Friday, November 30, 2012


I'm guilty of watching those hidden camera shows... those "What would you do?" specials.
I get pretty worked up and upset with the majority of the scenarios, mainly because I see people ignore others in need.
I become especially upset because numerous times throughout my life, I've been in need of someone--anyone-- to rescue me, and probably only twice was helped out. Each time someone stands up for me or brings aid to me, I get emotional and typically cry.
Whenever I see anyone in need, I jump... especially if it's a physical thing. I'm ridiculously protective of the helpless-- I will stomp on motherfuckers if I have to. This fucking behavior will probably get me shot one day, but this type of shit just strikes a nerve in me.

I don't hold it against people who ignore those in need of help... it just makes me sad-- they disappoint me. I DO, however, admire the shit out of those who jump into action.
Today I learned Darcy is one of those people, like me. He helped someone who was getting beat up, even if in the process he too got socked in the face.

Give me a minute, I need to sigh real quick.

I told you guys he's an awesome person. He's amazing.
It's one thing that he doesn't reciprocate my fandom, overall admiration, crush/like/feelings/IdioticBehaviorIContinouslyExhibitLikeSomeTwelveYearOld, but another that he's a downright heartless, asshole-jerkface. 
I mean, I like the dude for a reason, right? And I tell y'all I can't find anyone else like him regardless of how hard I try, here's a clear example of his awesome, mortherfucking endearing tendencies in action-- literally.

Ah, he's dope, SO dope.

I think I just had a similar reaction as I do with Ryan Gosling's "Hey Girl" Memes.
Sorry guys, I'll go back to being a moody 27 year old now.

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Fuck crying

Fuck. The month ends tomorrow.
I was supposed to write 50k words of NEW fiction this month.
Did I?
Nah, man! I was too busy complaining and crying and being butthurt about shit to get down on the writing biz.
If I have one fucking resolution for December, it's to quit being a bitch.
I'm sure I'm not the only human with fucking issues, so I might as well shut the fuck up and enjoy the fucking day.

Today was a normal day, but I simply resolved to take joy in the simple things... like making a green light, finding a decent parking spot at the grocery store parking lot, seeing my favorite eyebrow threading lady was back from Pakistan, sweating buckets at the gym like I hadn't done in MONTHS, really fucking enjoying my bed-time hot green tea, and I even held conversations with multiple people instead of just shutting them up with one of my famously vicious glares.
I just fucking smiled and carried on.

I'm going to smile next month. Fuck crying. I'm done.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

unsee, unsee, UNSEE!!

I am notorious for my amazing ability of making TERRIBLE decisions.
I never fail to make idiotic decisions, which leave everyone--myself included-- confused... wondering what the FUCK made me think that shit was such a great idea.
Walk in front of that cow and pet the calf?! Does this idiot WANT to get killed?

Today was my latest showcase of less than spectacular judgement.
I was having a lovely morning, I had a tasty breakfast, I did my "This tastes like glory!" jig in my seat at the kitchen table, and I prepared to go to the gym.
I had everything completed, with a few minutes to spare, so I did what any other person with free-time does: I got on-line.
I did the usual e-mailing thing, and went off to the wonderful world of Facebook.
Ah, Facebook! My best frenemy!

As I browsed through the morning's events, I noticed one of my hilarious cousins had commented a video... a suspect video, where I couldn't make out what the hell was going on.
I saw every comment was along the lines of "WTF did I just watch?!" and "Why the fuck did you post this?!"
And what do I do? I watch the motherfucking video, of course!

What did I see? Two shirtless dudes, sitting down, slightly beaten, and with their hands tied behind their backs.
One was a fat bald dude in his mid-to-late twenties, who looked hell of pissed off. The second man was a thin, hick-ish man... in his mid-forties, and he was chatty. He was speaking Spanish, and saying that "Ya me llevo la verga" which pretty much means "I'm fucked." He was relaying a message, telling "others like" him that they better leave or end up like him-- fucked. Then he nods at the camera and leans against the wall. The fat dude just looks at him, clearly disgusted
Cue the chainsaw.
Yes, chainsaw.
I want to puke just thinking about it...
Anyway, so the masked assassin approaches the skinny man and BAM! Chainsaw to the neck.
It was a light touch, but... obviously cut the guy's aorta. The look on his face will haunt me for LIFE.
Then the assassin goes on for another nick at the neck. No luck with finishing the job, so he just goes at it, full-force, like carving a turkey.
The whole time the fat dude is turning his face the other way, but eventually looks over at the scene once he realizes the chainsaw has cut his left arm, since it was where the skinny man was leaning on him.
I had to stop the video when I saw a second guy going right for the fat dude's neck. I couldn't watch that one. I was too traumatized. I had enough.

