Muse from a Broad

:(

2012-01-24T20:47:00.000-08:00

I'm so emotional. I hate this time of month. Hormones going absolutely haywire, always tired, always hungry, bloated...yeah, it's never a good look. I often say that I need to hibernate and remove myself from the public until it passes, but I never do. I suffer through it and sometimes others suffer because of me. Ha ha. Currently, I can't even look at 3 of my old crushes (who I've long since gotten over) on Facebook without feeling angry, resentful, and/or inadequate in some way. Grrr. I hate men (currently). And then there is this one super catty chick that keeps weaseling her way back into my life after I'm done with her snobby, obnoxious ass. She is the most two-faced human being I have ever known and despite my best attempts to ignore her, she continues to pop up - on my facebook feed, in my email, the haunts I frequent, and in my light. Bitch, get out of my light! I'm tired of it and it's taking every bit of my strength to remain an adult about it. I think this may just be the PMS talking but I can't be sure for another 2-3 weeks.

2012-01-24T05:43:00.000-08:00

Up early again. Lots on my mind. I didn't slowly become awake, I jolted. My mind was racing from thought to thought, worry crept up fast (I need to do this and that, and this and that...) and then suddenly my eyes flew open and sadness hit me. I have to write a letter to the California Public Utilities Commission and complain about being ripped off by my cell phone provider, I need to help my son with his FAFSA, I need to stop feeling guilty about things I shouldn't feel guilty about that unimportant people have tripped me into feeling guilty about. And while I'm at it, I have to learn to stop giving a damn about these unimportant people who bring absolutely nothing good to my life. They aren't important and they're taking up valuable real estate in my mind. That just won't do. It's waking me up at 4am. So I'm distancing myself, not going to be so accessible to everyone who knows my name. Just because we realize that the other exists doesn't mean we're actually friends or even good for each other. And just because you've seen my pictures, heard me speak, laugh, or we share kin, doesn't mean you know me. I am only intimate with those I trust, which aren't many. I've learned the hard way.
Later on today I am going to take all of these thoughts flying around in my head and organize them on a sheet of paper. They have to go. They are impeding on my focus. I'll organize them and hatch a plan to resolve them so that I can move on and get back to feeling at peace.

2012-01-22T00:54:00.000-08:00

He asked me for my picture. I knew he would. I knew he wasnt just making idle chit chat for three days; he had an agenda. I wanted to just tell him "I'm not your type," but instead I sent him the most unsexy picture of me I had available. In it I am completely clothed, showing no skin at all, and I look thicker than I am. Oh, and I'm slightly crouched over, hugging Mickey Mouse. He was so curious to know what I look like, just dying to judge me by my appearance, I didn't feel that I had anything to prove. He'd completely forgotten that we'd met before. He passed right over me then, barely acknowledging my existence. He tried to sell me some music then but his dismissive behavior put me off. I'm not interested in anyone who can't truly see me, who isn't even trying to. Ive seen the type of girl he dates and I know what he values. Well, maybe I'm not being completely fair. Maybe, just maybe I should give him the benefit of a doubt and not judge him with only a partial view of his character. Perhaps my words intrigued him somehow and my looks ultimately meant nothing. It would be a rarity but not entirely implausible. I've never met a man who didn't put looks first. I'm sure they exist, I've just never met one. I don't believe that all men are shallow or think about sex first. Maybe my character is why he spent the last three days making small talk with me when I tried to make it clear that I had things to do. Whatever it was, he replied to my picture with Mickey Mouse pretending to be satisfied that the "veil" had been lifted. And then he went quiet. After three days of me finding message after message after message from him whenever I opened my mailbox. To be fair, it's only been a day. Maybe I'm wrong about his character. Though, somehow I doubt it. I could've saved us both the trouble by ignoring him altogether.

I know you’re tired of the usual – Trey Songz

2012-01-17T16:11:00.000-08:00

I most certainly am. I need a little excitement, a quick thrill to get me through the next couple of months. My last good time was in September (damn! That was a long time ago). I haven’t worn that black dress since. Once and done, just hanging in my closet beckoning me. It’s been too cold, though, really. Every now and then we all need a bit of titillation and I’m well overdue. Time to shed some layers, come out of the cave, and strut my stuff. But where to, and who with? Hmm…I have a birthday party invite for this weekend. Maybe I’ll go and show some skin. While I still can ;) <---that's my excuse and I'm sticking with it.

I reserve the right to change my mind

2012-01-15T10:25:00.000-08:00

I'm non committal these days. Some nights I'll pick out clothes to wear the following morning to work, but then when daybreak comes I end up going whichever direction I feel at the moment. And it may not be to wear tights and a skirt if I'm feeling cold and want to dress warm and cozy. My mood dictates my action and direction. Yesterday I had planned to string lights on my pergola, but after running around town all morning I was so tired when I returned home that I ended up spending the rest of the day on the couch. I accepted a birthday party invite earlier this month, although now I'm reconsidering going. Depends on what id rather do more when the time comes. Partying is not a priority. Although, it might be conducive to meeting someone interesting. Hmm, we'll see how interested I am in meeting someone new when the night of the party finally arrives.
There are very few things that I've made up my mind about and I'm perfectly okay with that. I prefer to fly by the seat of my pants, to wait and see where I'll be next, once I turn whatever corner I decide to take. I don't think life was meant to be written in ink anyway. Who truly has concrete plans? No one. What if tomorrow never comes? I want to have spent my days doing what I feel like doing and not living according to a plan that may or may not bring me joy, which, as far as I can see, is my raison d'etre. So all my plans are written in pencil. I don't have a do or die deadline to complete them. I'll get around to things when and if I feel like it, when it feels right. Or not at all. Thats life. I think it's best to take it day by day.

Another year around the Sun

2012-01-06T14:33:00.000-08:00

I’m trying to figure out what I want to do for my birthday in two weeks. Disneyland would be cool but the only person I can get to go with me on a Friday has to be picked up in L.A., which means I’ll be a driving sommamab*tch going from Pasadena to L.A. to Anaheim, then back to L.A. and Pasadena after a long day of running around like a big ol’ kid. Once I considered all that, I thought maybe I’d get a massage and a mani/pedi, instead. But that’s expensive and I’m not sure it’s even worth the money. Maybe just the mani/pedi, but not all three. And then I thought that I could sure use a lobster dinner at my favorite seafood restaurant, but then that’s just dinner, nothing exciting and nothing new. So now I’m thinking that maybe I’ll do all of that – get a mani/pedi, have my lobster dinner, and go to Disneyland. I think I deserve it. It won’t top last years’ birthday in San Francisco, but it’ll certainly come close. Man, I love San Francisco. I want one of those Victorian “Painted Lady” looking houses for myself before I leave this Earth. I wish I could afford to travel right now. I’d go to New Orleans. Or maybe Italy, or Jamaica. Disneyland will have to do for now.

Essence Atkins had a baby :), I’m clocking old lady hours, and other randomness

2012-01-04T15:43:00.000-08:00

I’m so happy for her. I didn’t become a bonafide fan of hers until she starred in Half & Half (her hair and clothes stayed on point on that show) and then she got married and had the most beautiful, original wedding I’ve ever seen. It was simple and tasteful, nothing cliché about it, and they seemed to ooze love from their pores. And now she has this baby boy named Varro, which means “durable and strong,” according to internet gossip sites, born on Christmas. She found her +1. Yay love!

In other news, I got out of bed at 4am the other day and spent the entire day feeling just fine. It was the most productive day I'd had in ages. I didn’t get tired until 8pm, lol. It felt like 10pm, though, as I could barely keep my eyes open. That night I slept for more than 10 hours!! And I felt great. I even when I woke up briefly at 5am and smiled knowing that since I’d gone to bed at 8 I would spend the following day sufficiently rested and not feel groggy. I’m so glad nobody called me that night. I rolled over at 5, looked at the clock and said “eh, I’ve still got some sleep left in me.” So I rolled back over and didn’t get out of bed until 6:20am. Since then, I’ve had a repeat of the same happen at least 5 other times. Es no bueno. Now I actually am feeling a bit groggy and need an afternoon nap to make it through the rest of the day. I think I have to come to terms with the fact that I’m getting old and can no longer do the things that I once could when I was younger. Like, eat pie and ice cream at 8pm and sleep soundly through the night (and not gain a pound). Nope, that pie woke me up at 1am, snuggled uncomfortably underneath my ribs. I had to get up and move around, force digestion. While I was up, I picked out my clothes for work, ironed them, plugged my phone into the charger, put away some laundry and then I couldn’t fall asleep until about 5am when I had to be up at 6:30. So now I know I cannot eat or drink anything after 8pm, I have to have a pair of socks nearby in case my feet get cold, I need at least two blankets on my bed, my pillow should ideally be fluffed, and I MUST be careful of what I watch/Google before bed because I will dream about it and it will wake me up more often than not. Last night I dreamt that I was running a ratchet beauty salon and it had me exhausted in my sleep. So no more watching “Tabatha’s Salon Take-Over” before bed. The worst is when I dream about numbers, though. Ugh. It is an absolute nightmare trying to do algebraic calculations in your sleep. The only numbers I like are the ones in my bank account.
I am becoming a fat, happy, high-maintenance, old lady :)

"Life is a fact" - Breakfast at Tiffany's

2011-12-31T23:52:00.000-08:00

After an exciting seafood dinner at The Boiling Crab, I brought in the new year watching Breakfast at Tiffany's. The first and only other time I'd watched it I didn't give it a chance but now I see why it is a cult favorite. I never realized until now that Fred/Paul was a prostitute who had published one book years prior to meeting Holly Golightly, and hadn't found his muse until they met. If you haven't seen it, check it out. I hear it's a classic.
So The Boiling Crab was an interesting mess. Literally. We ordered a dozen raw oysters, two pounds of snow crab legs, gumbo, and a pound of shrimp, all swimming in separate bags of messy, greasy sauce & seasoning - garlic flavored, lemon pepper flavored, and "The Whole Shebang" flavored. My hands were an absolute mess when I finished, but I managed to keep my clothes out of it, thankfully.

I was very comfortable and content when 2012 finally arrived, in pajama's fresh from the dryer, clean sheets and pillow cases on my bed, fluffy pillows, and a chilled bottle of apple cider on my nite stand. Oh, and a few Ghirardelli peppermint chocolate squares to go with it. It was the perfect way to say goodbye to the year and begin anew.

Not-so-great Gatsby’s

2011-12-28T09:48:00.000-08:00

So another eager candidate joined The Dating Game. We’ll call him ‘Lanky guy’. He’s 39, 6’4, slim, an educator of special needs children, lives about 10 minutes away from me in the hood section of my city, is into holistic medicine, went to school in DC (he keeps mentioning that), no children, weird sense of humor, likes camping and hiking, collects records, calls himself a DJ but he doesn’t do any dj’ing and I’m not sure he ever did, he says he only likes rap music, and that’s all I knew as of Monday night. After our initial conversation in which he did the majority of the talking about everything under the moon, before I hung up he said he’d be thinking about me. That made me pause. He asked me to call him when I could. I said I’d call him after work the following day. He asked what time I got off. I told him that I should be home by 5pm. When the clock struck 7pm, and I hadn’t called him, he called me. This is after sending me two emails and a text message earlier in the day. Anxious, huh? Now, as per usual, I was slightly optimistic yet still cautious, wondering what was wrong with him. As it turns out, his issues are: he’s 39, which isn’t really an issue except he’s never been in a relationship that lasted longer than 1 year. He’s still single, no children, no prospects, has done practically nothing with his life, has lots of debt, is terribly indecisive, has “man baggage” (his ex-girlfriend wouldn’t commit after 5 years of booty calls and he couldn’t understand why) he’s lonely, sad, and is looking to be saved by marriage. Oh, and he seemed to freak out when I told him that I was once in a long-term relationship that produced a now 17 year old, college-bound son. I have no idea why that last tidbit seems to turn older men off. Do they feel threatened? Do they think it ruins their chances of procreating with me, as if I’m tarnished goods, as if their boys can still swim and are still healthy? I don’t get it and find it quite delusional and presumptuous. My nest will be empty in less than a year and will remain that way because my uterus has been placed in retirement. Now, whenever I tell them that little whammy, for some reason they’re not entirely turned off. They behave as if I’m joking and that they have the power to force my girl out of retirement. Silly birds, haven’t they heard of birth control? And the nerve of them assuming that I’d even let them anywhere near her. Men and their enormous egos are the bane of the entire world. So never mind who I am and what I dream about, he can’t see me for admiring himself. Forget what I’ve done and what I’m working on, it’s inconsequential to what I look like and what he imagines me being to him. The morning after our very first conversation where, remember, he did most of the talking about himself, he seemed giddy with excitement over the prospect of developing a relationship with me, someone he knew absolutely nothing about aside from what I looked and sounded like and the way I interacted with him on the telephone. (Kind of reminded me of the crazy 'Marry me' guy who asked me to marry him three times in one month after meeting.) He said “I’ll be thinking about you” with a giggle and a smile in his voice, before I promised him that I’d call him after work. But from the moment that I told him about my long term relationship, which I’ve now been out of for many years, and my teenage son, I could hear the enthusiasm draining from his voice. I could tell by his conversation that his excitement had waned, lol. Funny how that happens. I think he’s the third guy I’ve dated so far to do this. The other two were ‘African guy’ and ‘Skeevy Club guy,’ who happened to have two young children of his own. So if it’s not one thing, it’s a few others. Thankfully, I’ve weeded through them rather quickly and didn’t waste a lot of precious time. What I do waste time doing, however, is longing. Part of me wants to harden my heart and no longer care so that I can get on with other things without distraction, but I know that to live without romantic love is not living a full life. It is almost tortuous wondering and waiting and wanting. I throw myself into projects and for a while I am sufficiently distracted, but never for long. Maybe one of these days I will get better at distracting myself and forget what it feels like to be in a relationship. I don’t know whether that’d be good or awful. One thing I can say is that I do thoroughly enjoy living alone and having the freedom to do whatever I please. I don’t want to change that. When Lanky guy wanted me to call him back, it felt like a nagging chore. I knew I’d promised to call him but I really didn’t feel like it. There were at least 5 other things I wanted to do instead of talk to him. That should have been my cue that I wasn’t that into him and would be wasting my time trying to make something out of nothing. Maybe if I keep that in mind for next time, I’ll weed through guys quicker. Welp, the good thing is I’m learning a lot about myself. This is growth :)

2011-12-21T17:58:00.000-08:00

Love; I miss it. I dream about it all the time, day and night. Last night I dreamt that the artist guy was dating a friend of mines. I really have to stay off Facebook before going to bed. In the dream, he was dating her but it wasn’t clear that he actually liked her. It seemed more like an arrangement of some sort and she paid for everything while he seemed indifferent about the whole affair. Towards the end of the dream I was racing to the salon for my hair appointment with the hope that me having a fancy new hairdo might get his attention and turn him back my way. As if he ever really was digging me in the first place. Dreams are so silly. Well, mine are at least. Anyway, I miss romance and intimacy and, honestly, I miss the idea of sex more than I do the actual act. Where sex is concerned, it’s been my experience that my fantasies are often much better than my realities. I’d say my sex life over the past 20 years has been 45% wow. But my fantasies? WOW! I have one hell of an imagination! It’s the intimacy of sex that makes it great, not so much the physical act, in my opinion.

So yeah, I'm missing love again. This poem by one of my favorite authors sums it up perfectly:

“Love entered in my heart one day
A sad, unwelcome guest.
But when it begged that it might stay
I let it stay and rest

It broke my nights with sorrowing
It filled my heart with fears
And, when my soul was prone to sing,
It filled my eyes with tears.

But...now that it has gone its way,
I miss the dear ole pain.
And, sometimes, in the night I pray
That Love might come again.”
― J. California Cooper

2011-12-11T09:47:00.000-08:00

When I pulled into my driveway last night, I saw a baby possum run into my backyard. since that crazy windstorm about a week ago, I haven't had the time or energy to really clean my yard the way I should, and so now it seems I have some unwanted neighbors - a family of possums. Yuck. There are leaves, tree branches and other debris all over the neighborhood, still, and I'm worried that if the city doesn't come and pick it all up soon, even more rodents will move in. I cringe at the thought. Time, I wish I could buy it. I wish I could manage it better. It's more valuable than money. If I had more time I would be in much better physical shape, which would presumably give me more energy to do all of my chores as well as the things I want to do for recreation, and I'd complain less about not being able to fit everything in. I'd be less stressed and there wouldn't be a family of possums in my backyard.

The meaning of Christmas

2011-12-07T11:56:00.000-08:00

Every year around this time I hear the belly aching, the complaints, the bah-humbugs about Christmas and how commercialized it has become, and I wonder why so many otherwise smart people allow others to dictate what this holiday means to them. (Not too long ago, I had a case of the bah-humbugs myself) Christmas means different things to different people, obviously. As for me and mine, gifts have never outshined our love for one another. Every year we watch the decorations go up around town, put up some of our own at home, revel in the warm spirits all around, and get excited about coming together as a family to celebrate our love for one another and the blessings the year has bestowed upon us. Not many make it to the end of the year, or feel they have much to celebrate. But if you have breath in your lungs, it is my humble opinion that you, too, have something worth celebrating - the hope for better days, the chance to live the life you’ve always dreamed of, or one even better than you’ve imagined, for starters. Yes, family and love and life should be celebrated all year long, theoretically, but how many of us in this day and age regularly take the time out of our hustle and bustle lifestyles to stop and celebrate our families and friends and the love we share? How often do we stop and spend an entire day together, and sometimes an entire month, giving thanks for our blessings, safety, and fortunes? And where’s the harm in doing it in December? It’s a huge celebration of life and love. For some it’s the celebration of the life and love of Christ, but for many, whether they know it or not, it is the celebration of our own lives and loved ones. And if you’re at all religious you’ve likely heard that Christ loved us so much he died for us to live. And even if you aren’t religious at all, you’d have to have a pretty cold heart not to feel the joy and hope in the hearts of your fellow man, woman, and child during Christmastime. It’s infectious, love is. So resist the urge to be an Ebenezer Scrooge and give in to love, and give a little shout about your life and hope, and the lives and well-being of others. It bodes no one well to focus on negativity when positivity moves you forward, lifts you up, and benefits us all. Christmas is the one time of year when everyone has an excuse to be good and giving ;) And if you don’t have a family in the traditional sense to spend it with, create your own. Serve in a soup kitchen, give to the less fortunate, volunteer, invite friends over or invite yourself to a friends’ house. If you know me, meaning we’ve at least spoken at length before, consider this your invitation to spend Christmas with me and my family. I promise, there will be no shortage of entertainment and love, lol.

One of the best Christmases of my life was spent in Hawaii with my son in 2009. It was just the two of us, no tree, no gifts, just us and it was absolutely great. Then we flew home and ended up spending Christmas day at my ex’s sisters house with all of his siblings, nieces, and nephew's, both of his parents, and a handful of cousins. Still no gifts, just good food, laughter and love.

What’s wrong with him?

2011-12-02T12:57:00.000-08:00

It’s sad that these days the first question that enters my mind when I’m attracted to a man is “what’s wrong with him?” There’s always something but will it be something I can live with or that I have to live without? The last three guys I was attracted to all had problems I couldn’t bring myself to ignore. One smokes weed, can’t spell, is passionately Christian, yet doesn’t attend church (how the… hell? Lol), still lives with his mother, thinks he has haters, and believes that the US is being run by the UK, among other things. Another one is a patsy for his older brother, thinks way too highly of himself because he went to FAMU, said he’d never listen to another MJ song or support the Jackson family again because Conrad Murray was “wrongfully” charged with his death, claims that there are black people and “n*ggas” and that he is the former, said JLo is “officially” putting her career before a man because she performed at the last awards show (huh?), and is basically an idiot who doesn’t know he’s an idiot. A third one is a highly judgmental, issue-laden, passive-aggressive, stalker asshole (hi! :)). Island boy is a homophobe, doesn’t go down, said vagina reminds him of the predator unmasked, doesn’t see anything wrong with having lots of children that a) he is not in a position to take care of financially, b) all have different mothers, and c) he does not live with or see regularly. He is also cheap, and a huge liar. I could go on but it doesn’t get any better. All signs are pointing towards me being single and sexless for a long time. One of my good friends has been single and sexless for over 28 years. She just recently landed her first boyfriend ever and is ecstatic. Talk about patience and holding strong to your convictions! She inspires me and I’m thrilled for her but the pessimist in me is still leery. She knows I love her though so I’ll gladly be the one of us that worries while she basks in the joy of couple-dom. Meanwhile, I’m sewing, attending classes, working on my house, traveling, paying for Netflix and Direct TV, and hanging out with platonic friends and family, hoping that someday soon I can live with somebody’s imperfections. And honestly, I’d settle for two out of the four above losers as non-live-in boyfriends :( Which two? Does it really even matter? Le sigh.

2011-11-28T13:07:00.001-08:00

I’m in a really good mood today. I generally don’t like to post when I’m not feeling so great, which has been often lately, hence me not posting as much as I have in the past. But recently, my spirits have been up. I feel light and airy, lol. I’m not worried about anything, even though I still have many of the same challenges (fighting that ticket in Malibu, issues with my ex, etc.) that I had before my current disposition. I think it stems from the great time that I had with my family on Thanksgiving. Everyone is still talking about it and we’re all closer than ever. My niece, the one who is usually surly, has been unseasonably sweet. She answers her phone now when we call, lol, and drove my mom and little cousins all around town two days in a row. My cousin called just to check on me the other day. And the “little ones” can’t stop talking about the fun they had with “Tee Tee”/my mom and I shopping and going out to eat on Friday. Everyone is on a cloud except my trifling cousin (the mermaid) who didn’t join us. She spent the holiday with her recently-released-from-prison, boyfriend, and prior to, spent a lot of time berating her son for the crime of simply breathing. She does this all the time. This time, though, it was enough for all of us to just write her off as a nutcase, and move on with our lives, for his sake (poor thing) and our sanity. That broad definitely aint working with a full deck. Anyway, last night I had a dream that solidified for me that I am finally and completely over my ex. In the past, when we were togehter I had dreams where he would behave as his usual asshole self and I would plead with him to stop so that we could be in love again, then I’d wake up sad. But last night during part of my wacky dream (and it was wacky, no doubt, but that’s another post) he showed up and tried to get huff and tough with my cousin, T-man, who turned and asked me “Do you still love this n*gga?” and I replied “Hell no! Do what you got to do” so T proceeded to whoop his ass. I told you the dream was wacky. Anyway, I awoke feeling no way about it at all. I just acknowledged it and proceeded with my day. That’s a sign of progress! I’ve come a very long way and now I feel like I can really move forward with my life.

Thanksgiving Day Dance Off

2011-11-27T16:59:00.000-08:00

The last few years we had been estranged. One person wasn't speaking to the other then someone chose sides while everybody had an opinion and an attitude about someone else's business, or someone else's doings, and other unimportant-in-the-grand-scheme of things, stuff. But this year we all came together and it was clear that we all truly missed each other. I know I did. We met up in Carson at my cousins house and ate, drank, laughed, and loved on one another. The twins must have kissed my face a hundred times. Then we pulled names for a Secret Santa gift exchange. Above and below is crappy video footage of just a little of the fun we had (my camera SUCKS! It kept running out of memory so it wouldn't record for more than seconds). The kids were battle dancing and my mama served 'em, but, alas, my camera was acting finicky at that point so I only have to share what is posted here. Hope you enjoy watching my relatives having fun :)

I got my heart from my mama

2011-11-21T21:55:00.000-08:00

I'm abnormally compassionate, lol. For instance, years ago m ex talked major shit to me about a vehicle that he was driving, which was in my name. So when we broke up (while still living together) I kindly asked him what he wanted to do about the truck. He popped off at the mouth real tough-like and told me to "sell it, then, Val! I don't give a fuck!" so I calmly placed an ad in the penny saver asking for just what was owed on it, and sure enough they were beating my door down for the sale. I invited one couple over for a test drive and they showed up while my ex was sprawled on the couch watching the game. Oh, the look on his face was priceless. So I told the people I'd let them know in a couple of days if I still wanted to sell it. My ex is proud as shit though, so despite me trying to reason with him to reconsider and just switch the truck over to his name, he refused. So, I sold it. And I was actually sad about it. Sad that my ex was such a stupid asshole. Damn shame. Then he had the nerve to never forgive me for it. Wtf, right? That wouldn't be the last time his pride fucked him up, either.
Anyway, so remember island boy and how I hadn't heard from him in about 6 months until about a week ago? Well, he called me again last night while I was in the throws of an exciting texting session (yeah, I be having those :)) and he left me the most pitiful voicemail. At first he hesitated like he wasn't going to leave a message and just hang up. And then suddenly he started whining about me not calling him back like I allegedly said I would, and "are you mad? Ya could tell me." and some ol other rigamoro I could barely understand because of that damn accent. So I mentioned it to my mother, who I mention at least 80% of the happenings of my life to, and she said "aw, just call and explain it to him." so I rolled my eyes, felt a little bit guilty, and called to break it to him, and now he's begging to be my friend. WTF FOR? Why?!?! He lives in Las Vegas, I could see if he lived even remotely close to me, then I'd be more open to it. But where's my motivation here? Where the benefit in being friends? I've come to realize he's not really even funny, I was just lusting. What do we have to talk about that I give a damn about? I can't come up with one thing. Am I being mean? Wouldn't it have been nicer to just ignore him? I mean, it's been 6 gotdamn months. I've more than moved on. Ugh. And it seemed the more that I resisted the idea of us being friends, the more he pleaded that we should be. I got a whole sermon on how he'd always be cool with me and I should feel the same about him. Yeah, yeah, yeah dude, whatever. So then came the passive aggressive boyfriend questions "did your man get mad when I called? Is that why you didn't pick up?"
"you called me when I was asleep, that's why i didn't pick up"
"but what about the second time I called, were you trying to play it off like you didn't know the number?"
"nah, because I DIDN'T know the number"
Then he gave me a sermon on kismet and how it was meant for us to meet that night in Vegas. I did a whole lot of eye rolling and then said I needed to rest up for a full day tomorrow because I'm fighting a cold, which is partially true. I am fighting a cold.
But now what? I won't call, I wonder how long it will take for his persistence to wear off. I don't have it in me to just tell him to kick rocks.

