Monday, December 20, 2004
I wouldn't call it a depression, or even a 'funk'. Just a sense that something is missing. The magic I remember as a child, when I swore that I had heard Santa Claus and his reindeer on the roof, has faded away, and I desperately want to have that feeling back. I'm sad because I mourn for the excitement of Christmas morning (no pun intended) and the rushing downstairs to see what Santa left.
There isn't much that I really need to ask for. I have a great family who I enjoy spending time with. I've been fortunate enough to be self-sufficient and provide for my own home. I am relatively healthy - except for those few pounds that like to stay around.
I think what really has me down is that I look around at the things that I've accumulated over the span of 30 years, the family that will love me no matter what, and yet I still feel alone. Where's the boyfriend you ask? Well, that's a damn good question.
The seperation is growing between us. He's been at his mother's place while he begins to sort his life out. He's job hunting and soul searching - and I am fully supportive of that. I think it's about time that he's taken this step for himself. It should have been done over a year ago. But in that year that he wasted finding a place for himself, I've been excelling. Now I feel that the seperation, much more than physical distance, is now too wide to bridge.
What makes this all so frustrating to me is that I know he's trying, so I don't want to be yet another person in his life who's given up on him. He does a good enough job of giving up on himself. But I'm not happy in this relationship - I can hardly call it that anymore. It's not the person he is - because I love that person, but is the way he views himself and his worthiness that puts the strain on me. I want an equal partner. I want to be challenged and encouraged. I want to explore the world around me and I want to do it with someone who is not afraid of taking chances. With Jim, I have my doubts.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
I love the intensity in which its said - regardless of the context. Just the shape of the mouth to make the 'F' sound is so forceful, that sometimes I can just say 'F!' as opposed to acutally saying Fuck (especially at work). It still get's my point across.
Fuck is just fun to say. I like how it takes on various meanings and connotations and it is instantly recogizable. For example:
Fuck you, you fucking fuck.
It just rolls off my tongue so easily. Like poetry - from your local truck stop.
Now, I'm not a vulgar person really. People don't normally associate me with having the mouth of a sailor. You might hear me say 'crap' more often than a carelessly spewed 'shit' or 'dammit'. The latter two are said too quickly. There's no time to really reflect on the word. 'Crap' is a little better in that it allows you to intensify the amount of crappiness just by how long you hold the 'a'. Another example:
'Craaaaaaaapp!' would be appropriate for forgetting your wallet at your desk when you're at the register in the cafeteria.
But the Hosannah of all curses is 'Mother Fucker'. That is saved for special occasions, such as for the asshole that cuts in front of you when you've waited for a quarter mile line to get off the exit ramp of the highway. It holds the top honor because it allows you to trail off the final 'er' into a loud, primal scream that holds as long as your lungs can supply breath.
Sometimes I say 'fuck' when I'm alone at home, just so I can hear my own voice. It makes me feel alive.
'Fuck' doesn't always have to be said in anger. Apart from the obvious horny command 'fuck me', or the juvinile retort 'fuck you', there is also the endering 'fucker' that I normally reserve for my pets.
"Hi fuckers! What are you up to today? You like your food?"
So, as I've shown, curses no longer need to be reserved for women with questional morals, New Jersey mobsters or acne-scarred teenagers hanging out at the corner smoking cigaretts. They can be a part of mainstream America. 'Fuck' especially can be the cherry on top of an otherwise bland vocabulary.
Fuck you very much and go fuck yourself.
After I thawed out in the office of the garage, the mechanic told me that they did find something wrong with the car. The whatcha-ma-call-it was bowed out, thus flooding out my engine as I started it. And they also found that the wires connected to the thing-a-ma-gig was all crapped out and needed to be replaced.
Oh. Ok. Sure.
So I took my car-less self and walked back home IN THE COLD where I could call my brother to pick me up and bring me to my parent's house where I could borrow my dad's pickup truck.
When all was said and done, my car is now one happy little bucket of bolts. I have her back and she starts up on the first try. Her engine just purrs and and the pickup is great. All she needed was a little TLC. I know the feeling.
Monday, December 13, 2004
This morning I hopped in my car all ready to go to work. I had a hair cut and this really cute pink wrap on that I was just ready to flaunt. However when I turned the key, my car would try with all it's might to wake up, but the engine just never turned over.