WHY do I keep doing this? Because I'm a fucking idiot!

Now excuse me, I have to go watch video of puppies and kittens and pandas for the next three hours to recover positive mental images...

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Little Guy Friends

I'm not surprised to know when a new rumor about me finally gets to me.
I AM, however, always surprised when I find out the culprits behind the stories.
It is always a family member. Always.

For the last six months or so, I've noticed my dad getting more distant from me.
I had heard how he became wildly upset when D left, because his idiot friends at work wormed the idea the D only left so she could let loose her inner slut.
I thought maybe Dad was holding some resentment towards me because maybe he thought I was keeping D's secret.

Finally, I was let in on the reason behind Dad's apprehension.
After a few months of not stepping foot at Mom and Dad's place, I went ahead and hung out with my folks and their coworkers for a few hours.
Everything was fine, and we were all laughing and telling stories, then my folks had to leave the building to fix an issue at a separate building.
I was left alone with the cashier and his dad-- who is also my first cousin.
The conversation was somewhat awkward, since this cousin is almost 20 years my senior. He was asking me questions, and I was answering.
Then he ruins everything with the stupidest question anyone can ask me:
So, what does the good ol' boyfriend have to say?
I looked up from my phone and made eye-contact with my cousin.
Me: I don't have one.
Cousin: Oh, so you just have "little guy friends."
Me: Friends.

The conversation was in spanish, so "little guy friends" is more like saying... fuck buddies. I knew he meant this because of the look on his face when he said it.

I felt as if I had been shanked in the gut by an icicle.
Everything made sense.
I KNEW I should have blocked him from my Facebook.

It's one thing for others to think I'm an easy whore-- I don't give a fucking shit what they think about me-- but when that shit gets drilled into my dad's head, and he BELIEVES it, it really fucking upsets me. I DO care about that... about what my progenitor thinks.
Finding the person(s) responsible for poisoning my dad against me infuriates me, not only because it makes me want to beat their fucking smug face, but because I CAN'T beat their stupid ass. 
That look of triumph they throw at me... as if they're fucking all-knowing... that "HA! I knew you weren't a good girl! ALL girls are whores!" look... it kills me. It makes my chest burn with hate.
The way my cousin looked at me, I could tell all he was thinking was that he somehow knew my "secret."
This girl is unmarried because she's too busy fucking all those guy "friends" of hers! You don't fool me, you sneaky hoe!

It makes me sick.
You're making my dad upset thinking he has whores for daughters all because you're fucking bored and want to gossip like some fucking women at the nail salon! WHAT THE FUCK?!

Only ONE guy in this entire STATE knows what my fucking lips even feel like... ONE GUY. GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE with your fucking judgmental comments and fucking fables.

I don't understand why they'd take this BULLSHIT to the next level and try and convince my father that I am NOT the sweet innocent girl he thinks I am. WHAT concrete evidence do they have to hurt me like that? Some fucking photos on FACEBOOK, where the most I'm doing is HUGGING someone? Where the fuck are we living, again? Iran? Get. THE FUCK. Out of here!

But... I have to take a deep breath and calm down. There is no way I can control what other think of me, or what they WANT to believe.
I know what's up. I know that I am... damn near a fucking saint, and I don't care to "prove" anything to anyone.
Like I've said before:
Bring me ONE guy who can say he has ever touched me. Just ONE, and I'll let you talk all the shit you want.

Good luck.

Monday, November 26, 2012

Anything from you

"You know I'd do anything for you, AnoMALIE."

I felt like the biggest asshole in the room.
Each new word coming out of his mouth made me feel like a heavier dirtbag than before.

I didn't know what to do.
Should I tell him to shut up? How do I do that nicely? What if it backfires and he gets angry... or offended... and he chews me out, right here in front of everyone? Yeah, I deserve it... but I'm not ready for that. Not right now. Should I act like I can't hear him? Should I ignore him? Damn it, dude!

