I. O. U.

I always do this-- write at the the start of a trip and fail to keep up the work after about two weeks... then I return and still refuse to write anything for another few days or weeks. After that, some shit goes down in my life where my memories of the trip fade away or become irrelevant, so nothing gets mentioned ever again.

I returned from the trip sick as hell.
I've been going in and out of consciousness since getting here on Tuesday.
I battled the fucking shakes Tuesday and Wednesday, which felt like shit.
I have a phlegmy cough which hurts like hell... my chest feels heavy and breathing's a fucking painful chore.
My nose is running and my left eye drips tears uncontrollably.
My head is in the clouds but it also deals with a pounding headache every other hour.
I have to force-feed myself, because I have no appetite but know I MUST get nutrients in my system or suffer worse consequences.

SO! While I wish I could write something up, because I do have many opinions and many fucking things happened in the last month, I just have no strength or... long-enough an attention span to write about any of it.

I will say this though:
This trip helped me come to the conclusion that I'm NEVER getting married-- MAYBE get in a relationship... but NEVER marriage.
Nope.

Draining vs energizing

Yesterday was one of the best days I've enjoyed in recent memory.

It's insane how some activities take me down to my lowest, whereas others take me to such calm... I wouldn't call it ecstasy, because I imagine being all hyper and stoked when I say "ecstasy", but yesterday I was serene and happy. Anything that helps me calm down and be mellow makes me happy.

Clubbing and bar hopping makes me miserable. Anything that requires I look sexually appealing to others makes me miserable. It drains the fucking shit out of me to have to dress to the nines, put on make up, and comb my hair... so as to have dudes think I'm some hot babe (which I've painfully learned that regardless of the degree of effort I may put into the activity, I just don't meet the standards. Ever. So... it's all fucking futile and fucking stupid). While I do drink, and will drink if that's what everyone in my company is doing, I don't enjoy it. I don't enjoy the taste, and I certainly don't like the feeling. And then there's the smoking... FUCK ME and my fucking life when I have to subject myself to that fucking pollution at my own free will. Might as well have me chill in a truck stop, positioned directly behind the exhaust pipe of the fucking trucks and just inhaling deeply. Same fucking shit to me... thought the exhaust pipe might give me the added benefit of a high... which would hopefully render me unconscious and put me out of the fucking misery of polluting my lungs (and it wouldn't fuck up my teeth... but I digress).
SO! This nightlife shit is not and has never been my jam. Apparently dudes pick up chicks in such scenario, but that has never happened to me, because as previously mentioned, I don't meet the standards... even when the men are piss drunk... although... some have hit on me when intoxicated out of their mind, which only leads to a very violent reaction from me. SO NO ONE WINS... but I lose big... especially my "feelings." Sure feels like fucking shit to see every girl in a pub or club get some sort of attention whereas I only get stared at with a shitton of disdain. It's fun, guys, motherfucking FUN!

Ok, so this sort of social interaction psychologically mind fucks the shit out of me... especially since people my age are supposed to enjoy said activity (clubbing/bar hopping... NOT psychologically damaging others. I hope no one gets a thrill out of that, 'cause that's fucked up).
My time at the bar or club is mostly spent getting sad over the fact that I find NO enjoyment in the activity, actually. Seeing your peers having a good time while all you want to do is repeatedly stab yourself in the chest is confusing as shit... obviously depressing.

But then you invite me to go hiking to the most remote area you know.
No, you're not going to kill me and leave me for the wild life to eat my remains... you just want to explore the terrain.
And FUCK! Am I happy! I'm... there.

Just like that puppy

A group of eight people and a dog, climbing a steep mountain. Climbing across boulders, jumping off hills, and crouching under low-lying tree branches (that sting like a motherfucker when they touch your skin). Sweat slowly-- then rapidly-- drenching my hair and clothes.
I get SO MUCH pleasure out of this.

Is this real life?