I tried for about 20 minutes to start my car but nothing changed. I had to resign to calling up the service garage at the end of the block to have them help me out. Apparantly, it was a busy morning for cars not starting. By 8:20 AM, they already had 4 phone calls. They didn't do tows, but since they were so close, they were going to send someone out to me to jump start my car so I can drive it back to the garage.
A half hour later, I see a red truck cruise down my street, but as I ran out the front door he was gone. I saw him drive to the other streets in my area, but he didn't see me waving my arms. This happened three times. Then I saw him turn out of my complex back to the garage. The garage called me back and I told them that I'd seen the little red truck drive by many times, but he never stopped.
Finally Jim the truck guy came over, hooked my car up to the battery charger and I tried to start up my car. Nothing different. Jim said that the battery was fine, but it might be the fuel pump, or the ignition somthing-or-other. Great.
I got the number for the tow service so they can carry my car the 100 yards to the service garage. The cost for this little adventure - $50. And what sucks even more is that I'm not covered for roadside assistance until my new auto insurance kicks in next week.
I went into the service garage office while the tow truck dropped off my car in the back. A few minutes later, the mechanic came in and told me, "Would you believe that your car started right up? As soon as it came off the truck, I tried it just to see what was going on, and it started."
My car is a tempermental, little bitch! She got brand new tires last week and a tune up about 2 weeks ago. What else does she want? I bet she just wanted to get a little lovin' under her hood. Feel of warm grease against her gears... Hmmm. Maybe she has something there.
Well, since I'm already paying for the tow, I'm having her looked at anyway. I just hope my car gets this out of her system because I will not tolerate any more outbursts. It will be straight to the parking lot without any oil change if she's not careful.
** Update **
6:00 came and there was still no phone call about the car, so I called them. They weren't able to replicate the problem. My little Sunfire Slut started up every time for them. So I guess that's good for me - nothing has to be fixed. But I'm letting them keep her overnight for observation. If she starts up tomorrow morning after a cold night with no problems, she's really going to get it!!
Sunday, December 12, 2004
Tonight my mom hosted dinner for my whole famly: my aunts & uncles, my cousins and their kids because my grandmother was going back to her home in Puerto Rico. My dad is really a big kid trapped in a grown man's body. He loves playing with my cousins' kids. I know my parents are just waiting for them to become grandparents, but first things first.
This afternoon, dad came home with a big moving box.
As soon as he brought it in the house, I got to work preparing it for a cool playhouse. I cut out the front door and window. Above the door, I added a cute little lookout window with shutters. I even put in a flashlight in the roof so there would be light inside. I had so much fun putting it together that I was upset that I wasn't able to play in it.
When the kids came over I could barely wait for them to take off their coats. "Hurry up. Uncle Nelson brought a surprise for you!"
I brought them over into the spare room where I had the playhouse set up and when they saw it their eyes light up. "Wow!" Right away, they crawled inside, peeked out the windows and got to work decorating the inside with the crayons that I left for them.
For hours they played in their imaginary world, and I remembered when I used to build forts out of the couch cushions, when the backyard became another world, when a cardboard box was the biggest treasure you could hope for. I missed those days. Now my 'box' comes with drafty windows, maintenance fees and a mortgage.
But this coding thing is addictive. It actually pissing me off. I try and adjust one thing, so I attempt to find the source within the CSS and it winds up throwing everything else off. To hell with it. I will drag myself away from here, force myself to have some brunch and clean myself up for the rest of the day.
Tomorrow my grandmother leaves to go back home to Puerto Rico. It's a big send-off dinner at mom's and the whole family is sure to be there.
Saturday, December 11, 2004
This is the photo I used on my Christmas cards this year. I figure everyone else sends out pictures of their kids for the holidays. Well, me being childless didn't want to miss out on all the "Look at this cute kid" moments. So I bombarded my friends and family with a Christmas photo of me when I was 7 months old.
So here I am, 10:26 on a Saturday night, and instead of spending time with my boyfriend (where the hell is he anyway?) or doing any of the holiday crafting that I was meaning to do, I'm clicking away at my keyboard.
It's funny... 15 years ago it was the social kiss of death to be home on a Saturday night. Even if there was nothing to do, just driving around town with your friends was better than sitting home. As long as you were seen crusing the strip, you could go to school on Monday knowing that you survived social leporacy for another week.
I wasn't a complete potato today. I got up early, as if I was going to work. By noon I made breakfast, cleaned my hall closet, finished a book I was reading and had ample time to mope around in my pajamas. Determined not to spend the entire day at home, I went to the library to get a new book, went to Bed Bath & Beyond for some new towels and went to the movies. I didn't expect to like National Treasure, but I really enjoyed it.
