Call it a problem

The last week or so has been somewhat rough for me.
Typical shit, ya know... crying, arguing, realizing a lot of people only view you as a money sign, realizing others have been lying to you for god knows how long... shit like that.
I've also had to deal with the "stress" of finalizing plans for the May trip. Somewhat of a headache, since I tend to suffer a panic attack each time I think of that piece of shit country of France... fucking stupid asshole France.
THEN there's my body. No one really tells you all the fucking bullshit your body will pull on you when you're "transforming."
There are good days... days when you'll look in the mirror and see some coolass muscle in places you never thought possible (at least on your own body). I geeked out the moment I saw the top two squares of my abs showing when I flexed, I practically passed out when I noted my obliques were coming in (that is some serious awesome shit), and I also have a thing for my pelvic bones-- never thought there'd come a day when I'd be able to see those.
Then there are bad days. Bad days suck dick. My bad days generally consist of noticing my jeans are tightening in the thighs/ass... or I'll feel like my skin is getting "pulled" in random areas. The pulling sensation freaks me out. It's not much different from the feeling you get when stretch-marks are coming in... except stretch-marks are itchy as fuck. This is what upsets me... because the thought of NEW stretch-marks makes me want to jump off a bridge. I have ENOUGH fucking stretch-marks, which I've finally learned to somewhat embrace-- SOMEWHAT.
Recently, my thighs and ass have been a problem-- they have been getting big, where it fucking worries me. Is it NORMAL for your ass to just start blowing up as if getting inflated by some air pump? My pants hug the fucking hell out of my bottom... and it's not like I can "suck it in," it's my fuckin' ass-- it's BAM! Right there!
I'd say my tits could be a "problem" as well, but what girl complains about her tits getting big? So yeah, I sense this has something to do with my girly hormones... that stupid, unstable cocktail of danger.

I told my sister of this problem the other day.
D: And it's just your ass and thighs getting big?
Me: Dude, my tits are also spilling out of the top of my bras.
D: Is your gut getting big?
Me: No. That's the annoying part. My pants fit fine in the waist, but I'm scared of sitting down because I feel my pants will rip at the thighs or ass.
D: Is your ass just fat, or firm?
Me: It's rock hard, dude!
D: Bigger tits and a bigger, tighter ass... I wouldn't call that a problem, idiot.

I didn't listen to her... because I'm a hypochondriacal idiot... and I chose to believe my body was just winding up to explode back to its gibongous stage of the mid '00's.
Then today I decide to get into my tightest fitting gym pants.
Money.
My ass IS bigger than it used to be (I'll be the first to admit my ass is small and stupid. I'm not delusional when it comes to my ass. It might have been big when I was a seven year old, but I totally grew into it during adolescence), but my hammies are magic, and my tummy is flatter than ever.
My body was just doing that lame thing it likes to do when readjusting sizes.

I swear, guys, you can physically feel when your body is tightening up. You FEEL it randomly... and it makes you think you're cramping... or suffering from a hernia... or blowing up like a pufferfish. It's like getting smacked by a giant rubberband. You have no idea WHERE the readjusting will take place (spot training is BULLLLLLLSHIIIIIIT!), but after two or three weeks, you'll catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and think "Well, fuck me! That *body part* looks badass! Where the fuck did that come from?!"
Don't know if people who have been thin their entire lives experience this, but as someone who spent decades as a human pomegranate, I'm telling you it happens... at least to me it does. It sucks balls for two weeks when you feel like a silverback gorilla, but then through some fucking miracle, you see the progress for which you've been working so motherfucking hard.

I still think I'll spend the next few weeks in spandex though... 

Tomar Vuelo

Yo ho, yo ho a pirate's life for me!
Well, more like a gypsy's life.

I wanted to be quiet about this... but I feel I might explode if I don't share it somewhere...
I'm ging to Costa Rica in exactly a week...
Then I return the following week, hit the gym as hard as fucking possible, accompanied by the strictest protein/veggies diet until the wedding on the 18th of May, then go to a couple of graduation parties on the 19th... and then I fly out to Berlin on the 22nd.
Yup.
My sister is accompanying on this Eurotrip part deux. She's meeting me up in Berlin a couple of days after I arrive, then we head out to Paris, for a DECENT Paris visit... where we're going to speak as much fucking French as possible... and NOT stay in the motherfucking HOOD.
Then we're ending our trip in Barcelona... Madrid might get squeezed in if we feel it's absolutely imperative.
Then I return in June.
Then I head out to Mexico at the ends of July. I'm hanging out with my brotherovski in Juarez for a few days, then I go to Hometown for that damned wedding... I might head out to Cancun from there, then fly back home... because that roadtrip from Homrtown to Vegas makes me sweat... just the fucking thought of it makes me want to barf.

