Moodkillah

I'm a terrible person to be around right now.
I'll admit that.
For now, I have a very short fuse... and I end up doing/saying things that kill the mood.

Scenario One: El Clásico taken up a notch to the UCL stage.
I'm an animal when watching soccer.
I am.
I will cuss my heart out, I'll scream, I'll jump... I'm HORRIBLY annoying.
That's me on a good day.
When I'm upset for some other reason? I'm worse.
Now, not only do I get to fight in person with people watching the match with me, but I also have Twitter to have my nice little arguments.

Guess who wanted to fight with me today... via tweets.
__(your answer here)__

Answer: Euro Birthday Boy.
Fucking again. As if I don't hear enough shit from him.
I'm convinced he has a serious case of ageism... and misogyny.

Whatever I say, there he goes berating me.
He treats me like I'm a huge moron just because I'm 1. a girl, and 2. younger than him.
I'm immediately a dumbass because of those two factors. Regardless of what I do or what I achieve, I'll always be a nimrod to him because I was a girl born in 1985, not a boy born in 1979.

This time, I tweeted ONCE about the Barça game:
A team once sponsored by a BLOODY DICTATOR is NO team of mine #fuckRealMadrid
He responded (not directly at me, but within minutes):
Crime pays.


Bitch say WHAT?!
Fucking passive aggressive dick.

I sat there and thought about going off on him... but instead I sat there and kept quiet, pouting... angry. Totally killing the mood for everyone around me.

I don't find the Real Madrid- Barcelona history a laughing matter. It's tragic... fucked up... and it pisses me off to see so many people hailing a team with such a crooked background as Real Madrid.
I often wonder if people know of the bullshit that went down for Real to have the dough to BUY all those amazing players that have played for the team (I'm sorry Hugo Sanchez, I love you, but it doesn't make up for the shit). Look into that. It's a nice little story of a wonderful little dictator responsible for inoffensive shit like the bombing of Guernica. Mr. Franco. That gem.

Maybe I'm more affected by this than a normal person... because I love the city of Barcelona as well as its people. I've said it plenty of times: My heart is THERE. I also hate injustices, which is what happened to the people of Barcelona and the Basque country (my "home" in Spain) during the Spanish Civil War. What Franco did to those people was despicable... I couldn't like anything he stood for.

SO, Real Madrid can go suck a dick... and laughing about how "crime pays" ain't cool in my book. It's like people who laugh about the Holocaust. How is human suffering EVER funny? Prick.

There's that rant and how it played into my shitty mood. I didn't even celebrate much even after the 2-0 win from Barça. I was still in cunt mode.

Scenario Two: Compliments + Me = Not right now.
The aunt who upset me last week when she started prying into my personal life... I love her, even if she has a very peculiar way of... "complimenting" me.
This time, our little parlay went a little like this.
Aunt: Oh my God, AnoMALIE! Look at your face!
Me: ... what?
Aunt: Where are your cute chubby cheeks?! I can't... pinch them anymore!
She tries pinching my cheeks.
Me: Apparently gone.
Aunt: So thin!Your head is so long now!
(see! There it is! That special little compliment dropping by to say hello)
Aunt: What's his name?
Me: Ummm?
I laugh nervously... 'cause here she goes again.
Aunt: The times girls lose weight drastically like that is when they're in love...
Me: Or have lost the will to live...
Room is silent.
Me: Why do you look at me like that? It's true! Girls do that!

See, in this case, everyone was happy-ish. Then I knocked down the mood by mentioning suicidal tendencies.
Well, it's not that I have suicidal tendencies... I'd never actually go through with the act because it's a terrible thing... but I often don't get the point of being alive. That's just a fact. At least once a week, I find myself thinking "What's the point?" but it doesn't mean I'll quit going through the motions. I'm too curious for what the day will bring to go off and end my life. Ok, got that settled.
Now, ever since the rejections, the last one, to be exact, something inside me cracked. I've never felt anything like that. It was me... breaking.
My body, my heart, my mind, they all simultaneously said "ENOUGH."
Having nothing to live for, I found myself not giving a fuck about me.
Uh oh. Drugs? No.
I went ahead and stopped eating... well, not entirely. I do eat, but about... 500 calories a day.
Dangerous? I don't give a fuck. I quit caring about life, remember?
No sugar, no dairy... shit, I'm not even eating salt.
And I'm only ingesting water for my liquid.

