Rocking in the Dark

The moon was so bright, it called my attention as I walked past glass sliding doors.
I was making my way to the laundry room to finish with my favorite chore when the light caught my eye.
I slowly made my way to the doors, each step my hopes building.
I'll look toward the lemon tree... and had this been 2012, he'd be over there... ears perked...
I pressed my forehead against the glass-- I couldn't see the moon without coming in contact with the doors.
Unsatisfied, I walked to the kitchen and opened the door leading to the backyard.
Again, I felt a glimmer of hope when I looked at the right hand corner.
Maybe I'll see that cuddly ball... and his huge orange eyes stare up at me... his little eyebrows wondering what the hell my problem might be.

But there was nothing... Just the dark stain left by years of Tyson's body resting in that corner.
I looked away, and saw the two rocking chairs. I took a seat and stared at the moon... in complete silence, complete darkness, and for the first time in seven months-- completely alone.

This same scene, so many nights, by my side.
For 11.5 years.

I still can't sit in the backyard for too long. I can't have stare-downs with the moon without feeling... the worst emptiness my heart has ever felt.

I miss my boy.

Sweetheart? SWEETHEART?!

I was really hoping my friend had forgotten about me agreeing to being a bridesmaid at her Mexican wedding.
Then I received her group message today.
It was a photo of the dress and information on how she was mailing us a sample of the dress fabric.

NO WAY.
FUCK!
DAMN IT!

I'm officially a bridesmaid when I was never really... formally asked. I was just unlucky enough to be sitting at the same table at the sushi restaurant my sister had chosen for us three to catch up. Supposedly D and this friend were going to talk about the wedding plans... then suddenly the bride-to-be starts talking in plural... and I kinda hoped it was her having shitty grammar.

I don't want to go to Mexico in the summer. I don't want to go to Mexico... ever.
Fuck, man. Damn it.
There go my plans for August.

P.S. The dress? It's strapless, sweetheart neckline. The color? Tiffany blue.
Someone please just... shoot me now. I'm going to be a miserable wreck for the next 5 months.
Strapless sweetheart neckline...
Can you hear the wailing? Can you see my fucking mascara running from my eyes, my red nose covered in snot? God. Fucking. Damn it.

Ale-Ale-Man-ia

It was nice catching up with the girls on my dad's side. The only person missing was my sister.

At first, it was a little awkward. Last time all three of us were together, as in... all three of us having a chat, was back in '09 when our grandfather died.

One has a newborn baby, another has a divorce AND a new man in her life... and then there's me. Good ol' constant AnoMALIE.

Of course we talked about the divorce... though I didn't have the heart to ask WHAT EXACTLY went down. I also asked to be given details about the new man. Homegirl's like a teenager all over again. All excited and giddy... jumping at her phone each time it lit up with a new text.
Her new guy's Italian, so I made the comment about being jealous 'cause now she had the excuse of visiting Europe ever so often.
Cousin: Oh! I'm going in April!
Me: To Europe?
Cousin: Yeah! NewDude is living out there right now.
Me: Ahhh! That's so cool. I've been looking into going out to Berlin, since Germany's the only "big" European country I haven't hit.
Cousin: That's where NewDude is. He's living out in *?* (Totally forgot the name, and why act like I know anything about that country)
Me: Oh shoot! Why's he out there?
Cousin: He's in the Air Force and got stationed out there until December.

The conversation took off from there.
She's cool with me joining her for the trip, and I got the green ($) light as soon as I told my folks about it.
Now I have to mull over the idea... because that's what I do to ward off my impulsive nature.
How SMART is it of me to join a couple which will MOST LIKELY be acting like... a honeymooning couple? Sure, I won't spend a lot of my time with them, since I have plans to hang out with JC... and will probably end up just being with him...
And then there's the whole Germany thing... like... I'm scared of the place... well, more like "intimidated."
And then there's the length of the visit. Homegirl's going for ten days. If I'm going to be on a fucking plane for THAT long, I'm not going to fuck around in the foreign continent for ONLY ten days.

I don't know... too much information to process. I'll think about it.

Countdown begins

I turn 28 on Friday.

I suspect all my irascible, unpleasant behavior is largely due to this impending doomsday.
I do it all the time. This acting up always rears its ugly head this time of year... it's like seeing all those animals freak out days before an earthquake.
I live in fear of one day just snapping. Sometimes I sense I'm an umbrella away from shaving my head publicly as paparazzi snap photos of me beating a car (Britney reference here). BUT, I know I'm just being looney because of my reluctance to age.