So... my itinerary is getting CRAZY... and I fucking love it.
I just have to keep my lips sealed.
... but the blog doesn't count, since no one goes off and talks about it on social media (I love y'all for that).

This is how I keep my mind busy. This is how I keep from crying.
I'm happy.

Caliber

Astrology claims Aries are assholes... pushy, self-centered assholes.

He had these dark, sarcastic, witty comments. Instead of repelling me... they'd crack me up. They drew me closer to him.
Not gonna lie, I was intimidated by him. I often felt like a complete fucking idiot next to him... and I was scared he'd judge me as another dumbshit girl with nothing but vapid shit to say, so I'd be a total mute.
He and his friends would joke about what a misogynist he was... and instead of me speaking up and protesting, I'd just giggle.
I didn't think he was an asshole, I just thought he had a slightly rough exterior. I thought he was detached.

Then I started noticing the little things.
I noticed when he'd speak to me whenever we'd bump into each other, his eyes would light up and his smile would be... really adorable.
I now know he did this because of the recognition. He didn't hate me, so he wouldn't roll his eyes or try to avoid me... he was just being a NICE GUY-- a nice dude greeting a nice girl.
He was just being nice, but this made me fall hard, and irreversibly for him.
Over the years, he just continued to do little things... which showed me he actually had a heart, a quite solid one... and it did nothing to end my crush on him.
I mistakenly thought it was serendipity, but it was really just coincidence.

Then came the horrible day of the rejection letters.
I always talk about this, but it seriously marked a change in my life-- this rejection from every single school.
I was devastated. I was tired. I had been sobbing so hard, my cries could be heard throughout the house. I was a mess, a wreck... I was destroyed.
In the midst of my crying, and sobbing, and confusion... all went silent. Everything stopped... even my heart beat at a slower pace.
Wait.. did he... this says... he just...
Darcy tried... he expressed... he felt bad for me. He randomly spoke up and tried consoling me... just fucking randomly, hours after reading the most difficult news in my life.
The world seriously went silent for me. I sat in awe of what had just happened.

Of course I went back to sobbing violently, but for about five minutes, I sat in complete silence, thinking
Well, FUCK! He... he has a heart. 

Darcy doesn't like me. He never has.
Well, let me clarify, he doesn't like me like that.
He has always been a friend... a good person to me... I'm the one who misinterpreted everything. I'm the one who allowed her imagination to run wild. I created "possibilities" out of random acts of kindness... something I criticize and hate when others do that with me. Instead of ripping me to shreds, he just gave me a metaphorical pat in the head.
Oh, you silly, sad girl.
He taught me a hard lesson in compassion. An "Asshole" Aries gave a "Peaceful" Pisces a lesson in kindness.

Darcy, a self-centered asshole? Nah. Not at all.
He may have been born on a day like today and therefore be considered an Aries... he may appear to be egotistical, conceited, intimidating, distant, cold, or caustic, but he's really sweet, caring, kind, accepting, concerned... all of those pretty, warm adjectives. Much more so than I am.
Not only is he wildly intelligent AND bewitchingly handsome... but he's a good guy... a great guy.

I'm lucky to have met him, so I can at least know such humans do exist... even if there's no chance for me to ever get him, as miserable as the realization might make me sometimes.
I hope he finds someone who inspires as much awe in him, as he inspires in me... a guy of that caliber certainly deserves it.

Truck

Alrighty. I have time to upload photos and crack the fuck up.
I am, however, going to refrain from posting as many as I had originally thought... because they are SO FUCKING bad.
Here we go.

Let's take it back to good ol' '05. The summer of '05. The summer where there was a wedding on my dad's side of the family, and everyone was part of the bridal party, everyone but me. I wasn't asked because I'd kill the vibe, because I "wasn't pretty enough. Only hot girls allowed as bridesmaids."
Everyone was told I had turned down the offer to be in it because I'm so shy and whatnot... though the GROOM personally told me that about "only hot girls allowed in my wedding." Instead of objecting and telling everyone the true story, I stuck to only telling my mom and sister. To this day, my dad and my brother both think I'm a crazy, antisocial idiot.
Anyway, the photos:

That right there is the family-- my siblings and my cousins. The circle.
The look they're tossing me breaks my heart, still... actually, the entire photo does... even the angle, and especially the distance at which I took it.
Me? Ostracized? Says who?
It was impossible not to feel like the biggest fucking loser on the face o the universe this day.

Now, was my cousin (the groom) correct in leaving me out of the party? Well... as embarrassing as this may be, I'll let you be the judge. This is what I looked like that summer:

I'm the orange wastebasket in the middle.
I was going to say "dumbass" but it looks like my brother has reserved that noun.