Church today

2011-11-13T16:36:00.000-08:00

So I went to church today and I feel like I wasted an entire day. I love my family but I keep forgetting that I hate dealing with them. I told my mother last night before bed that if we leave my house at 9:30 am, we'd make it to church in L.A. by 10am. She didn't believe me. She hasn't driven a car in over 30 years but she still doubted me. So she got up at 7am and yelled at me for not waking her up earlier. I rolled back over to try to go back to sleep and ten minutes later my phone rang. It was my step father. Then 15 minutes after that, my cousin called. My mom spoke to both of them and after she hung up, she told me they'd meet us at church. Cool, whatever. I gave up the fight to sleep and decided to get dressed. We made it to L.A. at 9:30. We'd planned to go to the 10am service. As soon as I got off the freeway, she says to me "We have to pick Tony up!" HUHN?! "I thought he was meeting us there!?"
"Oh," she says, "no, he needs a ride."
This is the kind of shit that annoys the hell out of me. Don't spring stuff on me at the last minute. Ugh! So I make a detour to her house, in the opposite direction of church, and we pick him up. Then she says "call Nicky and tell her we're getting on the freeway." So I do. Nicky says "okay" and 10 minutes later, we arrived at church. Early, just like I told her, lol. Smh.
Throughout the whole service all of us kept looking towards the door for Nicky to show up. She's always late so it didn't occur to me until about 30 minutes in that she might've wanted to be picked up. Never mind the fact that she lives 5 minutes away from the church and has a gotdamn car herself. If she can use you in any capacity and save herself some gas and effort, she will. Thats how she is. Then my mom begins to yell at my stepdad for making room for yet another woman in our already crammed pew. My son is mad dogging everyone because he doesn't want to be there, and every time we're told to bow our heads and pray, my mother nudges me to point out something stupid. "Look at Barney over there in all that purple," she says referring to a woman in a purple hat with purple feathers and a purple cape. Then, every time the choir starts singing, she quickly finds the song lyrics in her book, nudges me and points them out to me because I'm not singing along. I used to leave church feeling refreshed and smiling, thoughtful and energized. But today all I wanted to do was drive home and start my day over after a nap. It wasn't our usual priest giving the sermon today. It was some Jamaican man that, for some reason, I couldn't believe was a priest :( so it took real effort for me to focus on his word and not his accent/nationality. And I can't decide if it was just me and my prejudice or if he was all over the place with his message, not making any real points. He began to talk about the virtues of a good wife, which I was dreading but was open-minded about. Then he asked women to tell him what they wanted in a husband, then he asked the married men to tell him what made them want to marry their wives, and then he started talking about being greedy and selfish and shopping for things we don't need, and he finished with forgiveness. Somehow, though, I was able to pull a couple of good things out of it, thank God. What I was really disappointed about was that they didn't sing my favorite church song and they've changed things so much since I was last there. I don't know if I'll ever be back. In my older age, I've found that I don't care for change in tradition so much. More on that some other time though. My takeout dinner is here.

2011-11-08T20:30:00.000-08:00

So after 6 months, island boy decided to call me. I wish he would've kept stepping, though. So I told him I was busy (I was)and he asked me to call him back. I didn't and don't plan to. I mean, for what? His number been up. The thing is, I suspect that he couldn't handle me not giving a damn...whether he gave a damn or not. Funny.
I got a raise today :) so I posted a blurb about it on that social networking site and of all of my 100+ "friends" only 3 could even pretend to give a damn. Who does it hurt to click "Like"? And this is why my friendship circle is so incredibly exclusive.
I wore a "kiss my ass" dress today and surprised myself with how fucking HOT I looked in it. I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror at work and did a double take. My thoughts: GotDAMN! Look at ME! I had curves I didn't even know I had, hips, ass, and that belt squeezing my waist so tight accentuated it all. I got so many compliments, I don't know why I never wear that thing. Yes, I do, I'm too modest and prefer comfort. I never was a ham. But today I strutted my stuff around that hospital until 4 o'clock, when that belt began to feel like an anaconda around my waist, lol.

Sometimes you annoy me.

2011-11-06T14:51:00.000-08:00

Sometimes it bothers me that you stalk my blog but never say anything to me. Don't have your way with my words and then leave me cold and empty, without so much as a "hello." Slam, bam, "thank you, ma'am." That's what it feels like. But I'm sort of glad that you come back time and time again and read whatever's on my mind and that I decide to share. I just wish I knew where this relationship was going, you know? I just wish you'd give me a sign, some feedback. Until then I suppose I will continue to pull the blanket up to my chin after you leave, and wonder what it is that keeps you coming back but never sharing.

2011-11-06T08:35:00.000-08:00

I don't believe I'm ugly. I don't think I'm the most beautiful woman in the world, either. I believe that looks only matter to the person they matter to. One Halloween, about 6 or 7 years ago, I went to a party with my cousin and, while standing in line, I discovered this guy who seemed absolutely smitten wit me. I wore an ankle-length Chinese cheongsam, blue with gold and pink detail, buttoned up to the neck, and flat shoes. My long hair was in a bun with chopsticks sticking out of it. He was a sheik. While standing in line he stared at me, but it wasn't a confused looking stare, it seemed to be an intrigued stare. He chatted me up about everything, literally, and I became intrigued. Once inside the party, he found me sitting with my cousins wallflower friend and he sat and chatted me up some more. I discovered that he was one of the party-giver's/hosts. He bought us drinks and finally asked for my phone number. I gave it to him, utterly intrigued by this man who seemed captivated by me. For no other reason than that he was so open and captivated, I was interested. Then, as the night progressed, feeling confident and lovely, I saw a guy dressed as a mail carrier and he was just my type. I tend to gravitate towards a certain look and he had it. So I smiled at him and he frowned at me. Ha. I didn't give up so easily though, the sheik had given me a bit of bravery and self confidence. I felt like a live wire. So when the mailman came outside and stood right next to me smoking a cigarette, I took it as a sign, I tried to strike up a conversation. He looked at me with disgust, though. Not at all like the sheik had stared at me. He damn sure didn't see what the sheik saw. So, deflated a bit at having struck out, I shrugged it off, albeit a little perplexed because I didn't know then what I know now, and went to check on my cousins wallflower friend. She wanted to go home and asked me to walk her to her car, so I did. And on my walk back to the party, a guy hanging from a moving vehicle yelled out at me "CONEECHEEWAH!" I laughed and when I'd finally made my way back to the party, he introduced himself to me. We danced, he made me laugh some more, he was fun, so I wrote my number down on a napkin for him (this was all an experiment folks) and then I turned around and looked directly into the sheiks eyes. Whoops! This time, he didn't look happy. He never said anything about it, he just took my hand and lead me out to the patio where the mailman had rejected me. Feeling confident and playful, I wrapped his arms around my waist from behind me, and we walked outside as a unit. Shortly after that, we heard a bit of commotion going on inside the party. It sounded like someone was fighting. I was naturally concerned, but the sheik didn't seem phased at all. He acted like he hadn't heard the yelling and screaming and kept trying to turn my attention back to him. Then, suddenly, my Blackinese suitor, the guy I'd written my number on a napkin for, came running directly past me with a bloody face. He looked absolutely terrified as he hopped the wall behind me and fled. I was absolutely terrified, ready to find my cousin and do the same, lol. But, just like that, the bouncers went back inside and the party resumed as though nothing had happened. The sheik looked at me with a devilish smirk on his face this time and proceeded to tell me about his wives in Morocco and how it's customary in his culture for a man to have multiple wives. I don't really think I have to tell you that after that night, I had no plans of ever speaking to that man again. But it's interesting to me how beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I've been complimented in the best ways based on my appearance, and rejected based on it as well. Que sera sera?

2011-11-05T10:24:00.000-07:00

I want to give up. I am so stressed right now and jaded about everything, i just dont give a damn. I'm hanging on by a thread. I haven't cleaned up in a week, you should see my kitchen :( my hair is a mess, I'm not even motivated enough to care about my health. I didn't cook dinner last night. Instead I ordered spicy seafood fried rice and loafed around the house in bummy clothing for most of the day. I told myself that I'd get up early and go for a run or a walk today. It's 10:20am and I'm still in bed. This sucks. I hate this feeling, like I'm helpless, like I can't win for losing. And to be honest, I haven't really lost much. I'm just frustrated that I'm not moving forward at the pace I want to move at. I hope this is just pms, because then it will be over in a week or two. I need to go walk. I'm going to force myself to get out and walk. I could use the endorphins.

++++

2011-11-03T14:39:00.000-07:00

Trying to stay positive but it's difficult with so many worrisome things going on. I'm on the cusp of a huge change and I'm feeling both antsy and stressed about it. I need and welcome this change but it's hard for me to rest not knowing just when and how things will come about. My only resort is to hold on to my faith, in God as well as in myself, and know that all of the great things that have occurred to me in my life were preceded by worry and stress but everything turned out well in the end. Stress and worry are taxes paid that may never come due, right? It'll be okay.

Bored

2011-10-29T22:55:00.000-07:00

And impatient. I've cleaned the house, washed the car, flipped through 4 magazines, and watched DIY network and the Food network. But what I'd rather be doing is talking to someone interesting, laughing, flirting, and maybe even a little snuggling. I need somewhere to get dressed up and go to. I have a new jacket and a beautiful, sexy new handbag I want to rock. But here I sit, in bed, munching on junk food, flipping through magazines and watching T.V. ugh. Sara Lee makes sweet potato pie. Did you know that? I bought one the other day and I can't wait to try it. My hopes aren't high though. Sara Lee is generally wack at everything except pound cake. The grocery stores usually have an abundance of pumpkin pies for sale this time of year so imagine my surprise when I saw Sara Lees sweet potato pie in my grocers freezer :) I make at least 4 pies every year from scratch so I only bought this one to illustrate the need for more and better options, lol. I hate anything made out of a pumpkin, except jack o'lanterns so I used to get irrationally angry whenever I'd see a shitload of pumpkin pies at the grocery store, yet not one made of sweet potatoes. who the hell did they think was going to buy all of those nasty ass pumpkin pies?
Anyway, I am booooored. I have nothing to write about, obviously, nowhere to be, and nothing (I want) to do.

Are there exceptions? Define true love. I dare you.

2011-10-19T19:22:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had someone that you KNOW loves you say something so Earth shattering that you're left speechless? So...cruel that you're left bewildered because you KNOW they love your dirty drawers? That happened to me recently. A few days ago, to be precise. And I was floored. It was like someone removed the plug and drained me of every last drop of glee I had. So for those three days I walked around questioning everything and feeling like a gray blob. According to my mom, love is absolute, but I'm not so sure. I sort of think there's wiggle room. While evaluating HER love for me, I found that there are no true signs of whether or not someone loves you because nobody's perfect. I've had my (many) moments with my mother over the years, enough to make you wonder about us, but I'm certain she loves me. Even when she put me out of her house over chicken. But that's a dirty tale I'd rather not rehash, lol. Anyway, aren't there exceptions? Like, people saying things out of anger. Things they really don't mean, but they hurt the other party, nevertheless? I mean, they say if you love someone you'd never purposely hurt them, right? I, for one, know that's not exactly true. I've purposely hurt people I love. But it was because they had already hurt me! Whether they realized it not, I guess. Or it could've been a misunderstanding. What if someone who you believe loves you accidentally hurt you? Would you forgive them, knowing that they didn't truly mean to cause you pain? Or do you believe in absolutes, like my mother? That there is a true definition of love without any room for error. I'm rambling again but that's what this blog is for, so if you're reading and you're a grammar nazi suck it up. Love isn't perfect, apparently. The verdict is that loves as complicated as it's been rumored to be. As a matter of fact, I think love is a stone cold, rotten-assed bitch. But I can't live without her, unfortunately. I don't think I'd want to live without her.

2011-10-15T23:55:00.000-07:00

I bought some white converse today and put them on when I left the store. They're dirty already. Damn.
The sleep study went well. I don't have apnea but I do have a breathing obstruction akin to SIDS. I have to go see an ear, nose, and throat specialist. I may need my tonsils removed (ICE CREAM!) The tech said this is common in young teens and kids. I slept good as hell last night, too, despite the 5,000 wires protruding from my neck, chest, skull, and legs. I think I need some blackout curtains.
The weekend really needs to be three days. If Obama makes that happen, I'll believe in him again and give him my vote.
I knew I should've squashed that spider in the bathroom. He damn near ate me alive, the little bastard. I got calamine lotion all over my legs and they still itch. Ugh.
F*ck what you heard, Bob's Big Boy has the biggest burgers in L.A. And way less expensive than Johnny "punk ass frontin on the shakes" Rockets.
Rick Ross' seizure reminded me that I need to work out and lay off bad foods. Tomorrow.
It's too late to do anything about today or yesterday :)
Good night.

What’s up with me?

2011-10-12T13:37:00.000-07:00

Well, next week I officially become a seamstress. I have a pillow making class lined up that I’m excited about. Next weekend I will begin my Halloween festivities, accompanied by The Boy, The Dude, and some friends at Universal. I’m still battling the City of Malibu over that expired tags ticket (I aint going DOWN without a fight!). I have successfully organized my back porch (OMG, it’s beautiful), and, as you probably know, I bought the Razzle Dazzle and am pleased with my decision. I’m broke as hell but all is well. Oh, and I have a sleep study on Friday that will hopefully enable me to sleep through the night, uninterrupted. Apparently, I tend to stop breathing while asleep, which isn’t good for my heart, obviously, and keeps me tired during my work day unless I take an afternoon nap. I’m tired of being tired so if I have to wear a C-pap mask, so be it, I will. I tried on my mom’s last weekend and I’m pretty sure I could live with one. She says she sleeps like a rock with it on and wakes up like Spongebob. I want to wake up like Spongebob, too. Shit, who wouldn’t?

UPDATE!

2011-10-07T23:52:00.000-07:00

I am entirely too excited about this new car. I can see that it won't be long before I start saying "Ginger, who?" I drove The Boy and his friend to get something to eat and I was flossing like shit, lol. Had the music on blast and was accelerating like I had no good goddamn sense. I picked up 'Ol Dude and we went to Best Buy and Pei Wei and I didn't want to stop driving. I had forgotten what it felt like and how much fun driving a cute, fast, new car is. It's safe to say that I am pleased with my purchase.

RIP Ginger :(

2011-10-07T13:34:00.000-07:00

My trusty car of 11 years, Ginger, has seen her last hoorah. Last weekend her transmission started slipping and by Monday the “check engine” light was on and the slipping was getting progressively worse. To fix her I’d have to shell out roughly 3k. She’s also due for another timing belt soon, which is about 1.5k. So, since she’s clearly circling the drain I decided not to invest any more money into her. I’m getting a new car.
I found a sweet deal on a Volkswagen for a 36 month lease with maintenance and 24-hour road side assistance included, so I’m taking it. Today I will test drive the base model and then I’ll test out the “razzle dazzle” model to see which is the better fit for me and my needs. Everyone is telling me to just get the base model, which is $40 cheaper than the razzle dazzle model, and be done with it since I’m “not a racecar driver.” But I’m very apprehensive about that because I am a race car driver. They just haven’t accepted it yet. Ginger, God bless her, had 130hp and one time I had to drive her up a long hill in Altadena to pick up my boy, and she wheezed and huffed the whole way. It was frustrating and embarrassing and I vowed to never buy another un-souped up ride again. And this base model, less-expensive-by-$40 VW is only 115hp. That's less than what old "Gingy" had. However, the razzle dazzle version has 170hp :) so I am seriously leaning towards getting the razzle dazzle one for that reason alone. I couldn’t care less about the other so-called luxury features of the car, especially the “leatherette” seating. I’d much rather have cloth covered seats. Anyway, since I got approved for both cars I’m going down there after work to test-drive them both and see which one I like best, just to be fair. And as for Ginger…well, I am torn about her fate. My boy’s dad says he’ll fix the transmission and glam it up so The Boy can drive it next year. My co-worker says I should just sell the parts and be done with it. Dissect my boo!? I’d feel like I’m putting down a pet or a trusty comrade, but it does seem like the best and most practical bet. My boy has his nose turned up and is being a typical, unrealistic teenager thinking he’s going to get a brand new muscle car right off the lot. HAAA HAAAA! He hasn’t realized yet that he’s broke and unemployed. So if he doesn’t come around soon and warm up to the idea of driving ol' Ginger, I’ll have to make up my mind about what to do with her. I can’t just let her sit in my driveway indefinitely, slowly going to waste. She has brand new brakes and tires.

Every month it's something

2011-10-02T19:09:00.000-07:00

Last month I was leaving the company picnic way out at Zuma Beach and found a ticket for expired tags on my car. Only my tags aren't expired. I paid them up back in May. So I called the City of Malibu and I mailed in my dispute letter WITH a copy of my registration, which shows that my tags were paid for and received, and these fuckers denied my claim, telling me that I have to pay or request a court date. I'm requesting a court date. This is some bullshit and they know it. It's totally unfair to have me drive all the way to Irvine, which is an hour away to dispute expired tags when THEY KNOW my tags are up to date. As if the city of Malibu isn't filthy rich enough! I hate the law.
And on top of that, my car is making some strange wheezing sound and my transmission is slipping. ARGH!!! I just want to kick over a table and smack the shit out of somebody. Preferably that cop who wrote me the ticket. Bastard ass slew footed motherfucker!!
Oh and my boy went to the Royal Ball. I took pics as fast as I could because he and his friend wanted to get dressed at his friends' house, hence the label still on his jacket sleeve.

The Ball

2011-09-29T22:17:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow my son is going to his first formal event, a ball, and he doesn't want to wear a jacket. Argh! His gripe is the shoulder pads. He says his shoulders are broad enough already, smh. Teenagers, I swear they'll drive you nuts if you let them. For homecoming he told me he just wants to wear a shirt, tie and vest with his slacks and I'm doing everything I can to ensure that he doesn't look ridiculous and that I like the pictures because thats oh so important to mother's - the pictures. We can look proudly at the pictures, at the extension of ourselves all decked out and on his way to a ball/homecoming/prom. Its a milestone, it's our only reward until they leave the nest and make something of themselves. The other night his girlfriend was apparently tripping on Facebook and he was distraught over it. I hated the idea of my child having his heart broken but I have to admit, I was more worried about him not having a date to all of these high school events. He's going to have his heart broken, regardless. That's par for the course. Thats life and I won't keep him from it. He's had girlfriends in the past so he knows what it's like to break up. But he's never been to a ball or prom and he HAS to have a date for these events, lol. for my pictures! :) I haven't told him this, of course. He thinks it's weird that I'm insisting that he get dressed here and not at his friends' house like he wants to, because I want to be a part of this, I want to take pictures. I'm just being a mom. I deserve my pictures, lol.

C'est si bon, part deux

2011-09-21T13:07:00.000-07:00

I don’t know a lick of French but I love singing “C’est si bon” by Eartha Kitt. Well, I take that back, I do know a few words/phrases in French but not enough to understand everything that I’m saying whenever I sing that song. The other day I was singing it, ad libs and all, in the car with my mom and son. My mom joined in because she can appreciate the fun of singing in French, whether you know what you’re saying or not. She used to love singing Lady Marmalade back in the day until she found out that what she was saying was kind of perverted, lol (“do you want to go to bed with me tonight?”). But my teenage son was annoyed. He thought we sounded like fools (we probably did) and could not appreciate the joy of the song or us butchering its lyrics. Tough luck for him, being a surly, kill-joy teenager, because we carried on with glee and enthusiasm despite his sighs and pleas of “Oh my GAWD! Stop!” Sometimes it sucks being a teenager. Anyway, unlike my mom singing LaBelle’s perverted hit 70s tune, I know what C’est si bon means. I downloaded the lyrics in English a while back after repeatedly playing it on my iPod, so I have at least a clue, lol. It really is so good :)

here's the version my mom and I sang/sing ;)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A2BTcSD-YYc&feature=related

here's her singing it live. Man, she was gorgeous!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b5WVkl_f7_E

and here are the lyrics in English:

It's so good,
Just wandering around,
Arm in arm, arm in arm,
And Singing songs.
It's so good,
To whisper sweet words - ,
Little nothings,
But little nothing that can be
said again and again.
Seeing our love-struck expression
The passers-by in the street envy us.
It's so good,
To see shining in her eyes
A marvelous promise
That sends shivers up and down my spine.
They're so good
These little thrills
That are worth more than a million
It's so very, very good.
It's Good - Yes, It's good
The passers-by in the street -
Arm in arm, arm in arm -
Singing songs -
What a marvelous promise

Uummm - It's good.
I'm looking for a millionaire
With big Cadillac cars
Mink coats - jewels
As big as your fist - you know?

It's good
This little feeling -

Perhaps someone with a little yacht, no?
Aahhh it's good -
it's good - so good-
You know I'm waiting for
someone who can give me
plenty of loot.
Tonight? - Tomorrow?- Next Week?
Dosen't matter when.
Uummm - It's so good - so good
It will be very crazy, no?
It's very good!

“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things” © Henry Miller

2011-09-20T11:09:00.000-07:00

So here I am, and at this point in my life I think I know enough about living to spend the rest of my days being happy. I know what love is, I’ve experienced it in many forms and I’ve given it as well. I know what ignites my spirit and how to obtain that. I know who loves me and who doesn’t. I know who suits me and who doesn’t ;) I am content with who I am and who I am becoming and that, dear friends, is truly a blessing – to know. Not to wonder, not to guess, but to know within your heart. But knowing and doing are two separate things, lol. While I know what to do and full well who I am, that doesn’t mean that I always do what I should or that I don’t sometimes forget myself. I procrastinate, I sometimes lose focus and fall off the wagon, but ultimately I get back up and continue on in the direction that suits me. It’s not a race, after all. I’ll get there. *We’ll get there. We are moving slowly, as we should, actually. Last night’s dinner was the first in a long time. It was truly like starting over, which will be a bit challenging but necessary. After all we’ve been through, we needed a fresh start, with past sins erased and new lessons learned. Our whirlwind romance from 1992, about 20 years ago, is a blur. The feelings we felt then can hardly be recalled in their original form but they’re still there. A lot has happened since then but I do know now that he does love me and I love him. And that is enough. I know that we are both human and both capable of making mistakes. It’s never too late and you’re never too old to enjoy and improve your lot in life.

“Love who loves you.” Now I finally understand what my grandmother meant by that. She didn’t mean that we should settle for unhappiness or force ourselves to do something that we don’t want to do, or love someone we don't want to love. She meant that we should appreciate and recognize who’s most important in our lives, to choose wisely, when we're ready to choose love and not chase after the trivial and meaningless, suffering. For the longest time, I was fighting with that sentiment because I didn’t understand it. But hindsight is truly 20/20. I have clarity now. I needed time to live (some more), learn (some more), compare and contrast, and space to roam and I spent the last three years doing that, in addition to all my 30+years of living and learning. I’m happy with where I have arrived.

