Latina Like Me

It's Not a Date

2010-06-10T21:14:00.008-04:00

At least that's what I keep telling myself. It's a reunion of sorts. Hi guy who broke my heart. How are you today? How has life been since we stopped sleeping with each other? Please keep it superficial. I don't want any indication that you've moved on...not ready for that just yet.

This meeting is for closure. Did you get that memo? This is the day where we reminisce on good times, skim over what went wrong, and talk about how we're glad that we can be friends. After all, we got to know alot about each other and it would be a shame to let that go to waste. Except that I still want to love you...

Excuse me? Oh no, I didn't mean to say that out loud. I was just thinking to myself that I don't want to be your friend because I wanted to love you. It seems impossible to look at you as a friend because wouldn't that mean that eventually we would hang out and scope singles together. You used to hold me. I can't forget that. You used to kiss me. I don't want to forget that. Maybe this was a bad idea. I'm having trouble maintaining eye contact. You said my eyes were always honest. Don't look now. They'll tell you how hard this is.

I know it's over. It's been over for a while. That's what today is about remember...sealing the ending. But why are we really here? Who won't let it go? And more importantly, why not? Oh, I bought you something for your recent accomplishment. That's right, so it's me. But you wouldn't let me give it to you when it was right in my hands three weeks ago. So it's you. I mean that means you wanted to see me again, right? Why? I think we're both as confused outside of this relationship as we were in it. I mean you canceled our reunion once and i canceled twice. (I always like to one-up people that make me feel vulnerable) I think tomorrow we'll do it...end i mean. Officially.

I agreed to this? That was a bad idea. I'm nauseous now-how am I supposed to go to work afterwards? You're a guy, you'll swallow once and reset the program. You're probably not even nervous now. Shit, why did you agree to this? I've always been a glutton for melodrama...let me find out we're more similar than i thought. Better yet, don't let me find that out. I'm working on reasons to forget about you, not give you another little piece of my heart (now baby)...

Maybe you'll cancel tomorrow. Maybe we'll get another few days to pretend whatever we're pretending until it's real. Maybe we'll be grown ups and get it over with. There's a part of me that's done enough mourning to feel like I'm ready to move on. The woman in me that can acknowledge that that which is not healthy has no place in my life. But the other part of me, the one that can only focus on getting that "old thing back"-well she understands Third Eye Blind:

"I want to get myself back in again/the soft dive of oblivion/i want to taste the salt of your skin/the soft dive of oblivion/oblivion"

Oblivion never sounded so beautiful as it does tonight. But I know I'm not a fool and we have to do this, so guy just remember to stay superficial. Do it for me.

Adventures in Mommyhood

2010-06-08T21:41:00.005-04:00

On Sunday my son shit on my floor...twice. Today he is running around partially naked slamming his yucky toddler butt on my sofa. He is almost 3 and should be well on his way to potty training. However, it appears I'm not that lucky. I have a son that hates diapers, loves being nude, yet refuses to attempt potty training. I have too many stories that begin with "I don't know why he keeps peeing on my floor". I've purchased pull-ups, favorite character underwear, potty seats, lollipops for treats, etc. Frankly, I'm tired and did i mention that my son shit on my floor...twice. After the first year of life, toddler poop is really adult poop, so picture that...on my floor...twice. Too gross.

I made him help me clean it up (safely of course) and his simple response was, "Mommy, this is yuck". Kid, you just made your first understatement. I've tried to take him to the bathroom every hour. I've given him "you're a big boy and big boys use the toilet"speeches. I've read articles. Nothing is working. And yet, he is obviously uncomfortable with wet or soiled diapers because he tears them off as soon as they're no longer 'fresh'. Is he going to wake up one morning and decide to use the toilet or am I going to be telling his first girlfriend stories of him soiling himself at 7 years of age? *Deep Sigh*

But is there a such thing as parental peer pressure? Because to be honest, he's my first child and if he still doesn't want to potty in the toilet it doesn't bother me that much. That is, until it comes up in conversation. You know-THE conversations-the ones in which everyone talks about what their kid is or isn't doing. Now, I love to tell the "And then so & so said, 'Mommy, i think the dog is shyyyyy"...because really when your 2 year old uses the word shy correctly, your chest automatically swells.

But then you have to sit your ass back down, when the conversation goes like this:
Person A: "Is he potty trained yet?"
Me: "No"
Person A: "And how old is he?"
Me: *Insert mumbled "almost 3" here*
Person A: (Disappointed slow nod)

Because all of our children's accomplishments are because of us, their failures are also directly our fault. What? That's not how it goes? Okay, pretend that's not the unwritten rule if you want, but then why do you feel bad when someone questions your kids' weird scratching? I mean really, why does your kid scratch himself like that?

Nevermind, I digress.

My point is that I don't like when my son soils my floor with bodily fluids, but I don't know how to change it right now. And i don't want to feel bad about it either. It's gross, but it's far from the end of the world. And I wonder how he feels. He's only been alive for two years and eight months and now I want to change up something very routine and sacred to him-the diaper change. I'm damn near 26 years old and I still get ornery when I don't have lunch between 12pm and 2pm. Imagine how I would feel if someone told me I had to start using the bathroom upside down or something. Change is hard...for all of us. So I guess, FOR NOW, I can relax a little and just really, really pray I never find poop on my floor...again.

Linger

2010-06-07T21:36:00.013-04:00

But I'm in so deep/You know I'm such a fool for you/You've got me wrapped around your finger/Do you have to let it linger? (Linger by The Cranberries)

I did it again. The one thing I didn't think I could. Didn't think I'd want to do. Hell, I really didn't want to and it happened anyway. I loved again.

Let me be clear. I don't really know how it happened. I dated a guy on and off, healthily and unhealthily, with labels and without them for almost 8 months. I couldn't understand why I cared about every interaction, why I missed laughing with him, why I was struggling once it was over and why the prospect of dating other men made me nauseous. And then my girlfriend said it so non chalantly, "Well, I guess it would be a lot easier to get over him if you didn't love him". I am not exaggerating when I say I cursed that woman out and laughed like a madwoman. "Love who? Him? Hell no. I don't love nobody but myself and my baby. Are you crazy? What do I have I have to love him for?" And frankly, once you start rambling and your grammar falls apart, you know you're full of it. It's over and you've lost this verbal battle.

I was a mess. I love him? I love him? I love him. How did that happen? How many times did we laugh together before it happened? How many future plans did we share before it happened? How many family history/war stories did we swap until it happened? Was it when I slept over? Was it the hugs or the kisses? Was it the fact that we had a good chance of having a dark skinned little girl with green eyes...don't ask, but scientifically it was true! And worse than this discovery, was the ugly truth staring at me mercilessly. We weren't even together anymore and the chances that HE loved ME were slim. So as if loving someone again, against your will, after being hurt on multiple occasions, was not enough; I wouldn't even be able to count on having that person love me back. Excuse me while I jump off the nearest NYC bridge. This is ri-damn-diculous.

Now if you're like me, you might also find it difficult to find the point in loving someone who can't/won't/or just don't love you back. I could lie and say that I sat with all these emotions and tried to figure out how I felt and what I could do with these feelings (positive things of course). But I love to swim in this river called DE-NIAL and instead I pretended my friend was crazy and I had sense in my head. I went out that weekend with a bunch of friends to celebrate a major accomplishment for this man, exchanged some laughs, had a few drinks (on an empty stomach) and by the end of the night, proclaimed my love for this man...to this man. Now ask me a simple question like "How did that happen?" and I'll say "Hell if I know, I don't remember". As if me falling in love was not a betrayal enough, my poor empty stomach couldn't handle my drinking and allowed the alcohol to create what I like to call "holes" in my brain. In one of those holes lies the whole conversation in which I thought it would be a good idea to let the "ex" know I loved him. I completely understand what Pink meant when she said she was a "hazard" to herself.

Long story short, he told a mutual friend about it...twice. This mutual friend attempted to clean it up by saying that I had a lot to drink and probably meant "love" like we all love our friends. Kisses and hugs to the friend who tried to clean up this disaster. I do not believe with any ounce of my being that the ex believed it though. Luckily, I could depend on one of his worst flaws to be one of my greatest saving graces right now--he hates confrontation on any issues of importance. And hell, love is pretty important. So I could depend...i could bet...on him not asking me about it directly and thus live a semi normal life thereafter.

I've seen him since then and to be honest, we're supposed to "have lunch" this week. Somehow I get the sense that a one on one lunch date versus the group at a BBQ venue (the last time i saw him) will be slightly different. I also get the sense that I will have trouble making eye contact. Or will he? I mean, what's it like to have someone love you and not feel that back? Is it at least flattering or is it damn uncomfortable? Can't say I've been there and if I have, can't say that I knew.

I sometimes ask myself why bother with all this...there has to be a better way of getting over relationships. Why can't I wake up and wish all the emotion away? Why can't I reason with myself, "Self, this ship has sailed, save yourself"? Why can't I get angry, cry, break some shit, and breathe, knowing that it's all over? Well, as I've been reminded, they can't even cure the common cold yet. So frankly, if you're looking for answers over here, I've got nothing for you. All I know is that once upon a time, I loved a man so deeply that when it fell apart I routinely cried the mascara off my face everyday right before work. And now, I can count the amount of times I think about him on a daily basis using two fingers (both middle fingers mind you).

And so all I know is that loving someone that doesn't love you back is far from the worst relationship souvenir you could keep.

And loving someone after you've been hurt is a sign that you haven't been defeated.

Oh yeah...and while falling in love is out of our hands, staying in love is a choice and so no matter what, this too shall pass.

Let's just hope it's before the next BBQ ;-p

Because I'm in the Mood

2009-09-20T20:52:00.009-04:00

My best friend is a huge fan of Audre Lorde and well, friends are supposed to put you on to new things :-p So blog world, I share this poem with you and add some commentary at the end...

Stations by Audre Lorde

Some women love to wait for life
for a ring in the June light
for a touch of the sun to heal them
for another woman's voice
to make them whole
to untie their hands
put words in their mouths
form to the passages
sound to their screams
for some other sleeper to remember
their future
their past.

Some women wait for their right train
in the wrong station
in the alleys of morning
for the noon to holler
the night come down.

Some women wait for love
to rise up
the child of their promise
to gather from earth
what they do not plant
to claim pain for labor
to become
the tip of an arrow
to aim at the heart of now
but it never stays.

Some women wait for visions
that do not return
where they were not welcomed
naked
for invitations to places
they always wanted to visit
to be repeated.

Some women wait for themselves
around the next corner
and call the empty spot peace
but the opposite of living
is only not living
and the stars do not care.

Some women wait for something to change
and nothing does change
so they change

There is so much that speaks to me in this poem that it's actually difficult to start. I think about the last 3 lines-"Some women wait for something to change and nothing does change so they change" and it's odd to me that one can interpret them in 2 different ways, both accurate & fitting.

On the one hand, a person can only sit waiting for something to be different before they DECIDE to be different. A woman walks away from a loveless marriage, Mom goes back to school after years of home making, the Social Worker changes careers, or the real estate agent just decides to travel because she can. Their lives WILL be different because they choose it to be. On the other hand, sometimes a person can get so stifled by the stagnancy of their lives that they adapt and stop wanting things to be different just so they can have peace. Perhaps that's the woman who stops wanting more from her partner, the woman who never does anything that doesn't revolve around her family & children, the woman who can't make a decision her Church doesn't agree with, or the woman who stays at her job because it's stable. I'm both of these women at different times and I suppose that's how life goes.

Soledad

2009-09-20T20:07:00.006-04:00

Warning: The following is a conversation I've had with myself...it is mostly unedited and tragically accurate. Proceed.

