Friday, October 31, 2014


I had NO intention to participate in this year's Halloween.
After a couple of intense years full of parties, I was fucking tired of it.
I mean, I grew up NOT celebrating it at all due to my fanatical Christian folks (It wasn't until I was in college that I started dressing up and doing whatever the fuck I wanted [like wearing black nail polish. Even THAT shit was off limits growing up. I'm sorry, but I can think of ten thousand other things that are FAR WORSE than wearing fucking black polish on my nails... but I digress]... because I was a goddamn adult), reverting to the non-celebratory times would not be too upsetting.

Sure, I dig using my creativity and painting the hell out of my face... but that shit gets tiresome... especially trying to crank out a new costume, sometimes multiple costumes, every year. I'm not one to opt for the simple, slutty-whatever costume many ladies rely on (I don't have the flawless body, for starters).
So I said I would take this year off... crossing my fingers no one would invite me to a party (Oh, child, you and your anti-social, hermit ways).
All was going according to plan, especially since my friend who invites me year after year is currently pregnant, unable to throw a party, too busy prepping for her baby's arrival.

Then one of my besties decides to throw a party... where I watched many of the guests bitch out with some pretty lame excuses (what is so hard about saying "Oh man, sorry guys, but I have another party to go to at the same time as yours. Have fun though!" It's sincere, and though I'm sure it's a bit of a bummer to hear, sincerity is always appreciated-- at least in my case it is). The excuses irritated me enough to decide to pull out of Halloween-retirement.

And so... here I am... once again participating in the activity.
Shit has had me frazzled as fuck for the last week, since I was suffering from a horrible mental block.
But alas, like always, it comes down to crunch time... my procrastinating ass came up with a costume last night.
Have I practiced the look? Hell nah. Will it work? I don't know. Do I care? Nah, man, I'm going to be eating sugar all fucking night in the company of my best friends... the fuck do I care what I look like?

And with that, the month comes to an end.
October-- always so beautiful, so cool, so chill... so heavy with melancholy.
This year's October was no different.
This year, I had a random gift from a friend constantly keeping me company... meaningful to me in a way in which she has no idea ("It's like, your favorite movie, right? You're into that weird shit..." Yeah, weird shit).

Olvidar-- imposible.
Goodbye October.

Monday, October 27, 2014


Helping out a friend with her essay, writing her thesis.
I can help others, but never myself.
You'd think I'd feel good after reading this, but instead I feel SO. DAMN. SAD.

Like an animal living in captivity its whole life, and once it's released into the wild, rather than flourish--thrive... it just shrivels up and dies... Confused and scared out of its mind. That's how I feel.

I am so damn lost.

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

snap snap

My selfie game is NOT strong.
If you look through my photos, you will hardly see any with ME in them.
Comes with the territory of growing up all psychologically fucked up, I suppose. I'm not a fan of looking at myself (actually, I have a hard time looking at anything that has to do with ME. I can't look through my sketches, or read through my stories... I feel weird... so I just sketch/paint/write and once I'm done, I put that shit away, out of my sight. Always have done that... I should probably talk to a therapist about that).

I'm amused by the people who are the contrary-- people who LOVE selfies.
These folk entertain the shit out of me. They give me so much to ponder.
Just like I'm a weirdo for refusing to take photos of myself, some folk are complete weirdos for that compulsion to constantly snap a photo of themselves.
My sister falls into this category... the selfie lovers.

Since I've pretty much lived alone for nearly three years now (I say this because I hardly see my parents, since they work such long hours, then just fall asleep when they get home. I see them for three hours a day, max), I haven't been in the presence of someone who is always taking photos of themselves.
I've been in the company of people who never get off their goddamn phone... texting and reading shit on their internet/apps. It is SO MOTHERFUCKING infuriating. And I better change the subject before I grow too irate just THINKING about it.
I've been in the company of people who constantly take photos of others or their food... not as irritating as the internet thing.
But people who snap photos of THEMSELVES? No, man, I haven't-- until I went to Chicago this last time.

It was creepy... and irritating... and sad, to sit there and observe just HOW OFTEN my sister would be snapping a shot of herself.
She used to be a hardcore texting-and-driving offender... but now she's just a selfie-taker-and-driver.

Sister waiting for me to buckle up so she can drive me to her favorite burger joint.
Me: Dude... are you... taking a photo of yourself?
::I stick my finger into her one cheek that has a dimple::
Sis: Yes. Leave me alone.