I tried acting as if I couldn't hear him, but he leaned in to continue... pouring out his... uh... sentiments.
"I do anything just so I can make you happy, you know... and of course I know you're unobtainable..."
At this point, I felt like my heart was getting ripped out.
FUCK! Please stop... please, please, please stop. You know the deal. I told you from the get-go. PLEASE. No more. It hurts that I have to do this to you.

This was where I finally physically moved my body so I could give him my back. I stared at my other friend, giving him my most pleading look... and noticing he gave me a "Aren't you... uh... weren't you... talking to him?" look, which eventually turned to an "Ok, I got you. Here, I'll make it look like I have something very important for you to do" look.
He bailed me out, and I left the poor lovesick boy talking to himself.

This all started because I told him I'd be unable to finish my beer-- 3/4 of the bottle. He drank from it and said he'd finish it.
Me: Have fun getting sick, bro!
Him: I don't care... if it's coming from you.
And then the awkwardness started.
The night ended with him getting extremely self-depricating... which is always fun (being sarcastic here).

This makes me sad for two reasons:
1. The guy is a nice guy, and I do in fact, get along with him very well, since we have many things in common. HOWEVER, I see it as more of a relative-type relationship. I like him like I do a close cousin who understand where I'm coming from. There is NO physical attraction, nor will there ever be... it's like incest to me. But he is a very good friend. A very very good friend, shit, he's straight up a good PERSON.
2. I realize I play his role as far as my own heart is concerned. I imagine Darcy must feel similar to what I feel towards this friend of mine. It's... you like the person, but not in the romantic sense, regardless of how many nice things he/she may do, or how beautiful he/she will speak of you. It's just never going to happen.
It's a shitty feeling.

Imagine how life would be like if... if Darcy ever said anything remotely close to that... remotely close. I'd be... it'd be incredible. Entirely impossible.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Letter Volume II

After not writing to the man in years, I finally wrote a letter to Santa exactly a year ago today.
I'm not entirely sure if I mentioned whether or not he gave me what I wished for. But let me revisit my requests:
1. To kick my depression to the curb.
2. Finding a purpose.
3. PLEASE help Tyson get better.
4. Barcelona trip with Classico tickets.
5. A job.
6. Make me less awkward around dudes.
7. Cuidamelo.

I wouldn't say he responded to me immediately... but... I guess he kind of followed through at some point through the year, for a certain amount of time.
1. I was happy for a bit. Even if the moments were fleeting... but I WAS happy. Extremely happy, numerous times throughout the year.
2. Umm... well, I... learned I really like painting... ? And I HAVE started on that fucking book of short-stories after my bestie offered to edit it for me, and I'm sure Mooney will help out too, since she kinda does it for fun... right? :)
3. Tyson. My baby. My love. He... well, he DID see an improvement in health. I was given a few more month with him as my inseparable buddy. Ultimately, he was SPARED from the pain he was living... and was finally just... released from this world.
I love you, and miss you... every single day. I still cry sometimes when I think of you, or when something reminds me of you. You will always be in my heart, baby. Always.
Fuck. This made me sad.
4. HAAAAAA! HAAAAAAAAAAAA! Fuck, girl, you want a bengal tiger while you're at it?!
5. Semi-true. Self-eomplyment counts, right?
6. Oh, the can of fucking worms I opened with this one. I'm no longer THAT awkward around dudes-- most of the time-- now I'm just mean as fuck. I don't like attention!
7. Bien cuidadito que esta. Pero no para mi.

Will I be making a letter this year?
Well, I will do one real quick:

Dear Santa--
Thank you. I know I complain, and often fail to enjoy the good things that happen to me, but I must say, I'm very grateful for them.
The bad things? They make me stronger by knowing that I can live through them, and see them as a learning experience.
I'm sorry I'm so terrible sometimes.
But thank you. Thank you very much.

Saturday, November 24, 2012


My uncle's fine now... I think he's getting discharged tonight or something like that.

As for me, things have been weird.
Ever since the Thanksgiving outburst, it seems like the entire house is walking on eggshells when I enter a room.
Mom and Dad both asked me if I was ok yesterday. They both hugged me and patted my head.
Dad even asked me if they had been mean to me at the gym, since he knows that's my one sacred ground.
Dad: Something is really upsetting you... I can see it in your face. I've never seen you this sad... you sure you're ok, baby?
Me: I'm ok, Dad. Promise.

Mom: Are you ok? Your little face is red... and your eyes are so, so sad... like... you're devastated. You're unusually quiet. It's like you've had a serious boyfriend all this time and he suddenly... dumped you. You didn't have a boyfriend behind our backs, and now he broke up with you... did you? I feel like you had a boyfriend.
Me: No, Mom, I didn't and DON'T have a boyfriend. I'm ok.