Why doesn't it feel okay to be alone? Or more specifically single? I have beautiful friends & family and yet singledom weighs heavily on my shoulders. Sometimes I physically feel a heaviness as if being single is something to live through, a cancer of sorts. How did I get here? And seriously, how do I get out? I remember the end of my last relationship as one of the saddest, most traumatic experiences of my life. (Trust me, if you knew the details you would agree it's not an exaggeration) There were days I sobbed the mascara right off my lashes, forgot what food taste like because I missed all meals, and generally curled up in bed until the next day of work. Those days have been long gone. I've partied, dated like a champ, took some 'Naively Engaging with the Opposite Sex' L's, sat in silence, verbally vomited in therapy, read relationship books, and made positive changes in my life. At various points I went to church, worked out, re-examined my career choices, and focused on my little one...all in over 13 months.

13 months...and I'm still here. Where is here you ask? Oh, just waiting for my Tyler Perry ending. Almost literally waiting for a "blue collar" handsome, Church going man of color to come and rescue me from my life and make me believe in love again. Well, except that I actually prefer a white collar man, Church is preferred, but not mandatory, and I don't want to be saved at all. I just want to believe in love again. I want to believe that people care about more than themselves. More than money. More than sex. More than popping friggin bottles at the club. Jesus Christ, my dating experiences this past year have encompassed quite a few characters, from a corner store bodega worker to legal staff on Wall Street. No winners. And maybe the truth is that I'm not frustrated that I haven't found THE ONE to settle down with, but that the options are so similarly disappointing. Broke or well off, high school drop out or college educated, broken home or 2 parent household, inner city or suburbs, every man makes me lose a little bit of faith in humanity. Literally.

I suppose what I'm really looking for is purity, integrity, commitment, and honesty. I want a man that won't lie to my face about his intentions or behaviors. I want a man that can tell me it's not working for him instead of slowly but surely ignoring my text messages. I want a man that truly understands that it's NOT okay to have your cake and eat it too. I want a man to know that he is NEVER allowed to tell me that he can "have me" any time he wants. I'm not a fool. I know that sometimes we play a bigger role in our interactions than we like to admit. I also know that there are times I'm disrespected because the other person really believes it's okay. Not because it's me per se, but because I'm a woman and who cares how I feel? Why don't they understand how much that hurts? Better yet, why don't they care? I'm not asking them to see me as the best thing since slice bread, I'm asking them to see me as human. To see that I have intrinsic value and worth. Is that ideal too great? Or just not of worth?

Well I challenge men to play fair at least. To play hard ball without tricks. Simply understand the truth won't kill me. I've survived too much to feel bad because you don't like me. Shit, I don't like you all either. However, I will continue to feel bad that you don't even deem me worthy enough of that conversation though. It's a double edged sword-I feel like I get treated like some china doll that can't handle the truth because it will shatter me, yet men seem to think I can handle being treated like shit with no issue. Fuck you. Not the men that "just didn't work out"-fuck the ones that treated me like shit despite telling me various times, various ways that they would in fact "not treat me like shit".

I could almost understand if men just said this shit to sleep with you and it always worked. But not with me. My digits are loooooooooooooow in that arena and thank God because really, my vagina is not for practice. But.........being single is lonely...even surrounded by friends, even surrounded by family, even surrounded by a boisterous almost 2 year old. And I wish it was just the sex because that's easy to address, but it's not. It's the fact that after a long day of work, there's no one waiting to hear about it. There's no one that's been waiting all day just to see your beautiful face or hear your voice on the phone. There's no one to argue with about dinner choices. No one to snuggle with during a rain storm. No one to be silent with on a Sunday morning. No one to discuss celebrity shenanigans. No one to hold your hair back when you puke after a long, crazy night out with the ladies. I suppose these things actually make up that nasty word: intimacy. I'm terrified of it. Feel vulnerable because of it. Ah, but I miss intimacy. Soledad/Solitude feels like shit.

Is there a way to know?

2009-08-27T19:43:00.005-04:00

Sometimes I think to myself that it's easy to judge what makes a good or bad mom. On the train, you hear a mom call her daughter a "little bitch" and it makes you cringe. Mom smacks little boy across his face for wanting candy and you remember Katt Williams say "He's 2 years old, he's supposed to want Skittles, you simple bitch"-easy judgments in my book. I revoke their mommy card immediately and maybe that's wrong, but maybe it's not. But forget about the easy stuff. Forget about the things we see that we make jokes about, or report on our status updates, or share via text message. What about all that isn't seen, but is felt like hot coal? What about the interactions that no one would ever know or hear about without our disclosure-the ones that actually in essence cement the foundation of our beings. It's not dramatic, let's face it a parent can make or break a lot of who and what we are. At one end of the ring, we strive to be everything that parent was not and at the other end of the ring, we look in the mirror and realize that the 'enemy' sits firmly in the middle of our chests. Some of our worse habits can be traced back up the gene pool with ease as we simultaneously praise ourselves for not being "as" selfish, ignorant, and flawed as Mommy or Daddy Dearest.

I look at my son and I wonder what mistakes I will make, what mistakes I've already made, and whether I'll ever do some really great stuff in his life. I joke that every kid needs something to talk about in therapy, but who really wants to be the focus of that conversation? Not I said the cat; especially when week after week I find myself bashing one parent or the other in my own therapy sessions. I've struggled with whether or not therapy is self-indulgent. After all when was the last time a woman of color got a minute, let alone 45, to talk about all that is wrong without having to find the solutions for someone else's problems? Don't worry, I'll wait. I've spent so much of my short life taking care of other people that talking about situations where I've REALLY been wronged or people FAILED to take care of me is HARD. Hating my stepfather or my real father and talking about the reasons is difficult, but stepping up to the plate to swing at my mother has been the hardest conversation I've ever had to have.

If I had to put it in simple terms, my stepfather abused me, my biological father neglected me, and my mom just failed to act. She never came up to the plate for me or my siblings. She never fought back. She never did right by us. She always chose him or maybe worse, maybe she always chose herself. She didn't want to be a single mom. She didn't want to be on public assistance forever. She didn't want us to grow up without fathers. These days she talks about divorcing my stepfather and all I keep thinking is "well that's a day late and a dollar short". I battle chronic depression, my sister has anxiety attacks, my youngest sister has an eating disorder, and well my younger brothers (who are still in middle & high school) are early in their visual dysfunction. One dabbled in the usual acting out behaviors, smoking weed, drinking, truancy and the other has decided that stealing and lying is okay as long as he gets what he wants. Ask him why he does certain things and at 12, he'll answer, "Cuz I want attention. Just some attention". I can pat my parents on the back for making sure we all, at least, valued education and hard work. But I can also provide them with a big "F*ck you" for being selfish bastards.

Yesterday I told my mother, "I've decided to eliminate people from my life that don't contribute positively to it and refuse entry to new people who won't contribute positively". Silence on the phone. Hmmm, let's guess what mommy is thinking. #1) She's thinking I'm talking about my stepfather (she's mostly right) & #2) She thinks I'm talking about her (guilt sure is a motherf*cker when you're actually wrong). I ask her why she's quiet and she answers as only she can, "Oh no, nothing. I respect your opinion, it's just that you sound bitter and I don't think you'll always feel that way". Hmmm, no shit Sherlock, you let our father abuse us for years and yet you want us to still come around and play nice. Even though, he's still a selfish alcoholic. He still hasn't apologized to anyone for the years of misery. And he has yet to make any attempt to become a different man.

Me on the other hand-I fight like hell to keep my head above water so I'm not on antidepressants. My sister's anxiety attacks have become more frequent. And I just saw my youngest sister who is once again so thin her eyes look black as if she's been punched. I asked her about it and she looks at me with obvious pain and says "You know, good weeks, bad weeks. It's a bad couple of weeks, I've just been thinking alot".

F*ck you dad for being an abusive, remorseless prick & f*ck you mom for being a coward.

"I don't think you'll always feel that way"

Guess what? I don't know what later will feel like or look like, but I know today and today you suck. And i like to think that my son will NEVER think of me in this way, but is there a way to know? Will I choose my needs over his? Will I ever choose a man over my baby? Will I sit back and watch evil and misery chip away at my little boy's soul? I once heard in a clinical training that trauma slowly destroys a child's ability to dream. Little by little, that child will begin to limit what they believe they can do in life, what they believe can happen, what they believe people are capable of. Would I let my son lose that faith? Would I help him lose it? I think to myself, "Hell no, I know better", but is there a way to know?

Could my mom have ever dreamed at 16 that she would still sleep with a man who hurt her daughter even after she knew?

Could my mom ever dream as a child that she would be punched like a man in front of her kids by her husband?

Could she dream that she would then wake up the next day and make him breakfast?

Could she dream that her oldest daughter would eventually be her protector?

Could she dream of just how much it broke her spirit to be that?

Empathy would ask me to put myself in her shoes and understand her fears, her concerns, her limitations. But Anacaona would say I would never wear those shoes so why bother? I love my mother in the most painful of ways, but I'm ashamed of her weakness. Growing up I thought my mom was so strong to put up a brave front for the world when she suffered so much. It took me years to identify that strength as "fear". Fear of change, fear of loneliness, fear of the unknown. And shit we're all scared of some/all of these things, but it does not freeze us all. Why couldn't my mother do better? Simply do better. Simply love better. Choose better. Be better.

I could run circles around the possible reasons and grow dizzy from the possibilities, but aside from all the clinical excuses, is there a real way to know? What could anyone tell me now to heal? To forget? To be.

And if I knew any more, any deeper, would I be any different? Is there a way to know?

Because it matters

2009-07-03T11:07:00.003-04:00

Why is it so hard to write again? When does a passion become a task? Excuses can be plentiful: "oh between work & mommying, i'm just so busy", "i'm tired after doing x, y, & z", "I don't know what to write about". Blah, blah, blah-but why lie about something that you care so much about?

I love writing-I've always loved writing. I didn't understand why it was so important to me-didn't get where I got this from (do you get it from somewhere at all?)-all I knew was that my whole life, moments, thoughts, and feelings transferred from the inside walls of my head to a paper or a screen. And in that moment all was well with the world. It was peaceful, it was redemptive, it was me. But these past few months have been so very chaotic for me, so painful, so turbulent that i questioned my reality on a daily basis, questioned my passion as self-indulgent even. And I outlined these moments in so many papers & posts that somehow never made it anywhere that anyone else could see. And as I write this, I think get why. I think i get past the excuses and towards reasons0. Whenever something painful makes it to paper, makes into indelible words, makes contact with another person, it's real. Reality doesn't bite because it "hurts", reality bites because its undoable. Because you could kick, scream, cry, or laugh and it would never undo the truth. The truth can inspire greatness, can trigger love, can beg for redemption, but it has to scar first. It has to carve reality into your soul, into the inner spaces that no one else sees, into the rooms of your brain that you sometimes have to stifle to get through your day.

My truth is that I loved a man who never loved me, but convinced me he did & manipulated accordingly. I loved a man that made me question my own truth everyday and I was never strong enough to do different, to move differently. And I don't want to waste this space on how that happens, on details that ultimately don't matter, or on voyeuristic pictures of anguish that still celebrate his place in my life. This space is for my writing. This space is to reclaim the truth, inspire a paradigm shift if you will. A space to remember that some of the lessons we learn sting, some burn, and some threaten to break us...but ultimately, we rise like a flower in the concrete jungle & despite all odds, we remain beautiful.

In reclaiming your life, one has to review all that was lost. Mourning occurs, anger flairs, more mistakes are made, but eventually there is redemption. And that space recaptures all that was yours, not shared, not borrowed, not pretended. Writing was mine, is mine, and will be mine. And it will not be done to prove anything to anyone or inspire legions to do the same. I will write because I can, because I want to, and because it matters.

Siempre,
Anacaona

Bad Girls Club: Season 3 Finale

2009-03-26T23:21:00.002-04:00

This should be posted up on Combinationsfollow.com, but in case for some reason it doesn't make the bar I'm posting it here. Why? Because it's my blog and I can do what I want...if you enjoy, please visit me occasionally over at the link above. If you don't, well stick around here and I'll talk about breaks ups, being a single mom, and why i hate ignorant people, deal?

Doot Doot Doot Doot Doot Doot-This is the Amber Show. Hi, this is Amber and this is Amber and this is the Amber Show...and if you recognize this line at all then you too have been wasting your life Tuesday nights at 10pm for the last 10 weeks or so.

