Next time you see me, remember to SLAP the fucking shit out of me for being such a FUCKING idiot.
Why is it that I allow someone to manipulate me so esily? Someone younger, of all things.
I do so much, practically jump through hoops to try to get him to say something remotely close to commitment.. but the most I get is some random ass... compliment.
"If he likes you, you'll know. If he doesn't, you'll be 'confused'."
I read this and felt my blood go cold.
It rings true in my case.
I'm wasting my time... yet, he has this strange power over me. If he even speaks to me, it makes my day... I'll be smiling for hours. He says "Jump," and I ALWAYS ask "how high."
He's not the most handsome guy on Earth... in fact, I've heard guys and girls refer to him as "ugly." However, to me, nothing compares to the look of his honey-colored eyes, his perfect nose, pouty lips, porcelain skin, soft, amazing hands... I even find myself admiring his eyebrows, for crying out loud!
There's just something about him that makes me melt and has me at his beck and call. It's fucking scary... and highly irritating, but I CAN'T STOP!
I admit, I'm easily infatuated with guys... however, I get over them in a month tops once things go bad. There's only one exception to this rule... and he's probably the only dude who'd I'd drop anything I'm doing for, aside from the guy this entry's about-- MGH, but I've already accepted the fact that it will NEVER happen. So why can't I apply this idea with MGH?
Each time I find myself forgetting about MGH, he comes back... with a simple question... or an idea... and once again, he's in my life... talking my ear off until the wee hours of the night (and of course, I listen... I jump with joy and find stupid excuses to cross a word with him). I'm sure it's when he's bored, or he himself is being ignored by some chick he digs...how can he think it's fair? Why doesn't he just try?
I, ladies and gentlemen, am an idiot.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Three times over
This past week I've dealt with the death of my mothers uncle... as in, my recently deceased grandmother's younger brother (he was 84... the baby boy of the family, I guess. It made me... sort of smile, when my 87 year old aunt sobbed and said she was sad because her "little brother was so young!" I just sat there... quiet... I'm sure I'll refer to my little sister as "little sister" when I'm 87 and she's 85).
It has been exhausting. I hate having to see family upset, and it breaks my heart to hear anyone cry. It just beats me up worse than an intense kickboxing session.
For the funeral, we sat with the family... since they told us to... and it was odd to hear others give ME condolences. I also didn't have the heart to go up to the coffin and see my uncle, because he was damn near identical to my grandma.
Anyway, on to the point of the story:
As my sis and I sat at the funeral, we saw some random lady approach my mom, and both would talk and turn back to stare at us at moments. What did she say?
I feel like I have to buy this lady a house now...
...
wtf?
It has been exhausting. I hate having to see family upset, and it breaks my heart to hear anyone cry. It just beats me up worse than an intense kickboxing session.
For the funeral, we sat with the family... since they told us to... and it was odd to hear others give ME condolences. I also didn't have the heart to go up to the coffin and see my uncle, because he was damn near identical to my grandma.
Anyway, on to the point of the story:
As my sis and I sat at the funeral, we saw some random lady approach my mom, and both would talk and turn back to stare at us at moments. What did she say?
"I just had to come over and let you know that you have two of the most beautiful daughters I've ever seen! After asking around, they told me that what they have in beauty, their personality outshines three times over. For that, I just had to congratulate you."
I feel like I have to buy this lady a house now...
...
wtf?
Monday, January 25, 2010
Burned
Many people think I'm not religious.
I totally am, but I'm just not fanatical.
I am a practicing Catholic, but I respect all religions. I don't feel an urge to convince others to join my beliefs, and I certainly don't damn others because they don't believe in Jesus.
Who the fuck am I to cast judgment?
I became tolerant of religions at a very early age thanks to my folks. Mom's a Catholic, Dad's a Protestant.
All the nasty arguments they've ever had through their marriage have all come down to one thing: religion.
Needless to say, I detest religious arguments. Why can't we all just be good people and get along? Why can't we attempt to be understanding of the differences, and dare I say... admire some of the differing practices? (I know I do, and I try to incorporate certain teachings from various religions, not just of the Christian faith, but also Judaism-- not too hard, seeing how Christianity builds on this-- Islam, and even some Buddhism. There's beauty in all of them, if you ask me)
In order to get respect, you give respect.
That's how it has always been at my house.
However, last night, Dad crossed the line.
We now own his parent's home in Mexico. Along with the home, we own everything his parents left behind.
His mother was staunchly Catholic. She lived to go to mass... she lived to pray.
Just like I draw, or play, or listen to music to pass the time and feel happy, my grandma would pray.