I will quietly smile to myself as I follow the group.
I guess I enjoy being part of a group, but not entirely forced to constantly interact. We're a group looking out for one another (lending a hand when one has too much difficulty to jump a particular gap or climb down a tall boulder), but still individuals to explore our surroundings. I fucking love it.
We're concentrated on our breathing and where we step, so there isn't much chatter. Then, upon reaching a flat location, we take a rest, and have a good laugh as we rehydrate and snack a bit.
It's fucking perfect.

Puppy lead me most of the time.

And then we reach a valley... grass up to our shoulders... wild flowers in full bloom. A gentle breeze blowing, and making stray hairs sway over my face.
Everyone scatters to examine whatever has caught their attention-- a tree stump, a daisy, a stone-- and I just look at the scenery... take it all in.
THIS. THIS RIGHT HERE. THIS makes me happy. Jesus Christ. This feeds my motherfucking SOUL.
The wilderness, the fresh air... the company that still gives me SPACE. I'm part of a pack but I'm NOT FORCED to interact and that's fucking NORMAL.
THIS! I fucking LOVE THIS!

It's moments like that which will ALWAYS make me return to life even after my darkest moments. Knowing this is out there, and possible... makes me STAY... stay here-- not give into the very fucking dark thoughts that cloud my mind the majority of the time.
There's no pretentiousness... no mindless chatter... no fucking air pollution. I'm not trying to impress anyone, not trying to discuss some fucking obnoxious controversial topic, I'm not trying to find somebody to fuck... I'm just... I'm just alone, but not alone. I'm working out my body, but not competing with ANYbody.
Everyone's pace is respected... and... the laughs are so hearty and real.
No make up. Simple hair and clothes... and everyone's OK with it... NO ONE is judging. NO ONE is numbing some part of themselves with mood-altering shit.

That's life. THAT'S what makes me happy. That's what completes me. That's what I enjoy. That's what is real to me.

This deer MIGHT have been a dick...

Spent allllll motherfucking day hiking Parnitha, outside of Athens, where at the end of the hike, a herd of non-hostile deer greeted us.

Our way down provided by a funicular.
One could get used to that.

I was so calm and reenergized I even had a couple of beers with the gang afterward when we entered the city. Smelly and tired, we all took seats at a large table and ate South African meats... laughed about life... and shared stories of the most interesting kind (everyone at the table was interesting... but the most interesting to me was a special ops medic who gave me some of the kindest advice I've ever been given. Dude is 31 but has lived though so much... absolutely non-judgmental of where I am in life, but instead compassionate).

Hate to admit it was pretty tasty.

Motherfucking paradise.
I. Am. Full.
I. Am. Happy.

Roadkill kitty

Where did I leave off?
I don't want to go back and actually read what I write because that's too fucking draining. I just want to write it all out and try my best to shove the memory out of my brain. That's my therapy... especially now that I feel that disgusting feeling coming back to me... that nasty depression. Fucked up shit, man. It's that fucking terrible disease that you don't/can't eliminate... it just goes into hibernation for a bit... never knowing when the next outbreak will return. Like motherfucking botulism, it lives dormant in a motherfucking endospore which keeps it around for motherfucking eternity, until conditions are optimal to once again be release into the world.
"Ahhh, she's sad again... a couple of people have done and said mean things to her. GO! I release you! Be free! Wreck her world, depression!"

What was I going to talk about? About my own version of the fucking Trail of Tears out in Mykonos?

Quiet solitude-- my paradise... minus all that fucking sun and bare skin.

Ah... Mykonos. A fucking paradise of excess... too much liquor, too much skin, too much money, too much sun... too much everything.
Music is loud as fuck.
Food is expensive as shit.
The ONE fucking road is packed as fuck with cars.
Humans packed like rats in the tiny streets.
Liquor everywhere... even on your fucking clothes.
Dark, burnt skin on everyone... maybe not the Chinese tourists, who are ridiculously careful not to tan at all, with their huge hats, jean pants, running shoes, long sleeves, parasols etc (then why THE FUCK do you come to the fucking island, guys?! WHY THEFUCK?! It's AN ISLAND! THERE IS SUN! Goddamn lots of fucking sun! Nothing BUT sun from 5AM to 8:30PM. Go to fucking England or Germany if you want to hide from Helios! Goddamn. Ok, enough with the tangent).
NOT ENOUGH taxis.
Too many fucking stray cats making the place smell of shit and sound of horny cats fucking throughout the day... all motherfucking day and night... and fighting... so many fucking disgusting cats fighting like loud, drunken teenaged girls.