Now for those of you who don't know (or are too ashamed to admit if you do), The Bad Girls Club is a trusty little gem of a reality TV show on the Oxygen channel's weekly line up. Now what else is on Oxygen's line up, I wouldn't be able to tell you, but they seem to have a winner with this one. The Bad Girls Club, in its 3rd season and moving quickly towards a 4th, is really a show about some girls who fight too much, f*ck too much, and probably have no friends in real life because if they did they would not be ALLOWED to come on TV and perform as the imbeciles they appear to be. The recipe is a classic mix that doesn't seem to need any changes at this point: Take

7 women with personality problems (aka Bad Girls) that want to be on TV
Put them in a beautiful house with no supervision or rules
Tell them that they are here to do better with their lives (don't explain what this means or assist in the process)
At night, escort them to every bar and club in LA while paying for all drinks
Install a vending machine full of sex toys (a Season 3 addition that was waaaaaay overdue)
Sit back and watch as the girls break down into cliques/crews {not unlike every major stage of a woman's life anyway...think about it...Kindergarten-Death, you gotta have a crew}. And when the girls aren't screwing random men they meet at the club, or the beach, or the front door...

Enjoy the miscellaneous fighting over:

The simple: Ex. Juice (Season 2: Tanesha vs. Jennavecia)
The complicated: Ex. Respect (Season 1: Ty vs. Aimee)
And the Unintelligible: Ex. Being too drunk to notice escalating anger (Season 3: Amber M. aka Cookie vs. Most of the Fab Five)

How could you avoid such entertainment? What are "the others" watching at this time, really? Judge me all you want, but sometimes you have to sit and watch girls attempt to kick the sh*t out of each other over nonsense. Why? Because you secretly want to kick the sh*t out of a bunch of people you interact with on a day to day basis. You just don't because you need your job, it's not the right thing to do, you might actually get your ass kicked if you tried, etc. But in the meantime, as the original theme song stated, "Love me or hate me, I'm still an obsession".

Now truthfully the Season Finale went as expected...

The girls cried "I've never had girl friends before and now I have all these girls in my life"
Talked about how much they'd grown "10 weeks ago I would have cut you up and thrown you in the pool for that comment",
Discussed how they were going to miss each other "F*ck you, you dumb b*tch, you need Jesus". Really??? Can you advise someone to look to a higher being after dropping the F* bomb? Maybe, that's all you can say to de-escalate such a situation...
Took inappropriate pictures of themselves (for old time's sake) and destroyed the house (cause they're not paying for the damage)
And last, but not least, what happened in Cancun, did not stay in Cancun as it was revealed that one of the cast members who had been refraining from sleeping with a male on the show, totally screwed a random guy in a pool in Mexico....ehh, you win some you lose some I suppose.

So in the end, what do we get from our gem? In a nutshell, don't sleep with random men, don't fight with your girlfriends over things that don't matter, and don't talk about your friends behind their backs...if you're being followed around by cameras 24/7. Otherwise, it's all fair game!!!

Anyway, I'll be back next week taking a look at another winner from the VH1 network, Tough Love...in the words of the Bad Girls,

See ya Bitches!!!

Peering Back In

2009-03-26T22:26:00.002-04:00

I know I've been missing for well over a year and frankly most people wouldn't believe half the reasons for the absence. But what is most important now is that I've decided to come back-I'm going to be double posting for anyone who actually cares or passes through lol. I am going to be here with personal/social commentary and blogging from time to time on Combinationsfollow.com I will be reviewing Reality TV shows because if I waste my life watching them, I might as well practice my writing and review them.

I feel more than pleased to get back on the Blog horse--

Amor y Paz en abundancia,

Anacaona

'Cause Mary J's always got it right...

2007-12-01T18:05:00.000-04:00

"No time for moping around, are you kidding?
And no time for negative vibes, cause I’m winning
It’s been a long week, I put in my hardest
Gonna live my life, feels so good to get it right

So I like what I see when I’m looking at me
When I’m walking past the mirror
No stress through the night, at a time in my life
Ain’t worried about if you feel it
Got my head on straight, I got my mind right
I aint gonna let you kill it
You see I wouldn’t change my life, my life’s just…..

Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine,"

Let's just say that for now (and hopefully for a long time lol) I've got nothing to complain about. To be thankful for-there's plenty and while it may be well past Thanksgiving, when I thank God, here's my list:

1) A beautiful, healthy baby boy
2) A pain in the ass boyfriend who I wouldn't trade for the world
3) A family going through growing pains (always) that never fails to make me smile somehow
4) Friends who've made it a mission to stay in my life even when our lives don't cross paths as easy as they did in college
5) A new job that pays me what I deserve and makes me proud to be a social worker
6) and dare I say, a stunningly gorgeous WOMAN that stares back at me every time I pass a mirror whispering the secret that she always knew I'd be happy and get all the good I deserve--I love that WOMAN.

Mom meets blog

2007-11-10T01:40:00.000-04:00

I would like to write a post about mommyhood. I've been thinking about what I would write and have even rewritten it in my head a couple of times. The only problem is that I'm too tired to write/type it. I know that if I start, it will be longer than I expect and frankly I don't have it in me. So I'll just share the first few things that come to mind before I fall asleep on the keyboard:

My son shits alot...I think he got it from his momma lol-It's better than him being constipated...except that middle of the night shitty diaper changes have led to shit on my finger or hand on more than one occasion...shit that I haven't noticed until I crash back into the bed and...well you let your imagination run with that-
My breasts hurt-I love breast feeding Joseph and I hate breastfeeding Joseph. More to come another day.
If you see me on the news and my identity is revealed, it will be because my boyfriend has gone missing and I am the main suspect. My motive: Once again, the baby will not go to sleep until 6 or 7 am. My boyfriend, on the other hand, has no problem drifting off into that good sleep. I decide to "take him out" as revenge.
If I don't go outside at least once a week, I think I will LITERALLY go crazy, not figuratively, I WILL START TALKING TO MYSELF MORE THAN I WOULD PRE BABY AND IN A WAY THAT MAKES PEOPLE UNCOMFORTABLE AND PRONE TO STRAPPING OTHERS ONTO BEDS.
I love being a mother already. The journey has just begun and I know that it is a thankless job and I know that it will make me cry on more than one occasion and I know that my life will not be mine anymore and I know that this will piss me off sometimes and I know

that i wouldn't have it any other way.

The Vagina

2007-10-22T17:41:00.000-04:00

Pre and Post Delivery my mom said, "People don't realize how physically traumatizing delivery can be on a vagina".

Truer words have never been said. And as I live day by day, mommying a beautiful, newborn boy, I sometimes forget that I'm also healing a hurt and vulnerable vagina. And while I would love to write a beautiful, flowing post on how I have taken my old vagina for granted and am slowly getting acquainted with my new vagina (who's a good sport too) but not my old vagina, I must feed the beast, i mean the baby, who loves to nurse at his mom's oh so friggin huge breasts quite often lol. So I say this for my vagina for now,

Vagina if you were a person, capable of silly wants and desires and frustrations, here is what I would give to you:

a hug
chocolate ice cream with strawberries
a massage with yummy smelling oils
a shopping spree
a new book
and time to read it
the job you want
leisure time you enjoy
riveting conversation
passionate sex
an orgasm
an orgasm
and
an orgasm

....or maybe that's just for me...

***shouts to sonnets for making me come back***

:-)

Drum roll please.......................................

2007-10-09T17:53:00.000-04:00

Hello blogworld,

I'm officially home now with my beautiful baby boy Joseph Ajani *last name withheld for privacy lol* . He was born on October 3rd at 3:16 am--8 pounds 11.2 ounces and 19.5 inches. I would say it was a typical labor which means that in one word it would be described as OUCH! lol Unfortunately, I did have some physical complications as a result of pushing (separated a pelvic bone/cartilage area) and will be needing physical therapy for a few months to get back to walking like a normal human being-no worries I'm already recovering well :-) Anyway, I look forward to writing a new post about labor, delivery, and a new baby...but that will not be happening anytime soon I don't think lol

Anyway, thanks for all the well wishes and prayers! I will try my best to upload a pic of my gorgeous boy (it's true...he's amazingly beautiful...I guess I shouldn't have expected any less given the gene pool LOL)

love,
Anacaona

Edit: Obviously I added a pic lol.

I'm off to have a baby

2007-10-01T16:48:00.000-04:00

send me your prayers, wish me luck, offer good vibes, whatever works lol

I'm going to have to ask you to leave

2007-09-26T22:42:00.001-04:00

you see that and the other ticker on here reads "Hooray, I've arrived"-yeah that's a lie because I have a nine pound (plus) baby in my uterus who seems to have no desire to evacuate the premises. Now, I've had different talks with him:

Encouraging: "Hey baby, it's not so bad out here. There's alot of people who want to see you and spoil you and buy you stuff-plus you might be the future president or something"
Humorous: "Please come now because the new season of Grey's starts tomorrow and I don't want to miss it".
Combative: "Give me my body back...right now or i'm going to leave you in there forever..."
Pleading: "Please get out, you'll like me and daddy, I promise"

None work-he's stubborn like his parents (who knew???). And granted most first babies are late, but everyone said I was so active there was no way I would make it to my due date let alone afterwards, but alas they were wrong. An truthfully it wouldn't be so bad if he weren't so f*cking huge lol I was expecting an 8 pound baby plus some ounces-i was 8 and some ounces, my boyfriend was almost 9-but yesterday he was 9 pounds and 3 ounces and i'm not supposed to be induced until Monday night. He could gain half a pound in that time-9.9 gadzooks, no vagina could/should be able to do that. Yet, I don't want a C-section because I'm scared of it, the post-surgical pain, the horror stories. On the plus side, no pain of pushing big ass babies out of my cooch, buttttttttt still scary as are most major surgeries. I've read up on C-sections so that I'm not caught off guard in case that is the option presented to me, but it's hard because my mom had one C-section and 4 natural births and she says the C-section was by far her worst birthing experience. I try to tell myself that everyone's body is different and her recuperation could have just been worse. I also say that her C-section was 15 years ago and that's got to make a difference in procedure, but people seem to love to tell you all the horrible things that could happen...right before it might happen to you. Humans are soooo nice to each other aren't they?

So, here are my fears mixed in with a couple of tears and I wish I had a better last post before giving birth, but I doubt I'll be on this again until my baby makes an appearance. Wish me luck people

or send me money

or both

just kidding

kind of ;-)

Peace and God's blessings to all.

Always,
Anacaona

Guilty pleasures and not so pleasurable guilt

2007-09-21T01:35:00.001-04:00

okay, I don't know how to say this
it's kind of embarrassing
I should not be so excited
and I won't really be able to explain it

BUT--

JLo *cough cough* I mean Jennifer Lopez (Anthony?) is preggers!!!!

now I really hope this is not a rumor and I don't necessarily consider InTouch Weekly the most credible source, but let's entertain the possibilities here for a very pregnant woman's sake :-)

As I've told Jrnywmn, I don't know what it is about JLo-she's not everything I've always wanted to be, but she's everything that it might have been cool to be. Come on, let's put the possible criticisms on the shelf, and delve into the guilty pleasures of it all--

She's Puerto Rican

So we've got a major player in Hollywood-score one point for me

She's from the Bronx

I grew up in Brooklyn and I live in the Bronx now

She wasn't from a really dangerous part and had a house

I eventually moved to CT at 12-people tease me about that, but I'm from Do or Die Bed-Stuy so shut up lol

She can't sing, but obviously loves to and refuses to let it go

Same here, it's just that no one cares about me hehe

She can act...if the character is Latina

Who's to say that this isn't true for a white actor? Can Julia Roberts be Puerto Rican? I mean not the stereotype, but be a believable Puerto Rican in general? Remember Marisa Tomei as a Cuban woman in that The Perez Family *this is me puking* Why should JLo have to learn to play the universal white so convincingly? Think about it...just think about it.

She can dance her ass off

...I'm just jealous...