Over the years, she collected prayer books-- books that had been passed down through generations-- and saints.
That made her happy, that eased her fears... that was... her.
After she died, that was all she left behind.
Now, I don't pray often. I don't know many of the prayers known to many Catholics, I'll admit it. But, those books and Saints collected by my Grandma held a special place in my heart. I could close my eyes and imagine her sitting in her kitchen, holding her rosary, holding a prayer book, and having the sweetest smile on her face.
I talk about the prayer books and Saints as a thing of the past because that's what they are now.
Thanks to my IDIOT father.
Ever since his cancer scare of '07, he has become FAR more fanatical. He publicly criticizes Catholicism far more often.
He sits at home and watches some religious channel with a bunch of pastors screaming what they scream... he listens to pastors screaming what they scream (as opposed to music) as he drives... he's screaming what pastors scream when he wakes up, when he's out and about, and before he goes to bed.
I've had enough.
However, I have NEVER told him anything to his face. I have NEVER told him to shut the fuck up because I don't need to hear how GOD is SO great and WHY he is so great. I'm not a heathen. WE ALL KNOW WHY HE'S SO FANTASTIC, now let me eat my fucking pancake already... or LET ME WATCH THE JERSEY SHORE WITHOUT YOU TELLING ME WHY EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THOSE CHARACTERS IS GOING TO GO TO HELL.
I.Don't. Need. To. Hear. It.
Instead of telling him all this mean stuff, I just grab my shit and walk away.
Yes, Dad, Jesus is awesome... can I please finish running this third mile before you preach to me?
I have ALWAYS respected his religion, his church, his "brothers and sisters." (Of course, once they start preaching to me, or attempting to convert me, I walk away... I don't need to hear it and it pisses me off that all they see when they meet me is a "lost soul" who needs saving)
Anyway, now that he's hardcore fanatical, he claims that God speaks to him in dreams. This and That are going to happen because God came to me in a dream and said This and That.
So far, NONE of it has been true. NONE of it. And he tells us his dreams with so much pride... but so far, the ones I've heard are all biggoted in nature.
"Faggots are the detriment of this society... Jesus is near... and he will slay all these faggots and take us to his glorious Father."
etc.
Really? Jesus' mission is to "slay faggots?" REALLY?! Considering there are mass murderers out there who kidnap and rape children, slaughter them and dump their bodies, limb by limb, in a ditch for other children to find... REALLY??
Anyway, yesterday he told my mom one of these GLORIOUS dreams he recently had while in Mexico.
"God spoke to me. I was restless and I could sleep. I felt this dark presence in the house (His parent's house in Mexico. It's haunted, I don't care what you say. People have seen and felt things. Supposedly a little girl was buried under the house sometime in the 1800s, and plenty of people have seen or heard her. I've only felt a sense of suffocation while in that house. My chest gets heavy and I feel deep sadness in that certain area of the house, it is inexplicable and eerie, but that's all). Then I heard Him. 'Behind every saint, there is a demon,' He said. And at that moment, I looked to my left and saw them... all of my mother's Saints... so I grabbed all of them... all that I could find, took them outside, and I BURNED THEM!"
...
He told the story to Mom.
I don't know if he was expecting fanatical excitement... clapping... and award ??
Mom: Don't you DARE tell this to your family... any ONE of them. They will HATE you. You had NO right. MORE than ONE person in town would have taken those books from you. More than ONE.
Dad: But they had to be burned! They're evil... they control people... they are given too much religious importance!
Mom: Who are YOU to say that? And you're contradicting yourself here... how can you give SO much importance to something as simple as PAPER... to believe it can have SO much power?
Mom proceeded to tell my sister and I later that night. Sister was outraged... and I broke down and sobbed.
He did all this because of a dream?! A FUCKING DREAM?!
Want to hear what I think, DAD?? DREAMS ARE NOT CAUSED BY GOD! THEY'RE NEURONS AND DENDRITES FIRING IN YOUR FUCKING BRAIN AS YOU SLEEP! DON'T BLAME GOD FOR YOUR FANATICAL BULLSHIT!
That was the last thing we had to remember his mother by. It was her essence. Her soul.
Her own son burned it.
He killed what we had left of his mother.
And if those books and relics are so evil... does he think his own mother is in hell for believing in them?? That sweet, near saintly woman... in hell?
Not ONCE did I hear her cuss, I never heard her gossip, I never saw her angry, she never laid a hand on anyone... she fed the hungry even if she herself was in need. I always saw the most serene smile on her face... and she always gave people random, loving hugs throughout the course of the day.
With the burning of those relics his mother held so dear, Dad waged a war.