Rafa hasn't apologized and I'm sure he's not going to (we're just going to act like the fight never happened) since it won't help. I loathe apologies.
He has spent the last day and a half trying to make me laugh. Texting me every other minute.
I appreciate it... but you know, the damage is done. I heard the words and I saw the look on his face when he uttered the words. I understand he said what he did amidst his rage... but... you know... it's like that time Mom asked me if I had looked at myself in the mirror when my cousin asked me why I didn't have a boyfriend.
It happened, I heard the words, my heart broke, and my eyes were once again opened to reality... by my own family.
I get it. I cried about it for an entire night. Let's move on now.

One of the people I've admired most in this world, and whose back I've had since the day I was born hates me. He doesn't hate anyone... well, maybe Sarah Palin and Glenn Beck... but I make the list.
But it does explain a lot.

I have this memory that haunts me a little... of a day in Mexico, when I was about 14 years old. We were saying goodbye to Mom's parents. I had said goodnight to Grandma, but was waiting outside on the porch, angrily, as the rest of my family was saying goodbye to my Grandpa.
Rafa: Aren't you going to say goodnight to grandpa?
Me: No.
Rafa: What's you're fucking problem?
Me: I fucking HATE that man. I DON'T CARE about that man. I want to be AWAY from that man.
Rafa: You're a fucking piece of shit.
Me: Yeah. I'm the piece of shit.
Rafa: He's old! He's not going to last forever.
Me: And when that day comes, when he dies, I promise you I won't shed a fucking tear. Not for him.
Rafa: You're crazy. You're a fucking idiot.

I knew he wouldn't understand. I didn't want him to understand. I don't want him to understand.
Keep thinking I'm a monster. I prefer you think I'm the craziest, most heartless monster, than to ever know what it's like to deal with the shit I had to deal with at such a young age.
If given the opportunity to go back in time, back to that moment in the truck, and trade places with one of my siblings, I'd still choose to go through that shit than have either one of them take the fall.

It will never be mutual, the hatred, but I'll get over it.

Friday, November 23, 2012

Blood Clots

And just as you're having your fucking pity party, you get some fucked up news that makes you get over your fucking self.

One of my uncles was taken to the hospital last night because of a pulmonary embolism.

Wow. Just wow.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Strong word... truly.

You know how I'm all quiet and stuff?
How I LOATHE words that are uttered in rage.
What I hate most is that in the middle of heated arguments, once someone says something truly hurtful... I can't counter attack. I sit... angrily wanting to rip out their eyes... but I sit still... so I cry out of frustration. And I keep the words. I may go on and act like I'm ok after a few minutes... but the words stay burned into my memory.

"You have to be one of the FEW people I TRULY HATE!"

Many more hurtful things were said to me, while all I really said was "ANYTHING YOU FUCKING TOUCH, YOU BREAK! YOU FUCKING ANIMAL!"
The other words said to me hurt and made me cry... but that phrase... that phrase still has me crying.

My brother said that to me this afternoon. Neither one of us was drunk... we were both stone cold sober.

Excuse me... my soul hurts.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012


I swear, my Mexicanism pretty much makes my affinity for this mandatory.

I wait. I've waited. For what? I have no idea... but it must be important, because the universe has kept this fucking suspense going for far too long.

But don't worry, I'm patient. So very patient.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Three little daisies.

I have a tendency to enjoy hanging out in groups of three.
I blame the fact that I have two siblings... so three just seems extra natural to me.

My friendship circles have always been groups of three.

There's my group of the Musketeers.
This is my group in college composed of my good ol' bestie and my dude buddy Kyle. We were three homies dealing with college shenanigans.
Then Kyle got married and it sort of died.
Now my bestie's getting married.
So... it's just me... the lone wolf (no motherfucking Hangover refferrences, please!), watching my buddies fall in love and me continuing on... I guess kind of like Bambi, I know I've used that reference here.