Three minutes later, waiting in traffic at a red light.
Me: Dawg... really? How much has changed in the last five minutes that requires a photo?
Sis: Shut up.

An hour later, sitting at our table, drinking a beer. Sister is contorting her lips into an odd, chubby sideways smirk thing... I don't know what to call it. It's not ducklips... but... "cute bored girl" bullshit of some sort.
Me: WHY do you do that with your lips? Your lips don't look like that naturally. Why does anyone have to know how bored you are with my company?

I would grow furious after two days of this shit. I kid you not when I say that girl takes a minimum of EIGHT selfies A DAY. And it's not like it's a photo-shoot session... but eight random times throughout the day.

Then I'd get all pensive and feel sad.
Is she doing this... for validation? Does she feel lonely? Does she miss people? Does she fear being forgotten?
Probably what gets me most is how her selfies don't really look like her. She angles her phone in a way to... uh... well, you know, she "works her angles." And she moves her lips and eyebrows in ways to just... give a different impression of what she looks like.
Me: Quit pouting before I punch you in the mouth, dude.

False advertising, I'd say.
And that bums me the fuck out for some reason.
(She then came to Vegas a week later and did the same shit, except this time she'd have a chauffeur--me-- so she was at liberty to snap safer selfies)

This selfie-centered culture creeps me the fuck out.

I think this means I'm an old lady now.

Friday, October 17, 2014

Asked out

My "Why are you still talking? Can I go home now?" face:
I bring a serious gun game...
Ugh. I'm such a dude.
Luckily, that was only at the end of the night, around 4:30 AM... at a taco shop.
For the majority of the night, I was doing my typical hyena thing... where I laugh at nearly everything.

A strange thing happened that night.
Aside form my teenage-angst shitty moment, there was an unbelievably awkward moment where I pretty much went deaf from the embarrassment.

Hottie sweet young ex-Mormon guy was busy... I don't know what he was doing, I think he was getting me a drink... so I was only surrounded by my female friends/family.
I was feeling good, so I was happy and kind to everyone, even the jackasses smoking nearby.
I had noticed two particular friends of my sister's looking over in my direction, but I honestly believed they would look over when I'd laugh too loud... kind of the way you look at a crazy idiot.
"Can someone please gag this bitch?" sort of thing.
They were the tallest, ummm... darkest... dudes in the area... not that I have a problem with that. I'm just saying, for imagery's sake.
I had been my typical self with these guys, since I knew they were some of the few cool friends my sister has. I'd laugh at their jokes, because they were funny, but at NO TIME, did I bring up anything that had to do with attraction... romance... hooking up... relationships... any of that.
One guy, the tallest one, was asking me many questions. I didn't want to be an annoying mean bitch, so I'd answer them, humorously.
I guess this is probably where the guy thought I was like... sending "mixed signals."
He asked me what I did... about five times. Each time I'd say something new.
Him: So, what do you do?
Me: Nothing.
Him: ... ?
Me: I am an "artist." I paint, I draw, I write, I take photographs.
Him: Is that all?
Me: Well... I travel as much as I can. I like to see the world and write about it. Draw it.
Him: Anything else?
At that point, I was wondering if this guy thought I was the worst fucking lush in the world.
Him: Do you dance?
Me: Only at Zumba.
He looked surprised.
Me: I'M KIDDING. I'M KIDDING. I do more aggressive shit at the gym. I'm not a dancer... well... I know how to dance, I'm relatively good at it... but I don't really like it... especially dancing to this music (they were playing Miley Cyrus).
Him: Well, what DOES get you to dance?
Me: I have a Peter Pan complex... so... I'm going through a really hard EDM phase.
He did not know what I was talking about... or maybe it was a ruse to get me to bust out my phone... who knows, I'm dumb and gullible.
So he asks me to name a song.
Of course I can't name a song off the top of my head.
Me: That one that says "muthafucking animals" thought the whole thing... you know what I'm talking about? Martin... Gar-something.
So there we are, laughing at how dumb I am... and I bust out my phone, and prove my point.