Now I've earned the right to slip back into my pajamas, make some hot chocolate with whipped cream on top and hop into bed to read a book. And quite honestly, I can't think of a better way to finish my day.
Thursday, November 25, 2004
It allows you to reflect on the months that have passed by – to quickly for most of us. There have been changes, great and small, that have altered us forever: it could have been a change in job or address, becoming part of a couple or becoming independent, an addition to a family or a loss of a loved one, or something as little as a kind gesture offered by a stranger that made your day a little brighter.
In a time with much uncertainty – uncertainty in our government, in our leaders of faith, and in the way American Idol’s votes were collected – there is one thing that I am certain of: each day has been made special with the thought of you.
So as the holiday stress starts to beats upon you, close your eyes (please don’t do it while driving), take a breath and remember that it’s all small potatos. As long as you live and breathe, have friends and family that think about you, have someplace warm to go to at night and a full tummy (but not too full), then you have all that you really need.
Happy Thanksgiving to you all. Much love and laughter to last through the year – and spill into the next. Thank you for being a part of my life and for making me into the person that I am today. And if you don’t like me, well then that’s your own fault then, isn’t it?
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
I had spent all Saturday morning in my pajamas figuring out how to properly install a ceiling fan. I actually read the directions!
About 5 hours later, including a lunch break, I had a functioning fan and light fixture. I was so proud of myself. I felt like Bob Vila. I celebrated by lounging around the house for the rest of the day, watching movies, sliding around the wood floors in my socks and dancing around like a maniac with myself. It was quite enjoyable and I encourage you to do the same.
Around 9 pm as I was laying in bed watching tv, I got this excruciating pain in my left eye.
HOLY CRAP! WHAT IS IN MY EYE!
I wanted to scream, and cry, and pull out my eyeball and dip it in cold milk. I did 2 out of the 3.
I tried eye drops. I cupped water in my hand and looked at my palm underwater. Nothing helped. It feld as if I had shards of glass imbedded in my eyelid and was skatingback and forth across my eyeball. I wouldn't have been suprised if I stared crying blood.
I had to go to the hospital.
For a brief moment I thought about driving myself there, but then I had another searing pain tear across my eyeball causing me to double over in pain, both eyes shut and tearing; and I thought otherwise.
By 10 pm I had no choice to call my mom."Mom, I need your help. I need a ride to the emergency room."
I'm sure that's what every mother wants to hear from their children.
Mom lives about 30 miles away, but every minute that I had to wait seemed like an eternity. It was raining and although I was hoping that she would be careful, I wanted her to hurry the fuck up!
Finally she showed up close to 11, and I came out with a tissue pressed to my eye. I think that once she saw me alive, she calmed down a bit.
I have always had problems with my eyes. I have a lazy eye, I'm talking drops to fend off glaucoma, so anything that threatens the health of my eyes is a very big deal.
The emergency room was pretty active. There was one woman next to me who broke her finger, another guy who just couldn't stop itching, and there was Tommy. 'Tommy Hilfiger' as he was affectionately called was an older man who appeard to be mentaly-deficient. He had taken the 'choo-choo train' from Manhatten to New Brunswick just to see Rudy. Rudy was the only one who could treat Tommy's leg.
Tommy made himself at home in the ER, walking around, talking to the nurses, telling everyone about his leg and how he needed to see Rudy.
Rudy. Rudy. Rudy.
That, and that he needed to be done to make the 1 am train back to NYC, and $8 for the ride.
While I was waiting, they asked me to try and read the eye chart - with my F'd up eye.
"Are you serious??" I could hardly keep my eye open, let alone try and read stupid letters from 20 feet away. It made it past 2 lines before wanting to gouge my eye out with a hot poker.
I finally got to see the doctor and it turned out that whatever I had in my eye was washed out, but it did wind up scratching the shit out of my cornea. It was the scratches that was causing so much pain. Off I went home, in the rain, with my sample bottle of antibiotic eye drops.
Mom took me back home and reluctantly left me there. She wanted me to come home with her and spend the day there to be taken care of, but I declined. There was nothing that I could do there that I couldnt' do at home.
But Mom is the greatest. It's good to know that I can call and she'll still come running in the rain.
