all begins to feel so useless and pointless and I just want to find the "off" switch to my emotions. I can't stand myself anymore. Sometimes I just want to punch the me I've become in the face, knock my ass out and just snap the fuck out of it:

"Things are never going to change, Raquel. You were not built to love, or be loved by, a man. It's not in your nature. That thing that normal people have inside of them that makes them want to wake up every morning next to their soulmate? Yeah, you don't have it. You sometimes think you want it, even crave it from time to time, but when you have it you abuse it, throw it away, and lament having to spend time with it. You don't want to hold it's hand, care for it when it's sick, or kiss it in public. You won't accept its kind words, affection or flowers- so what is it that you are lamenting? What the fuck do you want?"

I want to be able to encounter the man I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with and just KNOW. I don't want there to be a doubt in my mind that I could wake up happy, everyday of my life with this person. That even if they break my favorite fiestaware bowl or talk during the movie or reveal to me that John Cusack is gay and will never be mine, I won't hate him; I'll laugh it off and say, "Honey, I love you," and we'll melt into a kiss. That even if he loses his job, for whatever reason, I'll want to take care of us until he's back on his feet. I want to be able to cry in front of him instead of running away. I want to love him so much that I'll let down my guard and tell him everything I am and everything I feel, without fear or reservations. I want to love somebody like that, and I want him to love me right back, just like that.

And I want to look in the mirror and know that I deserve nothing less than 110%.

I have two friends getting married next year, and another that got married last year. Seeing as my marriage was just a sham to cover up my shame, I think about these couples and wonder how they knew. How did they know that this was THE ONE, the infamous one that will keep you warm at night forever and ever? And why won't anybody tell me the secret?

Selfish bastards!

And just for the record...I LOATHE butterflies. They're nothing but trouble!!!


*smooches*
----------------------
what's with that phone call, baby
it's like you're trying
just trying to crush me
do you feel stronger each time you push me, dear
did you tell your mom you carpet bombed
before you left here
and is it just the side effect of this dirty drug
or does each apology sound more like a shrug

Maybe I AM a Heartless Bitch...And Other Musings

Why has Hoover not tried to contact me? Could he have read my blog? I would die! People- it was never my intention to hurt anybody's feelings...but oh well...it just saves me the trouble of having to ignore his phone calls until he curses me out in an email or text message.

Why did I see this bald guy in Lower Manhattan, trying to hide his baldness with his dreads and that nasty ass spray on hair? People still buy the spray on hair stuff? That's sad. Who did he think he was foolin'??

Why did my next door neighbor try to get all up in my business today, when I was doing her a favor? "Oh you're a single mom? How snazzy!" Snazzy? Snazzy? I'll show you snazzy you old hag! And then had the nerve to ask me if I work- what are you, writing a book, Granny? Yes I work, bitch! I do not, as you probably thought, sit on my ass and collect government checks. I work DAMN HARD...okay maybe not damn hard, but I work, dammit.

Why are there 79 days left until my thesis is due and all I can manage to do is update my blog and watch Dave Chappelle's lost episodes on YouTube?

And finally, WHY did I just have two helpings at dinner tonight?? It's like, the more people compliment me on my weightloss, the more food I stuff down my throat. Why do I ALWAYS sabotage my own happiness? But that's probably more a question for Dr. Phil...I'll ask him tomorrow...

*smooches*
-----------------------
but there's no me
left for me
no incidental time of day
no wild adventures
except in darkness
so dark i'd rather not say

How To Be A Heartless Bitch

So M., the chef from BK who I thought would awaken the butterflies in my tummy (see previous posts) turned out to be a dead fish, as in, that's the way he kisses. There was so much potential in those lips, but alas I felt more repulsion than anything else.

And now I pose the question to you, my dear readers, how do I kick him to the curb? For the most part I can be a tough person and tell it like it is, but seeing as I was recently broken up with and felt like crap hearing someone say to me, "let's just be friends," how can I, in good conscience, say that to someone else? When, to be honest, I don't even want to be friends. Who'd want to be friends with a bad kisser? Yuck!!

And frankly, I want to find this guy's ex-girlfriend and kick her ass! How can she just unleash this bad kisser into the general population without telling him about his horrible, Hoover-like techniques? That's just wrong!! Help a sista out- tell that nigga that he can't kiss!! Oh wait- does that mean I have to tell him? Oh my god...I can't...I'd die...what if he gets angry and starts cursing at me or something? And calls me a bitch or something? I'll be forced to cut him- but I'm not sure if that defense would hold up in court...

What do I do?????????

*smooches* (the good, butterfly producing kind...not the ones that suck your face off...)
--------------------------
i'm not hurting anyone
i'm just telling my own truth
if there
if there is something wrong
then maybe maybe there's something wrong with you

Post Script on the Butterflies...

There are none...

...back to square one.

*smooches*
-------------------
how many times undone
can one person be
as they're careening through the facade
of their favorite fantasy
you just close your eyes slowly
like you're waiting for a kiss
and hope some lowly little power
will pull you out of this

Dominicana Soy...