My stomach hurts looking at this. I feel... as though I'm... I don't know what to say. It's hard to look at this for more than a second. It hurts. It breaks my heart.
To tell you the truth, I don't know how they managed to convince me to get in the photo.
By the way, that kid in the suit is my rockstar godson... this was around the time they'd call him derogatory terms due to his lanky figure...
My, how the world turns.

...
....
I don't even want to talk about this.
I'm just going to take a seat over here and cry for a couple of minutes...

This was also the summer after meeting Darcy. This was the summer following my two semesters of creative writing.
So... seeing the '05 photos was this horrifying moment where the lightbulb went off. That... eureka moment. The epiphany.
There is NO WAY in fucking hell he could have ever liked me. No way. In fucking. Hell.
Jesus. I feel so embarrassed to think... like... dude... I was a fucking truck. He was this super slender guy-- some might venture to call LANKY, but I avoid it, especially after Godson showed me how hurtful that adjective can be-- and I was this fucking truck totally after his bones. Sweet baby jesus... the embarrassment nearly makes me vomit.
He never LIKED me... NOT like THAT. I just... fixated and felt this absolutely one-sided attraction to the guy.
He didn't see you like an attractive girl... he saw you like A FRIEND, you fucking moron. He probably pitied your fat ass, you deluded dumbshit!
I can't fucking complain about this enough... it's horrible. I'm remarkably irritated with myself... for being such a stubborn, blind, annoying idiot.
Poor guy. Poor, poor Darcy.
I do find solace in knowing I never spilled my fucking idiotic heart out to the guy... poor guy... just imagine the awkwardness if I HAD... no manches.
And STILL, he was so incredibly cool to me... it's shit like that which makes me fiercely loyal to someone. Knowing someone who could have totally kicked my fat ass to the curb-- like my good ol' family-- instead put up with my obnoxious fawning (though, can it be considered that if my admiration was sincere?) and was kind to me... it melts me... and makes it a breeze for me to have their back for as long as they want me around.
So, as far as Darcy goes-- dude can totally forget I exist... he can avoid me like the plague, but for as long as I'll have use of memory, I'll have nothing but nice things to say about him... and gratitude towards him. I like him as a person even more now... is that weird?

This doesn't just pertain to Darcy, but like I said before, I mean it for all my friends I acquired through those rough years... Darcy just gets a special mention because I had/have this massive, eternal little flame in my heart for him, and instead of him being a cunt to me (like I have been on numerous occasions with guys who have, for some psychotic reason, owned up to crushing on me), he just lets me be. That's a good dude-- take it from me, a girl who has been humiliated every turn she takes.

The subject of Darcy probably hijacked the post because tomorrow marks another anniversary of him being placed on this planet.
I'm tired, I'm fighting a cold, and I'm embarrassed... it wasn't too difficult for the subject of Darcy to pop into my head and all over my blog.

... my god... how I must have pestered him. EMBARRASSING.
Excuse me, now, I have to crawl into bed and try to burn these images out of my mind as I drift to la-la land.
Does this entry make sense? No idea... my guess is NO.

desktop

Considering it's tax season, I've been busy scanning receipts for both my parents and my brother.
This scanning of documents requires I use the old desktop I have completely abandoned in my recently-converted-homegym. It just so happens to be that this computer contains all of my short stories, as well as my first digital photos ever taken.

It is EMBARRASSING SHIT to go through those nuggets of teenage-early 20's stupidity.
Well... it's not so stupid, just embarrassing to see the photos I'd take (selfies, let's be clear here) as a teen. The short stories aren't stupid (for the most part) or embarrassing... they're just... the feelings that resurface after reading the short stories are somewhat difficult to deal with. The fact that I was sitting in the same chair and in the same position as I would be whenever I'd be on-line back in the day (I enjoyed home internet for the first time at 15) made the uneasy feelings amplify.

I don't know what to discuss-- the photos or the stories.
I feel like sharing a little bit of both, but as previously stated, they sort of embarrass me.
... Then again, I did learn a lot from sorting through these memories.

1. I have a ridiculously distorted self-image.
2. I really DO overuse the term "got."
3. I'm naive as FUCK.
4. I'm super uncool.
5. Fantasy world? Fantasy-fucking-universe... border-lining lunacy.

I'm also now much more disenchanted about life... that's pretty depressing.

I think I'll start with the photos, but later today, since it's already two in the morning and I have to be out and about in five hours. I also have to take the photos from the desktop and add them here.
They're MORTIFYING, but for the sake of shits and giggles, I'll post them.