More on how I'm feeling

2011-09-16T12:57:00.000-07:00

405 Friday's :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2aNohMBC2Zo

I'm jamming on the one *tee hee hee

It's a 2 post kind of day :)

I totally crack myself up

2011-09-16T10:18:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while I’ll have a senior moment, like trying to remember who slayed Goliath. I initially said Samson. Then a little while later I thought to myself “hmm. That’s not right…Samson was the long haired fellow in love with Delilah…” After a while, I stopped worrying about it and let it go. Eventually, though, I realized that it was actually David who pummeled Goliath. But hey, I was close. At least they’re both biblical characters and not totally unrelated. No harm, no foul, right? Nobody’s perfect. And that’s my tendency. I’ll run with whatever instantly comes to mind, even if I’m not entirely sure, and then when I think about it later and realize my error, I laugh at myself. If I can, I correct the error and all is great! If not, oh well. All will still be great. I do whatever’s possible and move right along with life. I just hope I don’t end up with Alzheimer’s disease when I’m around 80 or so. The only possibly good thing about that might be that I’ll be blissfully unaware of whatever ugly memories that might otherwise plague me.

I was reading in a magazine that your mind state controls your destiny. Great expectations yield great results (keep chugging on past those road blocks! And make sure to enjoy the trip!). Optimism keeps us moving forward rather than to the nearest high-rise ledge. If you’re pessimistic you will never make progress in life simply because you’ll constantly be standing in your own way, unable to move forward and reach alternative realities. Can you imagine where we’d be if our ancestors stayed dwelling in their caves, afraid to live? Back in Africa, hungry and dusty as hell, that’s where! Thank God they ventured out on hope and faith and didn’t view anything as either good or bad. It is what it is (my mothers’ all-time favorite saying)

Anything is possible if you can imagine it so. The mind is a powerful thing and hope and faith are strong motivators that are beneficial to your health and overall survival. It makes sense, right? If you believe in a positive outcome you are more likely to do what’s necessary to make it so. Like taking your vitamins, eating well, exercising, working harder, and saving more money – all of which are recipes for better health and prosperity, which in turn reduce stress and increase happiness. And we should all know that a dose of happiness in the absence of brooding sadness can cure us of some of the worst maladies. Of course, let’s not get crazy and be too overly optimistic though, having completely unrealistic expectations, like being able to actually fly ;) that’ll kill you. So do everything within moderation and reason, folks. Yes, we will all inevitably die but why waste time focusing on the end of your journey when there’s potentially so much wonderful road ahead? Go forth and flourish! Don’t be a cave man/woman dreaming of better days. Try things, make mistakes, laugh at yourself, and try again. That’s called living.

Check out this inspiring article about laughter as a cure

http://health.howstuffworks.com/mental-health/human-nature/happiness/laughter-cure-illness.htm

And if you want more, read this:

http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-second-noble-truth/201012/the-four-part-cure-happiness

I’m going to sew!

2011-09-13T09:39:00.000-07:00

I ordered my sewing machine the other day so there is no more half-stepping allowed! I have to put it to use and not let it collect dust. But more importantly, I have to use it so that I don’t waste my money! I’m so excited. It’s going to be the main focus of my free time for the next few months. As soon as I get home from work I’m whipping it out (heh heh) and creating stuff. Or, at the very least, I will be learning from the mistakes that I will surely make. Ha! All of the ideas in my head are just screaming to come to life. “Make me!” they’re yelling. So I shall. I shall go forth and make stuff.

I had a great afternoon yesterday. Came home to a clean house, organized it some more for added peace of mind, watched two great episodes of G. Garvin (gosh, I love him) and Design Star (Meg totally deserved to win. I can’t wait to watch her show), colored in my sketches, downloaded some inspiration from the internet, and started a scrap book of ideas with magazine clippings. Tonight I have class but tomorrow I plan to continue my sketches and clippings and reading up on how to print them. This weekend I’ll be heading to Universal with my mom, my boy and Rhyann (hopefully) and then on Sunday, I’ll check out the fabric store for more ideas.

I realize that it’s going to take some work to repair things with The Ex. We’ve both done a lot of damage to each other but I think our bond was strong - strong enough to survive a few catastrophes. We’ll see. I’m moving patiently, hopeful, yet bracing myself for whatever the outcome may be. I’m fully aware of our past together and how it could very well shape our future. If anything, I’d like to at least be on good terms with him again. I’ll settle for that. I think he might be open to that.

December is the next great meteor shower and I aim to see this one. I totally spaced and missed the Perseids one in August when I returned from Costa Rica. But I’m going to catch the Geminids one, if I have to do it from my backyard alone. But the plan is to gather a few close loved ones for a home cooked meal and camaraderie and then sit outside somewhere that’s super dark (we may have to drive far out for this) and watch the meteors shoot by. The show is expected to begin around 9 or 10pm with approximately 50 meteors per hour. I’m going to have my wishes ready for wishing.

Done with Kermit

2011-09-12T16:06:00.001-07:00

I’ve decided not to date anymore. The last 3 frogs I’ve had the displeasure of sharing time with were creeps and weirdo’s so, I’m calling it quits. Yeah, I’m good. It would have to be a REALLY REALLLLLLY cool and awesome guy for me to agree to another date. The guys I’ve been meeting are making my ex look like a dream boat in comparison! Smh. They are skeevy, and grimey, dumb and conniving. After my last date ordered a shit load of sushi, despite me telling him I was fine with just my two rolls, he put the bill in my face as if to say that I owe him. I mean, he literally held it up within inches of my face after I’d already acknowledged seeing the heart that our waitress had circled the total with (I’m sure she did it because we were clearly on a date and she works for tips). Anyway, I felt so uncomfortable. And throughout dinner whenever he wasn’t bragging about his lifestyle, he kept talking about “doing your homework” on a person and Googling them to get their personal information. That’s when I realized that he had my first and last name because of the stupid caller id on my cellphone and could easily look me up. Ugh. My freaking address was online (I’ve since requested to have it removed)! When the date ended, he wanted me to kiss him and I declined. I haven’t heard from him since, which was a week ago, and I haven’t called. I suspected during our conversation that he got turned off the minute that I told him I have a 16 year old son. The look on his face said it all. I certainly hope I’m right because I don’t want the hassle of telling him I’m not interested. He creeped me out and I don’t trust him. This whole ordeal reminded me of how much I enjoy being single, without the hassle and stress of another person invading your space. Maybe I’ll get a dog for companionship, lol. But seriously, I have been thinking about adopting a pit bull. I love those dogs and my boy does too.

Unfaithful

2011-09-12T13:45:00.000-07:00

There are so many women who turn their heads and close their eyes while the man they’re devoted to shows them no devotion. He cheats, he wanders, he does not care as she does, he is faithless, cannot be counted on, should not be in possession of anyone’s heart because he is too careless. Yet these women make-believe they are safe and sound in his hands, the same hands that betray them, and would rip their hearts out as mindlessly as blinking. *She opts to play the Cinderella role even when her reality is stark and grave, naked and nowhere near secure. I saw the wickedness in his eyes when he ignored her call in favor of a conversation with me, a kiss from me and all of my attention at 3am. It was like a thrill passed over him knowing that he was being and could be, because she allowed him to be, callous with her heart. No remorse or guilt was visible, whatsoever. He had license to do whatever he chose. “She knows not to bother me,” he said over dinner. “She’s okay (with me cheating) as long as it’s not in her face.” So he chose not to consider her feelings. He acted like she had none. Now, he didn’t possess my heart in any capacity. I had no respect for him, no faith in his humanity, no desire to trade places with her. His flesh, for that moment, his attention for that time being, was my only concern where he was concerned. I pitied her. My guess is she stays because she wants love at any cost. She pretends that she is loved, that he is in her life because he loves her, unconditionally, as she does him. But there’s always a condition or ten with men like that. He stays because she loves him unconditionally. Who would so quickly dismiss their own personal idiot? She has a good job, she makes it possible for him to live the type of lifestyle he enjoys living, she is convenient, she makes things easy, she turns her head when he cheats and closes her eyes and pretends that he is devoted to her, while he stays out late with me. “She doesn’t have anybody out here but me. Her family aint here and she only has a couple of friends that she hangs out with every once in a while,” he told me. So she’s all his, to do with (or without) as he pleases. I guess she was sitting at home while he was having dinner with me.

Despite his many flaws and his lack of love and respect for her, she loves him, I presume. Or maybe she’s in love with the idea of him. She is extremely vulnerable, putting her faith in such a man. If what he told me was true. He is a liar, after all. Although none of that was really my concern. It is men like him that make me burn the fairytales carved into my mind. I have no esteem for any man who lies for sport and cheats, like a snake slithering in low grass during the high noon, he is obvious and wicked. He is so arrogant that he doesn’t realize he is ridiculous and, more often than not, a target himself. He thinks he’s getting over, that only he knows what devilment he is up to. Sort of like a child playing a game of hide ‘n seek with his eyes closed yet he is standing in plain sight. Just because you cannot see me does not mean that you can’t be seen. Women know – the ones you’re cheating with, as well as the ones who turn their heads and close their eyes as you lie and cheat on them. We know. We’re just better at putting on the charade. For our own sake, we pretend we are blind – I got what I wanted out of him, easily, and she’s getting to pretend that she is loved by him. That is, until the pain of his carelessness builds up and she snaps – out of her fairytale and on him. Then he’ll call her crazy. As if he is exempt from responsibility.
If I had a nickel for every attached man who approached me with a wolf ticket, I’d be rich…partly from selling him his own ticket.
I once indulged a cheating man out of boredom, lust, intrigue, and simply because I knew I could. I made no promises to anyone I didn’t know and was only true to myself. I haven’t done it since and I don’t plan to ever do it again. It wasn’t much fun. But I don’t regret it at all.

Just a few things...

2011-09-10T19:40:00.000-07:00

Since I'm pecking away on an iPad.

Very relaxing day
No pressure, no stress, nowhere to rush off to or be, so I just rolled over, smiled up at the ceiling and took a deep... breath. Today I repurposed some things around the house, had a few eureka moments, made a batch of delicious deviled eggs so that my imitation crab meat wouldn't go bad, ate about 6 of said eggs, returned some shoes to Aldo in the mall, bought a new lipstick, had lunch in the food court, did some early Christmas shopping in the mall (as well as around the house, :D) and found my New Years Eve dress on sale For $15 - a metallic little Kenneth Cole number. Now I'm back home, watching the remains of the day sink down behind my neighbors' house, about to watch a movie.

He needs more than I can give
It's clear to me now that someone I know and care about is nowhere near strong enough to cope with difficulties on his own, and I'm nowhere near equipped to handle him on my own, what with my regular old human powers and such. He needs a super SUPER duper woman with the strength and courage of ten lionesses to handle his weight. It's more than I can bear and, although I used to think I could save him, I now realize that we'd both sink and I'd likely be the one to drown if I tried. He worries me a bit.

I can see the future and it's bright
But just last night I admit I was worried. I couldn't see anything but darkness. I'm no longer 21. I'm starting to look my age, even, lol. Well, actually, I'm just starting to no longer fight looking my age. I'm growing old gracefully and I still look good for a woman in her 30s. I lead a much better life now than I did when I was 21, that's for sure. My preferred social scene these days is a meal with good friends, going to see a play, calling my mom, a jazz concert in the park, game night at someones house, making ice cream with my ice cream maker, or chilling in my backyard with a good book or O magazine in the hammock. I'm happy living a slow-paced, artificial stimulant-free, simple life.

I had a talk with my ex last night. I think he's beginning not to hate me, which is good. It truly is a thin line.

I bought season passes to Universal Studios last month. I'm thinking about using them for the first time this month. We'll see.

Now that I've unplugged, I feel so much more productive and happy. The nonsense has been
eliminated.

Letting peace be my guide - Unplugging

2011-09-08T08:39:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was my first truly stressful day since before my vacation began on July 29th. The day officially ended for me at 8pm, and by 9pm, I was in bed asleep. But, as with most highly stressful days, I didn’t sleep well last night. I had way too much on my mind so I was restless, tossing and turning, and hot. So, at around 5am rather than lie there and continue to struggle with sleeping (I actually woke up at 3am, but I tried to go back to sleep), I decided to get a jump start on my day. I put on a load of laundry, washed the dishes, took a shower, got dressed, made breakfast, paid a couple of bills, folded and put away some laundry, went to the gas station, drove my son to school, and made it to work ten minutes earlier than usual. This was in an effort to combat potential stress brought on by missing a few hours’ sleep, rushing to work, and panic about being unprepared for my day. Usually, on mornings when I wake up before 6:15am, I lie in bed and fret about lack of sleep and time escaping me. And that is always a bad start to a day. I get up groggy after having lost the fight with sleep, can’t find anything to wear so I end up looking like a vagabond as well as feeling like one, make it to work later than usual, and, inevitably, my boss rides every last nerve I have left, as he did yesterday. This time, though, I decided not to fight things and let peace be my guide. And to continue this peace, I’m unplugging myself from the internet for a while and decompressing. People online can be toxic, miserable, egotistical little trolls. If you say something like “the sky is blue, such a pretty day” you are guaranteed to receive angry backlash from a myriad of hateful people just looking for an argument and dying to insult you. They will insist that the sky is not blue, it is periwinkle, or gray, or turquoise, or that anyone who is concerned with the sky must be an idiot, and who in their right mind would think a blue sky is pretty anyway…etc., etc. It’s usually the women who do it the most, although many men are bitches, too. It means a lot to them to be able to get online and attempt to derail a person’s day, and they spend all day long trying to do it, day in and day out. It used to be that you could exchange ideas, learn and teach one another. But now it’s all high school and cliquish, and those who were miserable and insecure back then, are reliving their misery and insecurity on message boards all around the internet now. I encounter enough catty, insecure, bitches in my regular day-to-day that I don’t have to engage, I definitely don’t need to add more.

Then you have the nosey Alice Kravitz types who “befriend” you on that social networking site, only to nose and to boast and brag about their so-called lives, when most of their time is spent online boasting and bragging, which leads you to wonder just how much living they’re actually doing. Or who they think they’re fooling. Someone I know and hang out with from time to time is attached to her phone and that network. Her phone beeps every time someone says anything on that site, and she checks it each and every time. While hanging out with her, she is constantly checking and updating her status, apparently seeking validation and approval, and desperately needing attention. As if anyone truly cares. It’s pointless. Those who actually know and care for me can reach me without the help of that network. So, I am logging off, removing myself, and remaining blissfully unaware of whatever issues those people have going on. It’s neither important nor beneficial and I have more important things to concern myself with; I’m breaking bad habits and focusing on what makes me happiest.

I’m Related to Mermaids

2011-09-01T08:58:00.000-07:00

My cousin and her children have OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder, if you don’t know) and they don’t realize it. My cousin is a clean freak. Her apartment, children and body are immaculately clean. Good, in theory, right? Nobody likes the opposite of clean. However, her obsession with cleanliness is causing problems and she, her children, and my mother are in denial about it.
For instance, her daughter came to my house to visit me a few months back, sometime during spring break, and within two days she’d taken 6, 30 minute-long showers. A bit excessive, right? Here’s how she did it: she’d wake up in the morning and right after breakfast she’d take a long, luxurious shower. Then we’d leave the house and go to say, Target or the mall, and she’d come back to my house and take another shower. And then, right after dinner at around 7 or 8pm, she’d take yet another long shower. She’d repeat this pattern the following day. Over the course of two days, that was 6 showers at 30-40 minutes a piece. So, naturally, I was concerned since I own my home and have to pay my own water bill. But yeah, she won’t be coming back to visit until she gets her cleanliness issues rectified. Anyway, just the other day my mother calls me like she does every day, and her gossip for the day was how my cousins landlord had called her to complain about her water bill being too high. The first thing my cousin and my mother think is that my cousin’s nosey neighbor is “hating” on her and called the landlord to complain about my cousins oldest daughter, who is 25, moving back in. Um, that is ridiculous and I let my mother know that. Even though her neighbor is a fat, nosey, hating, busy body, logic would dictate that her water bill just might be too high, considering everyone in her family bathes all day and night for 30-40 minutes at a time like they’re part fish. And there are 4 people in that household – her and her three offspring. Well, my mother thinks I’m wrong. She thinks my cousin’s neighbor is blabbing to the landlord about her daughter moving back in. I think my mother and cousin just want to complain about my cousin’s neighbor. It’s pretty idiotic. Here you have a house full of mermaids and you think it’s odd that the landlord is calling to complain about too much water usage? Come on, now! So not only am I related to Mermaids, I have a couple of wacky hens on my family tree.
Oh, and my cousin also itches uncontrollably and complains that her skin is too dry. She’s taking some over-the-counter meds for it but refuses to entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe her skin is giving her problems because she has OCD and spends too much time bathing herself.

Building a Life

2011-08-25T20:05:00.000-07:00

After a big break up, it's hard work gathering up all the pieces of your life that are yours and leaving behind what was. I met my ex when I was just 16 years old and from that day forward he was an integral part of my life. I grew to love his family very dearly, even watched children grow up and go to college and start families of their own. In the meantime, the life I'd fashioned became ours and no longer just mines. I was in it, he was in it, our families were sprinkled in there, too. And all of my childhood bonds had fallen by the wayside. Then, more than a decade later, we broke up and I was unrecognizable. Not entirely, of course, but it took some getting used to. I had to rebuild just about everything. My routines, my expectations, my social life. Outside of my mother, he was my closest friend. And the other friendships that were still standing weren't very strong. One day I wrote out a list of my friends and it didn't sit well with me. I wasn't confident in the bonds between me and anyone, many of them were fair weather, fickle, "see you once a year or so" friendships. So I set out to build new, lasting, stronger friendships, and thus far I believe I have about 3. We don't have ten years under our belts yet but we're getting there. We're building. I just have to be patient and faithful. Making friends as an adult is much different than it is as a kid.
And then there's dating. I wasn't quite sure what I was getting into with that, lol. I've learned a whole lot and it's been very interesting. Finding someone to be my +1 has been like searching for a needle in a haystack. Either there is no chemistry between us, one of us likes the other but the feeling isn't mutual, or we're a perfect match except he's already taken. Or he lives in another state. I don't fall to pieces over it though. It took me way too long to put myself back together after The Ex. I just know that this, too, is going to take some time and patience, and diligent effort on my part. Social relationships are complex. Rebuilding a life from the ground up takes patience and I'm focused. It can get scary at times, wondering what the future will bring or how long it will take to bring what I need, or who I'll be when when it finally gets here. I want to love again and be loved. I want close, strong bonds with other human beings. I'm up for the challenge. I have the rest of my life.
The way I envision things, I will be happy with my +1, a bit older but wiser, living a relaxed lifestyle where we are the center of our worlds. We'll have plenty of personal interests that we can share with one another, plenty of friends who love us, we'll travel, we'll try new things, we'll teach each other, and learn and grow old together. That'd be a happy ending. But whether it goes that way or not, I won't die an unlived life. Even though these are my plans, they are peripheral. I'm still busy living, thankfully.

Back at square one (with spoilers)

2011-08-22T23:17:00.000-07:00

Ugh! I might as well just stay here since I inevitably end up at this very spot time and time again. This evening my ex's sister invited me to a posh movie theater with cushy recliners and waiters bringing me free food and dessert all night, to see the movie "One Day," and it was the most realistic and depressing love story I'd ever seen. It wasn't fake romance, the kind of the love that many many movies have portrayed where the couple ends up together and everything is perfect in the end. Nope, not at all. It was sad and pathetic and realistic. The kind of real life love story we go to the movies to escape. I'm glad this was free and, were it not for the cushy recliners and the delicious free food (God, that lemonade was to die for) I'd be pissed that I wasted an evening watching that movie. And what's worse is, Anne Hathaway's character did exactly what so many women I know do - she led a miserable life, pining over a man who was living his up until he couldn't live it up any longer and had nothing left but baggage and nowhere else to turn...so he settled down with her, the woman he'd loved all along but never more than he'd loved himself. And then she gets hit by a bus. And she dies.
When the movie ended my ex's sister and my 26 year old niece and I could only sigh at one another and relate. Men are stupid and we love them anyway, like idiots. Why does love have to be so complicated?
I'm rambling, it's late, and I believe I'm being lied to, once again. I'm always skeptical but I'm usually right. I wish I weren't though. Guess I'll grab a blanket and get cozy over here at square one. Looks like I'll be here a while.
Good night.

“So go work on your house...

2011-08-22T11:03:00.000-07:00

…and forget about it.” © Under the Tuscan Sun

That’s exactly what I aim to do – work on the house, and anything else that needs working on, and forget about it. “It” being my love life. I’ve dwelled on it long enough, don’t you think? And I’ve come to realize that there is no point in dwelling any longer, especially when there’s so much work that needs to be done and happiness that needs to be had. So this past weekend my step father came by to work on my yard. It was beginning to look like I’d begun a game of Jumanji back there and a lion would appear out of the foliage at any moment. And while he was back there I made him a sandwich, sliced up an orange, and then sat down to put together my hammock stand. It was truly exciting. I’m not kidding. I cannot wait until it’s sitting in my backyard and I climb into it and read a book or flip through a magazine. I have so many books on my shelf I’ve yet to read.

After I’d put the hammock stand together I wrote out a list of things I’d like to do to the house in the order I’d like to do them. Or, the order that made the most sense to me:

- Pour a concrete foundation behind the garage (bbq central)

- Paint front porch (it’s faded glory blues)

- Install new front door (curb appeal)

- Expand and remodel the kitchen (the heart of the home and the bane of my existence due to its size)

- Expand and remodel the bathroom (why not?)

- Paint the house (makes sense if I’m going to expand the back of it)

- Fence the house (the rugrats next door need no more access to my lawn)

These are mostly big ticket items, yes, but I plan to work as slowly and as comfortably as my money will allow. And in the meantime, I have other things, “inside” things, to work on. I’m budgeting fiercely and I’ve set a goal to save 10k by next summer. This is also Miles’ senior year of high school and he’s playing varsity football, which means he’ll need lots of cash for uniforms, homecoming, prom, pictures, yearbook, and whatever rigamoro the kids are being told they need these days. Then there’s my little side project, the little seedling as I’ve come to call it, that I am hoping to build into a Big Deal. I’m still mapping that out and it is also slowly coming to fruition. Labors of love, these are. But while I’m working on all of this and focusing on the things that I’d like to see grow for the better, I’m beginning to really like someone. The caveat is that he lives in another state. Womp womp. On the bright side, his living so far away forces me to accept that it is very unlikely that we will ever be in a position to be a couple, so whenever my mind begins to veer towards thoughts of possible dating and romance, I quickly snap out of it. These things just aren’t possible to do with hundreds of miles between us, so there’s no need in fantasizing. It’s quite unfortunate though because I do like him enough. But I have to accept what is real and logical. I am a grown woman, after all. So while I enjoy the times that he and I talk (the other day for an hour) or text, I don’t invest too much into it and I take it for what it is – a very lovely distraction. Although, the optimist in me refuses to let go of the idea that anything is truly possible, and that life is stranger than any fiction as well as any reality that I’ve cooked up and consumed, so while I lay outside in my new hammock, reading and daydreaming, I will certainly dream of him and the possibilities of him and I…however fleetingly and unrealistic they are, of course.

My Trip

2011-08-16T15:43:00.000-07:00

(**This took me about an hour to write and load the pictures so please excuse any grammar mistakes and what not you might find if you decide to read it all. And this isn’t even the entire trip! Just a summary
of main events)

The afternoon sun slants through the clouds, every flower is in bloom. A variety of insects scurry about on the ground and through the moist, humid air, a rainbow of butterflies float by – blue ones, especially, which are the most popular, orange ones, white ones, and green. There is the color green everywhere. As I step out of the Mitsubishi SUV, a canopy of ruby and forest green trees of different kinds, palms and ferns and plants I’ve never seen before, crouch together above my head, fine grass and moss rest beneath my feet, and all around me bugs are buzzing. I am in Atenas, Costa Rica.

Costa Rica is rolling hills full of life – human, plant, and animal. Chickens, goats, and stray dogs meander alongside the windy roads we traversed to get to our various destinations, driving over bridges and rivers, past fields of pineapple, coffee beans, rice, sugar cane and other agricultural exports. Cows, bulls, and horses were often spotted grazing behind fences. Thick vegetation abounds. There are only two seasons in Costa Rica – winter and summer, Patty’s father explained to me as we drove along. Winter is in June, July, August and September and is typically humid, between 75 and 90 degrees, depending on what part of the country you’re in. So you can imagine what summer must be like in December, January, February, and March. I was grateful we chose to visit during the winter.