Her husband is Marc Anthony

Not a cute man at all in my book, but he can sing so f*cking beautifully that I would be willing to sleep with him with the lights off so long as he sings "Se me sigue olvidando" the whole time...any pauses and it's over though...

Okay-anyway moving on, so the article says that she's about 12 weeks pregnant and it might be twins because she'd been in treatment trying to have children for a few years. If this is true, I'm uberexcited for her because it brings reality to the fact that procreation is not so f*cking automatic for many women. For a person who is struggling to have a family, the stress and anxiety can weigh heavy on a woman and her partner. I have friends who've tried everything to have a child and were crushed by miscarriages, failed treatments, and false alarms and with my own pregnancy I've learned that little in life can be taken for granted.

Some parts of me wish that Jennifer had discussed her attempts to have children because I think it could be uplifting and empowering for many women who feel less than because of their struggles. At the same time, I know how private these matters can be so I definitely don't fault her for not feeling the need to be the fertility spokesperson on this. I wonder though just how many women of color struggle with fertility issues and whether we have any place to really discuss these things. In between the negative stereotypes of our 'fruitful' procreation and the (sometimes more disastrous) "positive" stereotypes as natural mothers and matriarchs, where do woc discuss the anxiety, the stress, the pain, and frustration related to family planning in every sense of the word? Do we stay secluded throughout the struggle until we are 'successful' in whatever we were striving for? Do we continue to whisper our concerns and fears only when we know the other person is experiencing the same things?

I find that even though my pregnancy has not been a high risk one and did not come after years of fertility issues, I do remember testing positive for Group B Strep not understanding what it was, being afraid of what it meant, and more importantly being embarrassed because I thought I had done something wrong. Group B strep is not like strep throat, it can be found in the intestine, vagina, and/or rectum and can harm the baby if it passes along to the child during labor. How could I share something like that? My bacteria was in my vagina-did it mean I was dirty? (NO-there's no correlation between cleanliness and this bacteria) Was I a bad pregnant woman? (NO) Could I have avoided this? (NO-I was probably a carrier of the bacteria for years, but it won't make me sick, just a baby in the birthing process) Was my baby going to be okay? (Well, the bugger is still in my uterus, but according to all accounts he should be fine if i receive antibiotic treatments during labor and he gets them directly shortly after) Either way, I realize there are people that I consider close friends who I still didn't reveal this information to even when I was taking three amoxicillins a day. Even armed with information and first hand accounts from women who'd experienced the same thing, I remained embarrassed.

But why whisper? Who are we hiding from? What are we hiding from?

Whether it's about fertility issues, birth control, STD's, sexuality, abusive relationships (physical and non-physical), funky things like Group B strep-I'm tired of whispering. Tired of looking for the others in the dark who are probably tired of looking for others in the dark. I want to find them. I want them to find each other. I hope they want to find me.

I want to stop whispering...

Can't capture this in a pic

2007-09-21T00:40:00.000-04:00

Reposting a poem you can find here on BlackAmazon because I've never read this poem before and I wish so much that I had and for the few (the proud-oh wait that's the Marines I think lol) who read me:

AND WHEN YOU LEAVE, TAKE YOUR PICTURES WITH YOU
Jo Carrillo

Our white sisters
radical friends
love to own pictures of us
sitting at a factory machine
wielding a machete
in our bright bandannas
holding brown yellow black red children
reading books from literacy campaigns
holding machine guns bayonets bombs knives
Our white sisters
radical friends
should think
again.

Our white sisters
radical friends
love to own pictures of us
walking to the fields in hot sun
with straw hat on head if brown
bandanna if black
in bright embroidered shirts
holding brown yellow black red children
reading books from literacy campaigns
smiling.
Our white sisters radical friends
should think again.

No one smiles
at the beginning of a day spent
digging for souvenir chunks of uranium
of cleaning up after
our white sisters
radical friends

And when our white sisters
radical friends see us
in the flesh
not as a picture they own,
they are not quite as sure if
they like us as much.
We're not as happy as we look
on their wall.

When it's almost time to deliver...

2007-09-19T21:47:00.000-04:00

you think about a whole heck of a lot.

I've been home for almost 8 days and the truth is that most times it blows. I have a baby due in less than 6 days and frankly there's no way to prepare for that. Sure, the bassinet is up and the room is painted (though I still can't find any f*cking borders grrrr!) and he's got enough onesies to wear to high school, but otherwise, you're just stuck. Wondering if the next moment amniotic fluid will come gushing out of your private parts or when some kind of pain you've never felt in your life will make you want to deliver the baby yourself...with your bare hands. So, in the meantime, I'm stuck at home watching TV and

I don't know what I was expecting from daytime TV, but it sure as hell doesn't deliver. In fact, I think I've forgotten just how horrendous it is between court tv shows and daytime soaps and Dr. Phil et al and their pre-packaged brand of counseling-it can be too much. I try to focus my time on three channels, TLC, HGTV, and the Food Network, but really how much Baby Story, cook-offs, and house makeovers can one watch before you're left singing along to Stacie Orrico's "There's Gotta Be More (To Life)"...

What would I like to watch though? That's the interesting question because I think we're so used to watching garbage that if someone asked us what we would want in a TV show daytime or 'prime time' I'm not sure we could answer. I like comedy. But I also like documentaries. I like to learn new things, but sometimes I just want to laugh. I want to see my life on television because that shit is funny, depressing, thought provoking, and anything but wholesome. Okay, so maybe not my life exactly, but something like it.

Even that is a post unto itself-the absence of Latina(o)s in the media-you know real ones with multidimensional personalities who struggle with more than just what to do when you're making rice and beans and realize you have no Sazon-THE HORROR!!! What about a show that focuses on a Latina trying to balance family and a career--with the Latina as the central character-not the supportive co-star who shines as the flawless matriarch who in the end knows how to 'put family first' or the spitfire who decides family and career are incapable of being intertwined and forgoes the former or the funny girl who's everyone's friend and secretly waits for the responsible, yet seductive man to make her feel whole (even if it means putting up with his infidelities). I guess realistically I know women like that, but I know a HELL of a lot more who aren't. Women who want to discuss sexuality with their daughters so that they're not duped into thinking sex is for men by women. Women who want to question policies in their workplace that obviously favor whites or men in general for that matter. Women who want to make noise and have their voices heard and be called bitches because after all, in our world, that seems to be the ultimate compliment.

BITCH= A woman who is assertive, strong, and unrelenting
BITCH= Woman unwilling to compromise on her principles
BITCH= Woman willing to call a spade a spade, an asshole an asshole, and a racist a racist
BITCH= Woman dedicated to defining-not being defined

I say all this after watching the season premiere of America's Next Top Model, re runs of Top Chef, and the new Kitchen Nightmares (on Fox with the guy from Hell's Kitchen). I say this after realizing that I probably lost very important brain cells in the process. I say this as I'm about to head back towards the TV because in the final days of labor-there's just not a whole heck of a lot to do. I say this as I hope (pray, plead, you pick) that in the LEAST, there's something funny on the tube that doesn't necessarily insult whole groups of people for the sake of cheap laughs--talk about setting low standards...

*sigh*

Facing the boogeyman

2007-09-12T15:54:00.000-04:00

Today is my first day of unemployment-in some ways a blessing, in other ways a soon to be burden. I'm going to enjoy daytime TV again (because I've missed a whole lot these past few years), but in what I'll call two and a half paychecks a.k.a. a month or so, I will wonder whether it is worth it to keep my cable on.

It wouldn't feel so bad if I were on maternity leave
It wouldn't feel so bad if I were coming back to my old position in December
or a new one
that pays more
and garners slightly (just slightly) more respect ;-)
It wouldn't feel so bad if my old Exec. Director didn't create a new job for a white, male colleague of mine
who's been at my job...maybe 4 months...
whose day to day responsibilities are less than mine...
who has no proven experience in the area he will now enter...

THE BOSS says that my friend,
"seems to get along with everyone, is a schmoozer, reminds me of myself as a young man, and is basically charming as fuck". He was disappointed that he hadn't gotten to know him better in his time here (4 whole months maaaaaaaybe)-I guess my boss forgot that he doesn't know me either.

After all, I've only been there for over a year (15 months to be exact). I'm only one of two Latino(a) people in the organization. I only have breasts and a vagina (nice breasts too, but even that doesn't count). I can count the amount of times I've talked to the Head Honcho and the majority of them were during pregnancy and about? You guessed it-pregnancy. Because otherwise what would we talk about? The work that I do? What I want from my career? What I could provide our organization? Nonsense-I'm a pregnant Puerto Rican female...

with a master's degree at 23
who has worked since twelve (unofficially) and officially since 15
and was the first in her family to graduate from high school let alone graduate from undergrad and graduate school

*Tooot fucking Toooot* Yeah that's my horn-I toot it myself for all the white men who'll never toot it

who won't know I have a horn
let alone how nice it really is
who won't ask
and won't care
but will promote men "just like them" who are factually less qualified than I am for positions

I spoke to Jrnywmn and TS about this and initially didn't blame my friend for taking a more lucrative position he KNEW he wasn't qualified for (how do I know he knew? because he came in to talk to me to discuss why this promotion made no sense and how he didn't understand where it was coming from). Now, I do blame him. Because being complacent in unjust actions is wrong-Deep down inside one has to know there is something fishy going on when of all people, the one young white male who just started working in an organization (his first office job ever mind you) gets the promotion of a lifetime over any other woman (young and old), any other male (minority), and older staff. One might argue he would provide a fresh perspective-I would argue bullshit. What makes a perspective fresh? Under 6 months of experience? White male existence-because we know that's universal...

Hell, I also blame myself for not being more direct with my 'friend', but the truth is I've never stared white male privilege in the face like that before. It's like the boogey man, el Cuco, the thing you swear you can hear while you're sleeping in the dark, but can't honestly say you've ever seen.

and I'm angry
I'm disappointed
I'm hurt
I'm embarrassed

Because I don't want his job, it's not my interest per se-yet there is no way the Head Honcho would have known that. So he just didn't ask, didn't offer, didn't care and instead possibly set off a new current-a new trajectory for a young man who is nice enough, but doesn't deserve the big break yet.

I guess at least I won't miss the hypocritical emails about how "our organization" is dedicated to diversity and finding ways to increase it. I think we can continue to promote the 4/5 minorities we have (less than 10% of staff) into various positions after yearssssssss of stellar performance of course (much more than 4 months). We can create research groups to analyze, research, and study how race, ethnicity, and gender impact "our work" (this currently exists). And we can track the demographics of our applicants to make sure we're being 'fair' when we hire the white guy or the white woman instead of the ethnic other. But we'll continue to miss analyzing ourselves
our staff
our hierarchy
our leadership
those with the most power
who create the most harm
and don't even notice it in the process

Some call it reality
I say
You can keep that shit...

I swear I'm not trying to bite...

2007-09-04T15:06:00.000-04:00

I know that some people in the blog world have been updating their blogs and cleaning house *cough cough* TS...I JUST wanted to change the color of my last post, but instead it kept changing the size, going invisible, everything but what I wanted, so the only way I could save the posts...at least to the computer doofus over here *cough cough* ME-was to change the template before I break my computer at work...

so yeah

but it does feel nice to have a new background :-)

He's pushing too hard

2007-08-29T00:31:00.000-04:00

my father...not my baby's father-he's doing very well and getting obviously nervous day by day lol-

but my biological father-the sperm donor who's never been a part of my life-is just so damn confusing. I mean it's hard for us to have phone conversations longer than 10 minutes, he's canceled plans on me more times than I care to remember, and he just really blows in the father category. I'm trying to understand in my head that he will probably be a solid acquaintance at best, but it's hard because I want him to be better than that. I want him to be more. Yet for my sanity I realize that I can't even pay too much attention to the whole thing.