Friday, November 19, 2004
It's the day before she's set to go on vacation for 2 weeks. She was restless in the office - and me, well I hardly need a reason to be distracted. She wanted to get out of the office for a bit and I happily obliged. Off to Kohl's we go!
I went in specifically to look. I didn't need anything - except maybe a fun new scarf/belt, or a girly flower pin; I have been feeling very feminine lately.
Well, I found several of the scarves that I wanted and a pretty perl/ribbon belt that I thought would be pretty for the holidays.
Mmmm, the holidays. The quinticential reason for shopping. For me. Shopping for me.
I saw the cutest snowmen bathroom towel set. It would be perfect in my powder room - once I get the new faucet hardware, new light fixtures and new towel bar. And I had to get the snowmen kitchen towel, snowmen tablecloth and snowmen floormat, you know, to carry out the theme.
And wouldn't you know it, Halloween things were 70% off!! So I wound up getting a pumpkin door decoration, a ghost candle, halloween tablecloth and a punpkin kitchen towel.
It's my mission to make my home feel happy and festive year 'round. So what says fun more than snowmen and pumpkins??
I blame it all on Beth.
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
The other day I was at a scrapbook party hosted by my cousin's friend, L. I noticed a picture of Bush on the fridge and I immediately snarled my lip. The topic turned towards politics and although me and another person were Democrats, we didn't really get into it out of politeness.
But sometimes the things people say really kills me.
L: "...besides, I can't stand Kerry's wife. All that money and she can't even do something with her hair. At least Laura Bush looks presendital."
I must have had this dumbfounded look on my face.
L: "Do you not agree?"
me: "I just never included the wives as part of my decision making."
Are you F'n kidding me??
Monday, November 15, 2004
When Dad and I finally got to my house, we ate lunch - because you can't work on an empty stomach. It was about 2:00 when we cut our first piece of wood on the table saw.
Mom popped in, ate a snack and then disappeared upstairs with a paint brush to finish painting all the trim up the stairs, in the hallway and in the guest bedroom. When Mom gets to work, there is nothing that will stop her.
The evening ended with most of the molding installed, the upstairs painted, the sawdust swept up and with us eating pizza and watching tv.
I could think of no better way to spend a Friday.
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Oh my God! I haven't finished the floors off in my house! I haven't changed the look of my blog for over a year! I didn't buy a dvd burner yet and my videos are getting stale on my hard drive! I didn't call my girlfriend from high school to plan a dinner get together! I haven't even started Christmas shopping yet!
It's wierd because the rest of the year I have this 'I'll do it tomorrow' attitude. But as soon as we turn the clocks back, suddenly there's not enough time in the world to do all the things I want to do - meaningful or not. And in this overwhelmingness, my first reaction is to sink in defeat and say I'll never be able to do it. And that whole process leaves me feeling exhausted and drained before I even do a thing.
Is there a name for that??
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
click, click, click....
But now it seems that our coaster cars have split in half and mine is racing down the hill, full speed with my hands over my head and me laughing at the top of my lungs.
Jim, on the other hand, his car is taking another track, twisting and turning, spinning upside down, getting him dizzy and lost and he's not enjoying the trip.
I wonder if our tracks will meet up again at the end of the ride?
Friday, August 13, 2004
For almost a year I have found myself to falling more in love with a person than I had been in a long time. And in loving that person, I have grown to love his son, his sister his parents... I have found a pair of arms that I fit in so comfortably and and ease in my manner that I forgot I even had.
However, I have also overlooked the material things that he didn't have - things that have been engraved in my being that is required for a suitable mate to possess - a home of his own, a proper education, a good job, a salary to live on. True, if I had relied on the criteria of a worthy man, I would have missed out on Jim and his tender and decent heart.
Maybe I thought I could save him. That I could show him that you don't have to settle for the things that are given to you in life, that it was possible to go out and get the things you want. I teach my lessons by example, not lecture.
When I reach out my hand to him, I no longer feel him being pulled out of his hole but I feel me being dragged down into it. I don't feel the equal give and take of a relationship anymore. I am doing it all and I'm running out of myself to give.
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
I leave for my vacation Saturday night. My mom and I are going to London and Paris for a week. I am so ready to get the hell out of here. I'm restless and need to get away from job, boys, and monotony.
I will load up on film - both 33mm and video. I will be annoying tourist with all kinds of gadgets wrapped around my neck. I will be in my haven of exploring new things.
I won't even think about having to come back home again.
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
I could blame it on PMS today, but what would be my excuse for all of the other days of the year?