Our flight was late but after roughly 10 hours of traveling from start to finish, with a delay in L.A. and a stop in Houston, we finally arrived in San Jose, Costa Rica where my friend Patty and her parents picked us up. We drove to the nearby town of Atenas, where Patty's great aunt and uncle live. Juan V (short for Juan Vicente and usually heard as “Wonbee”) and his cheerful wife who Patty says reminds her of Mrs. Claus, live in a house that “Mrs. Claus’s” parents built more than 70 years ago. It’s a modest home on a large piece of land which is shared by their adult son and daughter, living in three separate peach colored houses. All of the homes are situated behind a concrete wall and a solid metal gate that opens from the street to a tiny bridge, built by Patty's uncle. The sweet smell of cast fruit (pronounced "cahst"), permeates the air there, and ninja bunnies hop around the jungly landscape. Ariel, Patty's 9 year old cousin, calls his bunnies "ninjas" because of the way they hop high into the air before smashing into one another in battle. The newborn bunnies were tucked safely away in a makeshift cage that sits atop a pole to protect them from ground predators. They sniffed our hands and gently nibbled our fingers through the cage feeder opening.

Where everybody knows your name…and how to find you
In town, everybody knows everybody. The homes and businesses in Costa Rica have no addresses. I’m not kidding. The mailman locates you by using coordinates and landmarks (i.e., “Go 100 kilometers north from the bank, 500 meters east...next to the hair salon…”). They were advertising and selling GPS systems but I’m not at all sure how they’d work and I didn’t get a chance to ask. But everyone seemed to know just where they were going, including Patty’s dad who drove us all over the place. It was as though he knew Costa Rica like the back of his hand.
The radio station played Return of the Mac a lot, but mostly they played a mix of reggae/reggaeton (in both English and Spanish), American/English rap, and songs in Spanish. Lots of people get around on bikes. Mausoleums at the cemeteries are above ground. Sort of like New Orleans, they don't bury their dead because of the rain. (In N.O., the land is too low to bury without hitting water, I’m told). There is a lady who goes around creating art on rocks. She paints beautiful landscapes on random rocks alongside the roads there. We drove around looking for them like we were on an Easter egg hunt. Many of the homes have tin roofs, and are made of concrete, sitting flat on the ground without a foundation. And tile. Carpet is out, tile flooring is in style in Costa Rica. Everywhere we dined, Patty and her mom ordered fresh cast juice and Miles and I ordered pina (pineapple juice). Freshly squeezed fruit juices aren’t hard to come by and were quite the treat for us, but the locals prefer sodas (ie, "eSprite").

Cool memories:
• Flying over islands and other unidentified land masses
• Watching novellas with shirtless, grave digging men (lol. Miles couldn’t understand why they had to be shirtless digging a grave at night. So Patty explained to him that it was to please the soap-opera watching audience – mainly women. Sort of like how unrealistic it is that busty, teenaged girls sit around pillow fighting in furry lingerie and panties for hours on end to entertain an audience of men. That doesn’t happen but lots of men like to watch it on T.V., nevertheless)
• Ariel and Miles playing Halo, so excited and happy about life
• Iguanas everywhere

• The water pressure in Juan Jose’s (Juan “Ho’s”) house dictates temperature in the shower. A blast, and it’s cold water you get. A trickle and it’s warm. Worst shower experience ever. I later learned by watching House Hunters International, that it’s called a “suicide shower” because it could electrocute you if you’re not careful :( Supposedly, they’re common in Central America.

A Simple Kind of Life
Not just a life of practicality, Patty's aunt and uncle seem to tie their lives to the land their house was built on, the beautiful oasis sanctuary that her aunt’s family had claimed and maintained for decades, secluded from the rigor of the small town behind a wall and a gate. They clearly don’t need many worldly things to find pleasure in their lives. Once a week they take painting lessons on the veranda of their home with a local painter who visits them. And they’re getting pretty good! The day we returned from La Fortuna (I’ll get to that adventure in a bit) they were all on the veranda painting beautiful landscapes that appeared to be coming alive before our eyes. They don’t sit in front of the television or the computer for long hours at a time every day, nor do they spend all of their time and money in shopping malls on materialistic crap. They go to work every day, paint in their spare time, and eat well and read the paper over a home cooked breakfast every morning, and entertain visiting family members and friends with jokes and stories from the old days. No rush, no fuss, no stress, just living. Making life.

As we sat outside listening to Juan V tell us funny stories about his days as a mannish alter boy, the black and white spotted dog, Oreo, strolled from person to person happily wagging his bushy tail, nudging his soft wet nose in palms and being petted and rubbed with affection. The ninja bunnies stealthily hopped about in the garden, being as mischievous as bunnies could be.

Barcelo Tambor – the all-inclusive resort
On our second day in Costa Rica, we got up early and had breakfast outside with Juan V and his wife. Black beans and rice, scrambled eggs, and bread with homemade guava jam, coffee (of course, it’s a staple in Costa Rica and what it’s most popular for) orange juice, and cast juice. Belly’s full, we packed up the Mitsubishi and set off to catch the ferry headed to Tambor Beach in Puntarenas (meaning “point”).

On our way through the city, it rained, making the drive feel so serene mixed with the bright green tapestry along the way. And even though there was overcast and no sunshine when we boarded the ferry, the humidity was thick enough to choke on. As though there was a big humidifier plugged in somewhere emitting steamy moisture into the air. I stood on the top deck, bare shoulders, legs, chest and neck clammy with sweat, then suddenly it would start to rain again; fat drops of warm water that blended in with my sweat. And, as suddenly as it would start to rain, it would stop. Then like clockwork, a breeze would sweep through and cool us down just a taste. A breeze so soft it was like the last drop of cool water in a cup, just barely satisfying, a tease, causing me to silently pray for more. Then, maybe, if we were lucky, a more substantial breeze would blow through, relaxing the senses a bit. When we exited the ferry in the Mitsubishi SUV, maneuvering around potholes up and down windy roads, we drove over several rivers and creeks whose banks were snuggled tightly against lush vegetation. It was a breathtaking sight but a difficult one to capture with my camera while in a moving vehicle, unfortunately.

Me vs the Sea – It was a draw?

Finally checked in and resting in our room at the resort, we could hear the waves crashing from the lanai, which really made me smile. I grabbed my book and headed out to the lanai to read in a hammock. But, after a few seconds, decided to take it down to a chaise lounge on the beach where I could hear and see the beauty of the coast in surround sound stereo. Laying on the beach in a lounge chair, letting the breeze tousle my already wind-swept hair while day dreaming of pirate ships drifting in on waves (along with logs and other debris loosened from the recent rains. That was the only bad part – murky water), coming to rest on the beach and hide. Maybe even bury some treasure. It was a sweet fantasy. Then, out of the corner of my eye I spotted Patty’s parents in bathing suits. “Go and get your suit and get in!” her dad waved to me. I wasn’t quite ready to get in, though, so I smiled and passively told him “Nah. Maybe later.” But he was relentless, he must’ve said “Go and get your suit and get in!” at least ten times until I finally gave up my weak ass fight and went back to my room to change into my bikini and drag Miles along with me. Miles ended up loving the ocean more than I’d expected. In no time at all he was far out there with Patty and her dad, jumping over waves. The beach at Barcelo Tambor is quite peculiar in that it doesn't slope. You can walk out for miles and the water will remain at waist or chest level, depending on your height; flat land, the same depth miles from the shoreline. Our first day in the ocean was great. It was warm and the dark brown sand beneath our feet was soft.

I ended up having a good time, too. But on the second day, the ocean had swelled up a bit. The waves were taller and angrier and had pulled many rocks from the shore, so our steps on the second day were no longer cushioned by soft brown sand. Instead, we were stepping on a fierce combination of sand and awfully hard rocks. But mostly rocks. I jumped over a wave to keep my hea

d above water and landed painfully on a bevy of rocks. My old feet and knees were done after that. So I moved over a bit, and then a bit more, but I couldn’t find a spot where there were no rocks. And as each wave built up, it would suck me in, drawing me into its belly. That is how people get swept away, I figured. It must have taken me almost fifteen minutes just to get out of that water and back on dry land. And I wasn’t even far out there like the rest of them! I was just feet away from the shoreline. What an awfully funny sight it must have been, watching me fall and stumble on rocks in my bikini, crawling and being knocked around by the oceans fist. At one point, I couldn’t even stand up. Wave after wave just clobbered me. When I finally made it out, I fixed my hair and headed for the pool and a daiquiri. I’d had more than enough of the ocean. Thankfully, no pictures exist of this debacle.

Patty's mom, Alicia, told me there are several types of beaches in Costa Rica. Manuel Antonio beach has soft white sand, Playa Conchal (meaning “shell”) is made up of billions of crushed seashells, another (I forget the name) has black sand and clear water. I wished I could see them all but there wasn't enough time.

“Oh, Moto…”

On our second day there, Patty, Miles and I went horseback riding. Moto, my attitudinal horse, started out the gate trying to bite any other horse that got too close to him. I mean, it was hot and sticky out there and flies were abundant so I understood his annoyance, but he worried me a bit. He seemed to be on autopilot, doing what he wanted to do or what he was taught to do by whoever broke his spirit and turned him into a slave horse. I’d pull the reigns the way Juan, our guide had told me to (tug right if you want to go left, tug left if you want to go right, and pull back if you want to stop, kick if you want to go faster) and Moto would still veer to the side of the trail to stop and nibble on plants or keep whatever pace he wanted to keep. I decided that as long as we kept with the group, we were good and that I wasn’t going to be the boss of him. He probably needed a break, poor thing.

When we’d made it to the beach, he kept looking back at me as he trotted along. Probably making sure it was me on his back after our brief discussion at the top of the mountain. I had looked him in the eye and whispered sweet nothings into his ear, sensing that he was not at all pleased to be going out that day, probably on his tenth or so run. I rubbed his neck and mane and thanked him for his trouble in getting me up the muddy mountain without throwing me off his back, because he could have easily pitched me down the mountain side as we traipsed up through that knee-deep mud, over protruding tree roots, through high, scratchy weeds and along a narrow cliff where a rocky stream flowed below. I held on tight for dear life, then. When we finally reached the summit of the mountain to take in a panoramic view of Tambor, we were greeted by the sounds of a howler monkey who wouldn't reveal itself for a photo op. It just kept taunting us with its cranky-sounding howl, probably for being on its turf. By the time our two hour ride was up I was thanking God for Henry Ford and the invention of the automobile. I don’t know how cowboys and cowgirls did it; my inner thighs were so sore.

As we wound down for bed that night, I loved the drumming of the rain falling on our patio mixed with the acoustics of the waves crashing onto the beach.

La Romeria – The Pilgrimage to La Negrita, our reason for being there
We checked out of Barcelo Tambor at 1130am and began our quick trek back to Atenas to pick up more luggage, and then on to San Jose, where Patty's grandmother lives and where we were meeting the rest of her family for the pilgrimage to pay homage to the Virgen de Los Angeles, the black Madonna, in the church in Cartago. We made a quick pit stop for lunch at Las Cazuelas de mi Tierra. Delicious food! Handmade tortillas, rice, beans, chicken, plantains, salad, and freshly squeezed juice! I could eat that meal every day for lunch for a month and not complain.

Our pilgrimage began at 630pm from Patty’s grandmothers house in San Jose, and ended at 1110pm, close to 5 hours later at the old church in Cartago. My knees hurt from bending with every step, my shoulder blades hurt, my back hurt from climbing up hill, my hips hurt, and, of course, my feet hurt, but they hurt the least of all, ironically. Thousands of people started walking days before us, and many thousands walked for days after us. By the time we had finally reached the church and stood in the crowd to enter the church, my body gave out. 10 minutes after reaching the church I stopped moving after 5 consecutive hours of steady movement, and I couldn’t go any farther. I needed to sit down and rest. To LIE down and rest. I was with Patty and Miles and Patty’s uncle, Carlos, standing in the crowd at the foot of the church, about 50 feet away from its entrance, being shoved and squished by dozens of people when, suddenly, I couldn’t hear out of my left ear. I began to feel extremely hot and my head started to spin, my knees were buckling, and my breathing became shallow. I used all the strength that I could muster and yelled over the loud music to Patty, Miles, and Carlos that I couldn't make it. "You're not going inside?!" Patty yelled back to me, sounding perplexed. "I can't" I replied. I had come all that way, from California to Houston to Costa Rica, and then by foot from San Jose to Cartago, and my body would not allow me to stand up any longer or go any further. I pushed my way back through the crowd in frantic search of somewhere to sit before I collapsed. People would not budge to let me through, no one wanted to give up even an inch of space as they all crowded to get into the church so I had to force my way out. Then, at last, I found an empty seat on the steps next to a bunch of other people and I sat down to rest. But I desperately needed to lie down. So I rested my head in my hand and my stomach started to swirl and tighten up. And thats when I began to vomit water and little pieces of rice. Thankfully, my last meal had been at 2pm and was long ago digested. Save for a few kernels of rice. It was my luck that I happened to be sitting directly beneath Patty's cousin, Jose Mario and his dad, Juan Mario. They flagged down two Red Cross workers who took my blood pleasure, which was 110/70 (normal by then, after I had vomited), and my pulse. I declined their offer to be carried to the infirmary. Then the two Mario’s helped me up from the steps and lead me by the hand through the enormous crowd, down a few blocks and to Patty's fathers’ SUV where I could lay down. But no sooner had I began to doze off did Miles come frantically knocking on the window to see about me. Jose Mario had called Carlos, who was with Miles and Patty at the church, to tell them that I was sick. Carlos told Patty and Patty told Miles, aka "Owen," who loves his mama (see: Throw Mama from the Train, starring Billy Crystal and Danny DeVito). At 16 years old, he'd made the pilgrimage, gone inside the historic old church, saw "La Negrita" face to face, and prayed. I was so proud of him. He'd witnessed a piece of religious history that is more than 400 years old. What an experience!

My not going inside the church was indeed a disappointment, but I had made the long pilgrimage and my heart had good intentions, so I was also proud of myself for having walked for five hours straight, up hills and down hills, alongside thousands of people with the intent to pay my respects and show my faith. I think I succeeded in doing that. And I brought my kid along and he did it, too. It was definitely an experience I will never forget.
(see pictures of us walking at the top of this post)

La Fortuna de San Carlos – the active Arenal Volcano

By day 6, August 3rd, Patty and I were pretty tired and sore from the pilgrimage to Cartago. All I could think about was getting a massage for my aching legs because it hurt to walk. The hotel even offered a “tired leg” massage. Instead, though, we all soaked in the Tabacón thermal hot springs pool at our hotel in La Fortuna. And it was pure bliss! Pura Vida! You could see the steam rising off the warm water as we floated around in the pool sipping on pineapples filled with pina coladas. It rained on us the first night we got in the pool, so we got both a shower and a warm bath. The soft, naturally heated, sulfur-infused water from the volcano is tunneled from a spring near the volcano, into a pool and cooled just enough for people to stand it the heat. It was just what we needed to relax and sooth our tired muscles. In fact, the water worked so well that the following day Patty and I hiked down 180 stairs into a forest near the volcano to reach a waterfall!

The waterfall stood 220 feet tall and came down hard and loud, creating waves that pushed swimmers away. And for good reason because you could get sucked in and drown if you get too close. We got in its pool and rinsed off our sweat from the humid hike. It was slippery, though, with all the moss covered rocks so we had to be extremely careful.

Oh, and according to the local newspaper, Will Smith was in town visiting La Fortuna around the same time we were there. He was looking for a location to film a movie with the director of the Sixth Sense.
(Newspaper photo of Will also up above)

Hasta luego - Going home, after 7.5 days
Periodically, black clouds would gather overhead and threaten rain. A few times they made good on those threats, other times they cried wolf and moved on to someplace else. But mostly we had great weather during our stay. On our final day we met up for the last time on the veranda for breakfast. Stepping off the side of Juan V’s porch I am surrounded by flora and fauna; luscious greenery everywhere you look. And, of course bugs. I left Costa Rica with my share of itchy bites the size of quarters. I also left Costa Rica smarter than I arrived. I practiced and learned a bit of Spanish, though my biggest regret is that I didn’t know more before I arrived so that I could better understand and communicate with my gracious hosts. But I also learned that we, humankind, are much more connected to nature than we think. We’re not only connected, we ARE nature. I knew this, to an extent, of course. But having grown up surrounded by so little of it in a city chock full of brick and mortar, where the nearest glimpse of nature is at a bug-sanitized park, I had forgotten that we aren't necessarily separate from it. We are it. And everything, every single unnatural thing that we do to nature, to our environment, we do to ourselves. So now my resolve to recycle and save water and waste less has increased.
In Costa Rica, I felt more American than I have ever felt while living my American life. I felt ignorant and ashamed of the things I'd never experienced for myself but had only read about or seen on T.V. and thought because I’d seen it on TV or read about it somewhere that I knew enough. Now I truly understand the importance of traveling and expanding your worldview beyond the television set. You see so much more, the view isn’t edited by whoever is feeding it to you through your television set. It’s first-hand. I’m glad that my son got to see that the world is much too immense to think that it resides in our respective "backyards," and to think that we've seen all there is to see by simply watching TV. During our flight, he looked out the window and marveled at the real-life “globe” and geography lesson we got from seeing all the land masses below. We have to remember that what happens on the rest of this gigantic blue marble does, indeed, affect us. And we are polluting the world. I saw the influence American’s have on other cultures for the first time and I shook my head at the stain my culture is leaving on other cultures. Every time Patty ordered cast juice at a restaurant, the server would look at her strangely and one of them even asked her, in so many words, why she didn’t want “e-Sprite.” As though soda is a treat and a novelty. It's good that you can only find cast fruit in Costa Rica. I hope it remains that way - special and unique. In this world, the whole is far more important than the sum of its parts. Unfortunately, I can't change the whole world; I can only work on fixing what’s in my backyard, and what’s in front of me. But every little bit adds up and counts.

"I'm talking abt u enjoying the things God gave you. The things God put on this earth to be enjoyed: silks, satins, good food, beautiful, real scenery with beautiful sunrises and sunsets...and remember, u are for yourself to enjoy, as well as others. Live, child, live. Lift those worries off your mouth and smile."

"Oh, aunt Tante. U make life sound wonderful"

That is what u have to do; make life. And we need to get up and get started on making this day a good one. Now. "

(Excerpt from J California Coopers book 'Life is Short but Wide')

It's been a minute

2011-08-15T22:01:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning to post about my vacation for over a week but I've been too lazy, preoccupied with, well...being on vacation. I was focused, man. But now I'm back and today was my first day back at The Slave Camp so expect a real update soon. Costa Rica was great :) I almost got swept out to sea, I rode a surly horse through the mountains and on the beach, I hiked through the jungle to a waterfall and got in fully clothed, i ate great food, saw an active volcano up close and personal, bathed in its natural sulfur-laced hot springs, and walked for five hours at night to a church to see a statue from the 1600s that turned out to be less than 3 inches tall. But more about that later. It's after 10pm and I have work tomorrow so I'm going to bed.

Shoving off

2011-07-28T08:00:00.000-07:00

Today I am wrapping up last minute items on my To Do list before I leave for Costa Rica. Yes, the day has finally arrived. I've been talking about and anticipating this trip for almost a year now, lol. My very first time leaving the country and I am pretty excited about it. My primary fear is that I won't be able to carry-on my luggage so then I'll have to check it and TSA will rob me. They've been robbing everybody since 9/11. I know several people who've been ripped off royally. Oh, and I'm also afraid that I won't be able to fully relax. I was way too antsy during my last vacation, worried that time was slipping away from me. Meanwhile, time slipped away from me and I ended up back at work too soon, feeling disappointed that I didn't make the most of my time off. This time, I plan to not worry about a thing. I will be a Tica (name for Costa Rican women) for a week practicing Pura Vida (Pure Life), reading my book by the pool, not giving a damn about my imperfect bikini body, consuming all that my surroundings have to offer. And then there's La Romeria, the walk for La Negrita/The Black Virgin. This pilgrimage is said to take 3.5 hours from San Jose. Can you imagine walking for 3 and a half hours? And then crawling into a church and praying among thousands of people? Dios mio, I'm going to be stiff as a board the following day. But I think the experience will be so worth it. I always feel good after I've been to church, even if I'm a little tired from all the standing and kneeling. This, though, might be the equivalent of 10 Sunday's worth of standing and kneeling without the 6 day break in between.
Anyway, I just logged in to say farewell for now. I still have things to do before I leave :).
Toodles.

I'm so sad

2011-07-24T22:08:00.000-07:00

I hate my hair. Last weekend I'd mentioned to my cousin that I needed a low maintenance hairstyle for my trip/vacation and thought that the hairstyle Evelyn from Basketball Wives was wearing last week would be perfect - half corn rows on one side, half down and loose on the other. She looked at me funny, as if she really wasn't trying to help me out. So I went to a girl I used to babysit who now braids hair and I told her my idea. She said she'd do it for $30. Cool. I drove 45 minutes to her apartment all the way in Hawthorne and sat in an uncomfortable chair for about 2 hours while she braided one side of my head. And when she was done and handed me a mirror, my first thought was "it's ugly as hell." But I pretended to like it :( So now I'm sad. She made the braids way too small and straight across, like a boy hairstyle. Save for my loose hair on the other side, it looks butch. But I paid her. I even tipped her an extra $10 because I'm a nice sucker like that (I'd planned to tip her all along. I'd also planned to like my hair, though). And for the last two days I've complained to everyone who'll listen about how much I hate my hair. Until today when one of my girlfriends suggested that I ask her to do it over. She said to tell her that the tiny braids aren't what I had in mind and ask if she could make them smaller. So I did. I sent her a text message. Four hours later she still hasn't responded. I offered to take the tiny braids down myself and asked if she could just make 4 or 5 larger ones instead. And now that I think of it, that extra $10 I gave her should be enough to prod her to say yes to this quick and easier job. But we'll see. Because, after all, she never asked me if I wanted them so tiny. Evelyn's weren't tiny, and this girl claims to watch the show. In the meantime, I have to go to work tomorrow with this hideous, butch, punk rock-ish hairstyle. I really don't feel like entertaining the comments and questions I'll surely get. I'm so sad. Miles said I look ghetto. And if I take it down I will be burning money. This sucks.

And so it begins…

2011-07-21T08:39:00.000-07:00

I guess it’s normal to be scared shitless and feeling wholly inadequate, yet bursting with excitement when you’re setting out to be your own boss. This leap has the potential to make me enormously happy or, if I don’t succeed, pretty damn sad. Therefore, the following comments & questions are running through my head:
I’m scared. I can’t do this. Can I do this? Am I creative enough? Is it in me? Am I patient enough? Is this crazy? Am I crazy? Will I survive even a year? Will I survive long enough to make a profit? Am I certain this is what will make me happy? How can I be fearless when this is such an enormous undertaking? It’s Goliath! Can I be David? Is it enough for me to just like pretty things and be able to recognize them? Should I be able to design them as well? Is what I design even pretty? Jesus, take the wheel.
I reassure myself with reminders that everyone likes my designs and some have even gone so far as to copy me and request my decorating help. I’m no stranger to hard work and I’m the most determined person I know. So what, I don’t have much experience running a business, but who does at first? Every successful business owner was once a novice learning to swim. I know what to do; I can doggy paddle. I’ve memorized the mechanics of it. I can make this happen. Worry is taxes paid that may never come due, right? So I’m throwing worry to the wind. I’m passionate about this idea, and really, all I need is passion. Time to put on my big girl panties and be the boss I was born to be.
But first, here are my excuses for why you may not see my name in lights so soon, lol:
I have a full time job and a mortgage. I’m applying for a two year, non-stop, time-consuming program. I need money to make money and, so far, I only have a little bit of money, which means start up costs will have to be tackled slowly. But slow and steady CAN win a race, dammit! Did I mention that I’m the most determined person that I know? I’ll get there, come hook or crook. You watch.
''Every morning when I open my eyes I wonder what I can do to make myself famous. It's become my ambition, almost my raison d'être, to burst upon the city like fireworks.''
- Coco in Shanghai Baby

Out with old, in with the new

2011-07-16T13:07:00.000-07:00

All the things I don't need, that no longer (or never) benefit(ted) me, are being tossed out (physically and mentally), sold off, or repurposed in some way. Beginning with a yard sale. Hooray for yard sales! Hooray for a fresh and optimistic lifestyle with a clear mind state! The goal is to focus on what matters most and to build an unencumbered, stress-less life. No worries (easier said, of course), no strife (although some worry and strife are good for you. Makes you stronger), no frustration. I don't want to be a hoarder, especially of bullshit. So today finds me in a purging spirit, ready to donate, toss, sell off and accumulate less. Purging is truly good for the soul. Think of how relaxing a nice hotel room is on vacation with very little "stuff"in it. Then you return home and see all the clutter you've amassed and it becomes your focus (if youre a neat freak or anything like me. Im not a neat freak but I am pretty orderly). Plus, my goal is still to create a more meaningful home. After all, it's where I spend a large chunk of my time and where I go to rest and repair. I want my home to reflect the poetry of my life. Every odd and end should be a meaningful memento of the places I've been, the experiences I've had, and reminders of my loved ones. For instance, I love walking down my hallway and seeing my moms old modeling pictures, my sons baby pictures, and my stint at modeling hanging on the wall. Or my taro leaf bowl from Hawaii, or my grandmother's old sugar dish. The thing about simplicity is that it helps you focus on the things that matter most. And what really, truly matters doesn't really take up space ;) So no more overindulging in worthlessness. I'm on a buying hiatus indefinitely. I really don't need anything. Then maybe after my yard sale I'll take my earnings and go get a massage. Or maybe I'll invest it.