FUCK. INTOLERANCE.
I totally am, but I'm just not fanatical.
I am a practicing Catholic, but I respect all religions. I don't feel an urge to convince others to join my beliefs, and I certainly don't damn others because they don't believe in Jesus.
Who the fuck am I to cast judgment?
I became tolerant of religions at a very early age thanks to my folks. Mom's a Catholic, Dad's a Protestant.
All the nasty arguments they've ever had through their marriage have all come down to one thing: religion.
Needless to say, I detest religious arguments. Why can't we all just be good people and get along? Why can't we attempt to be understanding of the differences, and dare I say... admire some of the differing practices? (I know I do, and I try to incorporate certain teachings from various religions, not just of the Christian faith, but also Judaism-- not too hard, seeing how Christianity builds on this-- Islam, and even some Buddhism. There's beauty in all of them, if you ask me)
In order to get respect, you give respect.
That's how it has always been at my house.
However, last night, Dad crossed the line.
We now own his parent's home in Mexico. Along with the home, we own everything his parents left behind.
His mother was staunchly Catholic. She lived to go to mass... she lived to pray.
Just like I draw, or play, or listen to music to pass the time and feel happy, my grandma would pray.
Over the years, she collected prayer books-- books that had been passed down through generations-- and saints.
That made her happy, that eased her fears... that was... her.
After she died, that was all she left behind.
Now, I don't pray often. I don't know many of the prayers known to many Catholics, I'll admit it. But, those books and Saints collected by my Grandma held a special place in my heart. I could close my eyes and imagine her sitting in her kitchen, holding her rosary, holding a prayer book, and having the sweetest smile on her face.
I talk about the prayer books and Saints as a thing of the past because that's what they are now.
Thanks to my IDIOT father.
Ever since his cancer scare of '07, he has become FAR more fanatical. He publicly criticizes Catholicism far more often.
He sits at home and watches some religious channel with a bunch of pastors screaming what they scream... he listens to pastors screaming what they scream (as opposed to music) as he drives... he's screaming what pastors scream when he wakes up, when he's out and about, and before he goes to bed.
I've had enough.
However, I have NEVER told him anything to his face. I have NEVER told him to shut the fuck up because I don't need to hear how GOD is SO great and WHY he is so great. I'm not a heathen. WE ALL KNOW WHY HE'S SO FANTASTIC, now let me eat my fucking pancake already... or LET ME WATCH THE JERSEY SHORE WITHOUT YOU TELLING ME WHY EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THOSE CHARACTERS IS GOING TO GO TO HELL.
I.Don't. Need. To. Hear. It.
Instead of telling him all this mean stuff, I just grab my shit and walk away.
Yes, Dad, Jesus is awesome... can I please finish running this third mile before you preach to me?
I have ALWAYS respected his religion, his church, his "brothers and sisters." (Of course, once they start preaching to me, or attempting to convert me, I walk away... I don't need to hear it and it pisses me off that all they see when they meet me is a "lost soul" who needs saving)
Anyway, now that he's hardcore fanatical, he claims that God speaks to him in dreams. This and That are going to happen because God came to me in a dream and said This and That.
So far, NONE of it has been true. NONE of it. And he tells us his dreams with so much pride... but so far, the ones I've heard are all biggoted in nature.
"Faggots are the detriment of this society... Jesus is near... and he will slay all these faggots and take us to his glorious Father."
etc.
Really? Jesus' mission is to "slay faggots?" REALLY?! Considering there are mass murderers out there who kidnap and rape children, slaughter them and dump their bodies, limb by limb, in a ditch for other children to find... REALLY??
Anyway, yesterday he told my mom one of these GLORIOUS dreams he recently had while in Mexico.
"God spoke to me. I was restless and I could sleep. I felt this dark presence in the house (His parent's house in Mexico. It's haunted, I don't care what you say. People have seen and felt things. Supposedly a little girl was buried under the house sometime in the 1800s, and plenty of people have seen or heard her. I've only felt a sense of suffocation while in that house. My chest gets heavy and I feel deep sadness in that certain area of the house, it is inexplicable and eerie, but that's all). Then I heard Him. 'Behind every saint, there is a demon,' He said. And at that moment, I looked to my left and saw them... all of my mother's Saints... so I grabbed all of them... all that I could find, took them outside, and I BURNED THEM!"
...
WHAAAAAAT?!
"When I came back in the house, it felt lighter. I went to bed. I still couldn't sleep... and towards the headboard, I felt this sense of... darkness. When I looked inside it, I saw them... ALL THE PRAYER BOOKS! I immediately grabbed them, all of them! There were TONS of books... and I went back outside and BURNED THEM!"
....WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!?!?!?
He told the story to Mom.
I don't know if he was expecting fanatical excitement... clapping... and award ??
Mom: Don't you DARE tell this to your family... any ONE of them. They will HATE you. You had NO right. MORE than ONE person in town would have taken those books from you. More than ONE.
Dad: But they had to be burned! They're evil... they control people... they are given too much religious importance!
Mom: Who are YOU to say that? And you're contradicting yourself here... how can you give SO much importance to something as simple as PAPER... to believe it can have SO much power?
Mom proceeded to tell my sister and I later that night. Sister was outraged... and I broke down and sobbed.
He did all this because of a dream?! A FUCKING DREAM?!
Want to hear what I think, DAD?? DREAMS ARE NOT CAUSED BY GOD! THEY'RE NEURONS AND DENDRITES FIRING IN YOUR FUCKING BRAIN AS YOU SLEEP! DON'T BLAME GOD FOR YOUR FANATICAL BULLSHIT!
That was the last thing we had to remember his mother by. It was her essence. Her soul.
Her own son burned it.
He killed what we had left of his mother.
And if those books and relics are so evil... does he think his own mother is in hell for believing in them?? That sweet, near saintly woman... in hell?
Not ONCE did I hear her cuss, I never heard her gossip, I never saw her angry, she never laid a hand on anyone... she fed the hungry even if she herself was in need. I always saw the most serene smile on her face... and she always gave people random, loving hugs throughout the course of the day.
With the burning of those relics his mother held so dear, Dad waged a war.
FUCK. INTOLERANCE.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Penny for your thoughts
You can't give me 20 bucks out of the blue and expect me:
-to think you have ZERO feelings for me...
-to think NOTHING is going on there...
- NOT to like you.
Just sayin'.
WHO THE HELL UNDERSTANDS BOYS?!
Don't give me 20 bucks "out of the goodness of your heart." I don't need them.
Just tell me what your deal is!
I'd be much, much happier.
-to think you have ZERO feelings for me...
-to think NOTHING is going on there...
- NOT to like you.
Just sayin'.
WHO THE HELL UNDERSTANDS BOYS?!
Don't give me 20 bucks "out of the goodness of your heart." I don't need them.
Just tell me what your deal is!
I'd be much, much happier.
Friday, January 15, 2010
No tengo dinero
Me: Did you hear?! *Brother* got the consulate job in South Africa!
Mom: Really?! Thank you, God! Mijo's really blessed! I always ask God to grant every one of your desires... as long as they're good for you, and he always hears my prayers!
Me: You ask for that?
Mom: Yeah. As long as it's good for you. If it doesn't come, it means it was never going to serve you any good, and I'd rather God not grant it for you. Like with you, baby, you haven't had your wishes come true because it's not meant to be... yet. You'll get the millions you want... soon... once it's good for you.
Me: You think that's my biggest wish?!
Mom: It's not?
I can't help but feel a bit worried when my mother suspects money to be the top priority in my life.
FYI- My biggest wish is to visit as many countries as possible. I want to see the world... meet its people... and write about it. I WANT TO WRITE!
That is my biggest wish.
Mom: Really?! Thank you, God! Mijo's really blessed! I always ask God to grant every one of your desires... as long as they're good for you, and he always hears my prayers!
Me: You ask for that?
Mom: Yeah. As long as it's good for you. If it doesn't come, it means it was never going to serve you any good, and I'd rather God not grant it for you. Like with you, baby, you haven't had your wishes come true because it's not meant to be... yet. You'll get the millions you want... soon... once it's good for you.
Me: You think that's my biggest wish?!
Mom: It's not?
I can't help but feel a bit worried when my mother suspects money to be the top priority in my life.
FYI- My biggest wish is to visit as many countries as possible. I want to see the world... meet its people... and write about it. I WANT TO WRITE!
That is my biggest wish.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
You weren't happy?!
Dad is still in Mexico... he's getting some wack ideas while over there, and I think it's about time he comes back. Take for example, this conversation he had over the phone with Mom:
Dad: So I was looking through our wedding album today...
Mom: Yeah?
Dad: You don't look happy. WHY don't you look happy?!
Mom: Because I wasn't.
Dad: How can you say that?!
Mom: I don't know. I mean, I was losing my freedom. How can anyone be happy about losing their freedom?
Dad: You weren't happy to be marrying me?!
Mom: I wasn't happy about losing my freedom, that's all.
Dad: (silence)
Mom: Man, you're gonna bring this shit up after 27 years of marriage? Come the fuck on!