Now the weird/uncomfortable/frustrating part is that he is trying so hard to connect me with his children. Like make us all a big, happy family-even sent me a letter saying as much (mind you-he sent me a letter from one borough of New York to the next, but hasn't even been able to make time or use the energy to physically see me-yeah that sh*t pisses me off). He gave my number to my younger "brothers and sisters" and gave me their number and he sent me some of their pics and a letter saying how he wants us to be close.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

Now, i need, no scratch that, would like people to understand that this is not about my so called siblings. I don't have anything against them-they're all younger than me and I suppose one day it would be nice to talk to them and maybe be friends or something. But, right now, I'm trying to establish a relationship with a man who is my so-called father. I never called him and said I want to get to know your other children...I want to get to know YOU...eventually that will mean your children, but it doesn't mean NOW. He doesn't even live with them-what the fuck are we supposed to talk about? What it's like to not have him in our lives-he's been definitely more involved with them than me, but he's still missing from their lives right now, so I guess that could be a bonding option. Except that I don't want to bond over that.

Sometimes, it's so hard because he'll say something like, "Do you have your brother's number?" or "Has your sister called you?" and I want to yell at him, "Yes, all my brothers and sisters, who I grew up with have my number and call me, I call them, and we see each other, now who are you talking about?" And sometimes I think that's cold or selfish and other times I really don't care. If they call me, I definitely talk to them (it's only been once, but it was cute and awkward because the youngest called me, she's 10 or 11, i'm 23, it would have been weird no matter what lol), but I'm not making an effort and it's not personal. It's just not my life and not what i'm looking for right now.

Then to make the experience that much more frustrating is that the fact that he feels the need to give me advice-unsolicited and borderline useless-but it pisses me off nonetheless. For example, so people can see that I'm not crazy (or that I am whatever)-here's a sample, real convo we had recently:

Sperm Donor(SD): So, where's your boyfriend?
Me: He's not home right now.
SD: He's never home.
Me: He's home alot, but for some reason when you call, he isn't usually home.
SD: And you don't get mad or anything.
Me: No, what do I need to get mad about. I talk to him on the phone. He knows when I'm home and I know when he's coming home.
SD: That's good, I guess. Your mom was like that with me too. She never bothered me when I'd get home late. She would even ask me if I wanted something to eat or wanted her to turn on the shower.
Me: (Stifling the urge to tell him everything I know about that-how mom knew he was a cheating dog, how he was older than her and so she didn't really know how to approach him about his behavior, how she felt like she bent over backwards to gain his love which proved fruitless, how she believes he took advantage of her eagerness to please him-but I stifle it and say instead...) Yeah, I don't fight about things like that. If I didn't trust him I wouldn't be with him. I don't feel the need to spend time with someone I don't trust and also have to fit time into my life to argue with that person.
SD: That's good...but you gotta be smart too. Let him know that some things aren't acceptable and that he has to be a grown man-he's got a baby coming.

PAUSE

Now-I was able to wrap up the convo very quickly before I went through the phone and choked him, BUT

who the fuck gave him the indication that I wasn't smart enough to know when a man was pulling the wool over my eyes-who said that my boyfriend and I hadn't established what is and is not acceptable in our relationship-who said my boyfriend was not a grown man or that anyone else could insult him except for me...

See? why is this man worrying his little head over giving me unsolicited, irrelevant advice instead of worrying about what a bad father he's been and how he is scoring no points right now either? Or does he think that this is what a father should do? Because I guess the problem is that he's not my father and he isn't going to be. No matter how many times he leaves me a voicemail and says, "Hi __, this is F, your father" or writes a letter signed, F, your father-he is not my father and will not be my father. I guess the truth is that it is becoming more and more evident, that my FATHER, my DAD, with all his flaws and challenges, lives in Connecticut, is married to my mom, and is the father of the siblings that I grew up with. And I could post a long rambling post about his flaws too, but at the end of the day-I love him, he loves me, he sucks, and sometimes I'm a bitch-and I'm okay with that.

Because this can't be stressed nearly enough...

2007-08-21T00:18:00.000-04:00

Yeah...5 weeks...not like i'm freaking out or anything or experiencing all sorts of weird and uncomfortable end of pregnancy symptoms...or extremely tired all the time yet trying to work crazy hard to horde (sp?) as much money as possible to survive during my unpaid maternity leave months...yeah unpaid because I only work 'part time' even when i work full time...because no one cares about young mothers...or old mothers...or mothers in general for that matter. Toss a dog a bone here-can't I get a subsidy? Promise to come back and sell you my soul for x amount of months/years in order to get a little money beforehand and if I don't do it you can nail my ass to the wall or my vagina for that matter, because I really wonder if it will ever work the same again...hope, but still wonder...

boy do i need to go to sleep, I think I know what TS was talking about when she decided against post midnight blogging, but that kind of felt good and I see why people do it...Later bloggers!

Just when I thought

2007-08-16T20:47:00.000-04:00

I was on a roll with consistent blogging...life goes right ahead and interferes. I've been missing (though I'm sure many have not noticed lol): working alot, moving to a new, bigger apartment (that doubles my work commute) and having a beautiful baby shower with cool people like Jrny_wmn and TS . It's been an overwhelming time though and as my due date steadily approaches and my doctor warns me to slow down before I give birth early, I really have just one question for the mommy's in the blogworld:

HOW THE HELL DO YOU MENTALLY PREPARE TO PASS A CHILD THROUGH YOUR VAGINAL CANAL?!?!?!?!

that's my only question and all responses are warmily received :-)

Sooooo pregnant, but far from giving up

2007-07-28T23:15:00.001-04:00

So being pregnant ain't as easy as some people might think, on the other hand, I've found that my experience has not been as bad as many horror stories I've heard. I'm quite thankful for that believe me. So in light of these two sentiments, I decided to focus on some pluses and deltas in my life right now:

Pluses

I went to the NYInternationalLatinoFilmFestival today (my first film festival) and saw two documentaries and a movie-one was decent, one was pretty good, and one was very good, not bad for a first timer.
I went to said festival with TS and that was the best part, we got to catch up on our lives, good and bad in real time (as opposed to IM or email), and we even took a trip to City Island (another first for me) for seafood between films.
Though just about 8 months pregnant, I managed to survive a long ass day of walking, subway riding, more walking, and film watching in temperatures and humidity that made me change my clothes once and contemplate gouging my eyes out :-) I believe I drank about 4 bottles of water.
I will be signing a lease for a new apartment tomorrow!!! A 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom, with dining room, and balcony on a 2nd floor of a private house--best parts??? Same price as my current one bedroom apartment and NO BROKER'S FEE.
My baby shower is in exactly two weeks and my confirmed guest list is full of many people I love and many I'm not able to see often---including none other than my best friend and my son's godmother, Jrny_wmn
And finally, my baby is almost here! My son, who has no name because my fiance and I can't agree on one, will be called Baby Boy _______ for a few days. But either way, he is almost in the world and I can't wait. I'm still nervous, but honestly more excited than anxious these days.

Deltas

Instead of being fired from my job (not because of incompetence, but because of maternity leave), I decided to resign on Friday. Therefore, I technically don't have a job to go back to after I give birth--that is a separate post that I hope to complete in the next few days.
After being stood up again by my real father, I confronted him a little angrily over the phone...that was last Sunday and I've yet to hear from him since. There goes that attempt at reunification. That is also a separate post that I hope to complete in the next few days.
I owe my graduate school almost $2000 and until I pay it, my diploma is being held hostage. I don't have that much money and I can't get a loan to pay for it because my credit isn't "good enough" nor do I know anyone who can "co-sign". My credit is better than most of my family and friends', but still nooooooot good enough I guess.
It's getting a little harder to get up and down subway stairs with this big ass belly and a baby pushing up on my diaphragm (sp?). It makes me feel a little old and helpless, especially when you pair that with not being able to bend over to tie my shoes (or do anything for that matter), peeing millions of times a day, not being able to see my nether regions or bottom of belly and shirts (thereby missing stains or spills that others love to point out) and not being able to find a good position to sleep in...so while 2 months is a short time for baby arrival, it is also very, very f*cking long.

So yeah, that's my life--not all of it but the important parts--right now more pluses than deltas, thank you Jesus lol...thanks for listening/reading...or not lol, either is okay :-)

I am afraid of you

2007-07-19T22:45:00.001-04:00

afraid of what i don't know
and what i might find out
afraid of continuing to tread lightly over questions of the past
afraid to go any deeper and learn the truth

i'm afraid to acknowledge the traces of an addicted past
your voice quite telling in the secrets it holds
the phrasings and questions of a person who's hustled for far too long
having hustled and been hustled, you're obviously a pro
afraid you're hustling me right now
hustling a connection
hustling caring
hustling love

afraid to look at you
and see me
afraid to look at you
and not see me
feel lost still with an unknown past
ancestors, heritage, stories, and anecdotes that explain a real part of me
currently on hiatus

i'm afraid of getting comfortable with a stranger
so inextricably a part of my life
afraid of the blood that runs through my veins
with it's love, hate, rage, and pain
afraid to discuss what's better left unsaid
addiction
abandonment
rehab
jail
sickness
death
of you, by you
of others close to you
What pain do you carry?
Do we have any common threads?
Can we see each other's scars?
Do we ever really want to?

i'm afraid of you
can't call it the unknown
because i have an idea
can't call it fear
as i push harder towards it
anxiety is not the word
doesn't fully explain

i'm afraid of you
and all that that may mean
i'm afraid of you
and what disappointment may come
i'm afraid of you
and finding your place in my puzzle
i'm afraid of you

the secret being...
i'm afraid i want to love you and be loved by you

And in case nothing else could make me nervous about getting closer to that due date...

2007-07-18T01:15:00.000-04:00

So that's why I always get those looks...

2007-07-18T00:49:00.000-04:00

You Are 24% Lady

You tend to make up your rules of etiquette, throwing all conventions aside.
And while you try to be a lady (sometimes), your behavior is often quite shocking.

Are You A Lady?

I remember one of my younger sisters saying to me a few months ago, "That is not lady like, you don't act like a lady" (mind you, she's 18, what the hell does she know about...anything lol) and I said why not? She responds, "You curse too much, that's not lady like". What do I say? "Well, fuck that then, fuck being a lady, i'm a woman and I'm damn good at it".

But, alas, I see she's partially right-i'm only 24% lady. Feels mighty good to me though...

Corners

2007-07-16T22:19:00.001-04:00

There's something about Harlem that drives me absolutely crazy

Not the cool air that moves through you if you step outside after sunset
Not the soul music that reminds you of an older generation unwilling to leave
Not the laughter from teenagers negotiating sex, love, and hip hop(or is it just sex?)
Not the bouncing of basketballs by young men just trying to survive and forget life's realities

Probably instead, it's a gentrification that just won't quit
Doesn't give a shit
Can't be bothered at all

Poverty just a corner away from comfortable wealth
Tree lined streets of brownstones
A hop, skip, and a jump from disabled homeless men sleeping on the street
Cute little trees and 'true diversity'
Professionals in various skin colors with the deep pockets to rent or buy
Old timers and natives need not apply

Garbage that flies around in the wind
Sticks to your ankles when you wear a dress
But never, never, never
Makes it around the corner
Somehow knows it's not wanted
Just like the homeless, disabled, drug addicted, and/or prostitutes
Who never, never, never
Make it around the corner
Somehow knowing where they're not wanted

Sometimes I think I'll scream
Tantrum and Fling
The nearest garbage can through a nice shiny window
Knock on the door of a renovated brownstone
And tell the occupants they're doing no one any favors
Reveal the secret inadvertently of course
That I am one of them
"Blessing" Harlem with my presence

A middle class social worker
Who's Latina at least, does that not count for something?
As I pay a rent that eliminates the possibility of that 'other' Latina living here
The one walking into the projects
Around the corner
With two kids, maybe one kid too many
Who isn't allowed to dream she can live in my apartment

We can both walk down the main street
Avoiding garbage
That never, never, never turns the corner
We can hold our breath as we pass the homeless men who have been lying in the sweltering heat
We can avoid the gaze of the police officer who's doing his best to keep 'us' safe from our own
We can pray for a neighborhood that makes sense
Instead of what exists
We can do and say as we please for as long as we want

But then we'll turn our respective corners
And realize that we live in two different Harlems
And the cool air
The soul music
The laughter
The basketballs
Can't make it around every corner

Last blog of the night promise

2007-07-15T23:47:00.001-04:00

I couldn't help it, as Sonnets mentioned and Jrny_wmn proves blog quizzes can be addicting. Funny enough this one is quite accurate and I think I needed a light post after the last two.