Night life about to kick everyone in the fucking mouth...

But it was fun.
Lol. "Fun."
It was... "relaxing." Yes. Relaxing. Let's go with that.
I got to sit in a fluffy "puff" aka giant beanbag bed on the beach with drinks in my hand... sitting under the sun, no parasol... from 11AM until 7PM. Just sitting there, catching some motherfucking skin cancer, with a nice dose of lung cancer from all the motherfucking jackasses who love to smoke like fucking chimneys... as though that fucking stench is fucking rad or some shit. Sitting there with watery eyes from the irritation their fucking horrible smoke brought to my eyes (I know this was the cause of my tears because I still wasn't all fucking emotional, so my tears weren't emotionally-induced, but merely a product of my obnoxious, irritating environment).
I was the tallest girl there... which was strange... considering I'm in Europe and European girls are tall, from what I remember. I was also the "thickest," which in this part of the world breaks down to FATEST (actually, on my last day, there was one girl who was "fat" aka "American" in shape... but her personality and self-esteem made her behave like any of the naturally thin Mediterranean girls. I was hell of envious of that girl... her attitude. Go, big girl, go!). And while I don't have visible rolls when I stand, I'm getting that "athletic girl" look which isn't necessarily "ripped/jacked", just like... straight, with giant thighs and arms. Laying down I just look like a giant fucking log... a fucking unfortunate tree trunk after a stormy night.
My skin wasn't tanning as nicely as the rest of the girls... I was getting my "fuck my fucking stupid Iberian roots" burn on. I'm a naturally tan girl (which caused me a ton of distress as a kid, since my family is a lover of porcelain skin and I was the "unfortunate" dark one)... but for some reason, "tanning" just doesn't work for me. My combination skin is some fucked up, useless shit.
So, the pale-complexioned females of my group suddenly came out of this weekend beautifully golden... I came out of it... um... combination skinned-- a little tanned here, a lot of pale there, even more red and burned over here.

And the nights.
Ah, the nights-- can't forget those shits.
I refused to go out on night two (the first night I hung on for dear life until 2 in the morning, after arriving to Europe from my transatlantic flight from Vegas). Night three, the infamous night, I tried to be a good sport.

She's loving life, ey?
Check out the crowd in the mirror above her head.

So, I make my way through the crowd, last person in the line, naturally... braving the painful burn I had going on my lower back (so easy to forget to cover that shit in sunscreen when you hit the beach to roast like a fucking pig on a spit).
Everything is fine and dandy as we position ourselves in the spot one of the girls had RSVP'ed for us at the bar. I drank. I danced around. I smiled. I observed.

Crowd outside the bar/club.
True story: another reality series was being filmed at the time.
I just attract that sort of shit.

Then my godson started dancing like... like a fucking stripper. The only person in the entire building to be dancing. The Greek men and women (oh, I should probably mention this was a Greek bar, not the touristy shit normal tourist visit) stared... stared hard.
We didn't tell him anything, just hoped he'd get the hint that uh, you don't do that 'round these here parts, but no... it seemed as though the looks of disgust and disdain form others only encouraged him to gyrate and thrust more aggressively.
This isn't Cancun. Chill out, Striparella.
Eventually a gay dude tried approaching him, only to be turned away by one of the girls in the group (quite aggressively, actually. It made me laugh).
Still, despite this slight aggravation over my blood's unwillingness to respect a culture's social norm, I still tried enjoying myself.
I DID enjoy seeing what music made the locals sing and dance... and I DID try dancing along... however, it was impossible to sing along because I had no fucking clue what was being said. This was entertaining, however, it made me look as though I wasn't having a good time.
Then my brother, angrily gesticulating at me his frustration over "hating to see me look so miserable" managed to dump his alcoholic drink all over my skirt and feet.
All of this because by 4AM, I was resting my back on the wall and trying to calm down my alcoholic buzz (six mixed drinks and a shot of patron... having eaten one meal all day. Cut me a break, please).
So, since my drunk brother's getting agitated, he decides to force me to leave the club. Alone. At 4:30AM.
It was wonderful.
Did I mention there weren't enough taxis on this godforsaken island? 25. 25 fucking taxis.
So, AnoMALIE, walk your miserable ass to your room.