This is where the laughter stops and awkward begins.
He starts talking.
Him: Well... I think you're great. You're hilarious. You're beautiful and smart. Your smile lights up the room from a mile away. I really want to, you know, get to know you better. So, I was wondering if it was ok if I took you out to lunch sometime.
No, seriously... I FROZE. Catatonic.
As I watched him say each word, my mind was going a mile a minute.
What the fuck? NO no no! Please stop... NO no NO! Oh No! FUCK! Don't put me in this position... FUCK! AHHHH! FUCK! My smile? UGHHHH! Don't smile, he won't know you smile when you're nervous, he'll think you dig what he's saying... FUCK! Please don't keep going! WHYYYY?! WE WERE COOL BEFORE YOU OPENED YOUR MOUTH! WHO ASKS PEOPLE OUT WITHIN A COUPLE OF HOURS OF MEETING THEM? WHO STILL ASKS PEOPLE OUT?! WHEN DID WE MENTION RELATIONSHIPS? HOW DO YOU KNOW I''M SINGLE?! FUUUUUUUCK!
And I just stood there, looking up at him, glazed-over eyes, smile on my face.
And I shake my head.
I felt like shit... but my head did not give a shit about being nice to anyone... it was shaking out of simple reflexes.
Me: Oh... you're so nice... thaaaaaank youuuu... but... I... caaaan't.... beeeecauseeee.... I caaaaaaan't...
Him: I should have known! Who is he?
Me: He is uhhhh... he livesss innnn...
Him: You're taken, huh? I should have known. A beautiful girl like you in a bar, single... it's either because your boyfriend's at home or you have something seriously wrong with you.
And he does that motion, where you move your index finger in a circle alongside your temple, to denote someone as crazy.
Me: Yeahhhh... sorrrryyyyy... but thank youuuu...
Him: Can I... is it ok if I curse him?
Me: Oh you go right on ahead and curse your heart out! Here, I'll help you! "YOU MOTHERFUCKER! YOU FUCKING MOTHERFUCKER!"
And there we were, two people cursing an imaginary person.

Guys, I tripped the fuck out. I looked like a cat who gets surprised by a loud, sudden noise.
The dude was hella cool, and as a friend I'd be happy to chill with him... but the way he laid it on so thick... there was just... no way. No way. Zero physical attraction. He didn't know my type of music. It just... nah, man. Nah. But it felt horrible having to say no to such a nice guy. But I had to... to keep it real.
I was still feeling like I had just been static-shocked by a massive metal block when the ex-mormon boy came by and made me forget... with more laughter.

Guess who I'm looking at...
Kinda scary to think this is the deranged look they're getting when I'm greatly amused.
No, really, just look at my nose and eyes. I'm getting slayed.
That night I learned I'm still not a fan of compliments. They fuck me up.
Come on... let's be serious... I was not that big of a deal. I'm a forgettable face... well, besides the enormous grill of mine, but you get the picture.
I know what I look like.. I know my mug is nothing out of the ordinary.
Flattery from others just gets me rattled and upset.

If you dig me (for whatever freak reason you find me tolerable), speak to me for a couple of hours... crack me up throughout the conversations (don't avoid me all night and only approach me as the night is ending). Make me laugh hysterically with your humor, and my attention is all yours, buddy.

Not a difficult concept (difficult to keep me company for a few hours. I understand it's pretty fucking demanding of me... but I'm a shy, painfully timid girl... it takes some time for me to warm up and be myself with a stranger. Some people have the patience, others do not, and that's fine. Just DON'T ask me on a date after having only spoken a few lines with me. That's... I don't handle that well. Never thought I'd have to make that disclaimer...)

Sunday, October 12, 2014

adult playground

So, a little bit of elaboration on last night's [buzzed] post [which took me ten embarrassingly-eternal minutes to type up correctly].
Last night Sis wanted to celebrate her birthday.
So we went downtown to the hipster spot.
Everything was fine, since there were a good number of family members present, and I have an easy time catching up with them. Things were so fine, I was even flirting with my cousin's (whom I refer to as my brother-from-another-mother. The cousin who was able to kick his horrible pacifier addiction as a toddler by having his mom make him believe Baby AnoMALIE didn't have pacifiers of her own, and he very kindly donated his entire stash to Baby AnoMALIE. That story always warms my heart) fucking adorable coworker/friend. (By "flirting," I mean "We were both rooting against USC, high-five-ing each other, then ultimately booing at the end like a couple of maniacs")
The guy is this handsome white boy-- six feet tall, green eyes, dirty blond, chiseled jaw, buff AS FUCK (awesome ass. Broad shoulders, well-formed pecs, small waist, big ass, thick thighs... fucking beautiful, guys, beautiful), sweet, kind, hilarious. Like... an ex-mormon with the good habits, not judgmental of what they consider "bad" habits (shit, he was even drinking with us).
Best of all? He has a total fetish for Hispanic girls, since he grew up on the East side of town.
OH! And even better? Homeboy's four years my junior.
Roar, baby, roar.