You Are a Life Blogger!

Your blog is the story of your life - a living diary.
If it happens, you blog it. And make it as entertaining as possible.

What Kind of Blogger Are You?

"You can't disappoint me because I don't love you"

2007-07-15T23:29:00.001-04:00

Such a simple, direct pronouncement by one of the main characters in We Were the Mulvaneys (Joyce Carol Oates, 1996) and the character, Marianne, meant it with everything she had. There was no love lost, no hard feelings, nothing, just a matter of fact. So true that she didn't even say it to the other character, Marianne simply thought it to herself and externally laughed softly. When I read it, I thought it was perfect, another good line in a good book.

Unfortunately, I can say now from experience that it's not true. People that you don't love can disappoint you and I don't know that it will always hurt less than disappointment from someone you love. Perhaps there's more patience when someone you love does it, yes maybe the initial anger and sadness is stronger, but eventually you let it go because you love them. Not so much for someone you don't love. In my last post, I talked about trying to create a relationship with my real father (aka the sperm donor). I've promised myself that I wouldn't push too hard, I would let it ebb and flow any way it wants. So i've called a couple of times and he's called a couple of times. Not too shabby I'd say. Anyway, my birthday was this past Friday (yes I'm officially 23 and hotter than ever as one guy said to me today, "You are a beautiful pregnant woman, you sure are." I knew that already but random reassurance is nice sometimes lol)...ANYWAY, getting back to the point, my "F" called the Thursday before and said, "I know your birthday is tomorrow and I was thinking maybe we can get together on Sunday before I go to work". I was not expecting the call or the invitation, but I received both happily. We agreed to meet Sunday around 6 or 7 in Manhattan for dinner. He told me to call on Saturday to finalize plans, location, exact time, etc. So I did, got the voicemail left a message...and did it again around 4:30 or so today. And, well I got stood up--

And more than stood up, i got disappointed and I don't love him. I got disappointed and not in a way that happens when your friend cancels plans at the last minute, but disappointed in the way that happens when you tried to pretend that you didn't care about said 'date', yet went to do your eyebrows and got your hair done, and even put on a new outfit, why??? Because it did mean that much, because part of you was willing to take all anxiety and suck it up to face your 'maker' (not to be confused with your Maker-spiritual being who created you lol), because no matter what would have been said on that date, you wanted him to walk away thinking "she is amazing and I suck for having missed out on her life all these years". Because you can pretend that you don't care that he was around, but you did, even if it was just a little, because it left confusion in your heart and mind that you didn't even talk to anyone about for YEARS. Because you wonder...every so once in a while...what life would have been like with him-good, bad, ugly or indifferent.

In his defense, he finally called around 8pm, but I refused to answer the call and instead made plans with a friend (who also knew about the 'date') to go out for an appetizer and some ice cream. He rambled for a minute and a half and for those of you who have ever left and/or received a voicemail, a minute and a half is a loooong message. He explained that he worked later than usual, fell asleep, so on and so forth, apologized profusely and asked to reschedule with another day. It made me feel better to know that I hadn't been totally blown off, but at the same time I"m still disappointed. Part of me wants to call him and say, "You don't have many opportunities to screw up, you're 0 for 23 already", part of me wants to say, "Go to hell cuz I can't add emotional instability to my life, I'm fucking pregnant and imbalanced already!" and part of me wants to honestly say, "Dude, there may not be much you can do that will not disappoint me, so you might as well start now". There's truth in all of them and illogical thought processes too. I know that I will give him another chance, but I can't bring myself to call him, not tonight, maybe not tomorrow and if he asks if I was upset, I will say yes, because I'm not the lying or pretending type. But I will give him another chance and I'll know that it's possible that he will disappoint me...

and I don't even love him.

P.S. *shouts to UNO's and Cold Stone Creamery for eventually making it a good Sunday night for me :-)*

My Two Dads

2007-07-15T18:02:00.000-04:00

So it's been a long time in the making, this post I mean, trying to figure out how to write it, when to write, why I should bother. And yet, I wrote it already-in the shower, on the toilet, in bed, cooking dinner, I've written this many, many times, but now I share it with you.

I don't remember what My Two Dads was about, at least not specifically. I know there were two White guys who were taking care of a nice, typical TV white teenager. I looked it up to try to remember the show and it came back a little. The two fathers had gained custody of the girl after her mother died-both had tried to gain the affection of her mother and when she passed were granted custody together. They fought because they had different personalities, they fought because raising a teenager will make you do that, they fought because it was in the script to do so, duh :-) Anyway, it was cute, innocent, & canceled in 3 years-Nothing like my two dads.

In this corner, hailing from Southside Brooklyn, New York, we have soon to be 42 year old Nuyorican "M". M is my step father who raised me since I was two years old, give or take a few months. Millions of miles from perfect, this is who I call Dad. He didn't graduate from high school, he's struggled with substance abuse for as long as I've known him, he's been violent and/or abusive to everyone in my home, from mom to grandma to every child and he's passive-aggressive in a textbook kind of way. He's also funny, generous, and downright vulnerable in a child like way. As a social worker, I think he has poor coping skills stemming from multiple childhood traumas. As a daughter, a sister, and a soon to be mother, I think he might be crazy. I think I would like to say that our relationship is like a roller coaster ride, but the truth is that roller coaster rides have beautiful, exhilarating highs and our relationship does not. I feel blessed when we're cruising along, able to laugh together and maybe only focus on superficial topics of conversation in ten minute intervals. I feel cursed, when all the rage I have in my heart comes rushing to the surface because of one look, one comment, one misstep, and all I can think is that if he disappeared off the face of the earth, I would be fine, fine, fine. But he's my Dad, and though technically he's not the only one I got, he is-because

in this corner, born and raised in Puerto Rico (where I don't really know) but in the United States since his late teen years, we have 40 something year old "F". Can you tell how much I know about him already? While "M" battled with substance abuse mostly in the form of alcoholism (with some dabbling in coke use over the years), "F" found heroin to be his drug of choice and an ugly mistake if I've ever seen one. Therefore, "F" has been in and out of jail and/or rehab over the years and not even a small part of my life. I know I saw him sometimes as a child, but can't remember. My mom just told me they both lived together with me for almost a year of my life, I didn't know that before. And the one time I saw him that I could remember, I was 17 years old and couldn't speak to him because I didn't have the words and apparently neither did he-it was very awkward. That was about 6 years ago. I'd like to tell you the positives about him, but I don't know them. Maybe he's funny too. Maybe he's generous. Maybe he's kind and maybe he's smart. No idea. But ever since, I got pregnant I decided I needed to know him. I need to know the good, the bad, and the downright ugly because for better or for worse, his blood runs through my veins and his essence is part of my unborn son's. So one day, maybe a month ago I got his number from his mother, found out we were both in New York City, and called him. Over the course of this past month, we've talked a few times, trying to stitch together a broken past, a distinct present, and an unsure future as father and daughter. So many questions that need to be answered, so many answers that I'll wish were left unsaid, so many sighs of exasperation for a relationship that may never be what it could have been.

See because the truth is, I technically have two dads, neither of which is perfect, but both of which are mine. And I don't know what this ever meant, what it means now, nor what it will mean later. I only know that for most of my life I believed I had a "Dad" and a "sperm donor", pardon the crudeness, but that's what I thought. And now, I'm trying to accept that I may have two dads, may because my real father may end up disappearing from my life at any moment, may because my stepfather may be completely hurt if he finds out I am talking to my real father and then we'll have to deal with that, may because I might come to the conclusion that this young woman here can only handle one flawed, painfully human Dad at a time. I guess only time will tell.

Should I just call this the Pregnancy Chronicles???

2007-07-07T17:54:00.000-04:00

Partially kidding there, but I really wanted to get another post in before June was over, but noooo can't stick to that deadline can I? nope, well i have a pending post that I promise to do sometime this week on *$#@(#!%--haha, it's a secret lol...forgive the rambling, but

PLUS+ EQUALS=

THIRD TRIMESTER (yeah, my belly is growing faster than a cockroach infestation and my hair looks a little like that, but darker and much longer-thanks hormones!)

anyway, so i'm a little frazzled, but i'm trying to maintain the "i am so cute, you almost don't notice i'm pregnant, except that i'm getting huge" look, you know skip maternity clothes and use normal clothes in an extra large and lots of dresses and cotton capris...until later, may the peace be with you all--

and me, especially at night when I have to pee for the 335th time :-)

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOW

2007-06-27T21:36:00.001-04:00

I'm officially done with grad school...that's right, last month was a fluke seeing as how I still had to complete a summer class. But, alas, that summer class is over as of 5 and a half hours ago. Final paper handed in-CHECK! Final presentation done-CHECK!! No more pencils, no more books, no more security guards dirty looks (i went to a white washed Ivy League, it happens lol)-CHECK!!!

Anyway, so yeah probably sometime this weekend I will freak out as I realize that I am that much closer to adulthood, am expecting a baby, and may or may not have a new job, apartment, wardrobe ;-), but that will be then and this is

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW

Apartment Hunting

2007-06-23T14:22:00.000-04:00

I'm trying to find a new apartment that's bigger and cheaper than my current one. I know, in New York City, nearly impossible, but only nearly and that's the hope I hold on to. But apartment hunting in New York is like being selected as a juror for a high profile case. What do you do? How much do you make? Who will live there? When was the last time you called your grandmother? Do you have allergies? How do you feel about strawberries? Can you make a deposit of one of your kidneys? Now, it makes sense to a certain degree, there are people who move into apartments knowing they can't pay rent and eviction is a long process. But as social worker, I also know this is such a small minority that such presumptions in an application process are actually quite unnecessary.

Then again as a recent graduate, I also know that such presumptions can be the difference between moving into a new place by August 1st or continuing to pay an arm and a leg in an apartment that didn't ask so many questions (it is really nice, pretty big, close to transportation and stores, BUT immensely expensive). I'm a recent graduate, you want to see my W-2 forms you say-that's fine, they say I made $13, 000 last year. Why? Oh, because I was in school dickwad, I could only work but so much in addition to classes and a 21 hour internship. Do you make over 40k? Not yet. Why not? Oh, because I was in school dickwad, and since I just graduated I'm in the process of transitioning from a decent paying part time job to a more decent paying full time job. Do you have a co-signor that makes over 80k? No way-*Chuckle, chuckle* Why not? Oh, because I was in school dickwad, but most of my family has not. Nor were they in school much in high school and therefore they have lived most of their lives busting their asses for wages that really don't match all the work, sweat, and tears they put into the system. Any more questions???

Last pet peeve in apartment hunting-looking at ads that are listed as "by owner only" (therefore intimating no brokers and no brokers fee) and having to talk through a 'middle man or woman' who somehow needs to be paid a month of rent in order to help you. Is this not similar to a broker? Is this not a dishonest practice? Should I not curse them out and send them to hell when I feel that I have been deceived? Just some questions I would like answers to.

But, alas, thus is the struggle of the New York City apartment hunter and I'll keep you posted on my progress, but if anyone has any suggestions or leads as to where I should be looking, I'm open to hearing them...

I'm it again

2007-06-21T21:10:00.000-04:00

As usual, I've fallen behind on posting, but since I was tagged by JourneyWmn, I have a good reason to 'get back on the saddle' ;-)

Rules: Each person posts the rules before their list, then they list 8 things about themselves. At the end of the post, that person tags and links to 8 other people; then visits those people’s sites and comments, letting them know that they have been tagged, and to come read the post, so they know what they have to do.