Dad: Well, it's only now that I noticed how upset you looked!
Mom: You think I'd stay with someone I hated for 27 years?? Oh, shut up!
Mom was laughing about the conversation at first... then it quickly progressed to anger... then she just rolled her eyes and said what we all were thinking:
Ridiculous! Get your self away from those losers and back home, jackass!!
Dad: So I was looking through our wedding album today...
Mom: Yeah?
Dad: You don't look happy. WHY don't you look happy?!
Mom: Because I wasn't.
Dad: How can you say that?!
Mom: I don't know. I mean, I was losing my freedom. How can anyone be happy about losing their freedom?
Dad: You weren't happy to be marrying me?!
Mom: I wasn't happy about losing my freedom, that's all.
Dad: (silence)
Mom: Man, you're gonna bring this shit up after 27 years of marriage? Come the fuck on!
Dad: Well, it's only now that I noticed how upset you looked!
Mom: You think I'd stay with someone I hated for 27 years?? Oh, shut up!
Mom was laughing about the conversation at first... then it quickly progressed to anger... then she just rolled her eyes and said what we all were thinking:
Ridiculous! Get your self away from those losers and back home, jackass!!
Saturday, January 9, 2010
40+ NOT welcome
Operation "I'm Happy!" is in full swing, and so far, so good.
I did have a minor relapse on Thursday, however, it was only because I had to go to a funeral.
Now that I mention the funeral, let me just put this out there:
If you're over 40 years old and your highest level of education reached is below high school: DON'T YOU DARE holler at me.
I was standing next to Mom and TravelinDin as Mom gave her condolences to the son of the dead lady, when the guy next to him spoke up.
Creepy Guy (totally in his 40's, he was the only man NOT wearing a suit. Fuckin' bumming it with a hoodie): *Mom* is that you?!
Mom: Yes, it's me *Creepy Guy*
CG: Well, don't just stand there, hug me!
CG: And who are these beauties?
Mom: Them? They're my daughters.
CG: Very gorgeous girls! Beautiful! Amazing! Gorgeousss!
Other dude standing by: Shhh! Shut up, idiot.
I wanted to vomit. It didn't help that the little fiasco occurred inside the chapel, at a very audible volume.
Fucking crazy bastard. I don't know what about me screams "Don't have a job/tact/future? Holler at me! I'll take you!" But... if that type of dude is my only hope for marriage, then God, please kill me! I'll slit my own throat if that's what I have to look forward to. No.
Aside from this uncomfortable encounter, I did bump into the girls involved in the Bellagio Weekend Fight. Instead of ignoring them or downright fighting them, I decided to mend fences. I hugged them and chatted for about 20 minutes, then went on my merry way.
Being nice is... nice.
:)
I did have a minor relapse on Thursday, however, it was only because I had to go to a funeral.
Now that I mention the funeral, let me just put this out there:
If you're over 40 years old and your highest level of education reached is below high school: DON'T YOU DARE holler at me.
I was standing next to Mom and TravelinDin as Mom gave her condolences to the son of the dead lady, when the guy next to him spoke up.
Creepy Guy (totally in his 40's, he was the only man NOT wearing a suit. Fuckin' bumming it with a hoodie): *Mom* is that you?!
Mom: Yes, it's me *Creepy Guy*
CG: Well, don't just stand there, hug me!
(sis and I stare at each other, and decide to start walking away)
CG: And who are these beauties?
Mom: Them? They're my daughters.
CG: Very gorgeous girls! Beautiful! Amazing! Gorgeousss!
(Stupid ass TravelinDin's head was in the clouds or some shit, as she stood in my way, impeding me from rushing out of the building and getting the fuck away from that creep)
Mom: Well, you're telling me. They're my daughters, of course I'm going to agree.(Mom starts walking away and DUMB SHIT sister wasn't moving! I was getting ready to punch her)
CG: Hey, Mom (he said it in Spanish, the equivalent of "mother-in-law")!Other dude standing by: Shhh! Shut up, idiot.
I wanted to vomit. It didn't help that the little fiasco occurred inside the chapel, at a very audible volume.
Fucking crazy bastard. I don't know what about me screams "Don't have a job/tact/future? Holler at me! I'll take you!" But... if that type of dude is my only hope for marriage, then God, please kill me! I'll slit my own throat if that's what I have to look forward to. No.
Aside from this uncomfortable encounter, I did bump into the girls involved in the Bellagio Weekend Fight. Instead of ignoring them or downright fighting them, I decided to mend fences. I hugged them and chatted for about 20 minutes, then went on my merry way.
Being nice is... nice.
:)