Anyway, this has all caught up with me. It's obvious on my body: my head is long (like my aunt so kindly pointed out), and my thighs can no longer feed a pride of hungry lions (maybe just a solitary jaguar now). Stuff like that.
People think I'm doing it for a guy... but honestly, it happened because-- like I said-- I no longer have a reason to... give a fuck. No, I'm not starving myself, I'm just doing something risky (that isn't drug-related) because I no longer care if I die.

Jesus Christ... I'm not making sense.
It's the lack of oxygen to my brain (RELAX! It's not even like that. I eat plenty of protein and veggies. I'm not reverting to my old anorexic ways. I'm eventually bumping up the calories in order to go back to some heavy deadlifting, squatting, bench pressing, and clean and presses. I got plans. I just have to clean up my act and start from zero. That's the God honest truth right there, not all my other sarcastic/moody shit).

Point is: I'm sad, I no longer give a shit about food, and I'm a moody little cunt that loves killing the moment for everybody else.
Oh, and I have a long head, in case I didn't stress that enough.

"Why you cryin'?!"

Myspace looks more like Facebook with the passing of days.

It was a couple of weeks ago that I noticed Myspace had added "Apps" to their site.
Of course, the reason I learned this, was because so many people added the "Truth Box" application to their site.

From my list of friends, it appeared that guys were the most eager to get people to sign it.
"Wanna let me know how you really feel?! Then use my damn Truth Box!!! It's Anonymous!"
And so on.

Alright, want me to be honest? You don't have to ask me twice (although a couple of friends posted about 5 bulletins letting us know that we better sign the damn thing, so I signed in order to get my damn page from showing me *Bassist buddy* had posted five bulletins, each two minutes apart, about his fucking Truth Box).

So I go off on a truth-telling binge with these dudes.
The most mention-worthy is *Bassist Buddy*. I told him how I think he's awesome, how I'm so glad he's happy with his new girl, how I appreciate his friendship since 7th grade, and since we were already talking about 7th grade, yeah, I had a mad crush on him back then and that's why I'd leave the area each time he came near me.

He responded all chirpy and happy, typical man after being told he's attractive. We caught up on each other's lives... then he invited me to some concert for a band I don't really care about.

I was so high from making someone's day with my truth-telling, that I went ahead and did another one yesterday... another Truth Box comment, that is.
This time, I went all out.
I seriously dug deep and let the kid have it.
Which kid was it?
Artistic Boy.
I told him exactly what I thought.
Yes... especially how STUPID I felt when he came out... and no, not because he was gay or anything, but because he allowed me and a couple of other friends to go on fighting with BigMouth over Artistic Boy writing that note to HotColorBlindMormon Boy. That I felt bad knowing he had opted to go through that kind of ostracism alone, rather than have us all with him, showing him support.
So someone's gay... SO WHAT?! Don't suffer alone thinking we're going to banish you from the group... maybe if you were a pedophile we'd drop you like a sack of potatoes... but... nah man, sexual orientation has nothing to do with who we choose to associate.

Well... that response led to Artistic Boy crying... and us having one of the most heartfelt conversations ever... to the point where I was semi-uncomfortable.

I guess... he didn't know that we ALL knew about the letter he had written... he thought HotColorBlindMormon Boy had only shown BigMouth and some female friend of Artistic Boy.
I told him, only after he asked, that in fact, we ALL knew... well... all us Senior AP kids. If you had an AP class, then... you... probably knew what was going on... sorry, dude... but it's true... it spread like wild fire.
However, I did let him know that most of us were supportive of him and we just turned against HotColorBlindMormon Boy [and his homophobic, quick-to-damn-others crew] and BigMouth.

Then I ended it all by telling him to "Quit crying, already!"

I'm tough, I know... it's the Mexican in me.

And as for the Truth Box... well... fuck that [I'll keep filling them out because I'm a masochist].

The C word

Man...
I feel like I've been run over by a bus.