1. I absolutely love to read, but can't seem to finish a book these days.
2. I'm the oldest of five and I love it.
3. I am excited to be a mom soon even though it gives me crazy amounts of anxiety lol
4. I'm scared that I won't lose my baby weight, even though I haven't gained that much (I wasn't skinny before lol)
5. I want to work in the fields of human sexuality and culture, but I don't know what that means.
6. Sometimes, I think I'll never find a job that really moves me.
7. My two favorite stores are Barnes and Noble and Victoria's Secret...and I'm okay with that lol
8. I cherish my family, fiance, and my friends, which means, I will kill for them (semi kidding)

(and if I can add a #9-I always find these meme(s) to be so damn hard to fill out-must be overthinking them, lol, i hope)
Who do I tag? I don't really know 8 other people lol and the ones I do know have already been tagged, so whoever sees this can do it :)

Late night thoughts

2007-06-10T23:41:00.001-04:00

I have a midterm due tomorrow, perhaps, the last midterm I'll ever have to write, hand in, and forget about. I say perhaps because I plan to get a doctorate degree one day (at this point far, far away-i'm glad to be done with grad school at the end of the month) and i'm not sure how that works exactly. Call me a proud first generation higher education consumer...

Anyway, the real problem is I can't write it-I want to because I'm actually interested in the class and I enjoy the topic. Every class meeting, I enjoy the discussions, new information, challenging questions, so on and so forth...but as I sit in front of the computer, I'm blanking out. I don't want to do it, I don't care to do it, but I also get this obnoxious anxiety that I can't. A good friend of mine (and seasoned mom of two) says that pregnancy can affect concentration, memory, etc. and it's nice to know I'm not just losing my normally intelligent mind permanently, but...Sometimes it just feels like so much, pregnancy, everything feels like so much. This morning I cried in the shower because my back hurt so much and my boyfriend is usually really good at massages, but he was asleep and I was just so angry that he was asleep and angry that my back hurt and any other emotion that could have piled on just did.

Frustration
Anxiety
Anger
Hurt
One on top of the other and I just cried and lied in the warm bath touching my stomach wanting to scream and tantrum and whatever else...
and my baby moved
over and over again
and I cried some more
because it was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever experienced

And i guess part of me felt guilty for being tired of being pregnant, but I think I also felt like my little man (it's a boy) wanted me to know that it's okay to be tired, it's okay to cry, and that it'll be worth it soon (very soon if you notice my pregnancy ticker from the previous post). And the truth is, I'm still scared, and I'm still frustrated sometimes, and when my back doesn't hurt it's my legs or my feet, but I'm going to be a mom to a real live boy who will have feelings, and thoughts, and desires and shit that makes the crying a little more bearable and the midterm feel like the least of my worries...

Couldn't help it

2007-05-22T22:11:00.000-04:00

Okay, I'll try not to do this too much, but I just found this website and I couldn't resist. Besides my child feels like a drummer right now, so I'm sure he's coordinated enough to drive already lol

Being the oldest

2007-05-21T23:58:00.000-04:00

is not easy at all.

I'm not going to pretend that i wasn't a parentified child in every sense of the word, from sharing in adult responsibilities to being a disciplinarian to being a mediator between my parents (which is quite dysfunctional-i think we could all agree). I think it happens when you're the oldest and your mother is only barely 16 years older than you. I used to joke around and say that my mom and I grew up together, but the sad part is that it's not really a joke, nor is it a lie. My mom and I grew up together, maybe in some ways, this was good. I learned to be quite independent, yet family oriented, a multi tasker, yet focused. And in some ways, it was bad, I was supposed to be a little girl, not a small adult and when it came time to go to college, the transition was harder because I thought i was doing something wrong, not because I would just miss my family like most people. I thought i was disappointing everyone, even when i knew they were proud, but who was going to make sure mom and dad's fights weren't too outrageous? Who was going to make sure my sisters weren't dating boys that were scuzz buckets? Were my brothers ever doing their hw or had the play station sucked their brains out? What if we couldn't pay the light...again? No meat, for a month? Would my sisters chip in for bills and groceries? Not what I wanted to think about starting my college freshmen year, yet I wouldn't change the experience if I could. It's me or at least it was.

For a few years now, I've slowly but surely broken out of that mold, slowly, but surely, given my family back to its rightful leaders (as flawed and as beautiful as they may be)-my parents. My mom even eventually told me that she didn't realize how much i did for my family and how much more she needed to do as a mother until i went to school and she realized that my siblings wanted to talk to me more than her. Mind you, my mother is a beautiful person, who i can honestly say was never part of my abusive past, actively at least. But she just has her flaws as we all do and so i appreciated this admission more than words could say. I think that conversation helped my transition along, though I realize today it's not quite over.

My younger sister (i have two after me and then two brothers-we are 22, 19, 18, 14, and 10)-so the 19 year old (who will be 20 in October) has decided to join the Navy. That's right, drop out of college where she was studying education and then biomolecular sciences, and then became undecided has signed up to be a 'sailor chick'. I could try to find the right terms, but it doesn't really matter in the context. She told me of this decision about two weeks ago and boy, did i blow my top for a million and one reasons. Funny enough, it was not long before i realized that out of everyone in my family, i was once again, angrier, more frustrated, and confused than anyone else. Everyone else had their concerns (or not), but no one seemed to be taking it as badly. And then my boyfriend, who alternates between being my wise, perfect other half to being someone i could potentially go to jail for killing (mildly kidding), simply said to me, "Maybe this is exactly what your sister needs, you don't know, you don't know everything, some people might think your life choices are stupid and you still make them".

And i lost all the air in my argument...just like that...gone. And funny enough, when she told me today that she had taken her physical already, I simply said, "Are you sure this is what you want to do?" and when she told me yes, I just supported her. I reiterated my concerns, but listened to her thoughts and let her know that I was proud of her and supported her. We'll see how this goes, but I'll just say that it's not just my sis who's growing up, I am too, and I feel better about it.

I guess it was only a matter of time

2007-05-15T21:37:00.000-04:00

before someone said, "if it wasn't for your situation, you'd be perfect for this job". By situation, he means pregnancy, by perfect he means...not pregnant, by he i mean late middle age, white, wealthy man who has never feared missing an opportunity because of maternity leave. Based on technicalities, I can't say he's wrong, it is hard to begin a job and then leave one for a couple of months, but I really, really, really didn't want to have anyone say anything remotely close to "you can't have this job because you're pregnant", especially when he says afterwards, "i mean, it has nothing to do with anything substantive because I've only heard excellent things about you" (in my part time work for the organization he means). I don't regret getting pregnant, i'm actually quite excited, and a little more focused than usual interestingly enough, but I guess as all (or most) first time mothers, I just didn't anticipate certain things. Maybe my timing wasn't as good as I had initially thought, but I didn't want to just start a job and then get pregnant and I didn't want to wait two more years or something, so as Katt Williams would say, "I made a pimp decision".

But honestly i feel stuck between a rock and a hard place, my current part time job was really only a contract position scheduled to end July 1st, which would have been perfect if not for my, what did he call it? Situation. Yeah. And my boss would like me to stay on for another year, but there has to be funding (which may or may not exist) and the truth is i'm not so sure it's what i want to do for another year and i don't want to settle just because i have a child. Children don't cripple your career trajectory, they just force you to be quite the salesman, convincing people you are worth a certain position, salary, rain showers of praise, etc. But i'm a social worker, not a salesman, and sometimes i'm tired of the pitch...

Jrnywmn says it's been a while

2007-04-27T16:27:00.000-04:00

That might be an understatement. But I know I haven't posted in a long time and I definitely have contemplated deleting this blog all together. The last time I posted I was going through a really tough time and though I know many people don't come by this page, I appreciate those who left any good wishes or kept me in their thoughts.

Right now, my life is a whirlwind as I'm finally wrapping up the end of my school year and I should just say higher education (for now at least). I'll be graduating with my MSW next month and classes and internships are over by Friday 5/4. I'm going to be working much more, but that actually feels good considering I will be getting much nicer paychecks than the ones i'm used to (working only part time). In more surprising news, i'm already 4 1/2 months pregnant with a my first child (a boy according to the doctor, though sometimes i'm still in denial lol). I'm over the hill of nausea and exhaustion, but now i have to think about working, saving money, taking time off for the baby, and then coming back to...work. However, the hardest part is that I don't know what that will mean.

One of the hardest feelings to resolve is that I feel like I'm being left behind while everyone starts their career. On the one hand, it's not true considering the fact that I have a full time offer at my internship for the fall/winter and an offer to stay on board at my current job (which was only supposed to be a paid graduate internship that they'd like to expand into something bigger???). But on the other hand, I really wanted to be looking for all types of jobs and going on interviews and being nervous about all that crap, instead of only thinking about which job will pay more, has better benefits, give me time for the baby after my pregnancy, etc. (between the two offers I just mentioned i mean). In other words, it's not really easy to look for a job when you're 6/7 months pregnant and tell a person that while you'd be the best candidate for the job (exaggerating all the skills you've accumulated in school and field), you'll need to take 2/3 months off after you start working for two months. It just doesn't garner alot of call backs, you know?

So while i'm stupidly excited to be a mother at the tender, yet divinely sexy and intelligent age of 22 (going on 23), my overly competitive ass is a little sad to see myself possibly sidelined from the 'game' that is post-graduate school job hunt. Then again they say good things come to those who wait, therefore I expect great things pretty damn soon ;-)

Just a thought

2007-01-27T00:46:00.000-04:00

Just when you think you have it all together...the rug gets pulled out from under you. I resolve myself to believe that we don't know shit about anything that we need to know for tomorrow. Truth, knowledge, and even love are abstract and intangible and though we'll fight for it regardless, sometimes you gotta wonder if it's all really worth it.

No voy a llorar y decir que no merezco esto
porque es probable que lo merezco pero no lo quiero
por eso me voy que lastima pero adios
me despido de ti-Julieta Venegas "Me voy"

It's definitely one of those times in my life where no matter how many people I surround myself with and how many activities I jump into, I'm going to feel all alone...

Been gone for minute, now i'm back with the...

2007-01-18T23:33:00.000-04:00

Now tag...I'm it. It's been a while since I've been on this thing and I've honestly contemplated deleting this blog because I don't feel like I have the time to give it all the energy it deserves....butttttt, that's not the point right now lol

Right now, I'm it and jrnywmn wants me to do this lol, so here goes my first response to being tagged with a meme....A love story in six words.

Strangers passionately dance into love's embrace.

I don't know a lot of people, but I tag la mala, tigera, fab mujer, bfp

now truthfully I don't expect any of them to see this lol, but nothing wrong with wishful thinking right?

2006-12-17T21:34:00.000-04:00

This one is a long one, I know, but they're my blogs from my Myspace page and I decided to transfer them here for two reasons: 1) they reflect on a time when I did not have this blog site to turn to and definitely wish I did because I would have been able to express more and 2) Fab mujer wrote a post that I can't really explain, but you should read, it inspired me to cross post the following blogs....if there are any questions, feel free to ask (oh yeah, they start from most recent to least recent like blogspot blogs)

Saturday, December 16^th, 2006
Boy have I been neglecting this blog
Current mood: Optimistic
I just realized that i had really been neglecting this blog. I can't believe i haven't written since the end of July. So much has changed and definitely for the better. As of yesterday, I officially completed my first semester at school and I think I held it down gradeswise, but I don't know officially. I finally have a new place-just moved in at the beginning of November. It's in Harlem and I love it; near all the stores, good food, train options :) plus it's a short commute everywhere to school, work, and my internship. But of course, now that I'm midway through my year at school, I have to start thinking about the job market all over again. But I would say that this time, it's way more fun-well, maybe not fun, but not so aggravating. In a little more than 6/7 months, I'll be starting my first real job. One that I can hopefully grow in and learn how to move closer to my future goals: whatever they might be lol I guess I posted this as an encouragement really. My last three blogs were full of a lot of anxiety and frustration, but I want people to know that sometimes you need the bumps and bruises to realize what peace is. I have peace now (especially because I'm on vacation for 2 weeks) and though I know it might be fleeting, we all have to remember that life is cyclical. Thats the only way it will always be-ups and downs, but the truth is I'll take 3 downs (like the last 3 blogs) for one up (my life now) and I hope we can all be so lucky...