That's really just a puddle of my own tears.

So... being kicked out of the Greek bar by my brother, I force my way through the crowd and eventually, make it out to the one road that will take me to my hotel, two miles away.
The road winds through the coast line... so it's a nice view.
The moon was huge, reflecting on the sea... like in fucking cartoons... AND it was a huge, reddish moon.
Every once in a while, I'd have to edge over as far as possible in order to avoid getting hit by a car as it drove past me.
There are these huge thorny bushes on this fucking island... shit people fail to fucking mention in movies and all that shit... how motherfucking painful it is to accidentally step on one, or slap your hand against one... rub your monstrous outer thigh against one. As I walked along the road, and edged over to avoid dying at the hands of a drunk driver (while I often DO want to die, this has never been an acceptable method... fuck that shit), I'd manage to hurt myself numerous times with these goddamn horrible thorns.
After hurting myself for probably the fifth time with one of the thorns, I came to a complete stop, looked out at the ocean to my left (once again thought about just dying... how I COULD just jump off the cliff right there, but how I MIGHT not die once I hit the bottom, just like... horrifically hurt myself BUT stay alive as punishment... yet another method nixed), the speeding, quickly fading car to my right (all I could think was how the driver probably thought "Outta the way, ya fucking COW!" as it sped past me)... and the desolate, long road ahead of me... I burst into sobs.
No, not just tears... I'm talking motherfucking, body-shaking sobs.
How many times have y'all seen these, Greek gods? Huh?! Poseidon, Little Mermaid... you fucks! A motherfucking LOSER ASS GIRL walking along the beach at the crack of dawn crying her fucking eyes out , completely fucking alone in the world, unable to connect with ANYONE... even her fucking blood. A motherfucking lonely loser in such a motherfucking glorious place, in a FUCKING SEA OF PEOPLE. Surrounded by such fucking beauty... painful fucking beauty... feeling like the fucking stupidest, ugliest, just... fucking stupidest, useless piece of shit in the world. A fucking waste of space and money... and did I mention how MUCH FUCKING SPACE this idiot girl takes up?! Godfuckingdamn.
So I cry. A lot. And keep walking.
"Why can't I be normal?" constantly running through my mind... sobs slowly calming down... too busy trying to wipe the snot off my face.

And then I run into a little puddle of blood... and make out a fresh roadkill... that earlier today was one of these disgusting, annoying cats on the island.
And I crack once again-- loud sobs now.

FUCK that fucking hill and that adorable hotel that rests on top of it...

I cry all the way up the hill (more like motherfucking concrete mountain) to my hotel--in my handy Flojos flip flops-- where I wipe my snotty, tear-streaked face with my flow-y tank-top, fix my wind-blown hair, adjust my busted, thorn-carrying maxi skirt... take a deep breath, and I walk in the lobby.
"Yasas."
I fumble with my room key, enter my bathroom... and break down again-- this time with the comfort of some sturdy toilet paper to blow my nose, and a nice clean towel to hold over my eyes.
Finally, I crawl into my rock-hard bed and fall asleep.

I wake up in the morning to see (despite my very swollen eyes) my brother and godson in their comfy beds, knocked out cold.
I can't get them to wake up, so I head out to the hotel's kitchen alone. I grab some breakfast, sit at my own table... and stare out into the sea... like the lonely fucking spinster that I am.