Sunday musings

2011-07-10T11:23:00.000-07:00

On our way back from the beach yesterday we stopped to get gas. And while I waited for my tank to fill up I decided to clean my windshield. When I put the squeegee back into the container of water, some guy popped out of nowhere and said "Can you wash my window's now, too?" I gave him a look like "boy, please" and said, with a smile "I can hand you this squeegee and YOU can wash your windows." He laughed and pretended to be hurt. Then his friend in the passenger seat of his Porche convertible said "He just likes cute girls with long hair, that's all." To which I replied "Aww!" and got in my car and closed the door. Is this the way courtship is done now days? I wasn't prepared for that awkwardness but I didn't give it a second thought after I'd closed my door and drove off. Had he caught me a few weeks ago, though, I likely would have suggested that he call me. Lately, my mood has transitioned to "meh" when it comes to men and dating. But just last weekend, as my cousin and I were quickly departing the Erwin Hotel in Venice Beach, I wished she would slow down so that the African guy who was busy texting on his phone would notice me and say something. Hollahollahollaholla was all on my mind. He was tall, dark and handsome and he didn't seem to notice me at all. Oh well, it wasn't meant to be, I suppose.

Last night Mr. EC wanted me to go out with her. She's a DJ groupie and can be a little demanding when we go out, always trying to control the way I look ("wear a dress...make sure you wear eyelashes...don't crimp your hair...that looks hot, wear that again...make sure you crimp your hair") and it can be a tad disconcerting. I don't always feel like getting glammed up and especially not to please a woman or the people who frequent the house music-playing clubs she likes to take me to. Besides, it's a waste of glamour and time because nobody I want to impress is ever at the places she takes me. So last night, after we'd returned to my mothers' house from the beach, I laid in my moms bed and took a cat nap while the baby kept climbing over me and trying to force open my eyelids. I loved feeling her little hands on my face and the weight of her body climbing over me like I was a wall. When I woke up it was almost 9pm and my used-to-be-surly niece called to say that she and her girlfriend were coming over so we could drink mojito's and eat pastrami sandwiches from Johnnie's Pastrami. That sounded like the party I was in the mood for last night. So I texted Mr. EC and told her that it didn't look likely that I would make it home in time to get dressed and go out with her to the "oontz oontz" club and she never responded. She's one of those funny women who expect you to always be available to her, on her time, and all about her. But when you have a life of your own, she is not amused but rather insulted. Ha! She often likes to tell me about the guys she's dating or, when she's not dating anyone she likes to tell me about the women in her life who constantly hate on her. But I am expected to simply listen, never share, because she honestly couldn't give a damn about my life or the people in it. Of course, I've told her about this flaw of hers so now she pretends to be an interested friend. But still, she can cancel whatever plans we make and I'm okay with it. However, when I cancel...I get attitude. I brush her off since I've never taken her seriously, anyway. Hence the nickname "Mr. Ed Choppers."

I'm back to business as usual. My focus has returned to it's regular programming and my "man high" is no more. I've come down to Earth and begun making more appropriate plans. I can now look back on the last few months and smile at the experiences, be grateful for them, and leave them in the past. I almost didn't want to leave my house yesterday because I'd cleaned it up so perfectly the night before that I just wanted to languish in it and smile at my work. I even hemmed those Ikea curtains that I'd put off hemming for over 2 months and trimmed the bushes in front of my porch. So today, Sunday, I will watch my Netflix movie, marvel at my beautiful little home, make more plans for the future, and be grateful for my life and the experiences I've had.

2011-07-05T12:29:00.001-07:00

I’ve become disillusioned with the Hollywood Bowl. It used to be one of my favorite places to go but after this past holiday weekend, I think it is only good for specific shows and romantic dates in sections A-J, rows 1-16, only. All those other sections and rows can kiss my ass. They have you packed in like sardines on hard, wooden benches so you’d better pack light and bring a pillow to sit on. And don’t even think about staying until the show ends. Everybody tries to leave all at once and it is hell trying to get out of there. The fireworks display this year left a lot to be desired, too. I’ve seen better at Redondo Beach on the Fourth of July from the millionaire up in Palos Verdes. Word has it that the city made him stop though. He was competing with their display and winning.

So I’m saying so long for now. It’s sort of sad for me because the bowl holds so many dear memories from my past. My uncle Bob used to take me there when I was a little girl. I remember one summer when I was about 5, he and I went to the Bowl and then next door to Griffith Park for a concert where some of the little white hippie kids were running around in their underwear, so uncle Bob asked me if I wanted to take off my shirt and cool down like them. I couldn’t believe he would ask me such a thing. There was no way in hell I was going to run around topless with my no-boobies exposed to the world, lol. My chest was as flat as a board but I was taught to keep my “goods” covered. Good girls don’t run around topless. Plus, there were surely perverts afoot. Anyway, we hung out with a lot of the bands performing that day because, as a kick ass drummer, my uncle Bob was friends with most of them. So I befriended a little girl named Jessica who was traipsing around the park in nothing but her panties. And that’s where I formed my first real impression of white people. These folks didn’t seem to give a damn about nudity or modesty and were living free and reckless. But me, on the other hand, I was disturbed by that Coppertone ad back in those day where the dog was pulling down the little girls’ bikini bottoms revealing her un-tanned butt to everyone. Yes, I was a real conservative prude up until about age 16 when I discovered the joys of sex. I’m still vanilla except now with rainbow sprinkles. This world has corrupted me.

2011-07-04T20:45:00.000-07:00

I really want to see a meteor shower. It's been on my bucket list for a while now and my friends father owns a ranch at Lake Elizabeth, which just might be a great spot to see this one:

July 28, 29 - Southern Delta Aquarids Meteor Shower. The Delta Aquarids can produce about 20 meteors per hour at their peak. The shower usually peaks on July 28 & 29, but some meteors can also be seen from July 18 - August 18. The radiant point for this shower will be in the constellation Aquarius. This year the thin, crescent moon will be hanging around for the show, but it shouldn’t cause too many problems. Best viewing is usually to the east after midnight from a dark location.

And the showers radiant point will be in the constellation Aquarius, which is my birth sign. Kind of cool :)
Otherwise, maybe we can catch this one:

August 12, 13 - Perseids Meteor Shower. The Perseids is one of the best meteor showers to observe, producing up to 60 meteors per hour at their peak. The shower's peak usually occurs on August 13 & 14, but you may be able to see some meteors any time from July 23 - August 22. The radiant point for this shower will be in the constellation Perseus. The full moon will definitely be a problem this year, hiding the fainter meteors with its glare. But with up to 60 meteors per hour possible, it could still be a great show. Find a location far from city lights and look to the northeast after midnight.

I know why the little bird sings

2011-07-01T19:32:00.000-07:00

Damn, I never thought I’d get to this point. Okay, I’m lying, I KNEW I’d get to this point. I was just hoping to avoid it at all costs. Yet here I am, with all this looove to give and nobody to give it to. What am I going to do with all this!? Combust? I need to hug on someone, STAT! Nuzzle my nose in the nape of their neck, kick one leg over their torso, and drape one arm over their chest and let a movie watch us. Or else, yes, I will spontaneously combust. Oh woe is fucking me!

Today I thought I was doing something when I purchased a six pack of Mike’s Hard Classic Margarita’s in peach flavor. Turns out I haven’t done shit but get laughed at. “That’s a wine cooler! You won’t even get a buzz from one of those,” I was told.

Oh, well. But fuck it, I tried. You’re probably wondering why I have such a potty mouth today (oh, and believe me, I’m being GOOD! This is nothing like what’s going on in my head right now. I’m censoring the SHIT out of myself). Well, it’s because I’m frustrated with all this pent up desire in me. This is some bullshit and I seriously need to release it…on somebody. But, there’s no one around that will make the effort satisfactory. And that’s a damn shame.

I went to the reggae club with my cousin last night and they hardly played any reggae. But these two young men with a thousand times my energy level were dancing like maniacs. It was pretty entertaining. They had total control of their bodies and were busting moves I could only dream of. My cousin thought they were on drugs. She thinks everyone is on drugs. It was truly fascinating. Other than that, the club was a huge disappointment. We left at about a quarter to one. Tonight I’ll be at the oontz oontz club with my Mexican friend and a couple of others. I’m only going because I’m hoping to get lucky. Not like that! By lucky I mean that I’m hoping to meet someone with good conversation, a great personality, and a winning appearance that digs me and wants to try to talk me out of my clothes sometime in the near future. That’s all.

I’m pretty sure I was dissed by Artist Boy so I’m sort of licking my ego’s wounds right now. And since I am a glutton for punishment, here’s how my dissing went down:

Me: Hi

Him: Hey How Are you

Me: I'm good, thank you I was wondering if you'd like to go with me to see the graffiti exhibit at MOCA...if you haven't seen it already?

Him: *silence for two days

Me: I'm guessing your silence means you've either seen the exhibit already or you're just not interested. It's okay either way. But could you let me know which? I hate to assume. thx

Him: Hey No been hella busy ... I just dont have alot of free time right now I have a Project in the works .

Me: No worries. May I ask what kind of project youre working on?

Him: Im working on the gallery space Ill be showcasing and working from.

Me: (19 hours later) Best of luck.

I didn’t reply with “best of luck” until after I saw him tagged in a post saying “Excited to have the talented *Somebody’s name here* and *Artist guy’s name here* on board with the gallery/studio. Climbing that Mountain.”

Yes, I was salty.

Then, after he was tagged in that post, he posted “Focused” and an hour after that he posted “Grinding.” So I’m guessing he wanted to make sure I got the picture. Which is, he’s not interested in me but he thinks he’s too nice to just come out and say it. I don’t think he’s nice at all, really. Nice would have been shooting me down the way Jeff Bridges did “Little Blackie” the horse when “Blackie” fell from exhaustion (I winced so hard on that part. Poor horsie. After all he’d gone through). I’m of the opinion that NOBODY is that busy. We make time for the things we want to do. And he clearly does not want to do me. He didn’t even offer me a raincheck. And honestly, I only wanted to hug and kiss on him and claim him for a little while. He’s not particularly sexy but he is easy on the eyes. My brother thinks he’s gay. I love my brother. So, c’est la vie, Artist Guy. Thanks to you, I’m not trying anymore. I am officially jaded. Fuck all this shit. I can feel my heart going cold as I sip on my room-temperature peach margarita wine cooler.

There's a fucking swallow who has decided to make the tree directly outside my bedroom window his base. Every evening and sometimes during the wee hours of the morning, he starts chirping and yodeling his little ass off. It's like one of those multi-tune car alarms. I hate that damn bird. I have wanted to shoot him for weeks now. A friend recently told me that's his booty call. He's chirping up a storm because he's looking for love, the poor sap. I need to buy a bb gun and put him out of his misery.

2011-06-27T11:51:00.000-07:00

I feel really good today and I need this to last. I had a surprisingly good weekend. It started with me feeling hum drum, of course, and ended with me laughing hysterically at Mr. Ed Choppers and feeling hopeful about the artist guy. To make a long story short, a friend of mines came to visit on Saturday from San Diego and she convinced me not to give up on him. She asked me what I had to lose and told me that the potential reward would be well worth the small risk. So I gave it some and the following morning I sent him a private message on Facebook. I simply said “Hi,” and that was it. Not much risk, not much to read into, nothing harmful or incriminating, nothing foul. Just “hi”. Then I left the house with another friend of mines, her brother, and his girlfriend and went to the Beverly Hills Hilton to chill and drink by the pool. They had wifi at the hotel and I just so happened to have my iPad with me. So six hours after my morning message to him, he responded with “Hey, how are you?”

And, yes, that was enough to send endorphins shooting to my brain like fireworks, the likes of which have not worn off yet as I sit here at work today, on the worst day of the week – Monday. I’m sucking each and every one of these happy little morsels up before I inevitably crash and go back into hum drum mode. So last night before I went to bed, I responded to his message with “I'm good, thank you. I was wondering if you'd like to go with me to see the graffiti exhibit at MOCA...if you haven't seen it already?

I hope he doesn’t think I’m being too forward, and he doesn’t read too much into that and make a mountain out of a molehill. The way I see it, we can meet there, go dutch, and walk around talking about the exhibit and getting to know each other. Easy peasy, right? No pressure. I’d like to think that he responded to me because he didn’t find me unattractive. I want to think that if he thought I was a hideous, pesky, Alice the Goon-type that he would have simply ignored my simple “hi” to him and not responded at all. But I can never tell for sure. Men, I am coming to understand, are as complex as a Rubik’s Cube. I never could figure that thing out and gave up trying a long time ago. Anyway, I am currently preparing for the worst while hoping for the best. The pessimist in me and my previous experience with similar situations says that nothing good will come of this. So I’ll just fantasize and be happy until I receive confirmation that I’ve been rejected.

On Sunday I went to the Beverly Hilton to hang out by the pool with my girlfriend/Mr. EC and her brother and sister-in-law-to-be. We had a fantastic time drinking mojito’s laughing and talking and enjoying the nice weather. Mr. EC kept spiking her drink with vodka and trying to spike everyone else's. Then, on our way home, we were forced to pull over so that her drunken ass could pee in the street in Beverly Hills in broad daylight! It was crazy. And as you can probably imagine she was a ton of fun on the way home.

Oh! And remember Trumpet Guy? Well I ran into him on Saturday while I was out dancing with two friends. He came up behind me and grabbed my hand. When I saw it was him, I slipped it away and stood there a bit shocked. Then he planted himself right next to us on the dancefloor, looking odd and out of place. He was wearing what looked like his grandfathers’ suit, which was too big and quite goofy looking. I continued to ignore him and hoped that he would go away because he was making me uncomfortable, so then he began talking to one of my friends, as if he was trying to get with her – and make me jealous. Ugh. I wasn’t jealous but I was annoyed, so he succeeded in partly ruining my night. Right before we left, his fraternal twin brother grabbed me, put his hand on my waist, and asked me why I was being so difficult, suggesting that I should go talk to his brother. Before I could finish telling him to tell his brother to go to hell, my girlfriend who’d come to visit from San Diego grabbed my hand and dragged me away. We went to the ladies room and when we came out his brother was standing by the entrance/exit looking sort of nervous, like he wanted to finish our conversation, but me and the girls scurried out of there and didn’t look back. Trumpet guy was another of the really confusing experiences that I’ve had with men since being single again. He seemed really, REALLY into me, even going so far as blushing and kneeling in front of me as I sat, telling me that he's never "dated a girl as pretty" as me, staring and smiling as he watched me and my friend drive away, asking me to attend his next show, AND THEN singling me out in the crowd of women by saying into the microphone "YOU CAME!" and then hopping down off the stage to hug me and talk to me. But that same night he seemed to be juggling a few other women, he snuck out without saying 'goodbye' to me, and then when he called me at 3am that morning he left a voicemail about getting together at my house. That would've been our first official date had it occurred but I wasn't interested in hosting him in my home so soon so I politely declined. After that, he never returned my calls and the next time I saw him on the street he was giggling and pointing at me with his brother. Then I ran into him again at the Grammy Nominations party at L.A. Live and, despite me ignoring him and practically running to get away from him, I kept finding him standing next to me and he even showed up in the background of 3 of my pictures that night. What the fuck? I met him three years ago and I still don't get it. There's more but it's equally nuts and a long(er) post/story. In a nutshell, dude is an asshole.

Honestly (bonus post)

2011-06-24T10:12:00.000-07:00

As irritable as I feel right now due to lack of sleep, I think going out last night was sort of what I needed to get over my malaise. And today being Friday helps too. Oh, and I’m no longer pms’ing so that’s a bonus. My friend wants me to go out with her again tonight but that’s not likely going to happen. I’m over it. I’m getting too old for this shit, honestly. She told me we were going to a “chill lounge” last night, which turned out to be a lie. We ended up at a busted, hole in the wall club in North Hollywood because she’s trying to get with a young promoter guy. “We’ll be home by midnight,” she promised, which was another lie because there we were, still at the club at midnight on a Thursday listening to “Girls dem sugar” and Danity Kane while her promoter friend stood outside waiting for his crew to arrive. He came upstairs to check on us exactly once, so she and I talked all night and I ended up getting into my bed at 1am on the nose. Now I’m functioning on 5 hours sleep with burning eyes and traces of mascara dried onto my lashes, hoping the day flies by and my workload doesn’t increase. But I’m glad it’s Friday and I’m thankful for getting out and escaping the confines of my cottage home and my brooding mind. The fresh air did me good. I am now over island boy and the ego bruise I incurred from the artist guy. :) What a difference a day/night makes.

I have a black thumb

2011-06-24T08:05:00.001-07:00

I love plants and flowers, I truly do, but I can’t seem to pay them the attention they need to survive in my garden. And I want a pretty garden so badly. This really saddens me and has actually caused me to have a couple of nightmares, complete with tossing and turning. I murdered a small tree, recently. Yup, it’s brown now and I keep watering it hoping that it will miraculously spring back to life. Like maybe it’s circling the drain but we haven’t hit the point of no return yet. In my dreams I am distraught over this tree so I rush outside with my shovel and dig a hole to plant the tree in so that maybe its roots won’t rot and it will grow. I don’t actually do this when I wake up but I remain hopeful for a comeback, looking for signs of life almost every day. The other day I moved it out of the beaming sun a bit by pushing the container with my foot, and I accidentally made contact with one of its limbs and it snapped right off :(. Why!? What’s wrong with me!? Why must I have wicked thumbs? Plants and flowers are so beautiful…until I get them and neglect them. I’ve even killed huge sections of my lawn. I was trying to get rid of weeds a while back and I didn’t read the label on the weed killer spray. It said “Do not use on St. Augustine grass,” which is what I have. So now there is a huge section of my backyard that is brown and partly dirt. Then, about a month ago, I had my son turn on the sprinklers and pop in the latest Netflix movie. How about we watched the entire movie, ate dinner, went to bed and woke up the next morning with the sprinklers still going! I am ashamed of myself. I’d hire a gardener but I can’t really afford to. Maybe I’ll look into at least getting a timer for my sprinklers.

Somethings missing

2011-06-23T08:22:00.000-07:00

And I don’t know what it is © John Mayer. Huge sigh. Sometimes I think that it must be love, but then I realize that I have plenty of that. So then I figure it must just be romance that’s absent from my life, but then all these frogs and toads must count for something, right? So maybe it’s romantic love that I yearn for. If it’s not that, then maybe it’s boredom. Or maybe I just need a vacation. I’m not satisfied with things and every morning I wake up feeling like it’s too soon, like I wasted my precious night away with worry and I need more time to catch up on making things right, on feeling better. But I have to get up and go to work and do the same tired routine I do every day. Last night I was on the phone with a guy I know I don’t particularly care for, giving him a shot to change my mind. No dice. He’s lost as hell and wholly content about it. Talking about he doesn’t like art (huh? How can that be? O_o), and he doesn’t like jazz (what?!) and he’s afraid of flying, and his idea of a great evening is sitting in front of the television set, and if we were to get married I would have to switch to his church because God said that a man leads a woman to church. It's in the Bible. And he believes in God because there's just too much water on Earth, etc. His rationale was awe inspiring. Yes, I’ve hit a new low. Oh, and then he argued with me that a spirit is not the same thing as a ghost, which he called “ghostses.” He believes in spirits but he does not believe in "ghostses." I made him Google it and read the definition aloud. His mind is so tightly closed and full of idiocy, I don’t know if I can keep up this charade. So while he spent the hour plus on the phone trying to change my mind, telling me how great a guy he is, pushing and pulling me to see things his way, I spent the entire time being combative, trying to show him the error of his ways. When I hung up I was exhausted and felt like a chunk of my life had gone missing. This is not what I want. I think I know what I want but it’s just not coming to me, it’s not being cooperative, it’s being elusive and nonchalant and making me want to scream. How many damn frogs must I endure!? While I’m waiting for that answer to be revealed to me, I shuffle on, go to work every day, come home to my other job as mom and Head of Household, find an hour or two for my hobbies and then a little dream indulgence, and steady making plans for the future.

As an aside, I opened my email this morning and learned that I now have “a total of one fan” on Yelp.com, lol. I laughed and said out loud “whoa.” Somebody likes my crazy reviews. Go figure. It is a teensy bit inspiring though…as long as I don’t read too much into it.

When will you call?

2011-06-22T08:08:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8mhjAbZtcRw

Few things, part deux

2011-06-20T16:32:00.000-07:00

- Lenny was a bit of a disappointment. He came out on stage at about 10 minutes to 7pm and announced that he wasn’t going to play any instruments other than a tambourine, while he sat on a stool. He sang about 5 songs and turned the normally upbeat ones into ballads, then he split and waved goodbye with that million dollar smile of his. We were downstairs having sushi at Katsuya by 8pm. But I can’t complain. It wasn’t a bad way to spend a Wednesday evening. I’m usually at home at that time watching TV while eating dinner.

- I wasn’t fair to Daniel. He does have many attributes that I like. It’s just that I don’t want to like him, lol. He lives in Nevada, he has a girlfriend, and he does have some attributes that I don’t like, which are somewhat minor and can be worked around and overcome, but they are con’s, nonetheless. There, I said it. Oh, what do I like about him? His penchant for chivalry; he’s very gentlemanly, his smile, his physique, his openness and sense of humor, his culinary skills :), his determination and work ethic, and how easily it is for me to make him blush. Okay, enough of this mush. I need to move on.

- I finally went to see Kung Fu Panda 2 the other day. No, I didn’t have a child accompanying me! I went by myself since my teenage son had already seen it with his friends. Yes, I’m grown but every once in a while I need an escape from all this grown-up business and seriousness, I need to reconnect with my softer side, and what better way to do that than to go see a cute, cuddly, fat ass, kung-fu fighting, kick ass panda voiced by Jack Black? Some people have anime and video games and macramé, I have Po. So anyway, I went to see Po kick some more evil ass all throughout China and listen to the many heart-warming and one-to-grow-on messages from Master Shifu, and I wasn’t disappointed at all. I left the movie theater smiling and took the escalator down to the mall’s food court where I ironically found myself ordering a two item plate from Panda Express. I didn’t make the connection until I opened my fortune cookie and read: "You will be happy soon but first you must…" and I don’t remember the rest!! And it was GREAT! :( I put the little slip of fortune in my wallet and now I can’t find it :( I’m going to look around my bedroom for it when I get home.

So...whats it going to be??!

2011-06-20T10:55:00.000-07:00

Have you ever felt like just taking it back to the good old days of elementary school and asking the object of your desire to quit goofing around with your emotions and check ‘yes’ ‘no’ or ‘maybe’ already? That is exactly how I feel today. I feel like saying “look, dammit, pick one! Okay?” However, I am a chicken-shit and will do no such thing. I'll just dedicate this oldie but goodie from my elementary school days to his oblivious ass:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPAaWPcKoYI

2011-06-16T09:46:00.000-07:00

My toenails are painted turquoise blue. Looking down at them just now as I sat on my bathroom toilet made me smile. Yes, they’re pretty funky-looking and damn cute, but my smile was mostly because there was once a time in my life when I couldn't express myself in this way. If I sang, I was told to shut up. If I painted my nails I was given the silent treatment for at least a month. Sooner or later an argument ensued. He claimed that he preferred my nails bare. Never mind what I preferred. Now that I'm gone, living on my own and away from him is worth more than all the tea in China. I'm happy. I told Daniel this the other night when he called me – that I’m happy with my life and wouldn’t trade it for all the tea in China. He was quiet. I guess he didn’t know what to say. This was during our 1.5 hour conversation where he kept dropping subliminal messages about us having a baby together, being a good father, and him not wanting to perform oral sex, among other less significant things. After I hung up I realized that he is not at all what I want for a partner. The conversation wasn't bad; it just made me see that he is absolutely clueless when it comes to women. Or perhaps just when it comes to extraordinary ol’ me J. And this isn’t in regards to performing oral sex, either. I suspect that he gets advice about his love life from his old-school Jamaican mother who still lives in the same shack that he grew up in, in Jamaica. He told me that, while discussing the recent fall of a family friend with his mother, he told her “As long as his dick still works, he’s okay. HAHAHA! Because when your dick don’t work you have to use your tongue.” Then he paused for affect. I remained silent. This was obviously in reference to a prior conversation we had where I asked if he’d ever performed oral sex before and if it was a cultural taboo. He hadn’t. Although he said he tried to once, but to no avail. I suspect that his mother told him that little antidote about inoperable dicks. If I were a mean-spirited person I would’ve replied to him “but your dick don’t work, so…” But I’m not nearly that evil.