As we chatted, we found out we had a ridiculous amount of similarities... bonded over our street cred, sport's teams, schools, gym habits, and even our college majors.
Basically, by the end of the night, I wanted to lick his face (HIS FACE!).
I mean, his presence was appreciated/welcomed by me, I was by NO MEANS bothered by him... at all. My body dug that vibe.

Then the coming-of-age sitcom drama began.
I swear, when this shit happens--and it happens WAY TOO FUCKING OFTEN-- it's a fucking out-of-body experience. I sit back and just watch this happens while internally, my mind is screaming "GODDAMN IT! NOT THIS FUCKING SHIT AGAIN!" and I see the events taking place in slow motion. It's almost comical (actually, it is once I recover from the bit of heartbreak).
I'm vibing with this rad little white boy, when suddenly I catch my sister return to my little circle (she was being a little social butterfly, fluttering between the different circles of groups of friends) and wrap her arms around my adorably perfect white boy.
... The fuck?! NO! This room is PACKED with men... WHY THE FUCK go for the ONE digging my vibe?! YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND BACK HOME!!
While internally I was freaking out, angry as fuck, I had to remind myself to pose a cool exterior... to not let others know how irritated and upset I was over my sister being a sleaze ball.
She then proceeded to slowly kiss the side of his face... repeatedly... while groping him.
This is around the time I decide to post my entry from last night... to calm myself down and keep myself from body-slamming her to the floor.

So I'm upset... wanting to throw Jenga pieces across the room (the bar we went to has a giant backyard with oversized versions of elementary-school games, like hopscotch, four square, and this awesome giant version of Jenga). I see the hugging and kissing from my sister has yet to stop... and I am doing everything in my power not to scream at her, demanding she stop and go take a cold shower ("and stop going for the one motherfucker with whom I feel a mutual attraction, bitch").
This is where magic happens.
This is where my white boy looks over to me with my sister still hanging on to the side of his face, he laughs, and says:
"Damn... your sister is thirsty as fuck!"
And I burst out into a loud fit of laughter.
"I'm not thirsty!" says my sister. She stops grabbing him... and stumbles away to god knows where.
And I go back to vibing with my white boy.
We did random feats of strength the rest of the night. I carried him ("Look, I don't want to end the night with the back of my head on that concrete right there... bleeding profusely. I don't think you can handle this 205 pound body." I love proving people wrong), and he gave me a piggy back ride (at his lovely insistence)... that sort of fun, little kid shit. (but no one licked each other's face the rest of the night)

I woke up with my abs on fire.
I laughed a lot last night.
That was nice. It felt good.

Leaning in

Trust that my sister will lean in at the last minute on the one fucking dude digging me all night.

God. Damn. 


Friday, October 10, 2014


Yesterday I noticed I've reached the level of depression where I literally forget to speak.
As in, I do not know how to articulate... I cannot make sounds, and when I do, I'm surprised by them.

I haven't spent my days crying, like I do other times.
I'm just numb. Blank. Extremely forgetful... EXTREMELY.
I don't know what caused this current bout. Maybe it's the whole Chicago trip... maybe it's a very delayed--or perhaps escalating--reaction to being considered older than my brother... or just a whole negative combination of EVERYTHING... but the point is: I'm very much depressed... and not the "I'm a teenaged girl who just broke up with her boyfriend and I can't stop crying while I listen to these sad songs" type of depressed... but this numb depressed where I feel worthless as fuck... and so fucking... I don't know, I'm just NOT present. Not present at all. The only mental imagery I can think of using, but which describes it perfectly, is when you close your eyes, and just imagine a white background. Just a plain blank, white background. Nothingness.
How do you feel, AnoMALIE?
Like that ::points at white, bare wall of room::

But I'm not crying.
I'm sleeping 8 hours. I go to bed at 11pm and wake up at 7 in the morning.
I'm eating-- twice a day, but that's better than nothing.
I go to the gym and smile at my friends... answer questions.
I do my workouts with my mind on each movement, making my best effort not to hurt myself.
I come home and do not dwell on the past... or on anything.
I'm also not raging hard on anyone... or anything.