Then there's my teen group.
My early teen's group.
Three girls: me (13), my second cousin Cristi (13), and my second cousin from "the other side" Denise (14).
We were three girls, eagerly awaiting our turn to grow up. We'd be in Mexico, and spent our days walking the railroad tracks, heading to the bridge, and we'd giggle about our crushes as we'd throw pebbles into the river... and ok, we'd also spit into it as well.
Cristi and Denise had bangin' bodies... and I... well, I was the tall, fat, quiet, awkward one.
I was the girl the boys would herd, befriend, all in the name of getting ME to talk about THEM to Cristi and Denise... all so I could hook them up.
This hurt. Bad. But it also was responsible for the ease with which I now befriend guys.
Anyway, I sat back and watched as these two were worshiped by the guys... and how they each started growing up... started... well, being in normal, functioning relationships. How they were wanted.
I remained the quiet, loney, child, left to only listen to these girls gush about the different guys... and me not knowing what that shit even felt like... but hoping that sometime in the near future... maybe when I lost weight and gained tits or an attractive ass, maybe then I'd have some stories of my own.

Cristi proceeded to get married in '08... I was a bridesmaid there. I have never cried as bitterly as the night I got home from that wedding. It was a terrible experience. It broke my heart.

Denise seemed to be going my route. She was hardly in the "news" and hardly dated. It seemed like maybe she'd keep me company in this club of lonely hearts.
But alas... she became engaged in July.
Yesterday, she messaged me and asked me to be her bridesmaid-- I accepted. I will be there, accompanying my last "trio" friend as she leaves me alone in the "single" boat and joins the ranks of the married.

It's like I have an out-of-body experience. I stand and watch as everyone gets taken out, and I'm slowly being left behind. Alone. On the field.
I'm told to be patient, that everyone eventually gets plucked out of that field...
but I know, I FEEL IT, I know it's just something that was never meant for me.

Monday, November 19, 2012


Today was my first happy Monday in a while.

While I may be having a shit time, it takes very little to cheer me up... especially if it's great news from friends. My friend's happiness is enough to occlude any sort of bad feeling I may be encountering. 
This time around, the great news came from Pacemaker. Today, her family was told her dad was cancer free.

Music to my ears.

I know I bitch and complain about her often, but at the end of the day, truth is, I love this kid. I always will.

I hadn't felt this relieved, or happy, in a while. I'm... happy. This is great.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Swap and meet outside.

Mom employed various methods to control her kids at church.
My siblings and I would be bribed or threatened into good behavior.
I've mentioned the whole McDonald's thing, where she'd promise us each a Happy Meal if we behaved in church.
Mom would also threaten to beat our ass if we made a sound... which I'm sure isn't too difficult to believe, considering what a tyrant my madre can be.

OF COURSE I preferred to get bribed into good behavior... because I was a good, calm kid anyway, the bribe would turn out to be a damn reward!
My favorite bribe?
If you behave yourself for a month, we'll go to the outdoor swapmeet!

I didn't care for the actual place much... I have that social anxiety thing where too many people in one place pisses me off.
I went because I loved looking at the ponies.

I never did ride the fucking ponies... I hardly even saw them, since I was a kid and the stupid parents always obstructed my view.

I spent many Sunday morning at that outdoor swapmeet... made a lot of memories.

Today I hit that place up for the first time in 17 years.
First order of business? Take me to the fucking ponies!
It was only Mom and me, so the little lady didn't mind obliging me.
After walking for a few minutes... dodging a few crying children (these two little kids-- a brother and sister, boy around 4 years old, girl around 2-- broke my heart SO BAD after I heard the boy screaming "MAMI!" I turned around from the stand I was standing in front of, and nearly started crying myself the moment I saw the little boy holding on to his terrified little sister and leading the way through the crowd, as he too wailed, but kept his eyes open in search for his mom. He looked so scared, so sad, totally ready to start a life as an orphan in charge of his baby sister. He also looked ready to beat anyone who tried nabbing him or his sis. It was insane... it was heartbreaking... and enraging-- I wanted to find their mother and beat the shit out of her. WHAT is more important than your fucking toddlers, you fucking imbecile? Take care of your kids or don't bring them at all! Goddamn, the horror and fright in their eyes still makes my chest feel heavy with sadness for those babies... and I fucking hate kids, ok? But that was SO uncool!), we reached our spot:

After this glorious moment where Mom permitted me to gush for a minute or two (I mean, just LOOK at those ponies! MAN! SO FUCKING ADORABLE!), I allowed her to lead me where ever the hell she wanted.
We spent HOURS at this swap meet. It was the most entertaining people-watching moment I've had to date.
I felt a twinge of fear when I realized... I have WAY too many things in common with these people.
I... am one of them.
Dios mio...