My ex showed me what I no longer want in a partner. Daniel doesn’t seem to understand that. He thinks all women are the same – highly emotional, all want a man to marry them and rescue them, tell them what to do, etc. etc. every stereotypical thing you can think of. We’re all damsels in distress, let him tell it. He also thinks sex is 100% cerebral for both men and women. I laughed politely and disagreed with him. So he asked me if I was ever able to have sex with my ex while my mind was elsewhere. "Of course I have.” I told him, “many times.” He seemed confused. “But didn't it hurt? Weren’t you dry?" he asked. For some reason he believes that the body won't react and do what's it’s meant to do when sexually stimulated. How he made it through 33 years of life and 2 children with this idea in his head is a mystery to me. I assured him that even rape victims get wet (not that my ex ever raped me. He didn't).

It's already been established that Daniel is not the exception, but now I don't even think he'll do as Mr. Right Now. And it’s not because he’s green. No, he has the ability to learn. It’s because I suspect that he's trying to groom me for a harem, he hints about us having babies together (I’d have to love and trust him for that and I don’t), he lies transparently, saying he’s in currently New York, for instance, and then halfway through our conversation he’s telling me a story about when he was in New York. Since we’re only friends and we live so far apart, there really is no need for him to lie to me. I’ve told him this, yet he continues to lie and lie and lie. He also has this insatiable need to be right, to be my teacher, to be smarter and wiser than me when he's not. I generally like teachers… when you can actually teach me something. I'll give credit when it's due but he deserves no credit. He still has a lot to learn. I told him that he sounds like some old decrepit Rasta man preaching to the wind (“when ya dick don’t work, ya haffa use ya mouth” and other random bullshit). Oh, and did I forget to mention that I suspect that he has a girlfriend? Yeah, I have good reason to believe that.

His ego is a bit too large, maybe he's just delusional? He strikes me as an opportunist and is a tight wad, too. I suppose after having grown up dirt poor in Jamaica he’d be a miser. He told me that his mother used to cook their meals outside with charcoal on a pit she fashioned herself. He just bought her a stove recently. Again, our conversation on Friday was cool and everything, don’t get me wrong. It killed an otherwise boring evening. It wasn’t until later when I replayed parts of it in my head and added them all together that I realized I don’t particularly like him. Despite everything, it was the way he ended the call that sent my smile south and kept it there. He was arrogant, which I don’t like at all.

It’s important that my partner be a true partner. Not someone I am subordinate to, but someone who provides me with the same level of respect and consideration that I give them. After all, if we’re both able to live our lives happily and independent of the other, why would we agree to an unequal relationship? I’d sooner be alone. Take care of me and I will take care of you. I believe that Daniel has come into my life to remind me of what I don’t want. So I told my girlfriend, Mr. Ed Choppers, how I felt and she thinks that I should sit tight and not say anything to him because he’s giving me attention. I don’t agree. Why sit around wasting my time? We’re not a match. He’s not my plus one. He doesn’t even seem to know what partnership means. But me being me, I’ve decided that it won’t hurt to give him a chance since I still don’t know him all that well. Plus, he’s a decent cure for boring evenings. In the meantime, I’m looking for other options. Island boy has been stamped with an expiration date.

Are you gonna go my way?

2011-06-15T11:49:00.000-07:00

*SCREAMS!! Tonight I am going to a private performance by one of the sexiest men in music – Roxi Roker’s baby boy, Lisa Bonet’s baby daddy…Lenny Kravitz!! My ex’s sister, who just recently took me to see Earth Wind and Fire in concert, called me up on Monday night and asked me if I like Lenny. Uh, duh! Who doesn’t? So she offered me free tickets to a private performance hosted by a local radio station. The ex’s sister wins everything. I’m serious, all you have to do is tell her that you want tickets to something and there’s a 90% chance that she will win them for you. Once, she won the opportunity to win a car for her sister. So they both went down to the radio station for the key drawing and lo and behold, her sister drew the key that started the ignition. And they drove away in a brand new, fully loaded, fully paid for, Ford Mustang. When I was 22 she won me tickets to see Lauryn Hill in concert in New York, all expenses paid. So tonight I’m putting on a sexy dress, my stilettos, and some ruby red lipstick, and going to see Lenny shake his groin, bite his lip, and rock the fuck out. I’m geeked. I hope they allow picture taking.

Is that picture of Lenny cooking not the sexiest thing you ever did see? There is nothing more titillating than a fine man cooking...shirtless..and fit *swoon

I'm bored out of my wits

2011-06-10T18:56:00.000-07:00

I haven't been this bored and antsy and lazy in...a very long time. I have nothing worthwhile to do and it's killing me. Plus, I'm hungry but don't feel like cooking. It's Friday, for crying out loud! I'm beginning to feel desperate. I might contact some folks I don't usually reach out to. I can't find any of my regular partners in crime. Ugh. I'm about to pull my hair out.

My love letter

2011-06-10T13:43:00.000-07:00

I remember saying to myself "I could love him." And I meant it, I was convinced of it. And I did, I loved you. I found myself out in the rain one day looking for something that I promised to give you, and it occurred to me then that I was out in the rain, going out of my way to fulfill a promise I had made to you. I don’t know many people I would’ve done the same for. And now that I think of it, I can recall at least 3 other times I found myself in the rain with you and for you. We kissed in the rain once and I didn’t care about getting wet or my hair frizzing up, lol. I ran in the misty rain once after hugging you goodbye and returning to my car. And I drove home in the rain from your house one night, sad, still loving you. I never told you that I loved you but I think you know I did.

You won me over with your persistence and insistence that you loved me and that you were, indeed, The One I had been looking for. For a time, you were. The beginning was great, everything I could’ve hoped for. Beginnings are usually damn good, aren’t they? It’s the beginning when we are most excited, nervous, and anxious, our happiest and our scariest. The middle is what counts, where our memories are built. And endings are usually sad. When we finally ended and I got the call that the keys to my new home were ready to be picked up, I cried hard. Instead of being happy and excited about my new beginning, I mourned the end of us while driving on the freeway towards home. I couldn’t find the hope in my new beginning. I was afraid. And I didn’t want to remember you this way but you gave me no choice. Even though I spent many years preparing myself for the moment when I would have the strength to leave, I still wasn’t prepared. It still took me another 2 years to fully get over the end of us.

From the moment you came into being, I loved you. Everything about you, the thought of you, the way you felt, and how much you reminded me of myself. I loved it all and I still do. You are my sunshine, my dearest comrade. You’ve made me stronger, wiser, and happier each day since we met, and I can’t imagine living life without you. No one can take your place in my heart. I pray that no matter who enters our lives, what we go through over the years, and how we much grow and change, that we remain as close as we are today, always.

No matter how much you prepare me, I would be lost without you. I love you more than words can say. You are my best friend, you know me better than anyone, and I trust you with my life. You made me who I am today and I will forever be grateful.

Love,
Sappy ol' me

No motivation

2011-06-07T18:01:00.000-07:00

I haven't felt like doing anything lately. I'm even too lazy to fire up my PC so that I can type this entry right. I'm pecking away on an iPad. My job is killing me and I just wish I could retire already and spend my days refurbishing furniture and other odds and ends, remodeling my house, creating a container garden with homemade pottery, reading, writing, and traveling. I don't want to sit at a desk for eight hours a day anymore. I come home exhausted from sitting. That makes absolutely no gatdamn sense, lol. And its making me fat! This past weekend I did nothing but Zumba for about 30 minutes, watch television, surf the net, and power walk around my neighborhood. Oh, and I cleaned up a little and did two loads of laundry. Big fun.
My love life sucks. The "marry me" guy won't get lost, he keeps texting me at odd hours of the day and night and sending me emails just to say "hi". Daniel calls about every two to three days or so but he is still in Vegas where he lives so he's pretty inaccessible, and the artsy-fartsy guy never returned my call. He added me on facebook though, which I'm starting to think means absolutely zilch because since then he's added 7 other people. He probably adds everyone. I ain't special. I want a date with someone who isn't creepy, who lives near me, and who actually likes me and thinks I'm special. Is that too much to ask? Apparently, it is. I'm spinning my wheels.
This weekend I'm going to measure the sides and drawers of my dresser, place an order with my local glass and mirror shop for panels the same size, buy some liquid nails glue and some spray paint, and give my trusty old dresser a much needed, long overdue make over. That should cheer me up for about a week. Though I doubt it will keep my mind from wandering and longing for male companionship and a more interesting career. But it'll have to do.

Today is a two post day because I’m in the mood

2011-06-01T12:05:00.000-07:00

So my weekend was great. I got some much needed retail therapy, got dolled up and went dancing twice, ate very well, saw a movie, spent time with family and friends, went to an outdoor concert, and met two new frogs. The 41 year old “marry me!” frog seems to have finally given up. Daniel, on the other hand, has called me three times since my last post about frogs, and he’s been true to his every word since we spent the weekend together in Vegas two weeks ago. He’s throwing me for a loop. I usually know how, when, and where these things will end before they do and every time I think I have things pegged with him, he proves me wrong. He’s pulling me in more and more, threatening to steal my cool if I’m not careful (“Be cool, Ice Cold”). I'm looking forward to learning more about him but I can’t drop my guards. He still has too many cons and not enough pros. Hopefully, the two new frogs that I met over the weekend will serve as much needed distractions from him and keep me from losing myself. One is from the Caribbean as well, though I haven’t asked exactly where in the Caribbean hes from yet. Tonight I’ll sit still long enough to call him back and find out more. He’s funny, I know that, and he seems fun to be around. The other frog is an artsy-fartsy 27 year old Aquarius – the second water bearer in two months. Daniel is also an Aquarius. Normally, I wouldn't give astrology a second thought but I've been hanging out with my woo-woo/”signs” friend a lot lately and she’s beginning to rub off on me. Anyway, he paints and does tattoos, lives in L.A. and…he handed me his business card almost as if he was giving me a sales pitch rather than a “lets go out and see if we’d make a good pair” pitch. I’m not sure what to make of that. I mean, yeah, it’s still his phone number and it makes more sense to just give me a business card than have me write the number down or save it in my phone, right? But everybody gets/got a business card. Prior to that, he kept looking at me and walking around my blanket at the reggae fest where we met. Then, when he finally walked over to me and we spoke I was positively clear about my interests. I asked him his age and if he was single and he said ‘yes’ so he has to know that I’m interested in more than art and tattoo’s, right? Then why did he offer to give me a tattoo? Maybe he just didn't want to come off a certain way (i.e., skeevy or pressed)? I see I’ll need a strategy for this one. But it's good practice. I’m getting my dating “sea legs” back quickly :) Thank goodness.

*the photo above is me at the UCLA Reggae Festival

The Indomitable Pippi

2011-06-01T11:20:00.000-07:00

As a child, I absolutely adored Pippi Longstocking. She was red-headed, independent and strong, fearless, self-possessed, and rich. Everything I aspired to be! Plus her dad was a pirate. Does it get any better than that? I doubt it. The very first time I saw her she was sitting in a stairwell rolling mismatched stockings up her skinny little legs and I thought “what a strange looking little girl.” She looked quite peculiar, indeed. And as the show went on I learned that she lived free and alone in a big, charming house called Villa Villekulla, could stay up as late as she wanted, could do whatever she wanted, owned a suitcase full of gold doubloons, was unimpressed with anyone who underestimated her or tried to limit her, and every day was one big adventure for her and her friends, Annika and Tommy. Pippi became my childhood hero. She grabbed a hold of me back in the early 80s and never truly let me go. Although hero’s come and go and little girls grow up to change their minds, I think subconsciously I’ve always wanted to be a little like Pippy Longstocking.

Frogs

2011-05-26T21:55:00.000-07:00

I am without frogs. I told the creepy 41 year old not to call me anymore. Yes, it turns out he has issues. I'm not particularly surprised. In fact, I sort of called it. What, with him proposing to me damn near every day. This Saturday it will be one week since Island boy has called me. I have not called him ( be cool, Ice Cold) and even though I want to, I won't (c) Gwen Stefani, she sang it so well in Suspension without Suspense. I know what the outcome will be if I call him...and what it should be. Hopefully, I'm getting closer to finding a prince. But it's still looking bleak. The other day at the tire shop, two of the tire guys hit on me. Both appeared to be pretty wack. Prior to that, I discovered that I have a very cute Latin neighbor living across the street from me. He saw me outside trying to figure out how to change my flat tire and replace it with a dummy spare, and he ran over (like a prince would) and asked if he could please do it for me :). Of course, I let him. Since telling the 41 year old to kick rocks, he's begged me twice via text message for another chance, and called me 6 times since lunch today. For some people, kindness is not enough. He is one such person. He needs a therapist and i told him so. I hope this weekend is so much fun and so productive that these frogs become distant memories. I have an action packed plan that includes a Fruits de Mer (fruits of the sea) party, sample sales, dancing and mingling, and an outdoor reggae music fest.
I won't hold my breath, though. And I won't call.

Put it down on me

2011-05-23T10:54:00.000-07:00

I used to have trouble getting this man to call me back when he said he would. Him saying “I’ll call you in five minutes” would turn into a call a week or more later. But ever since I cussed him out and we met up in Vegas a week ago, he’s been Johnny on the spot with his phone calls even though I've accepted that he's not much of a phone person. Color me surprised. The morning after our last night together, which was last Tuesday, on my way home from Vegas in the car with my family, he called me at 1pm. I wasn't expecting to hear from him, honestly, especially not so soon. I’d gotten my closure and was on my merry way. So, dare I say…he’s feeling me pretty hard these days? :) Within one week, he’s called me FIVE TIMES. That’s a record. Saturday morning he called me at 8:30am. Did he wake up thinking about me? What the hell is going on here? Whenever he calls, though, all I can do is smile and that song by Fifty Cent and Jeremih plays in my head, lol. Then when we hang up, I have the urge to get up and dance. But I have to “be cool, Ice Cold” © Outkast. I can’t get caught up in his rapture or it will surely be my demise.

I can’t stop thinking about him and his wonderful Callaloo. He must've put a root on me.

Purple Pain

2011-05-23T09:46:00.000-07:00

I was strong armed into going to see Prince in concert and I woke up this morning angry about it. Now, the last time I spoke to my friend about this I told her that I wasn't all that interested in going to see him. Gas + $25 ticket + TicketMaster fees and surcharges + seats in the rickety old Forum + parking costs, etc = I’ll pass, thank you. But I guess she figured I was just sitting on the fence and needed pushing over. So she calls me up in the middle of what she KNEW was an extremely busy work day for me, and says “Quick! TicketMaster is only giving me 1 minute and 40 seconds to decide to buy these tickets or not. Can you go?”

“Huh?!” I say, bewildered, trying to remember if I have anything scheduled for the Friday in question as well as having no other details about this show (start time, etc.). Meanwhile, she’s steady pressuring me, telling me how many seconds remained on the clock like a bomb was ticking, until I just said, exasperated, “Sure. Get them.” Ugh. No planning, no coordinating schedules, no payment arrangements made – just the assumption that I would drive us both there and have to pay her back 25 of the dollars that I was trying to save. I just spent a grand on Costa Rica flights, woman! Ugh. So this morning I woke up irate as hell and made a mental note to email her the plan the way EYE see it: she’s driving to my house or she’s meeting me there, no if, and’s or buts. And I’m paying her back when I can, not immediately. She never asked if I had money, if I was struggling, broke or nothing. And she knows I just came back from Vegas, just bought tickets to the reggae fest for my cousin’s birthday, and got Hall & Oates tickets for the 4^th of July Fireworks Spectacular. I’m annoyed with her lack of forethought and if I weren’t a nice person, I’d let her suffer and lose money on that ticket. I honestly couldn’t give a rat’s ass about seeing Prince, and I actually told her this. I’d rather see Adele or Esperanza Spalding. See, her problem is that she’s an undercover racist and she’s afraid to go to the Forum with anyone white. And she drives this really old Maverick that she swears is a classic that everyone wants to steal. Despite me living in one of the safest neighborhoods in the city, on a short block with many geriatric Neighborhood Watch neighbors constantly watching my house, she doesn’t want to park her car in my driveway. Well, tough shit. I don’t want to drive from Pasadena to the valley or even Glendale, and then to Inglewood during rush hour on a Friday.

Update: I just got an email from her saying that I’m “off the hook,” she’ll find someone else. Lol. I only feel slightly bad about this. I hope she does find someone else and doesn't lose money.

Thank you, Jeebus

2011-05-20T10:51:00.000-07:00

Mos Def turned up high! "What's your name love, where you came from? Neck and wrist laced up, very little make-up. The swims at the Reebok gym tone your frame up. Is sugar and spice the only thing that you made of?" It's Friday! Turn your shine WAY up, find your grove, be embolden, throw your shoulders back, hold your head high - be in the moment! YOU are the m*therf*cking bees-knees so let the world know! Don't let anybody buckle your stride or hold you back today. TGIF like a mother father :)

Callaloo & Salt Fish

2011-05-19T08:24:00.000-07:00

Friday night I was on my way to pick up my son from his best friends’ house when I got a call from Island boy/Daniel. “Hey,” he said, as if nothing had transpired between us and, well, nothing had really. Just that it took him an entire week to get back to me, yet again. I went in, no holds barred, and was very straightforward, asking him all of the questions that I needed answers to. He stuttered a bit, stammered, but ultimately I felt as though I’d gotten the truth out of him. He said he needed to see the smirk on my face and wanted to discuss this with me in person, if possible.

“What time you getting here?” he asked. I told him precisely when I’d be arriving: 3:00pm.

He called me 30 minutes after I checked into the hotel and 20 minutes later we met up at a little café near my hotel for drinks and a chat. You name it, we discussed it. He says he didn’t even know I’d left him a voicemail because he’s terrible at checking them. I can relate because I never check my home voicemails and one of my close friends never checks her cell voicemails. She figures if it’s important enough, the caller will call back. But Daniel saw that I'd called. He admitted to that. In fact, he was expecting my call and he answered but didn't say anything. Hence my anger.

While showing him the pictures of our lovely hotel room, I snapped a picture of him blushing. Then I asked to see his ID and he showed it to me. He was born exactly 3 years and 1 day after me. Our birthdays are 1 day apart. Then he took me to dinner where more talking took place. He gives the best hugs. That night at about 11pm he came back, as promised, to drive me and my cousin around to a couple of clubs. We were trying to find a reggae spot to satisfy my cousin’s reggae jones, but no dice. At the second club, he and I got pretty steamy on the dance floor.

“He was all over you like a cheap suit!” my cousin teased the following morning. And he was. And I can’t say that it wasn’t fun or that I didn’t like it because it most definitely was and I definitely did. After the club he dropped us off at our hotel and stayed behind to talk to me in the lobby. I went up to my room at 4am.

The following day he called me at 1pm saying he’d just gotten up to make breakfast.

“What you making?” I asked

“Callaloo and salt fish with bread fruit. You ever had it?”

“No, but I’ve heard of it,” I said.

“Want me to bring you some?”

“Sure :)”

I won’t give a play by play of the entire 2.5 days/48+ hours (a LOT happened in that timeframe) but suffice it to say, I got more than the closure I was hoping for. Much more. And I’m now a fan of callaloo with salt fish and bread fruit.

Although I like Daniel, if I never see him again in life, I’ll be just fine. I am content with having known him. And I honestly feel like I do know him now.

Since I wrote this, he's called me twice.

Also, there’s a new candidate on deck. He’s a single dad who has full custody of his 13 year old son, has an exciting job that pays well, he’s American so I can fully understand him when we talk, is over 6 feet tall, bald, and grew up around the same neighborhood as I did. He told me he got saved 8 years ago but he doesn’t go to church every single Sunday. Oh, and he’s 5 years older than me. Since we met about a week ago, he’s asked me no less than 5 times to marry him and I have to admit, it’s a little disconcerting. He swears I am everything he’s looking for but he truly has no idea who I am. Marriage is the last thing I would hastily jump into, and it’s concerning me that he has no qualms about doing so. His reasoning behind wanting to marry me is highly suspect. I’m giving him a chance to get to know me and for me to know him, but something tells me this will be extremely short lived. We’re scheduled to go out to dinner this coming Friday.

Bible thumpers of the worst kind

2011-05-13T12:31:00.000-07:00

I don’t like the uber religious. An acquaintance of mines is a church lady. She’s always preaching that “God is able” “God is good” rhetoric, which is fine and all and I do believe it, but she’s a phony and I’ll tell you why.
It’s always the ones who preach the most and the hardest who are the biggest sinners and scam artists. She used to be an exotic dancer groupie. And whenever she recants these tales from her not-so-distant past, she’s almost maniacal. She practically drools with excitement and lust, her eyes appear to glaze over and she starts talking really fast, almost like a drug fiend. And yes, she’s had sex with many of the guys she used to go see dance and likes to go into extreme detail when recanting these sexcapades. Oh, but that’s not even the half of it. She’s heavily in debt, like about to lose everything any day now, so she uses God as an excuse to ask for handouts. Just recently she tried to have a PayPal fundraiser for the funeral of her step fathers’ aunt’s 85 year old husband – no blood relation to her, mind you. Plus, he’d been ill for more than 6 months so his death was not untimely or a surprise. But who does that? How can you expect people to send you money to bury a man who isn’t any relation to you? And who’s foolish enough to believe that YOU are the sole person responsible for handling his funeral and its expenses, and that YOU would actually spend the money you receive for this mans funeral appropriately? Needless to say, I didn’t for one second believe any of it and kept my hard earned dollars in my wallet. This is a woman who, while crying broke, spent $600 on Disneyland season passes for her and her kids, who gets her hair and nails done regularly, and drives a relatively new car and tries to talk shit about the age of my car, lol. The nerve, when you can barely make rent…allegedly. So yes, I think she is a swindler and the worst kind because she uses God as her trump card. She plays the role well though. She’s always acting like a martyr when she’s caught being deceitful or in a lie (gotta keep up the charade if it’ll ever work). I guess it takes all kinds to make a world.
Another church lady I know will be getting married soon. She’s a Jehovah’s Witness these days and the man she’s marrying left his wife to be with her. However, he has no idea that her hair is fake, her teeth are fake, her nails are fake, and she wears a padded butt, lol. Oh, and she just had surgery on her vajayjay because, after many years without use, it had literally FALLEN OUT. Yes, you read that right. She couldn’t wear underwear because her cervix would rub against the fabric and bother her. So, this man, being a devout Jehovah’s Witness who left his wife for her, has no idea how made-for-TV his wedding night is going to be *snicker. He thinks she’s just saving herself for marriage and is a chaste good girl. Part of that is true. In addition, when this woman was ill and almost died in the hospital, her friend of 50 years who brought her food everyday WITHOUT a car, cannot be a part of her wedding because she is not a Jehovah’s Witness. But she can bring a gift to the ceremony. Now, what would God do?
Another J’s Witness lady I know who preaches nonstop is now in court for palimony. She married a widowed man because she thought that when his mother died she’d get her house, lol. Well, her mother in law was hip to her and left the house to her other son in her will. Shortly after that, the J’s Witness lady and her hubby moved into a trailer park, he hurt himself and couldn’t work, and now that they’re getting divorced she has to pay him spousal support.
God don’t like ugly.

I guess it's kismet

2011-05-08T12:30:00.000-07:00

On Friday I said I needed to see him in order to get closure. Yesterday morning he called me. He didn't mention my voicemail the week after Easter telling him that we weren't going to work out. He pretended like it hadn't happened. I played along. So next week around this time I will be in Las Vegas and it looks like I'll be seeing him. Will this be the last time, the last hug and final kiss? Stay tuned to find out.