P.S. I can safely say that anyone who stuck around after meeting me anytime between 2000 and 2011 is my fucking hero and I can't help but feel an infinite amount of gratitude... what huge hearts they have, certainly much larger than my bitchass (I always wonder if I'd be friends with someone like me, and after seeing and reading all this shit, the answer is one HUGE HELLfuckingNO).

Coffee withdrawals

This month marks my one year of coffee addiction.
I was never a coffee drinker, not even though my AP high school years, or even my college years.
I joke that I could have been mormon.

However, after going to Costa Rica last year, I got in the habit of drinking black coffee twice a day.
This last month, in preparation for May's wedding, I've staved off the coffee. I do my best to keep my grill clean, but coffee stains, regardless of how intense I may floss or rinse, are impossible to avoid.
SO, in hopes of getting my grill as white as possible, I've called it quits on caffeine until the fucking lame spotlight is off me.

This has turned out incredibly difficult... this exclusion of coffee.
I'm more restless than ever. I go to bed after three in the morning... then I wake up tired as hell.
I spend the time at the gym yawning like a bored feline.
I'm fuckin' dyin'!
Speaking of which, I even have withdrawals, where I swear I'm suffering a heartattack. Random bouts of tachycardia surprise me throughout the day. I have to giggle to myself as I think weird shit while encountering the palpitations.
Shit would fucking suck if I passed out right now... driving 80 MPH on the highway... that would be one fiery fucking mess...

I swear, if I'm going through all this motherfucking trouble to look half-decent for this retardedass wedding... and I get stuck with the fucking CREEP of the groomsmen (as is fucking CUSTOMARY, since I'm good ol' sweet idiotic AnoMALIE... who doesn't say shit and just sits there and smiles while her partner is running around, making a fucking scene)... I'm going to pick up my shit and walk out. Plain and simple.

The back of my mind is telling me this is certainly going to happen... because AnoMALIE + weirdos go hand in hand like... Spring and flowers.
I'm going to bet I get a weirdo... or a divorcé.... ohhhh! My money's on the divorcé who will spend the rest of the night swearing up and down that I want his fucking dick.
Great. I just jinxed myself. I feel dirty already.
Good shit.

You're not my dad

As is usual, I intended to update sooner. I keep going back and forth.
My laptop has also been on the fritz after downloading a file from a friend that I can swear slowed my shit down. But whatever.

My brain has been a jumbled mess these last few weeks.
There has been some crazy shit going on in the household, primarily, my dad's bizarre behavior.
My frustration and confusion finally boiled over yesterday, when I confronted him in his room, and started to cry.
Me: YOU'RE NOT MY DAD! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?! DO YOU HATE US?

My dad had been super quiet since his return from Cuba. Super shady.
Things exploded a few days ago when he accused my mother and me of being "satanists" because we're Catholic.
I don't know... it's like... I was scared... I didn't know what was wrong and especially didn't know how to FIX it. It has been the most terrified I've ever been.
My whole life I've dealt with Mom and Dad fighting over religion... but never ever had Dad dared to offend us in that fashion... it was terrifying. TERRIFYING. If you're willing to call your own blood a "satanist"... what's the next step? Abandoning us? Trying to perform some sort of... exorcism? Had my dad finally jumped off the deep end? WHAT THE FUCK did they do to him in Cuba? WHAT THE FUCK?!

I also bumped into some alarming e-mails by accident. Since I do all of my dad's permit work (considering he works with diesel and has the gas station... and a couple of concrete companies, and now the houses my folks own, I have to keep up to date with all sort of permits, since it's basically internet shit and my parents are pretty much living in a Stone Age mentality), I have to check out his e-mail to see the replies I get from the different state departments. This time, I was keeping up with a Hazmat permit, which requires about three different replies, so I decided to check his e-mail.
I saw e-mails from ONE lady... with the subject line being... well, shady... so I couldn't help myself and I read them.
Since the e-mails originate from Cuba, she can send them, but Dad can't reply.... and... well... I felt like a mule kicked me when I read her overly-friendly e-mails.
I didn't tell my mom, I just kept it to myself.

Finally, yesterday, when I tried convincing him to come to the living room to skype with our Costa Rica friends and he turned me down, I couldn't help myself and I finally broke down.
And he finally spoke up.

After nearly four hours of listening to him talk, I made progress. He couldn't talk to Mom about it, since Mom is stubborn and won't listen to religious talk which she finds offensive to the Catholic church. I, on the other hand, have learned to be extremely tolerant of ANYONE'S views on religion (positive and negative), whether they clash with mine or not. I'll listen. I don't have to agree, but I definitely try to understand.
So... I made sure to make Dad feel-- to KNOW-- his opinions, feelings, and thoughts are important--VALID-- to me, regardless of how much I may disagree with them.

And I think we're good. I think he released whatever was weighing him down.

Heavy shit, guys.