Normally, I'd post this blog entry in the "Stranger Than Fiction" blog seeing as it technically deals with entertainment, but the concert of a lifetime that I experienced last night was more suited for this page, where I reveal most of my innermost feelings and secrets. Because the artists that crossed the stage were not merely entertainers who were putting on your average Saturday night show. These were living legends del Merengue. And a major part of my life. And all of this after seeing a wonderful exhibit at El Museo del Barrio on Merengue that featured some very talented Dominican artists earlier that day.

Most of you only know the jaded, bitter, angry, crazy, silly native NYer that I've been since about age 15. But before then, I was simply Dominican, and all that it implies: obsessed with beisbol, novelas, arroz con gandules, habichuelas dulce, and merengue. These artists shaped me, enticed me, turned me into a five-year-old groupie drawing "I-heart-Sandy Reyes" (musician who sang with Wilfredo Vargas) all over everything. I remember meeting some of these famous musicians as a kid; some even hung out at my birthday parties. My mom was cool with them. And somewhere there still exists a picture of me and Sandy Reyes...I was so in love with this man...but I digress...

Last night I sat in the 3rd row while Hector "El Torito" Acosta, Sergio Vargas, Bonny & Richie Cepeda, Raulin, Jacinto Gantier, Tito Kenton and "El Mayimbe" himself...Fernandito Villalona stood before me on that stage and belted out tunes that took me back to 572 Greene Avenue, 68 Patchen, and even Stuyvesant between Hancock and Halsey- all my old stomping grounds.

"La Chula," "Si Algun Dia La Vez," "Baila En La Calle," "Maricella," "Te Amo Demasiado"...I can go on and on about the set list, but I know most of you who read this are not familiar with merengue so I won't. Suffice it to say, I came real close to losing my voice singing along.

It was moving to see Fernandito up there doing his thing, his voice like liquid flowing right through me, untouched by the heart attack that nearly took his life recently. He moved a little slower and has put on pounds, but he's alive and can still sing his heart out. At one point he stood at the edge of the stage, and I swear to god, SANG RIGHT TO ME; POINTED TO ME AND EVERYTHING!!!! I almost came in my pants. To explain it to you in layman's terms, it was like seeing Prince or Luther Vandross and have him single you out during a ballad. I all but died on the spot. He closed the show, to a crowd thick with his fellow Cibao natives waving the Dominican flag tears in their (our) eyes and singing along, with "Dominicano Soy."

Forget meeting John Cusack or Slash...I can die happy now...

...Because El Mayimbe Vive!!!

*besos*
---------------------
Dominicano soy
de miz raizes you no voy a olvidarme
soy de un raza tan humilde y tan grande
que de sus penas hacen rayos de sol...

para los gringos:
I am Dominican
I will never forget my roots
I come from a humble and great people
That turn their troubles into rays of sunlight

The Possibilities of Butterlies

Sometimes the anticipation of a first kiss reminds you why it's worth it to dust yourself off after a devastating break-up.

It makes all those days in between the time your old lover rips your heart out and your new lover takes you in his arms, those days when all was lost and you just wanted to cry and die a million deaths, appear foolishly wasted.

You realize all isn't lost. Romance is not dead. It just happened that you had exhausted your possibilities. But just for a little while.

A new lover brings new adventures. And most importantly- the possibility of butterflies.

These thoughts keep you going.

Even when your old lover resurfaces, still tugging at your heart strings, awakening old desires. Even when he still calls you and wants to see you. And claims to really care for you, "...for real for real."

Even when you give in and agree to see him.

The possibilities always bring back the butterflies. Those damn flutterly butterflies.

They'll get you every time!

*smooches*
---------------------
the answer to each moment must be yes
and the question: can you live with that?
becomes the test
so you weigh it against that aching in your chest
and that secretly relentless emptiness

Office Politics- A Play in One Act

This isn't in 100% script format, so bear with me...I was in a rush...

Fade In:

It is 3:00 in the afternoon in a typical Manhattan corporate office filled with cubicles and computer stations. A beautiful and striking Latina sits at her computer working hard. A tall, doofy, lanky fellow saunters over.

Lanky Doof:
Hey, it's Slacker Girl's birthday and we got her a secret fruit-tart-cake thing. We're all meeting in the back conference room right now. Shhh!

Beautiful Striking Latina:
Um, okay.

Cut to:
Small conference room with eight chairs around an oval table. A group of executives shuffle in and grab seats around the table. One woman, the Head Honcho, goes into the fridge to get the fruit-tart-cake thing, places it on the table, and the door opens. Slacker Girl enters

Group:
(in unison; half-heartedly)
surprise...

Slacker Girl:
Oh wow, I never would have guessed it, what with everybody disappearing at once

Group:
(in unison)
Ha Ha

Tall Annoying Guy:
How old are you now- 19?

Group:
(in unison)
Ha ha

Head Honcho:
She did get carded on our business trip to Chicago.

Slacker Girl:
Yeah. I did.