2011-05-06T09:17:00.000-07:00

On my mama. On my hood. I look fly. I look good. Touch my swag. Wish you could! Walking every day is great. When that afternoon lull hits, walking gives me just enough of an energy boost to plow through the rest of my day. Rather than wasting away in front of the television or computer after work, I am productive. Some afternoons I’ll take a nap at lunch time, which gives me my second wind for the second half of my work day. And then when I get home I’ll go for a brisk evening walk with my ipod jamming and return home totally pumped up. I sleep better at night, I feel better during the day, and my life is much more organized, meaningful, and constructive. Oh, and my figure isn’t looking too shabby either. Last night I tried on three of my four bikini’s and felt confident enough to wear them to the pool next weekend while I’m in Vegas. I confess that I’m hoping to run into Daniel, though I doubt that I will. Yes, yes, I told him that I wasn’t interested in a casual relationship, which is true, but I am still interested in him. He was the perfect mixture of intelligence and… hood (for lack of a better word). He was also the perfect height and weight, and his face was beautiful. Charming and fine, such a winning combination. So why did I leave him a voicemail message telling him that it was fun and wishing him well? Because I knew I’d end up sad and hurt. He doesn’t live nearby and we weren’t talking like I thought we should. Two weeks ago he called me twice within a 2 minute time span and I didn’t pick up my phone. Then the following morning he called again at 9am saying that he was worried that I was done with him. He figured I was done because prior to those three back-to-back calls he hadn’t called me in a week and one day. He left me hanging one Thursday after a brief chat, saying “I’ll call you back.” And I waited and wondered just when he would, which is a horrible feeling – to wait and wonder. And then when we finally did speak again he said he’d call me back ten minutes into that conversation. There was no stability with him at all. He didn’t like to make promises, he said, because if he couldn’t keep them everyone would be disappointed. That was the first red flag – an inability to commit to anything, wishy-washy. Here I go talking about him again. Ugh. Weeks after I let him go, I’m still holding on and he doesn’t even know it. Anyway, he knows that I’m coming to town the 2^nd week of May but I didn’t give him exact dates so he’s probably assuming I’ll be there Friday and Saturday (if he still cares), which are typical Vegas-vacation dates. But I won’t be there Friday or Saturday. I’m coming in on Sunday. I won’t attempt to call him but I will be paying close attention to my cellphone, I’ll admit, hoping that he calls me. I’ll go on about my trip as planned and let kismet do the rest. What’s meant to happen will happen. And if he does just so happen to call me, I’ll ask to see him. I think I need to in order to get him out of my system.

2011-04-29T15:20:00.000-07:00

As much as I don’t give a damn about the royal wedding, it’s still a reminder of the kool-aid that I drank as a youth that makes me want romance in my life. I currently have none and it sucks, to be frank. It is the equivalent of eating food with no taste, dancing to silence, living in black and white when you KNOW damn well that color exists. I am not in a good place right now. I need loving. And even though I have officially told Daniel/Island Boy to kick rocks, I keep reminiscing on that small slice of romance that he gave me. Oh, it was super brief but it touched me in a special way and I don’t want to get over it. I’m hitting the beach and the town this weekend hoping that I stumble upon some more of it in some form or fashion. Whereas I’d usually opt to wear a big, flowing, comfy dress to the beach, I’ve decided to rock a bikini top and shorts, instead. I need to improve my odds. And then I have my Las Vegas and Costa Rica trips coming up so I’ve been power walking and jogging and stair climbing every chance I get. I refuse to look like a tired, portly, middle-aged mother. It’s been more than 6 months since my face has had an after-sex glow and I’m looking dismal, dammit.

Stupid Technology

2011-04-28T12:01:00.000-07:00

You know those mountains that you can see from the 210 freeway in Pasadena, just above the Rose Bowl? See picture above. I was stuck in the middle of them a few weeks ago thanks to my stupid Global Positioning System, or gps satellite navigation system. I was on my way back from Lancaster, CA when Daria, the voice of my gps, told me to exit the freeway and take Angeles

Crest Drive home. Having never driven on Angeles Crest Drive and only a general idea of where I was going, I had no idea what I was in for. The two-lane road began to wind and a few cars and a motorcycle zipped past me as I crept along safely in anticipation, wondering where the hell I was going. Then the windy two-lane road became a cliff and there was no chance of safely turning back. I looked at the touch screen on my gps and it said I had 25 miles to go. Dios mio, I thought (sometimes I think in Spanish) but I trucked along, nevertheless, hoping it wouldn't be as bad as it seemed. No dice.

I passed small creeks, snow and ice warning signs, nature preserves, lots of mighty old trees, and lots and lots of forest over the cliff beside me. I thought about my under-inflated tires and kicked myself for not taking care of them before I’d left home. But I was glad I’d at least filled my gas tank up in Lancaster before leaving, because the prices were much better than they were near my house.

As Daria droned on about how many more miles I had to go, I was tempted to throw her out the window and into the abyss, but I knew I needed her and was only slightly thankful that I was able to get satellite

reception way up in the middle of desolation. Yes, I was unhappy but determined to get home and meet my two wonderful friends, Patty and Becky for Becky’s birthday lunch at Souplantation. She really digs that place. But I couldn’t call either of them to let them know that I’d be late because my cellphone had no reception, whatsoever. If I had fallen off a cliff, gotten a flat, or run out of gas up there, I would have been shit out of luck because I couldn’t call a soul for help. My AAA membership would have been useless to me. I would have had to hope and pray that a Paul Bunyun-type or a tree hugger happened along to find me.
Anyhow, I’m picking up speed now, desperate to get back to civilization, worried about what lay ahead, when suddenly a family in a gigantic SUV pulls out of a nature preserve right in front of me and decides that it is unsafe to drive faster than 15 mph. It wasn’t snowing, there was no rain, and the roads weren’t slick, so in my anxious mind there was absolutely no need to be driving that slowly. I waited until I felt it was safe and then I sped around them, driving on the wrong side of the road. The guy behind the wheel laid on the horn like I was supposed to wait for him to take his precious time getting to his destination. Psht-ah! I ignored him and kept right along with 10 miles between me and the freeway, according to Daria. I got all the way up to the top of the canyon, ready for victory and relief…only to find that the @#$%^&* road was closed! I was livid, cursing at Daria and cursing at the construction workers who weren’t on duty to hear me. I turned my car around and Daria gave me an alternate route to get home: drive back down the mountain about 15 miles and take Upper Big Tujunga Canyon Road. So I did that, speeding past two other slow moving cars (I was doing about 45, 30 around the curves) and then a bunny ran across the road in front of me and was almost road kill. He’s lucky his little bunny legs were fast because I had no intention of slowing down. I would not have mourned his death. The miles counted down and pretty soon my cell phone got a few bars of reception. I called Patty to let her know where I was and that I’d be late. If anyone could relate to my adventure, it’d be her. She’s not allowed to drive anywhere without her gps. Once, she drove past Disneyland, which is more than 50 miles away from her home, and proclaimed “hey, I didn’t know we lived by Disneyland!” So for Christmas her three brothers bought her a gps.
Now in familiar territory, I turned Daria off and took the 134 freeway into Pasadena, thanking God for my safety. Later on I told my mother what happened and, after she chastised me for putting my faith in technology, she told me about a family she saw on the news that had gone missing in the forest. Turns out they had slid off Angeles Crest Road one winter and the father froze to death trying to walk in the snow to find help. The mother was able to keep her three children alive for a while with her breast milk. If you ever want to be scared straight about anything, my mom is the queen of doomsday stories.

Real life doomsday stories my mom may know:

http://losangeles.cbslocal.com/2011/04/11/motorcyclist-dies-after-crash-in-angeles-national-forest/

http://articles.latimes.com/2011/apr/04/local/la-me-hiker-search-20110404

http://www.scpr.org/news/2010/07/26/cliff-diver-found-unconscious-angeles-national-for/

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/lanow/2009/11/body-found-in-angeles-national-forest.html

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/lanow/2010/09/south-gate-elementary-teacher-death.html

He is not the exception

2011-04-24T22:00:00.000-07:00

My brother is kind of great. Today he confirmed what I already knew but couldn't admit to myself. He told me that island boy was full of shit. The last three conversations with island boy lasted less than ten minutes, all three ended with him stating that he'd call me back, and then he waited more than a couple of days to do just that. This last time, he waited a week. And then Friday night he called and I pressed "reject" on my cell phone to stop the ringing. So he promptly called right back and I just let it ring until it rolled to voicemail. He didnt leave a message. The following morning he called again at 8am. This time I answered. He said that he had called me twice the night before ("yes, I noticed") and if I hadn't picked up the next morning he would have figured I was done with him. Now I'm wishing I hadn't picked up. However, then I wouldn't have known for certain that he wasn't shit because he gave me no explanation for his being MIA for a week and then he ended the call after less than ten minutes stating, you guessed it, that he'd call me back. Now I have to wait until he does call back for me to tell him not to bother calling ever again. I have it all mapped out in my head, what I'm going to say.
So today I spoke to my big bro and he confirmed my suspicions, even admitting to doing the same thing that island boy is doing, to girls that he wanted to string along. And instantly I felt ten times lighter. It was the confirmation I had needed. Thankfully, I'm getting better at elimination. In this case, I was holding on to three great conversations/times we'd had and ignoring all the red flags since then. For one, I'm pretty sure he has a steady girlfriend. And even if he doesnt the rest of the flags are pretty bad and can stand on their own. Sometimes it takes experiencing what we don't want in order to know for sure that we don't want it, lol. In dealing with island boy I've realized a few more things about myself. I need more attention than I thought I did. I don't have to receive a phone call everyday, but every three days at the latest until we've built a foundation, or when you say you'll call, you'd damn sure better. I need someone who values their word, who is closer to me than a four hour drive or 45 minute flight away, whose every word I can understand and, if I can't, takes the time to ensure that I do, who cares enough that I do. I've also accepted that I love chivalry a whole lot more than I thought I did. In fact, I have to have it. It's a requirement. That's about the only thing island boy got right...in the beginning. He is no longer Mr. Right Now. He is history. Officially, when he decides to call back so that I can tell him because I refuse to call him :)

2011-04-19T09:50:00.000-07:00

Yesterday my nephew allegedly spotted Michael Jackson on Hollywood Blvd. Not an impersonator but THE Michael Joseph Jackson. He has his days. For the most part he’s happy, practically manic, which is better than before when all he did was cry, mope around, and look spacey. His mom, my mom, and my step father were accompanying him to a group therapy session when he told the therapist that nothing was wrong with him, that his mother was his “motherfucking problem.” I honestly can’t say that I entirely disagree with him either. But at this point, whether he admits to it or not, the problem is definitely his and his mother is now a victim of it. So after he cursed at the therapist, he walked outside and yelled “there goes Michael Jackson!” then took off down the street with my mother chasing behind him. I saw him this past weekend and he seemed fine. There were a few moments where he seemed a little confused, but he didn’t scare me like before when he would just stare at me, waiting for instruction because he was unsure of what to do next. A lot has happened since last December, when he was perfectly fine. His girlfriend not only dumped him but she had a serious vendetta against him. His mother decided she no longer wanted him living with her, so she put him out in the pouring rain and tossed all of his belongings in the garbage behind her apartment building. He walked 4 miles in the rain that night to my mothers’ house and spent the following few weeks despondent. When my mother went out of town for the weekend, he left with “the devil”, the guy who my family took in when he was 12 (see my Christmas Sleepover post). He’s always been jealous of my nephew so I wasn’t surprised to learn that he’d given him crystal meth to try and then let him wander around L.A. alone for two days. When my mother returned from her trip she received a frantic call from my nephew’s best friend saying that he’d shown up at his house in the middle of the night, dazed and confused, and then disappeared again. The devil’s story was inconsistent. He still hasn’t told the full truth. Anyway, we found my nephew when he showed up at his mothers’ front door, and for days after that he was severely depressed and suicidal. He ended up being committed for about 4 days and has been improving steadily since his release. My mother remains everyone’s hero. Without her, none of us would have survived this. I believe that had he been my own son, I probably would have been better equipped to deal with it. But he wasn’t and although I love him dearly, I couldn’t handle him being sick at all. I didn’t know where to begin to help him and it was killing me to feel so hopeless. He’s 19 years old and our relationship has always been surface; nothing ever too close but as close as most extended family members are to one another. I could talk to him by phone, tell him I loved him and would always be there for him, buy him things to help keep his mind from wandering, but I couldn’t deal with him face to face for too long without feeling immense stress. We played pool and talked while he was committed but when he wanted to come and spend the night at my house, I panicked. I think we all panicked in the beginning, save for my mother who just dove right in and kept us all from falling apart. She was clearly worried sick and was crying every day, but it didn’t paralyze her like it did the rest of us. She is truly everyone’s hero. About 10 times a day he tells her he loves her.

We’re all doing a lot better now. He seems to be 90% back to his old self, thankfully. It's a happy and hopeful ending.

2011-04-18T10:44:00.001-07:00

I’m finally at a place in my life where I don’t feel particularly antsy or worried about whether or not I’ll make it. I feel fairly secure financially, and very confident in my ability to accomplish my goals. Should anything unexpected occur, I will remain on track. I’m proud of myself. All my planning has paid off. In addition, my son will be graduating from high school next year and we’ll both be moving on to the next chapter of our lives, which is exciting. When I reminisce on where we were 5-10 years ago, I am thrilled with the progress that we’ve made. 90% of those goals from yesterday are accomplished today. And I’m excited about getting closer to reaching my other goals.

This weekend I picked my family up so that they could help me get my front and back yards in order. It took us about 2 hours, with my stepfather doing most of the work, but now my house looks lived in and not abandoned lol. I’m so thankful for them.

On Saturday I was supposed to go out with my “Stuck in the 80s” friend as a rain check from last weekend, but she flaked on me. It was her suggestion that we go to this lounge a friend of hers had told her about so when we spoke and she acted annoyed, saying she’d “definitely” call me back and wouldn’t dream of flaking on me because she insisted she’s “not a flake,” I took her at her word. That is until 9pm rolled around and she still hadn’t called me back, not even to cancel. Now here it is Monday and still no word from her. But she swears she’s not a flake. Now, even if she has the worst memory on Earth, surely it occurred to her at some point between Saturday morning and Monday morning that she hadn’t followed up with me, not even via text message, which leaves me to assume that she is, indeed, a huge, disrespectful flake and cannot ever again be relied upon. She’s seen my last effort towards trying to get her petrified-to-live-ass out of the house. As far as I’m concerned, she can spend another 30 years indoors, up under her mother, God willing. I really don’t need another charity case. This is, for the most part, why I prefer to roll solo, rather than drag someone else along or have to deal with mixed interests.

My coworker wants me to go to Ibiza with her, saying “it’s the land of house music!” as if that would elicit excitement from me. I forced a grin not to be rude but I actually hate house music, ha. I guess because I’ve tolerated it while out dancing with her she just figured I liked it, but no. I’ve had my fill of it and don’t think I can stand another night out listening to it and expecting to want to dance to it. To me, house music is for the rhythm less, those who cannot dance so they merely bop along to a simple, repetitive “oontz oontz oontz” beat. It’s nerve wracking at best. So when she first said “hey! Let’s go to the Caribbean together” I thought she meant someplace where they play reggae and calypso (I don’t care much for calypso either, but I can deal with it), not house music. Ugh. I’m wondering if I should just keep my mouth closed and just go for the overall experience, hoping for the best. I mean, aside from the music, how horrible could Ibiza really be? I’ve added it in pencil to my bucket list. *Edit: I just realized that Ibiza isn't even in the Caribbean. She meant the Mediterranean. smh.

2011-04-15T11:00:00.001-07:00

Talk about coming to the end of a wave, I’ve crashed. I feel so flat today. Nothing excites me, nothing interests me, and there is nothing that I’m looking forward to, aside from lying in bed and watching movies all day. I’m just bored and unmotivated. I’m even a little annoyed. I hope my mood changes by tomorrow.

Back to Earth

2011-04-10T22:46:00.000-07:00

I'm grounded. It's been one week since my urban Cinderella date and the clouds have cleared. His accent is beginning to get on my nerves and I'm beginning to forget why I liked him. In this case, absence does not make the heart grow fonder. I think what won me over was the chivalry. I hadn't been treated with so much care in such a while, and the feeling was certainly missed. I wanted to hold on to that feeling for as long as I could, and I did. He was very much a gentleman and these days, they're hard to come by, especially in Los Angeles. I went to a club on Friday night with a friend (I'm officially off clubs, by the way) and towards the end of the night I found an empty corner to sit down and rest my aching feet. While sitting there a young couple came and sat across from me. Their body language was so completely off. She was catering to him and he was acting as though she didn't matter, texting on his phone while she patiently waited for his next move. Then he suddenly got up without saying a word and walked away and she followed behind him like a puppy. No hand holding, no affection, no respect. This is what it's come to in L.A. I had to go all the way to Las Vegas to find out that purple elephants do exist. That night in the club I watched another couple talking and after about 15 minutes of what seemed like a getting to know each other conversation, the guy disappeared and left the girl with his friend to be babysat. I never did see him return to her. Eventually, she left.

I've no idea what, if anything, will come of me and Island boy. At this point, I'm chalking it up as a really great experience and the realization that what I want can be obtained. For now, I think I've come to the end of my wave.

All week I've been listening to this song and smiling. It's perfect for how I'm feeling.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1AJmKkU5POA

Still with one foot in the clouds

2011-04-07T10:45:00.000-07:00

He was looking at flights last night to come and visit. I am continually surprised by him *knock on wood. I guess I’m just not accustomed to this sort of treatment. I said to myself the other night that he was most definitely not Mr. Right, but he’ll do as Mr. Right Now. But then last night I had my doubts...again. I wondered if maybe he did have a little longevity about him. This uncertainty of mines could be because I haven’t had a lot of adult dating experience, having been in a very long term relationship since my teens. But he’s much more different than my ex and any man I’ve dated since and before. He’s so open and unpretentious, I find myself worried that he may decide he doesn’t really like me after all, just when I’m discovering that I like him so much. This is only an experiment, of course. I have no better point of reference to compare him to but he’s pushing my ex and all of the rest right out of the water. I love that he believes in chivalry, and he practices it often. I love that he’s not afraid to tell me embarrassing things about himself, that he's funny, and that he’s not blatantly interested in sex with me. He doesn’t talk about it at all, he never even hints about it, yet somehow I know he’s interested. He seems to want me to know him and now I'm eager for him to know me. I find myself wanting to give him more, undress my mind for him, lay down my cares, lie up all day and marvel the world by his side. This is odd and I like it. I like it a lot. Beginnings are always nice, right?

My ex had his strong suits, and I appreciated them. But he was my first everything so it took me a while to realize precisely what I wanted and what he couldn't give me. What he was lacking, Island Guy seems to have, for the most part. We're only 3 strong conversations in so there's plenty of time to learn more. Right now I am in desperate need of a nap because I stayed up late, once again, on the phone with him, my Island Guy. I feel like I can tell him anything and he won't miss a beat. He's told me so much about himself in just a few conversations. What's bugging me is that he doesn't live here. I know I can't predict the future or where we'll end up, but that part is killing the controlling part of my personality a little. I'm just going to take a leap and enjoy this while it lasts. For however long it lasts. I have no idea how much time I have left on Earth to enjoy these sorts of things so I'm all in, lol. What a surprise he is! I never expected to meet *him when I did, or that I'd enjoy myself so much. Wish me luck!

I kissed a boy

2011-04-04T11:47:00.000-07:00

And I really liked it. It was the juiciest, softest, most electrifying smooch I’ve had in a very long time, sans saliva, and I really want to do it again. He’s from Jamaica and we met Friday night when I hobbled over to valet in my 5 inch stilettos, my feet in agony, my ribs feeling claustrophobic from the boa-constrictor of a bustier I was wearing and dying to change out of, and my face grimacing. He asked me why I wasn't smiling, or something to that effect. He was waiting for valet to bring his car around too. We started talking and the next thing I knew I was putting my phone number into his cell phone. We spoke again briefly that night and I asked him to call me the following day. We talked the following day and he called me no less than 6 times from noon to sometime after midnight telling me about himself and trying to arrange another meeting with me. I was reluctant at first, not wanting to go out with him alone in a strange town, but my friend promised to go with me, convincing me to give him a chance and I’m so glad I did.

Kissing him at 5am on Sunday morning felt like kissing for the very first time and he was its inventor. His arms were around my waist, his chest pressed against mine, mouth to mouth, and neither of us wanted to let the other go when it was over. So we stood there for a while, in that embrace, comparing our height – he’s 6’3, I’m 5’9. We both agreed the other was the perfect height. But it was 5am and I needed to get some sleep before Keisha and I made the long trip home.

He was sweet and attentive and VERY intelligent. I had the best conversation with him that I’ve had with a guy in a long time and it was most definitely a turn on. Did I mention he was fine? Djimon Honsou better watch his back. This guy has perfectly smooth dark chocolate skin, bald head, 6'3, chiseled chest (I could see and feel all that through his shirt when we hugged and he wouldn't let me go), straight white teeth, full unchapped lips... He wasn't too pushy and never was he rude, but he was clearly interested in me and persistent and very much a gentleman even after I tried giving him the brush off. We spent the evening talking about Jamaican politics, culture, religion, plans for the future, philosophy, money, giving back, marriage…it was great! I love to hear a man talk about something he loves or is passionate about. When I say “tell me about yourself,” and he does, I’m over the moon with joy. A man who does this correctly doesn’t hem and haw and try to hide himself from me, he goes all in, confident, no reservations. And if he can do it well, in English, and sane, I’m all eyes and ears. I left home this weekend with plans for a girls’ get away. Although I’d been hopeful I would return with fond memories, I never expected him. He was such a welcome surprise.

Our day at the races

2011-03-28T12:58:00.000-07:00

The Derby, itself, and getting dressed up was fun. Santa Anita Park charges $6-8 dollars for parking, depending on where you park your car on their huge lot, and about $5 to actually get into the park and watch the horse’s race. We paid $30 each ($90 total). Why, you may be wondering? Well, because the event that we attended, which was situated along the far north side of the park, was for a warm-hearted fundraiser for inner city youth J and I love to give back to inner city, underprivileged youth. However, this felt more like a cold hearted snake © Paula Abdul, than a warm and fuzzy fundraiser, and not because the sun was overcast by gray clouds that were threatening rain.

We were optimistic at first, figuring that, if nothing else, we could walk over to the other side, bet on the ponies and have a good show, which is what we ended up doing after a while.

The guy sitting at the will-call table when we arrived was very friendly, seemed down to earth, and was quite attractive. He kept saying that he was the fundraising-host’s brother, which made me think he must be terribly proud of his big bro. How sweet. And since he was so nice to me, I asked him his name and he told me “Smiley Guy” (alias, of course) I made a mental note to ask the guy (the DJ) who’d invited us about him. After we’d picked up our tickets at will-call from Smiley Guy, we walked through the tunnel and on around to gate 6 where none of the action was, and found our venue. The blonde girl, who worked for the park and took our tickets, was very friendly as well, so I remained in pretty good spirits. That is, until I walked over to an older black lady wearing a ridiculous chef’s hat and said to her “Hi! What are you cooking up over here?” to which she replied dryly “The free food is over there,” pointing to a table full of crap.

I repeated myself, saying “That’s fine. But what are YOU COOKING OVER HERE?”

And she says “Hot links but they cost money.”

What the hell? I was insulted but then I realized that people with no class are everywhere and we just have to deal with them. Anyway, we brought our lunch, so we found a vacant table and began to dig in. None of us wanted what they were offering for free.

About 20 minutes later, Keisha and I decided to go place our bets on a horse with a cool name. I was torn between “Leaving New York”, “King Red”, and “Sensational News”. Keisha put her entire $5 on Sensational News, which made me think “okay, I’ll forgo Leaving New York, and put $2 on King Red, and $3 on Sensational News. Maybe she was on to something. And for most of the race, Sensational News was #2 and gaining on #1. Leaving New York was nowhere to be found! Then, all of a sudden, just as the pack of horses was about to finish the race, Leaving New York came up from the rear and won the whole thing! Seemingly from out of nowhere, and he took the gold cup! I couldn’t believe it. It made me wonder if the races were fixed so that the house always wins. It wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination. That’s how it’s done in casinos. So, rather than ripping our tickets in half and throwing them on the ground when you leave, as is traditionally done, we kept them as souvenirs. That part of the day, betting on ponies, I truly enjoyed. Some of the people there for just the races, not the fundraiser, were very nice and kept complimenting us on our hats and outfits. Next time we’ll sit among the friendly folks.