The scenery may change, but the fucking undesirable, awkward, lonesome, dead person that I am on the inside remains motherfucking constant.

View walking DOWN the hill, about one fourth of the way down.

Ho hey.

I am shit

Ahhh, Greece. Meeting again.

I arrived Friday morning, Greece time. It was a long haul... sort of. Layover was in Toronto... for nine hours. In those nine hours, I managed to cry in public. That was fantastic, as always.
I guess I should mention I brought my godson with me. It's my gift to the kid, since he's been battling a serious case of depression, unlike myself.
You see, when I really love someone, there's nothing I won't try to get them to feel better... as long as it's in my realm of possibilities.
If you have ever been kind to me, if you've ever made me smile-- you're good with me.
So, I figured I'd do this for the kid.

He's still weird. I don't know how to describe it, but the best I can do is by having others imagine someone who has just been freed from a cult-- the shellshocked, deep disillusionment with the world... that sort of shit.
He was driving me insane with his constant religious talk, which was a bunch of shit... but since I'm a nice person, I'd keep mum and only say "Umm... ok."
He's also very vain... very... umm... flamboyant in the sense that he goes out of his way to call attention to himself. He'll wear nothing but muscle shirts, and talk at a very loud level, so as to call attention to himself. He still has that salesman mentality... and let me tell you... living with a salesman is the last thing I ever want to do from now on. Fucking BONKERS.
"Goddamn it... is he talking to that stranger again?"
"No. No. You stay over here... I'll be right back because this is going to take me a second and I don't need you striking up a conversation with every person there for the next two hours."
It's obvious English is his second language because he uses words incorrectly... or he'll use them in the wrong context... or... he'll use inappropriate terms he learned off the douchebag coworkers from when he worked at the timeshare business.

This leads me to the thing that made me cry in public.
As we killed time in the airport (which wasn't too hard, considering they have an enormous lounge area with an ipad for pretty much every passenger... which is motherfucking amazing. This airport is a gem), we were sitting in the lounge area having a discussion on life... relationships.
I was chastising him for being "stereotypical pig Mexican" because he'd shamelessly check out girls, almost all of them... looking at their tits and ass and even vag. I told him that was inappropriate, and to be a little more discreet. He then says "ALL women like that."
I NEEDED to correct him.
"No. They don't. It's vulgar. Not all women like vulgarity. I'd say most of them hate it."
"You're saying if I like that girls ass, and I tell her 'Nice ass' she's going to be offended and not take it as a compliment or like it?" he asked.
"Most girls would consider that offensive. It's not something some of us are looking to hear at a fucking airport when we're agitated and tired. So yes, she'll more than likely get offended," I said.
"Even if it's me? I mean, I know I'm a good looking man. Girls throw themselves at me," he said.
(I was so outraged by his ego at this point, I wanted to take my carryon bag and throw it across his face. How the fuck am I related to this? WHO DID THIS TO YOU, Godson?! Is this real life? What a fucking douchebag)
"It all depends on the girl... but I'm sure there'd be plenty of girls who'd be put off by the comment and find you offensive," I said.
"You're going to sit here and tell me if Cristiano Ronaldo went up to you and said 'Nice ass.' You'd tell him to fuck off?" he asked me.
"If those were the first words that came out of his mouth when he met me, I'd tell him he's a vapid, disrespectful jerk. That's exactly what I'd tell him," I said, completely enraged by now.
"YOU'RE SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!" he screamed at me.
I noticed damn near everyone in the lounge area stop cold in their tracks and stare at us. I could read some had a look of concern for ME, as though I was getting verbally abused by my boyfriend/husband.
"What you just said... offended me worse than anything ANYONE has ever said to me. ANYONE. And I can't believe it came from YOU of all people," I said.
"What did I say?" he asked.
"You just said I'm SHIT!" I said.
"No I didn't! You heard wrong!" he said.
"I don't care if you misspoke or whatever you were trying to do... but what came out of your mouth, and what EVERYONE AROUND HERE heard was YOU screaming at ME that I was shit," I said.
And then he did what most men have done in my life when I call them on their shit rather than sit down and take whatever fucking stupid shit they're talking: he acted angry and outraged.
"You know what. I'm fucking done talking right now. Let's stop right here before I really fucking say something offensive. I don't want to hear anything," he said as he slammed his face down on the table in front of him.
And I sat there... fighting back the angriest tears of my life.
Doing fucked up things in public... where they know I won't act up because I don't want to make a scene... so not fair.
The words reverberated in my mind... the look on people's faces ran through my mind... and past memories of others being fucking assholes to me ran through my mind.
I tried focusing my sight on the bathroom that was directly to my left... thought it would help me calm down while keeping my reddened face and watery eyes out of the view of nearly everyone who had witnessed the scene.
But it didn't help. Tears started rolling down my eyes and it was over.
People started leaving the scene... visibly uncomfortable... and I just sat there, across from my idiot godson whose face was out of view, and his fucking stupid earbuds (which I gave to him because his own got busted from listening to music too loud) blocking out any sound from the outside world (only pumping out douchebag Bro techno into his ears), crying... sobbing. So motherfucking alone. Again. In a fucking SEA OF PEOPLE at the motherfucking airport.
I mean... all this shit just runs through my mind when I'm crying and it does NOTHING to calm me down. It's such a fucking terrible cycle, I tell you.