Once home, Mom and I would laugh at each observation we made.
Often, we'd sit in silence and just hold eye-contact, smiling... tears wanting to form.
I love you, Mom.
I love you, Mija.
Thank you. For everything.
Thank you... for being you.

We've come so far...
My momma did so much to try to give us a normal childhood... it makes me get all choked up.
The woman drives me crazy, but I sure do love my momma.

Saturday, November 17, 2012


Let me enjoy this for a week.

Number one team in the country.
Yeah. That's right.

I'll take it! Thanks!

Friday, November 16, 2012

Twinkies, Spanish, and Cuteness

I'm not one who was too into Hostess foods... but I have always made that joke about the Twinkies outliving us all.

Apparently, due to my recent state, anything can upset me.

Kickboxing Trainer: AnoMALIE! Why the hell aren't you punching?!
Me:... Twinkies... no more Twinkies...

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I do stupid shit that gets me injured at the gym.

And since it's Friday, and I'm trying to be back at 100% tomorrow, I'll leave this here. Get it out of my stupid system.


And this too, as much as I hate to admit it.
I hate myself.
And just because I want to fawn a bit... and because I've really been missing Tyson these last two days:
I'm going to... steal you...
...but then I'll love you...
... and you'll die...
... and I'll once again be heartbroken...
Must... leave... puppy... in bowl...
I'm going to steal you!
My god... how can anyone not... smile with that?! God... how can anyone not gush over that? Puppies... so motherfucking cute!

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Spy? No lie!

Hey, AnoMALIE, how do you feel?

That photo answers the question whether it's in regard to my physical state, emotional state, or even spiritual state.
I have YELLOW under circles. YELLOW.
Figures I'd fucking get photographed on a day where I'm ready to fucking die.

I curled up into a very sweaty fetal position last night and knocked out for ten hours.

"It gets better."
Yeah... shove that fucking saying up your fucking lying ass.

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Muero lento

My kindergarten memory rushed to mind the moment I woke up on the floor.

I've told this story before: I was in kindergarten, it was Mother's Day, we had all made roses out of tissue paper. I remember my rose was red, and in the little paper vase I had decorated.
For some reason, I felt very sentimental... and panicked when I realized I missed my mom.
I cried so hard, I passed out. I later woke up surrounded by my classmates, and teacher holding my head.

I do that when emotionally distressed. I mostly pass out the day after I receive news that pisses me off, but I convince myself to bottle up... to "get over." I act cool when the news hits me... but the next day, I find I pass out all over the place.

Today, I was feeling shitty at the gym, but dismissed it as the fucking stupid cold my idiot brother gave me.
As I was doing the final stretches for the day, as I was laying myself of the floor, in the deadman's pose after crawling out of the child's pose... I felt lightheaded and knocked out.
I woke up as I heard my instructor calling out my name and asking if I was ok. She was about to walk over to me when I woke up.

I thought I was fine for the rest of the day, but then my condition worsened, to the point where I projectile vomited a few minutes ago.

Last night... was a terrible night.
I tried laughing it off... but given my physical state today, it's obvious something is bothering me more than I'd like to admit.

I haven't cried. I CAN'T. I'm just... so confused.
People think I'm dramatic, but I swear, the shit that happens to me is... I just can't believe it happens. It's insane... so motherfucking IMPROBABLE... yet it happens.

I'll elaborate... I'll write a story about this, but for now, I have to sleep. I feel like my exterior is going to match my interior: dead.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

No benefit

I hate myself for giving others the benefit of the doubt. I fucking HATE it.

I claim to be a badass and mean and heartless...
but shiiiiit, I trust people NOT to assholes TOO OFTEN.

I also claim I'm going to be an adult in my conduct with others...
but that too is a fucking mistake, and I immediately resort to kindergarten behavior.

I need to pull someone's hair... and kick in their teeth... and scratch out their eyes.
Fuck, I'm immature... and angry.

Monday, November 12, 2012


It's a trip to see how I connect with this movie.
Is it possible for a girl to be Tom? Hell fucking yes it is!

Originally, I was going to doodle my own version, but I had too many things to do today, and doodling didn't make the cut.
Remember that photo from a couple of posts ago? That bar? Yeah. This was going on... hardcore.
I'll try and finish the doodle and post it. I'm just exhausted and sleepy and done with words for now.

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Dream, dream, dream.