Group:
(in unison)
Ha ha

NJ Loser:
Good thing I don't get carded cause there's no photo on my Jersey driver's license. (pulls ot wallet) See.

Group:
(in unison)
wow. cool. haha.

NJ Loser:
But it's legal in NJ! Ha!

Group:
(in unison)
wow. cool. haha.

Head Honcho:
You, down at the end
(points to some lowly executive)
Cut the tart and pass the slices around

Lowly Executive:
Yes'm miss boss
(cuts the tart and passes the slices around)

Head Honcho:
So let me tell you all about the business trip that nobody wants to hear about:
WAH WAH WAH, WAH WAH WAH, WAH WAH WAH WAH, WAH WAH, WAH WAH WAH WAH...

Group:
(in unison)
Ha ha!

Beautiful Striking Latina:
Uh, I'm going to go back to work now.

Group:
(ignore her in unison; direct their attention to Head Honcho)
so tell us more, miss boss...

Fade Out.

I really truly madly HATE WITH ALL MY BEING office birthdays.

What is the purpose of the faux celebration? And why ask me over? I don't socialize with you people. You are not my homies, compadres or vatos...I never thought I'd say this, but can I just get back to work? Jeez!!!

*smooches*
---------------------
i bet you're teetering on the edge of sobriety
just to alleviate a few things
like the fear that you're standing here
cuz you want to be liked
you know you need your instrument
but does your instrument need to be miked?

It's the End of the World As We Know It...

But I'm not fine. And I want to apologize ahead of time for the profanity that will ensue...

I usually shy away from anything remotely related to the news/current events/the news, but today I had to make an exception when I read that a man held young girls hostage in an Amish school before shooting a few of them and then himself.

What...The...Fuck???!!

Not much surprises me in this world: terrorists blew up the WTC? Oh, it must be Tuesday...Little kid molested by parent? Oh, is it Wednesday already? Black man gunned down by cops while reaching for wallet? What was he doing with a wallet, hmmm?

But shooting some Amish kids? Execution style? Because you have childhood issues? Motherfucker: who doesn't? You think you're the only one who wakes up in a cold sweat remembering shit that happened to you as a kid? You think that nobody else on the planet has wounds that will never heal? Fucking deal with it, asshole! Cry me a river, build a fucking bridge and GET OVER IT!!!!

And I suppose the NRA jerks are sticking with the whole, "guns don't kill people" bullshit, right? Because guns are produced to help flowers bloom and kittens be born, not to kill and mame and ruin lives and leave us feeling cold and scared and jaded. No, not at all. Guns bring a warm and fuzzy feeling...oh no wait, that's the sensation of the life draining out of me after some 10-year-old decides I'm not handing over my purse fast enough and decides to put a cap in my ass. Silly me.

Let me not even get started on this soapbox entry...just as with competitive sports, these are the kind of topics that bring out my ugly side. So it's best I just, for this one time only, in the name of those little girls who barely had a chance to live, let go and let God...if there is one...

*extra-extra-smooches...be safe tonight*
-----------------------------------------------
the sun is setting on the century
and we are armed to the teeth
we're all working together now
to make our lives mercifully brief...
...and every year now like christmas
some boy gets the milkfed suburban blues
reaches for the available arsenal
and saunters off to make the news

Adventures in Money

New York City.

My love-hate relationship with you continues.

I can't seem to keep up with my money in this city. And it's driving me to drink and over-eat...I fear the fate of my new lighter, cuter bod in the face of financial difficulty. Of course, it's made worse by the onset of PMS and the stress of having one of my papers and a revised short story rejected (it seems my reign of literary genius has come to a halt). But it escalated when I realized I was only working 2 days last week and my rent was due.

And it looks like maybe this week I'll only be working 2 days as well. I wonder if ConEd and Keyspan and Verizon Wireless and Cablevision will mind not getting their money this month...and I wonder if it's a long walk from Boro Park to Midtown, since I probably won't have enough money to buy a metrocard...and I wonder if my nanny will mind bartering this month...

There are things in the works in the future to help alleviate my stress- after my divorce is final my ex will have to pay monthly child support payments that will help a lot; I have a refund from school coming in mid-October; I have a few freelance gigs that should keep me afloat through October/November; when I graduate I will be qualified to teach on the college level- but in the meantime I must survive on what my ex can afford to throw my way, my temp salary, and hmmm... not much else except the complete sympathy and understanding of the utility companies who continue to supply me with light and gas and internet access and phone service based on my past as a loyal and prompt customer. But I'm sure even Verizon has their breaking point.

Times like this I wonder if I would do better financially somewhere else. But then I realize that while the money might be better, my emotional stability will be at stake. And folks, we all know I'm hanging by a thread as it is. My Bellvue suitcase is still packed and ready to go at a moment's notice...

*smooches*
--------------------
i wonder if everything i do
i do instead
of something i want to do more
the question fills my head
i know there's no grand plan here
this is just the way it goes
when everything else seems unclear
i guess at least i know