This birthday has some folks coming out of the woodwork, eagerly inviting me to go out-- some even demanding so.
I think it's due to the fact that it's my first birthday without my sister... or even my dog... that has some people worried. They must be under the impression that I somehow celebrate turning a year older...
Anyway, my female cousins from my dad's side have taken it upon themselves to take me out for my birthday. They originally wanted to take me out on Friday, but I made up some lie about being too busy.
I finally obliged to just go out for some sushi tomorrow afternoon as a form of early celebration.
These girls are very excited... and why lie? Even I feel giddy about a day with these girls.
One of my cousins recently had a baby, baby I finally met yesterday, but refused to hold.
It is SO creepy to see the offspring of a girl I remember babysitting... an itty-bitty creature who happens to be related to me.
I refused to hold the little dude because I'm about as gentle as a hawk swooping rabbits. I sat next to my mother and tickled the baby's feet instead... because I'll be a bitch to anyone... even a one-month-old. (sarcasm)

ANYWAY. I'm sort of excited to hang out with these girls... and that poor baby I irritated last night. I'm crossing my fingers they don't throw me a pity-party for being sister-less... all fuckin' spinster-like.

Artistic stuff

I've been writing for years.
I know I've mentioned how I've kept a journal since first grade.
I did numerous writing-related activities, which I always saw as... games.
Mooney and I would write stories-- we'd collaborate. I think it'd be something like two chapters each before handing it over to the other to do her two chapters and so forth, until the story came to some resolution.
This to me, was a game. It was fun.
I did this same activity with one of my best friends in middle school. We'd write a story in a spiral notebook. I think we'd settled on two chapters a turn as well, and the story would end as soon as the notebook ran out of room.

This hobby I never saw as... a career possibility? I don't know, I just grouped it in the same category as basketball-- it killed time, I enjoyed it, but I knew I would never make money off it. I never considered any of my artistic hobbies as being capable of getting me paid.

I've GIVEN away numerous paintings now. It's super strange, and it makes me feel weird to know someone wants something painted/doodled by me... but I oblige. It's my gift to them. A little piece of me... actually, a very intimate piece of me... since I keep my "art" to myself... something about it embarrasses me. I can't really put a finger on it. It's just something incredibly personal to me which leaves me feeling vulnerable. When people find out I paint, I usually just want crawl under a rock.

My photography? I've GIVEN some of my prints away. Actually, I gave one of my little cousins an entire story board. Facebook has also pretty much assassinated this possible "lucrative" prospect. People just see your photos and more than often steal them. I do it... but only with photos that are... umm... well, not of an artistic nature.
HOWEVER, on Friday, I sold my first print! THAT was strange... especially the chosen photo (photo from my Costa Rican travels, where I photographed my breakfast one morning), however, it officially goes down as my first sold art project.

Short stories? Well, that's my next venture. I had been working on my writing since day ONE of this year (for real), but the project has been stalled... which of course bums me out, but I do believe everything happens for a reason. I take set-backs much better now.
I also have a bit of inspiration, due to my middle school friend who is currently shopping around her first book. She wrote this badboy in a matter of about a week... I even make an appearance... as (surprise, surprise) a character named "Teresa." At least it's not "Maria," right?

I like being part of things.
I even gave Kelley the green light to write songs inspired by my F'ed up life. I can't write poetry/songs for shit, so I have given her full liberty-- even encouraging her-- to sing about my woes.
Add me to your stories, sing about me, write poems about me, just don't write my autobiography... I have to be left with some sort of job, right?

Art's lovely.

Sugary needs

This inexplicable sense of nausea is frustrating.
I woke up at noon, and before stepping foot off the bed, I felt this bizarre sense of disconnect between my brain and body. It's not like when I ride a roller-coaster... but it is somewhat dizzying and confusing. I would touch things and my brain just wouldn't register, if that makes sense.
After about two hours of this crap, I became frustrated... and nearly cried.

I don't really know why this is going on, but I feel my no-sugar thing might be to blame. Hypoglycemic issues, perhaps?
With this in mind, I decided to snack on some blueberries, blackberries, and strawberries... and when that didn't do the trick, Mom made me eat an empanada... a Bavarian-cream-stuffed empanada (WHO came up with that idea? Since when the hell do Mexicans fuck with Bavarian cream?).
No dice.

I'm going to sleep now.
I'm guessing this shit is due to the accumulation of poor sleep this past week.

This feels terrible.

Wonderland

What does AnoMALIE do when she's feeling anxious, annoyed, frustrated, upset, angry, violent, and all those ugly feelings a person should never feel?
Resort to art.

Obviously not complete... that's about three hours worth of repeated motions... for the most part.
I'm sure my mood and feelings are more than self-evident.

Random AnoMALIE fact: Disney characters have to be some of the easiest characters to recreate.
As a kid, I was most fascinated with Jessica Rabbit. That broad made an appearance in the majority of my "work." I think about it now and I have to giggle... I mean... I was a seven-year-old... drawing a sex-bomb. WTF?

Anyway, I'm feeling much better, as predicted.
The world would be a better place if everyone was just given some canvas, brushes, and paint.
It feels good. I promise.