These last couple of days have been (fun, but) exhausting.
However, I feel a little liberated, since I can now talk freely about the thing that's been bugging me for a week now (plus, I'm not upset anymore, or so I claim since I haven't had a nightmare about it in two/three days).

Ok, so it's Thanksgiving and we're invited over to Mooney's (I wanted to link you, but I'm not sure you're be cool with the idea) parent's house.
We hadn't spent Thanksgiving with family for... maybe three years?
We're detached like that (no, I lie. We're not all detached like that. Just my dad's side, since he only has 3 sibling--two of them females who stick together and leave out my Pops all the time, and one male who is insanely jealous of my dad and is always talking trash about him to anyone who will listen).
Last time we had Dad's side of the family over, there was a huge argument... people were called horrible names... and we didn't visit each other for almost a year (we were left out of any Christmas celebrations).

Arguments at family gatherings always occur. They may not be huge, they may not even be arguments, but something always kills the mood (and no, it's never a drunken relative because that's not how we do. My family has an unusually high tolerance for alcohol and they sort of know their limits. If anyone ever crosses the limit, they tend to become really nice and funny).

What/who was the mood killer this year?
Dad and his news.

While my table's mood wasn't ruined (we called it the "80's Babies Table"), the adult table was silenced for a while (well, it was made awkward).
The exact words I'm not sure of, since stories conflict (Mom says one thing, Dad says another, my aunt says another) but the gist of it was:
Dad dropped the C word at the table.

Bloody hell! Your dad said "cunt" at the Thanksgiving dinner table?
God, I wish. The lucky word was: cancer.

Me: How'd the table react?!?
Mom: They were stunned. Just... quiet... like "O...K... where'd that come from?"
Me: Oh!! So that's what was going on during that awkward silence you guys had. Did anyone say anything??
Mom: Just your aunt's co-worker. She asked him if it hurt.
Me: What'd he say?
Mom: "I feel no pain because I have our Lord Jesus Christ in my heart!"
Me: Oh man... what a way to kill it.

So yes, ladies and gentlemen, I can now freely blog about my dad's health problem because he's going around announcing it to the world in various ways:

1) I have cancer!
2) I have a tumor in my intestine.
3) They say it's colon cancer.

etc. etc.

Last Friday, when I found out, Pops walked into the kitchen (I now loathe the kitchen because it seems I get all the horrible news while in that fucking room) and announced to Little Sister and I:
Girls... I have cancer.

How the fuck do you react to that?

Little Sister: (covers mouth) Oh my God...
Me: No you don't!!

I'm rational like that (pshhh. Why must I be the family idiot who's always in denial?? Who the hell gave me that trait?).

So as you can see, I was a little distraught when Dad told me, mainly because I had been the one taking him back and forth to the doctor for the two weeks before the news, and each time I'd comfort him and tell him he'd be A-OK.
And you know, since I'm the science kid in the family, once Dad was given the news, I was the one in charge of... well... making him feel better.
The first few days after receiving the news were the toughest... we cried a lot... and I mean A LOT.
Mainly out of uncertainty.

However... now we're cool.
Cool enough that we can joke about it...
Cool enough that we can freely ruin THANKSGIVING by handing out such news to poor, innocent, unsuspecting relatives who were originally in a cheery mood.

Aunt: Shit... he just wants to upset my sister!
Mooney's Grandma: You think??
Aunt: That's how all men are. My husband wanted to kill himself when they told him he had diabetes!
Mooney's Grandma: (gasps) Oh no! That's terrible!
Aunt: Men are wimps! (rolls eyes)

But yes, things appear to be... as fine as they can be when you have colon cancer (but yes, my head still wanders into the clouds sometimes. I find it hard to concentrate or pay attention to anything. Except yesterday, I did pay some attention to the concert yesterday... and that dude that kept looking in our direction I couldn't ignore as much as I freaking hoped. Weirdo).
Early detection and all that shit.
However, we're hoping (mainly my mother) that my bro doesn't find out until he's done with finals (hence why I was quiet. Also, Dad doesn't want his dad to find out because he thinks it'll negatively affect him since Grandpa's in a fragile state).

At the rate Pops is giving the news, it looks like Bro should know by now.