I just don't feel.
I just don't care.
I don't look forward to a damn fucking thing.
I'm just going through the movements. That's all. Just follow through with the motions of each day.
No thoughts.
No worries.
No feelings.
No dreams.

Blank blank blank. Blank blank.

I hadn't felt the silent type of depressed in a minute.
It's inconvenient when you try to go about your day... talking to optometrists about your shitty right eye that can't stop watering like a sprinkler.
It's awkward... sitting there and trying to formulate a coherent sentence, trying to remind yourself of HOW to make sounds... pleasant sounds. Then jolting a little the moment you hear your own voice...
Jesus, do you have to be so loud, AnoMALIE? Tone-deaf-ass.

And now I have to be social. Tomorrow I must present myself in front of a couple of social circles and act "normal." I have to once again hold conversations with people... answer questions... NOT look like an awkward weirdo that makes everyone feel uncomfortable.
I have to go about and act like I'm ok... like nothing bothers me... like everything makes me laugh... and like I fucking love life.

Socializing isn't my thing.
Depression makes me forget everything... like communicating... in any form.
I trust I'll be better soon... maybe by the end of the month... maybe by then I'll find a couple of fucks to give.

Thursday, October 2, 2014


While on this recent trip, I ran out of space on my phone.
I did a quick fix of deleting some apps and photos I was SURE I had saved on my laptop, all to make room for a few new shots. I then went ahead and only photographed shit I deemed imperative... like cupcakes.

Today I remembered about this little problem, so I went ahead and made a huge overhaul on everything I have saved on my phone.
Photos were deleted, VIDEOS were deleted, text conversations were deleted... A shit ton of stuff was deleted.
This process upset me. BIG TIME. It obviously stirred feelings and memories I had NO INTEREST in revisiting (stuff went back to 2011... so... Ya know... it sucked).
Considering I was in the privacy of my home, completely alone, I took the liberty to cry my eyes out.

After some snotty moments with my memories passed, I found a gem.
Remember the phase where I voice-memo'ed everything?
Well, at the height of my low-carb rage, I started recording my drives... Because BOY! Do I have some horrible road-rage. The recording helped me calm that shit down.
But of course, now that I'm a cooler cat, this shit makes me laugh-- a lot.
I have a one-minute bit... Where I go on a typical cussing tirade... And OF COURSE I'm going to share it.
But the sharing will have to wait. I'm exhausted and sleepy... So... Goodnight.

Wednesday, October 1, 2014


I'm home! I'm home, I'm home, I'M HOME!

Good god... that was an exhausting trip. How many times was my flight on time? ZERO. Of the four flights I took in the last week, NONE were on time... not one. All were at least an hour and a half delayed... one getting cancelled. It was motherfucking hell.
Fuck Chicago. FUCK FUCK FUCK that city.
Just when I was starting to make peace with the city, some stupid bullshit would happen, and all progress made would go to shit.
Hey! I found an amazing bakery! WOOHOO! I think I love you, Chicago.
*twenty minutes later*
What... the fuck is happening? Is it... windy? Wait... are those clouds? WAIT! IS IT RAINING NOW?! BUT I JUST GOT OUT OF THE CAR IN A DEEP V-NECK! MY HAIIIIIIR! FUCK YOU, CHICAGO!

Ohhhh! That pulled pork burger and selection of beer at Kuma's Corner was bomb! Chicago, you're fun! Let's go grab dessert in the Ukrainian village now!
*Ten minutes later*
What the fuck do you mean you're closed? EVERYTHING HERE IS CLOSED? BUT IT'S ONLY 7PM! FUCK YOU, CHICAGO!

Everything about this last week was a fucking roller-coaster... and not in the fun way.
My emotions were shot, my timing was off... my eating was random... One minute dudes were flirting with me, and the next I had the world telling me I was an old bitch. One minute my sister's cat was forcing me to hold her, the next the little cunt was pissing all over my suitcase.

Madness, guys... it was all fucking madness.

But I'm home... I'm finally home. The weather is beautiful, my car is running like a jet, my gym homies are all back and NOT fighting with one another, my eating schedule is back on track, I have a nice bathroom all to myself (where I am free to move and swat my arms around in the shower without banging into a wall-- I bruised myself so hard at my sister's place. Girl has the world's smallest bathroom... although it still beats the time in NYC where I showered in her friend's kitchen... a shower IN THE KITCHEN. Weirdest, most uncomfortable thing EVER), and I can go to the store whenever the fuck I want.

I love Las Vegas. I love my hometown... I fucking love it.