Wednesday, July 26^th, 2006
Getting nervous…
Current mood: frustrated
so I"m about to start classes this coming week and I should be excited, but i'm not. I"m nervous about the courseload, but more than that I'm afraid that I"m just going through the motions. I don't feel like I always want to do this program, at this school, at this time, ever...I mean granted I understand that I"m lucky to have the opportunity, but that doesn't mean it's the best one for me. I'm so confused and frustrated, I've been working for almost 2 months and the money is great, but I feel like it goes straight to cover bills that I let add up throughout my broke ass undergrad days. My best friend is moving to fucking Kentucky and I'm excited for her because it's a wonderful opportunity that she's getting, but fuck that, I'm going to miss her. i hate feeling out of control and I don't have an apartment lined up yet, money worth a damn, and few options. I thank God for what I do have cuz I'm not stupid enough to be that bitter, but I wish I could get on track and figure something out...my friends laugh and say that I'm lucky or smart or so mature, but I'm really just too OCD to not have something on my plate even if it means a whole lot of somethings I don't care about...where is this rant going? Nowhere really, just need to get it off my chest before I scream...

Tuesday, May 30^th, 2006
I’m feeling some kind of way
Current mood: contemplative
Been a long time since I last wrote. College career officially done, feels fake, but my job search proves that it's very real. You would think NYC would provide all these opportunities, but it's actually been quite difficult to find a job because I need a part time to be able to go to school in the fall. I need this to be over already, the whole school thing. I'm only doing it to try to have some financial stability later, but it sucks when I don't even have money to buy a couple of cute summer shirts and I'm still rocking some KSwiss' from more than two years ago. They say the sacrifice is worth it...can't wait for that ship to pull in.

Wednesday, April 12^th, 2006
I got 99 problems, but grad school ain't one
Current mood: contemplative
Life is oh so confusing. I just got into *o*u*i* University last week-advanced standing MSW program. It's exciting, but it's making me confront a lot of issues that I've been running away from also. I won't give you the oh my God, college is almost over, I don't know what to do rant because it's deeper than that. But it's also too personal to discuss in this medium. At this point, I really just need to concentrate on finishing up these last assignments of my undergrad career. But if you know me, then you know that I can never just focus on any one thing, but alas too much rambling, let me really go to bed and clear my mind if at least for a few hours. Good night all!

End of the semester

2006-12-16T15:30:00.000-04:00

So of course I've been celebrating being done with half of my graduate school experience for the past two days. Needless to say, I'm hungover and tired, but have plans to be out and about tonight also :) It seems amazing that I'm almost done with schooling forever (debatable-i want another advanced degree later). I'm thisclose to finding a real job and it's scary. I'm no stranger to work, i've worked through high school, college, and now grad school. But at the same time, I know this is different. I need to be ultra picky about future job prospects because i'll be making quite a commitment to whatever agency/organization i wind up in. It's not like working part time and going to school full time, and interning somewhere. It's 40 hrs (or more) of the same 'drudgery' though i'm trying to aim for something different. I've been looking at different job postings and organization websites and I guess the reason why this process feels so draining is that there's so much to think about. Do i want a small agency where everyone's in your business, do i want a large organization where you don't know the person in the next office? Non profit because it's a 'good, moral' decision or borderline corporation that will give you a nice benefit package and make getting an advanced degree worthwhile? Do I (possibly) take a pay cut and work at a Latino organization because Latina(o) issues are my passion? or delve into the criminal justice system because I care about that too and it tends to have very 'reputable' positions and networks? Most importantly, I ask myself, why can't I just worry about getting a job I love? It makes me frustrated to realize over and over again, that for better or for worse, money is what makes the world go around. The road is not paved with good intentions, the road is paved with the hard work, blood, sweat, and tears of those being paid low wages. The road is paid for by those with deep pockets and the rounding up of millions of taxpayers hard earned money. The road might be walked by those with good intentions, but it certainly wasn't paved.

Secret Santa sucks

2006-12-07T00:48:00.000-04:00

so it's that time of year of course, when people are overwhelmed whether it's because of the pressure of spending money over the holidays, or writing papers at the last minute, like me and Journey to enlightenment , or worrying about what to get someone as their Secret Santa...especially when they don't really know you're alive, oh wait, that might just be my own situation.

I'm in all three of those categories, so life for me sucks a little bit, not too much, but just enough for me to continuously dream about drowning or suffocating all night long last night. nice, isn't it? Anyhoo, i'm supposed to buy a Secret Santa gift by tomorrow, under $20, which thankfully isn't the problem. The problem is that it's almost 9:30 pm and i still haven't bought him anything. The other aspect is that when I asked around to see what his interests are, the answers were: cigarettes, alcohol, and Banana Republic. Hmmm, I don't support smoking, I just can't, my father was just diagnosed with Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disorder this year, and I'm more anti-cigarette smoke than i was before. my informant mentioned that I probably shouldn't support this person's drinking habits (i'm thinking someone is more than a social drinker), so that option is out. Banana Republic-besides the fact that I hate that store personally, I really can't buy him something from there. Besides the fact that the name itself leaves a bad taste in my mouth because of its connection to imperialism-Banana republic - Wikipedia explains , when i tried to order something on line anyway being nice...yeah, a scarf is about $35. I'm sorry buddy, but I don't even know you like that, you don't even talk to me, and i'm worrying about what i'm going to get you, worrying about if i should spend $35 on you, how about hell the fuck no. frankly, i usually like Secret Santa time, but i realize it only works if you have the slight possibility of knowing the person you might get, otherwise, you're running around like an idiot at the last minute or you just buy something that really sucks and will probably be mocked...maybe i'm exaggerating, oh well, i'm in one of those moods I guess...

either way, I gotta figure something out, and i really don't want this to spoil my holiday mood, wish me luck...

Connected

2006-12-03T20:05:00.000-04:00

I definitely feel like i've been neglecting my blog and even though i know there' s no one out there holding their breath waiting for me to post, I still feel like i've been falling off.

however, i am pleased to formally announce that I HAVE INTERNET AT HOME NOW...it feels just as good to type it in all caps as it does to scream it out loud. Therefore, without further ado/adue/adeau (i have no idea how to spell it, but you get the drift i hope lol), i will be posting more frequently....hopefully as frequent as tomorrow :)

goodnight and God speed blog world

2006-11-16T12:28:00.001-04:00

I saw him
And I wasn’t ready
Busy taking mental notes, conveniently detached
Sorrowful, yet safe
I saw him
I close my eyes
I see him
My soul took a picture it won’t discard
He never saw me, never saw us, never saw it coming
They say he’s 14
His face reads 9
His handcuffs make him a man
Late 20’s, burned out, beaten, and betrayed
I can still see him
Through him
To him
But I’ll never know him
I see his present, his future, see his past
He can’t see me, so close, reaching out with my soul
An empty gesture of sympathy
A burning desire to rescue
A powerlessness only topped by…
His
He can’t see me, can’t see peace, can’t see freedom
So close to him
Breathing down his neck
Enough to torture
Enough to numb
He sees tears,
The boy in him crying for his momma
The man in him wiping them away
Knowing
Not thinking
But knowing
There’s no use
Not here, not now, probably not ever…
And who am I to argue?
The spectator
Observing from the warm chair of detachment,
Who has known pain, fear, and violence
Who has known how to hide it, deny it, reframe it, rephrase it
Minimize it
Minimize it
Minimize it
Minimize it
Til it died…
It’s all a game of survival, getting our bumps and bruises
Some more so than others
But then again who can compare absence
Dearth
Death
Yeah, I saw him
Hell, I see him
Through him
To him
Through me
To me
I called to him
Tried to warn him
My soul cried sooo that I thought I would explode
The pain
The rage
The same
“Run beautiful boy, run, you have to get out of here,
because they hate you
aim to kill you
aim to destroy kill that light
that fire
that soul that will not die
that rises each day
even when the sun shines for someone else
when the rain knows your ache and cries with you
when the cold has to remind you with each piercing blow
that you are alive,
don’t let them kill you
not yet
not like this
you have to live
love
grow
learn….
Learn that you are more than this
Learn that you are stronger than this
Braver than this
I know you are TiReD of this…”
But why can’t he hear me?
Already beaten and burned far beyond his years
Already numbing
hiding
denying
re framing
re phrasing
minimizing
I see him
But he won’t see me
I saw him
But he never saw me
I see him
Through him
To him
Through me
To me
And the difference between us is virtually

Unknown….

the criminal INjustice System

2006-10-25T11:35:00.000-04:00

People sometimes wonder why or how anyone could fear the police. "they're there to protect you; they just want to make society safe; their hearts are in the right place" And then I look at my client who is about 50 years old and speaks no English, who's chronically sick with two diseases I won't name for confidentiality reasons, who shows me bruise after disgusting bruise on his body after being incarcerated for a weekend. His charged sin-possibly attacking a police officer, his real sin-being monolingual in a non-dominant language, being brown, being poor and welfare dependant, living in a 'bad' neighborhood, you name them, he's probably guilty... as I read his charges, i want to scream, I want to scream because I know those who have sworn to serve and protect, will only serve you an ass whipping and protect their societal investments in whatever way they see fit, i know that this man who has no record and is smaller than I am (I'm 5'4), could no sooner whoop a police officer's ass than could he fly. I know that his injuries are thankfully non-threatening, but have scarred his sense of safety, trust, and calm, I know that he is embarassed each and every time he has to tell this story and share his wounds, I know that he is angry and scared, I know that he wants and needs justice, I know he will likely not get it--and I know he won't be the last...

Testing, testing, 1,2,3

2006-10-21T14:31:00.000-04:00

so, i started this blog more than 2 weeks ago, i believe, and while I had a purpose for its beginning, I am reminded everytime I sign in (and by my best friend http://www.journey2enlightenment.blogspot.com/), that I have yet to post...anything. So now, let's start from the beginning...

if you read the running description under the blog name, you get a little of what this about: who's Latina like me, what does that mean, and does it even matter? I should probably clarify what I mean by that. It's not that my intention is to find out who is just like me, personally or culturally, it is the closer to the opposite. I'm an avid reader (when I can fit it between grad school, interning, and working) who is sometimes puzzled by what appears to be a lack of latina voices in literature. Those that exist are quite powerful, make no mistake about it, but when I'm scanning the B&N aisles, I feel like we're (collective we) are missing in print. So part of me wants to find those voices who are perhaps, not missing, but 'elsewhere', not mainstream, not 'relevant' to everyone else's (everyone being the almighty gringo(a)s life, and thus, invalid. The other part wants to figure out how to combine various readings and voices in a way that I feel represents my life and its struggles. How to combine Almost a Woman by Esmeralda Santiago with Killing Rage by bell hooks with The Latino Wave by Jorge Ramos in a way that makes me understand why I am so...angry or frustrated or disappointed or a word I don't even know just yet. Whatever the word is, it would explain how I feel as an intern in a public defenders office in nyc watching the system hash and rehash the beautiful black and brown people that make New York what it is, that represent its true spirit, that enhance its portrayal of the ultimate place to be/live/work, and yet ultimately mirror the greater system's hatred of our refusal to just DIE.

my intention was to start this blog by posting some of my spoken word on those types of feelings, unresolved emotions, or experiences, you know, and seeing how that goes...but as I searched every inch of my place for my notebook, i realized that I'd lost it forever as a result of a car theft a couple of months ago, as I tried my hardest not to cry, I felt as if I had lost my personal words and feelings, words and feelings that were so hard to put on paper as it is, and yet could so easily be removed...

I remember one of those writings was on words that appear to be frozen from one language to another (in this case, English to Spanish), not that they ceased to exist; they were just incapable of reproduction because I couldn't remember a Spanish phrase...I guess I would say I feel like that right now, even as I type...those words and feelings do not cease to exist, they are just temporarily incapable of reproduction...I could try to remember them, but a vague memory of these writings wouldn't do them justice, what I felt at those moments, I can't pretend to feel now, but maybe this will be the motivation to try again....

so, yeah, all of this, is why I wanted to start a blog...