So, after about half an hour of crying like an imbecile in my chair, I calmed down enough to climb out (it was a stool) and head to the bathroom... where I did the typical AnoMALIE thing of crying in the privacy of a stall... blew my nose... walked out to the mirror to fix myself... and then faced the world again.
I motioned to my godson that it was now time to walk to our gate and I was mute for the following fourteen hours (we waited at the gate for an hour, the flight was ten hours, then we headed to the embassy to get the house keys from my Bro. Got home, unpacked, and showered).
Once in Athens, as I was ready to take a nap before the haul to Mykonos for the weekend (we were going to leave at 4:15PM for the ferry to the island), Godson walked in and tried making things better with that bullshit line of "I'm sorry you felt offended" then added "But I'm offended you thought I MEANT it that way." Ummm... ok, thanks for that bullshit apology?
"When are you ever going to see those people?" As though that takes away the fact that was a fucked up thing to SCREAM in an airport in front of a sea of people.
"Now I know you're very sensitive." Excuse me? What? Was I... being too sensitive about getting upset about your ignorant ass SCREAMING "You're shit" at me in a very public setting, in front of men, women, children, and old people who are clueless about our relationship and our conversation? MY MOTHERFUCKING BAD. Fuck. Oh fuck! Fuck me and my extremely girly feelings! I brought it upon myself for being so motherfucking sensitive. My motherfucking baaaaaad.

There's a line... a motherfucking line. I can be ridiculously vulgar... I can drop as many fucking cusswords as you can imagine, in NUMEROUS languages... but I KNOW WHEN to do it. There's a time and a place... and I try my best to RESPECT it. Do I think censorship is silly? Yes, I do... but I also understand that it serves a purpose. I don't enjoy little kids hearing coarse language... or older people being harshly introduced to me by me uttering some profanity. I also understand that different cultures have different stances on vulgarity and more importantly, I RESPECT it-- despite how much or how little I may agree with it.

The key term here, I suppose, is "RESPECT."
Bumping into people who LACK any sense of it... or prove to be ridiculously inconsiderate, drives me MOTHERFUCKING CRAZY.

Ah... good times ahead. For sure.
(This past weekend was something to talk about. The long weekend in Mykonos sure has a lot of stories... one even includes me--yet again-- crying my motherfucking eyes out as I walked to my hotel room all alone at 4:30AM for two miles. Long stretch of highway along the coast where I stared out into the sea, under a nearly-full moon, just bawling my fucking eyes out with both rage and incredible sadness. I even ran into a run-over, dead cat. I mean, who would come up with this sort of shit? Good motherfucking times.)