The thing I hate about being a dreamer:
-Is how no matter how threateningly I tell my conscious NOT to think of you, I still do.
-Is how no matter how often I go somewhere, I'll still "see" you there. Anything can, and will, be contrived to something related to you.
- Is that I convince myself that... things can work out... that maybe, at some time, you thought I even had a chance... maybe I just missed the train?
-Is that no matter how many flaws I try to find in you... I can't. I... can't.

Worst thing about being a dreamer?
In my mind, you will always... always be the best person I ever encountered... regardless of how many new people I meet... and regardless of how many cities, and countries I visit.

Eres lo mas hermoso, mas intrigante... atractivo, que mis ojos hayan visto, mis oídos hayan escuchado, y mi mente haya soñado. 
Algo que nunca tuve, y jamas tendré. 

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Cut. It. Out. OUT.

My friends tend to be kind and sweet when encouraging me to do stuff... like move on.
My family? They are HARSH.
Luckily, it all balances out quite nicely.

I am a dreamer. I prefer ignoring the real world and detaching myself from everything. It's how I manage. It's what keeps me from having a mental breakdown in the middle of the cleaning aisle at Walmart.

When shit happens in my life that shakes me, I have a horrible time trying to regain my composure.
As a kid, I could always count on my brother to straighten me out with his kind words:
Don't be a fucking wimp, loser!
No one wants to hear it. Quit being a pussy.

Once he left, I started getting "coddled." No one tried picking me up. They just... chose to ignore it, and I couldn't blame them... a sad AnoMALIE is a confusing, somewhat scary AnoMALIE.

The last year and a half has been the worst time of my life, as far as my self-identity goes.
I've gotten lost... so, SO lost, not even I know if the pieces I'm picking are really mine or some other fool's who has the same issues I do.

But Rafa's there. He makes his appearances... and that motherfucker SHAKES ME.
Yeah... I need that.
Yeah... I probably should...
... how?

This isn't you. You NEED to cut it out. Look around you! You're 27, you still have plenty of time!

His words reach me... but I need a couple of days to let it settle down in my head.
I need the spinning to stop, and my tears to dry before I have the clear mind to thank him, and proceed to pull my legs out of the mud.

Friday, November 9, 2012

Eterna Solitaria

I'm certain I'm going to end up alone.
I don't feel bad about it, either.

I don't want kids. I don't like kids.
I don't want to put up with other people's shit. I don't want to subject other people to my shit.
You can't miss something you've never had... so... it's going to be ok.

My tummy hurts.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

Physics of things

This is what I look like when nothing is bothering or upsetting me, when I'm at a good place, when there is nothing else in the universe that I'd rather be doing.
This is me genuinely happy.

Tyson was still alive...
And I was having an incredibly... awesome day.
My eyes give me away. Always.

Don't think that'll ever happen again.

Happiness is quite possibly my most elusive and terribly fleeting emotion.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Always Found Someone (else)

No sabia de tristezas, ni de lagrimas, ni nada que me hicieran llorar.
Yo sabia de cariño, de ternura, porque a mi desde pequeño eso me enseño mamá-- eso y muchas cosas mas.
Yo jamas sufrí. Yo jamas lloré. Yo era muy feliz. Yo vivía muy bien.

He could make me laugh with a single word.
He'd always be so enthusiastic to talk to me. He taught me A LOT, even if he was four years my junior. We spent so many hours of our day just keeping ourselves company. We could sit in the room without saying a word, and we'd be cool. We were each other's... companion.

Yo vivía tan distinto-- algo hermoso, algo divino lleno de felicidad.
Yo sabia de alegrías, la belleza y de la vida, pero no de soledad... pero no de soledad, de eso y muchas cosas mas.
Yo jamas sufrí. Yo jamas lloré. Yo era muy feliz. Yo vivía muy bien.

Too often, I'd sit back and watch as MGH hooked up with other girls.
Girls of all shapes and sizes... ethnicities... ages... all kinds of girls. He would NOT discriminate.
I think that's what hurt me most... watching him indiscriminately hook up with any bitch... yet there I'd be, practically pleading... and he'd... he'd just... he wouldn't even high-five me. He'd just do that thing... where he'd tell me no one got him like I did, no one touched him like I did... and leave it at that.
I'd be left at the club... the park... the room... watching him prance over to the girl... and disappear for the night.
All I had was that nagging questions: What is SO wrong with me? Why NOT me? Why everyone BUT me?