There were many fine, traditional derby hats at the fundraiser. Some were more for Easter Sunday at church, which is okay, but most were appropriate for the Kentucky Derby. Everyone put forth a valiant effort to dress nice; however, many fell miserably short. One guy was dressed well from his neck to his waist – his jacket was too long, his pants were too long and they fell in pools over his shoes. A lady in a peach colored, form-fitting halter dress had on inappropriate undergarments – a thong and an ill fitting bra, no body smoother. And boy was her butt dimply. You could see the outline of her thong, which was tacky. And, as it turns out, she was the only nice woman we spoke to the whole day. I complimented a portly lady on her black and white hat and asked her if I could take her picture. She rolled her eyes at me, never said “thank you” for my compliment, and snarled out “I don’t like having my picture taken.” So I asked if I could just take a picture of the back of the hat then, since that’s all I really wanted, anyway. She rolled her bubble eyes some more and turned and placed her order with the bar tender while I snapped the picture in the post below this one. I tried making small talk with the table next to us and they acted as if I wasn't even there. We had obviously intruded on a college reunion soiree with clique’s and in-crowds, and not a fundraiser for children. Not once did the host of the event make his rounds to say hello and thank people for coming out and spending $30 when we could've just spent $5 and gotten better seats. If he did, he missed us. I didn't even know what he looked like until I got home and saw a picture of him taken at the event online . The photographers went around interviewing particular people and snapping their pictures, but none of them were smiling even slightly. It was the surliest fundraiser I’d ever been too, so guess where I kept my wallet? Locked up tightly in my purse! There was no announcement, no Master of Ceremonies explaining where the proceeds of the event would be going (I only knew because I Googled it before we got there), just a horribly off-key guy singing old soulful music with a lot of passion.

I did remember to ask the guy who’d invited us about Smiley Guy, though. I just asked him if he knew whether Smiley Guy had a girlfriend or was seeing someone. He said, and I quote:

“I think so…I mean, I think he USED to have a girlfriend…but everyone used to, huh? Lol. He’s younger than me, though, only 25.”

“That’s fine,” I said. So he told me he’d find out and get back to me, although he thought smiley guy might be moving to San Diego for a new job soon.

I never heard back from the DJ guy about it so I figured it was a no-go. It would have been nice to get an update, though.

We left the event about 30 minutes before it was scheduled to end and on our way out, I heard someone announce that they would be having a best hat contest. So more than 5 hours later, they decided to start the festivities.

The Derby really could have been a true success had they organized things better. The idea had loads of potential and I just might suggest it to the PTA leader at my son’s high school. Ah well. So a portion of my hard earned dollars will continue to support the kids in my own neighborhood who I know quite well. My son throws a get-together about twice a month and yours truly buys the pizza, drinks, burgers, and games that keep them off the streets.

Derby Day photos

2011-03-27T12:37:00.000-07:00

photos now, rundown of the event later.

The budget conundrum

2011-03-24T09:24:00.000-07:00

I’ve been experiencing a lot of buyers’ remorse lately. For instance, I let a sales woman, the pushy kind that I typically ignore and shun like a pesky fly, convince me that a star made of sticks and draped in Christmas lights was a good buy for $3.95 at Pottery Barn. The price was so good I was tempted to buy two. But considering I didn’t know where I was going to put the one I was purchasing, let alone a second one, I opted to buy just one of them, instead. And then I got home and my son saw it and said “Ha'omnam'? Shalom. When did we become Hebrew?” Which roughly translates to "Really? Peace be with you" in Hebrew) That’s when I realized that the star was marked down from $60 to $3.95 because it looked like the Star of David! So I didn’

t hang it up. And I was sorely disappointed at my foolish waste of damn near $4. The star is currently sitting up against a wall in my living room. It was on clearance so I couldn’t return it.

And take my trip to the races this coming weekend. I’m no longer excited about it. Yeah, at first the thought of getting dressed up and wearing a schnazzy hat sounded like fun, but it’s been raining all week and they are predicting more this weekend. So not only will the grounds be wet and muddy, at the very least, it will be too cold to wear a sundress. I won’t abandon my plans though, they cost me too much. I’ll go just to get out of the house and see a horse race and eat and have that experience…in jeans, a sweater, and an Audrey Hepburn black hat, instead of the cute pink Sinamay hat that I had planned to wear with a strapless sundress.

I’m still going to bet $5 on a pony with a cool name and, hopefully, I’ll win and end my losing streak.

In addition to that, I promised myself that I wouldn’t go berserk spending up my tax refund money. But what did I do? I bought a carpet steamer, two additional hats just in case I changed my mind about the other two hats that I’d bought, two more dresses as if I needed anymore clothes, memory foam mattress pads for me and my son, an iPad, a comforter from Ikea, and a new duvet cover from Target. I am returning the hats, the comforter, and the dresses as soon as possible and shutting down my spending spree. I must train my brain; absolutely NO internet shopping. I have to be extra diligent if I want to reach that tipping point and save up enough money to remodel my kitchen, or do any of the other big ticket things that I often lust and dream about. Ginger, my 11 year old car may be circling the drain, and I said I want my next car to be an Audi (a girl can dream, dammit!) so I have to get my mind right and stop wasting money on worthless crap. I derive great joy from donating the things I no longer want or need to the less fortunate, but I get even greater joy and sleep much better at night when I save money.

2011-03-11T12:46:00.000-08:00

I don’t profess to be the world’s best dresser by any means, but I’m starting to wonder if most people ever really put any thought into what they wear. It’s a sad state of affairs out there, people. Yesterday I was in Chipotle waiting in a long line to order a chicken burrito, and I noticed a trend of sloppiness. From the beginning to the end of the line, with the exception of yours truly, of course, nobody was well put together. An overweight girl in a pair of too-tight work slacks with visible panty lines, a woman wearing a bra so small it looked like she had four breasts, another was in work pants that were about two sizes too big, a few people with shoes leaning to the side, lack of coordination/mismatching abound, just a bunch of slobs who looked like they’d all just hit the alarm clock, rolled out of bed, wiped the spit from the corners of their mouths and showed up to work looking like a fashion crime scene. So, if you’re looking at your own get-up right now with a smile turned upside down, here are a few fashion commandments to live by:

- Panty lines should never show, ever. This is why the right pair of boy shorts are a must have in every woman’s lingerie drawer.

- If your shoes are leaning, it’s time to retire them to the trash, or MAYBE Goodwill if they’re not too much of an embarrassment.

- Victoria’s Secret offers FREE (yes, FREE!) bra sizing, so please take advantage of this offer. Your breasts and the community will thank you for it.

- And please don’t buy items simply because they are on sale. If they don’t fit or flatter you, leave them on the rack no matter how much they cost. Even if they’re free! You wouldn’t wear a burlap sack if it was on-sale or free, would you? Some things just shouldn’t be worn, period.

- Color coordination is a nice gesture if you’re living above the poverty line. Otherwise, what’s your excuse? Don’t you care how you look?

Let’s all take the time to show that we care about our appearance. It’s really not that much of a commitment and I guarantee it will lift your spirits. If it helps, sort through your wardrobe the night before so when you roll out of bed in the morning, a decent outfit is ready to be thrown on. When you look good, you feel good and somehow everybody wins. Each one, teach one.

This has been a public service announcement

Quickly...What's going on?

2011-03-10T14:46:00.000-08:00

Since this iPad keyboard is too small for me to really type, I'm going to keep this entry brief. Here's where my life has taken me:
- I have a date! He's 35, speaks well, likes to cook, and looks and dresses decent enough. We shall see about the rest of him this weekend when I meet him for coffee.
- My "Stuck in the 80s" friend came over and stayed the night with me last weekend. I've concluded that, like most people, she is tolerable in small doses so she gets to stay.
- I went to the L.A. Weekly Food and Wine event at the Peterson Automotive Museum this past Sunday with my pal, Jenny. She scored us free VIP tickets inside and I sampled everything I could get my hands on. Then spent the rest of my day in bed with a migraine from having eaten so much, so fast, and without any breakfast.
- My 19 year old nephew wants to die. It's the hardest thing I'm hoping to avoid dealing with in my life. His little sister and my mother can't stop crying. I am refusing to think the worst and don't want to cry until all hope is lost. I'm confident that he'll pull through and we'll get through this alright. He is currently under medical care.
- I bought an iPad. So far, it's pretty cool.

Derby Day

2011-03-03T16:06:00.000-08:00

I’m going to my first horse derby and I need an extravagant hat. We’re going to take a picnic with us and I am going to place a $5 bet on a horse with a cool name. $5 is my limit as I do not derive any joy from handing over money without the explicit understanding that I am to receive a reward in return. If I place my dollar into a vending machine and the Snickers bar does not descend, I will shake that machine until it does. And if getting tough with the machine still doesn’t present me with my candy bar, I’m dialing the number on the machine and requesting a refund immediately. I may even write a letter if I feel it’s necessary. And I am not above a vending machine boycott. I doubt this behavior would bode well at the horse races, so $5 is all they’ll be getting out of me. A friend of mines placed a $5 bet on a horse she thought was the prettiest, and she won $35. That’s well worth the risk of losing 5 of my hard earned bucks.

I’m excited about my day at the races and can’t wait to find a schnazzy new outfit to wear. But my main objective is the hat. Man, oh man! I am excited about this hat! I’m going to fashion the rest of my outfit (dress, shoes, and accessories) around the hat, which will be the main attraction, the piece de resistance! The bigger, the better since I won’t be wearing any sunscreen and it might be pretty warm out. And I don’t want to squint. I’m close to 40 and the soft skin around my eyes is already threatening to betray me. I can deal with the wayward gray hair here and there, but crow’s feet, bags and wrinkly eyes I cannot. (Lord, help me.)

I’m going to put on my best modern-day southern belle charm and make sure to sashay a little when I walk. This is what a child’s dress-up game feels like for adults. As a little girl, I spent countless hours in my mothers’ high heels, slathering on Cherry scented Chapstick until the red pigment transferred to my lips, pretending to be a sophisticated belle of an imaginary ball. This is my shot to make a long awaited dream come true and I don’t aim to muck it up.

Another perk about Derby Day is the park itself. Santa Anita Park is very well maintained and they’ve kept every bit of old nostalgia that they could. It’s where the film “Seabiscuit” was made and there’s even a Seabiscuit tram tour. I can already hear the thunder of a bunch of thoroughbred horses stampeding down the race track with the San Gabriel Mountains looming in the backdrop overlooking us all. So excited I could squeal!!

Anyway, I’ll be sure to snap lots of pictures and post some here, and I’ll definitely let you know if I win.

Because Prince charming isn’t coming

2011-03-03T09:14:00.000-08:00

I tried to read through a book with the same title a couple of years ago but the author seemed to focus more on her personal issues with being a dependent than on discussing independence. Long story short, her dad started H&R Block and she lived a good portion of her adult life in denial, leaving her security in the hands of her husband who squandered all of her money away and then divorced her, leaving her with a heap of debt and two daughters, then he remarried. But if you flip through the book you will find a few pages that offer practical advice that you might want to remember or earmark for future reference. Anyway, I’ve lived my life as independently as possible knowing that there is a very strong possibility that I may never find a Prince, or even a guy decent enough to trust with my well-being. This is only sad if you believe in fairy tales in the first place. Although raised on them myself, I’ve long since realized that I was sold a hefty wolf ticket so I put away such childish thoughts. Prince C. is up there with Santa Claus, in a sense. Why lie to your children, people?

When I first met my ex and we were on date #3, I think, walking back to my house after seeing The Bodyguard at the Baldwin Theater (RIP), he asked me what I was looking for and I told him, with the night stars in my eyes and whimsy in my voice, that I was looking for my prince on a white horse to come and save me. Try not to puke. I gag at the thought now. And he responded, as in love as he claimed to be, although now I just think he was horny, that he was that “guy on the horse! I’m him!” As romantic as I was back then I didn’t for a second believe him but I wanted to. And his willingness to entertain my fancy, as absurd as I knew it was, endeared me to him even more. Shortly thereafter I became pregnant with our son. And after 7 or so years almost all of the whimsy and romance had worn off and my rose tinted glasses lost their tint. So here I am today, somewhat newly single after more than a decade of playing house, and I know precisely where I am, where I’m going, and what I’d like to find along the way. But things aren’t as simple now as they were back when I was 16 or even 25. I think that without my old pink blinders on it’s become much more difficult to find a mate. This is a tad bit disconcerting. In some ways my standards have become a bit more lax; in others they’ve become more stringent. But you can’t see all that by looking at me, can you? When I do get approached, which isn’t as often as it used to be, it’s by the guys who can’t string a sentence together properly, who dress like they just stepped out of the 70s and 80s, or hopped fresh from their mothers’ womb, leaving me quite perplexed. *Le sigh. Having been bred on romance and fairy tales I’m still hopeful that the day will come when I meet my match. It’s not #1 on my list of things to do before I die, but it’s on the list, nevertheless. So in the meantime, I’ll enjoy being newly single, traveling as far as my budget will allow me, making new friends, learning new things, and smelling every gotdamn rose I come across that doesn’t look like it’ll kill me. I am patient.

Valerie's Arc

2011-02-22T10:15:00.000-08:00

At this moment, if I were approached by God and asked to build an arc and load it with things that should be kept and saved before a massive flood wipes out everything on Earth, I’d select more family members from my ex’s family than members from my own family. My own family disappoints me immensely. So, on my arc I would keep my mother and son, one of my 7 aunts and four of my 5 uncles, 4 of my 30+ cousins, my brother, Daryl…and that’s about it. Whoever said that you can only choose your friends and not your family, was an idiot.

Bizarre uses for tin

2011-02-18T10:53:00.000-08:00

I'm looking for inexpensive tin sheets for a few craft projects that I'm planning and ran across this very odd review of tin/metal sheets on Amazon:

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

2 of 8 people found the following review helpful:

3.0 out of 5 stars Not Good for Bedding; Awesome for Hats, March 20, 2010

silo - See all my reviews

Durability:5.0 out of 5 stars Fun:3.0 out of 5 stars Educational:2.0 out of 5 stars

This review is from: 16254 .008 Tin 6x12" Sheet (Toy)

I recently bought these tin sheets because I feel that metal has many purposes, and you can never have too many kinds of metal. Already having such metals as "hard," "cold," and "shiny," I figured adding these tin sheets to my collection would increase my value to humanity.

My first application for these tin sheets was to use them as bedding. After a night of rustling around, constantly crinkling the tin, I decided to go back to my wood chip bedding. It was an honorable try, but just didn't work out the way I wanted it to.

Next, I decided to make a tin sheet hat. No, not tin foil; I mean tin sheet. The difference is that the tin sheet is a bit thicker, which greatly adds to the strength of the tin to inhibit psychic attacks. I even made a small bill to shield my face from evil bird doo doo. When using the tin for this purpose, nothing else compares.

One drawback to these tin sheets is that while they're great for making hats, other clothing manufactured from the sheets is a bit restrictive and noisy. For example, a shirt I made from the material made me look more like a cardboard cut out than a sexy beast. The reflective power of the tin did not attract any women, but did seem to attract hippies who thought I might be able to hook up to their electric cars as a sort of solar panel. This too did not work.

Nevertheless, I do recommend these tin sheets for purposes including but not limited to constructing shelving units, making antipsychic hats, and as bathroom decoration.

Candy hearts, flowers, balloons, bah

2011-02-14T16:30:00.000-08:00

A friend of mines just sent me a message complaining about the women in her office getting delivered bouquets of flowers. She jokingly asked me to send her one so she could pretend that an admirer sent it to her. This sort of thing confuses me as a woman. Am I broken? Do I not have enough estrogen? Have I had so many Vday dates in my lifetime that I’m now immune to the delights of candy and flowers? What is so novel about getting a bunch of balloons and/or flowers and a card on Valentines Day? It’s nice to know that someone cares about you but does it mean more to you if their affection is shown on February 14^th? Is romance simply a bunch of balloons and/or flowers and a card on Vday? Surely, it’s more than that. Or am I defective? I know that I am loved. It helps me sleep well at night, lol. And the people that I love in return will get giant Ghiradelli chocolate chip cupcakes this evening, if I get around to it. And even if I don’t get around to it, they’ll still know I love them and we’ll all be alright. We don’t need no stinking cupcakes or flowers or expensive gifts on February 14^th to prove it. We prove it when it matters the most – all year long, when nobody’s looking, when everybody’s looking, when it’s least expected, and when it’s needed most. It comes as second nature, not because of a calendar reminder. Our love kicks into gear right on time and not on schedule. Our love isn’t novel. Isn't that how it should be?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZkD6wgdggyk

I couldn't go to preschool in the morning until this song was played. I was a stubborn little girl. And my parents played it for me every morning.

The Wine Mixer

2011-02-12T09:20:00.001-08:00

Wine tasting was really nice. It was probably the best twelve bucks I've ever spent and not because of the wine, it sucked, but because of the experience. J's Lounge in downtown L.A. is a pretty decent spot for a night out, and the California Wine Tasting people really know how to spoil their guests; they kept the h'ordeuvres coming. I looked around at some peoples plates and it was like they were sitting down to dinner, lol. And this was before the waiters began coming around with trays full of goodies. I don't understand how some people can pile those little appetizer plates so high with snack food and not feel shame. How much crudite can one person stand? I think one guy was trying to make a Scooby Doo-like sandwich with his cheese and salami.

We both chose the white wine as our complimentary glass and sat outside underneath a gazebo with ruby red drapes and a fire pit, the downtown L.A. skyline loomed above us. After my glass of wine, the bartender mixed me a "French Kiss" that he swore I'd love. It's a martini with vanilla and cranberry in it. It smelled better than it tasted, which made it the worse twelve bucks I've ever spent. My girlfriend and I were looking pretty dynamite last night; she had her hair done, nails done, everything did (c) some rap song. I wore an old black lace dress that I had picked up from a sample sale many years ago that still looks good and not dated, some heels that I bought about 6 years ago and never wore, and I washed and styled my own hair, nails were bare. Which reminds me, I seriously need to get back on those sample sale mailing lists. Anyway, since I'd taken a two hour nap yesterday afternoon after work, I was energized and ready to take on the night. She wasn't. As we sat under the gazebo talking and drinking she began to get too relaxed and threatened to fall asleep. So we decided to go upstairs and dance a little. The crowd was well mixed, different ages and races. The dj was okay. He played a lot of pop radio stuff and a bit too much Michael Jackson (two songs), but otherwise it was music I could dance to, so I did. As soon as the first MJ song came on a few dorks on the dancefloor started dancing like Mike. It was so funny to watch. Then some guy asked my friend to dance and while she was working hard out on the floor, she naturally began to sweat and her hair began to lose it's luster. She didn't look a mess but that was enough to deflate her self-esteem and she was done with the night. The next thing I knew she was asking me when I wanted to leave and it was barely even midnight. I didn't complain; I'd had fun up until then, which was my goal. But I would have liked to stay a little bit longer and get a better feel for the place and the people there last night. I saw a handful of cuties that I wanted to ogle a bit and the bar area seemed to be popping. It was okay, though. I still had energy to spare this morning so I got up and went for a much needed run/walk around my neighborhood. Now I'm feeling like Rocky, except with the sniffles. I'm getting over a cold.

One of my absolute favorites

2011-02-09T22:42:00.001-08:00

and so appropriate with vday right around the corner. I wish I had someone to dedicate it to.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pto5lqEi5to

2011-02-09T22:40:00.000-08:00

I really should start proof reading these things before I post them. I cringe every time I reread a post. Ah well!

I DO like wine!

2011-02-09T10:15:00.000-08:00

I’ve changed my mind J. I had a flavored martini the other night at Geisha House for dinner at a friends’ birthday shindig, and while it wasn't enough to get me drunk and probably not even tipsy (I've no idea what either feels like but I think I’d know if I were drunk or tipsy), it damn sure helped me sleep well that night. What a sleep aid! I slept like a brick, and at 10am I thought my ringing cell phone was my alarm clock going off. So I kept hitting the snooze button wondering why it wouldn't shut off. I can’t recall the name of the martini I had – something with pomegranate and milk in it – but it was quite tasty. No alchy here, but I’m starting to see what all the hub-bub is about. Certain flavors are pretty damn delicious and the buzz you feel afterwards is a nice bonus. I’m a fan now, but not enough to over indulge. In fact, for the remainder of our night I drank water, while the other girls boozed it up. Until now, I never saw the point of alcohol. It tastes bitter and too much of it makes you feel like crap in the morning. Plus, alcoholism was a problem for my father and his mother, so I’d always been told that I may not be able to handle liquor – I was predisposed. But unlike them, I think I’m more level headed and have much more willpower.

Last night I couldn’t sleep, so as an experiment I cracked open one of my many bottles of wine (I get one every year for Christmas from a doctor I know who owns a wine bar), mixed it with a little grape juice, and voila, a decent nights rest. I won’t make doing this a habit as I know the consequences, but I could see myself sipping something nice every once in a rainy evening. I waited until my mid-thirties to start drinking and I’ve no regrets about it. I don’t think many who are younger than thirty are as responsible as they should be with alcohol, nor do they fully realize the consequences of over-indulging. Being sober, I still managed to have a good time in my 20s. I don’t feel like I missed out on anything great. A cousin of mine, who is a kindergarten teacher, got drunk once when she first started teaching and took out half a block of cars while drunk driving one night. She flipped over and totaled her car and is lucky to be alive today. That’s not an experience I wish I’d had.

So, all that to say that I’m really looking forward to this weeks wine tasting soiree. Now if I can only figure out what I want to wear…

Guanacaste

2011-02-08T09:12:00.000-08:00

My Costa Rica trip is coming up and this time I want to hit the beach wearing a white or pink bikini, so I have SIX MONTHS to get my portly ass in gear. And I just ate a big chocolate chip cookie five minutes ago. And last night I watched a movie with my son while eating some Mint Chocolate Cookie Ben & Jerry’s. And the day before that…well, you get where I’m going with this. I’m sort of looking like Fat Bastards out of shape little sister.Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a little bit, but I damn sure am NOT two-piece sexy, no-way, Jose. So after I finish my Thai lunch, I’m going for a 25 minute power walk around this “compound.” And before dinner I'm grabbing my jump rope and channeling Black Jack Johnson.

I’ve done a little bit of research about Costa Rica and, aside from La Romeria, which is our primary purpose for visiting, there is much to see, do and get excited about. For instance, at the top of one of their volcanoes (Ricon de la Vieja), there is a beautiful acidic lake filling the center and several hot springs nearby. You can hike up there to see the lake as well as take in views of the surrounding

countryside. Though I’d much rather go by horseback. It’s a huge hike! And there are snakes (and monkeys) so I’d rather my feet not be on the ground. There are seven active volcanoes in all but the most spectacular is said to be the Volcan Arenal,

which regularly puts on Fourth of July-like lava shows. And I hear that on a good day if you hike to the top of Mount Chirripo, you can see both the Caribbean Sea and the Pacific Ocean at the same time. My friend Patty’s grandmother lives in Playa Conchal, Guanacaste, which is on the north Pacific side of the country. It’s near the Monteverde cloud forest reserve, where you can

zip line on a canopy tour from tree to tree, and the rainforest where some of the most exotic plants and animals in the world reside. I took 3 years of Spanish in high school but I know it’s no match for what I’ll be up against. Thankfully, Patty is fluent. Although, I’m still going to buy a Spanish Rosetta Stone program so that I feel more comfortable. My son can use it too for school, so it will be money well spent. He is doing a bit of research on the history of pirates on Cocos Island and throughout sections of Costa Rica to get himself excited about the trip. As if simply going isn’t enough. Psht! Anyway, here’s a snippet borrowed from www.infocostarica.com about pirates and legends of buried treasure on Cocos Island:

During the 17th and 18th centuries it was a refuge for pirates and many wanderers of low repute. Many valuable treasures have reportedly been hidden on the island, among them the Lima Treasure, consisting of tons of gold and silver bars and gold sheets that were meant to cover church roofs, and the treasures of William Davies, hidden in 1684, and Benito Bonito, whom they called "Espada Sangrienta" (Bloody Sword), hidden in 1869.

There are also two old shipwrecks off Punta Cahuita that are believed to be haunted by French and Spanish pirates. I can’t wait to feel like I’m waiting for Johnny Depp and the crew of the Black Pearl to arrive and battle it out with Davey Jones and his men. I’m still very much a kid at heart and this type of stuff truly excites me. My son is a much harder sell though, so we’ll see if he has a good time. The first thing he said to me when I announced that we’d be going to Costa Rica was “What the heck are we going to do in Costa Rica?!”

Um, have fun? Sheesh.