Hasta que te conocí vi la vida con dolor. No te miento, fui feliz aunque con muy poco amor.
Y muy tarde comprendí que no te debí amar porque ahora pienso en ti mas que ayer... y mucho mas. 

Then you finally pulled the plug. And we went our separate ways. We remained friends... but not like before... for a while.
But like the strange, close friends we are... with the bond that will always keep us together... you still seem to known when to come to the rescue. Whether it's to make me giggle, or just let me know you're thinking of me, you know when to reappear.

Thank you, Mario.

Yo era muy feliz... pero... te encontré.

Someone else used to have this strange power... of oddly knowing when I could use a tiny bit of his attention... something as "insignificant" as a "Hello."
Now... now I really AM invisible... insignificant to him.

He always found someone to hook up with.

I'll never understand why the dudes never... never ever... chose me... when everyone else in the room got her chance at the dance.
They preferred to watch me quietly wilt away.

You cross my mind every day. Every single fucking stupid day. Still.

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Cs and Ls

I'd like to take this moment to thank my CONSERVATIVE friends, for being intelligent.
I have to say, after spending the afternoon reading the garbage many of my "liberal" friends were responding to, I realized I was lucky not to have such idiotic shit to deal with.

My friends, with whom I may not align perfectly in regard to politics, are smart. Their reasoning is sound. I dig it. It helps ME, to tell you the truth... it keeps me from being a blind sheep. Their comments make me think... not get enraged.

So, while the outcome was not what they wanted, I still appreciate the facts they provided me with.
Believe it or not: I'm a liberal... who is fiscally conservative.
Yeah, so, I can be swayed...
... and this time around, I was absolutely, positively repelled by what the Republicans dished up for me. They could have won me over, but ultimately, they made a terrible decision with their candidates who had the most archaic stances on women's rights and gay rights... no way could I have agreed to vote for them.

So... like back in 2000, and 2004, can we just... hug it out? Tomorrow's another day... in which I'll once again be pissed off over how shitty some motherfuckers drive.

Monday, November 5, 2012

Welcome to the world

Last night, I randomly dreamt Alo had her baby.
I woke up and thought "Hmm... I'll check out her aunt's page and see if she's had her baby by now..."
I totally forgot, of course, so I just went about my day without checking out the internet or any of that shit.
In the afternoon, I logged on FB and saw the photo.
Alo had her baby today.

Is it strange that the first thing I felt was heartache for my brother?
Then rage against Pacemaker and her cousin.

Opening your fucking mouth without thinking of the repercussions it will have...
... such a fucking GIANT pet peeve of mine.

Love doesn't exist... and I hate sitting back and watching how this is continuously proven to me... especially when it's my siblings I have to observe.


Sunday, November 4, 2012

Faces Slide Show

So this hair color... it's working for me.
I'm conveying the "I'm Mexican, you jackass!" vibe much clearer now. No need to throw this look around too often:
You're kidding me, right?
You know that country that's like... six hours south from here? Yeah, more like that. Hello? Bitch.
I also think I look hella Emo... but I dig.
Ugh. Mom wants me to do my own laundry again.
I hate my life!
Leave me alone, Mom!
It's totally growing on me.
I have an enormous mouth... and nose.
Goddamn it, I'm a horse.
I might stay dark forever.
I'm so motherfucking emo, it makes me sick.

I gotta sleep now. Total cheat post.

Saturday, November 3, 2012

Esperanzas ya perdidas

Con dedicatoria y toda la chingada.

Dark horseface

November's my favorite month of the year... well... yeah, for the most part. I like the nostalgic feel to the month.
Dark days. Crisp air. Good food. Sweaters. Scarves. Red noses. Good movies. I dig.

This year, to celebrate the start of month, to get into the "dark" spirit, I did something I've never done before:
I said goodbye to my light hair and dyed it black.

It took me about four hours to get accustomed to the new look... fighting back tears. I look crazy and mean. Whatever. I'll take diligent notes on other's treatment of me... see if this only increases my dislikable factor, or eases it.
Hooray for change.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Vodka gummies

Someone got me sick as fuck.
My friends tried hooking me up with a shorter version of El Canelo Alvarez last night... Silly kids. Obviously they don't know my only ginger love goes by the name of Conan O'Brien.
I ate too many vodka gummies... Wait... Other people touched those gummies with their grimy hands... Damn it!
I need to quit being an idiot.

Oh well, happy day-after Halloween.