Working six days a week takes its mental toll. Doing things you barely care about does that too. Sudden lack of money is unnerving. Loneliness just about drives you insane. So when you sum up all the above situations with an impending rag is bound to make a pretty easygoing girl like me into a stereotypical "psychobitch from hell". PMS is funny, not haha funny, you know... Funny how in 20 years plus I still haven't got the hang of it all, the mood swings and dark coloring thought processes take. Right now, I am coming up for air. The fact that L is coming to visit also makes things a little better. I desperately need to talk in real time about fun things. Maybe do some touristy things around the island.
Sunday, February 23, 2003
Tuesday, February 18, 2003
I have always been interested in words. Most of the time I enjoy an economy of phrases. A little string to convey worlds of sentiment, emotion and ocurrences. Let's examine some of my favorites:
"I put the dog to sleep" - I saw a black and white puppy flopping about in the gutter at 6:30 a.m. He was run over by a car, his little spine contorted in painful angles. His rasping breath changed from time to time to a gurgle and a cough, bloody spittle spraying my hands as he made to bite me when I picked him up. I put him in my car and went in search of a vet. At 7 am I arrived at my first vet choice, he was sick for the day so no luck. The nurse told me the injection was in the vet's house and he wasn't authorized to do it. At 8 am I was at the second vet, waiting in line with two other people who had grooming appointments for their pedigreed lap rugs. I had a whining, tear bathed blood gargling baby mutt I desperately wanted dead. The vet took too long and I wandered off to my third vet choice. He appeared at 10:30, informed me that there was nothing to be done for the dog (No Shit!), it would cost me $40 bucks because of the small body weight and that I had to dispose of him myself. Fifteen minutes later, I was carrying a black Glad trash bag with the heaviest 10 pound weight I have ever carried. I dumped it 20 minutes later in the sea. So I guess I put that dog to sleep.
"He passed away" - His best friend confronted him at their meeting place. His best friend thought of his family, threatened to death if he failed at this. My father brought his arms up, unarmed and beseeched him to think about Mother and to let him see his unborn child just one more month due. His best friend understood this but he had a family to think about. So he put a bullet through my dad's chest and another through his head. So I guess I could say that my dad passed away.
"Turn someone away"- Make a girl feel special, so much in fact she conquers her worst phobia just to spend all of 45 minutes with him. After that, lose interest and go after the bigger fish, there are so many of them in the sea. Always keeps his options open, so he smirks a little and winks and does his little dance, keeping the cat entranced with the magical living string. Holds her close as he says goodbye, hugs her tight and for good measure throws in a secret sigh in her ear for her to take home. That's a nice touch you know, an embodiment of feeling and all that shit. He goes back home and forgets everything, but it was so much fucking fun. It is not his problem now that everyday the dagger goes deeper inside, the heart is a resilient muscle that scars, scabs, you pull the scabs and it hasn't healed enough so it starts bleeding again, only the blood is blacker and thicker and there is a pain in the bottom of the throat all the time now, and all you see when you close your eyes is the name of a place in Old English script staining greenish black the palest and softest skin.
I guess I can say I have been turned away. Sometimes I wish I could be put to sleep and pass away.
"I put the dog to sleep" - I saw a black and white puppy flopping about in the gutter at 6:30 a.m. He was run over by a car, his little spine contorted in painful angles. His rasping breath changed from time to time to a gurgle and a cough, bloody spittle spraying my hands as he made to bite me when I picked him up. I put him in my car and went in search of a vet. At 7 am I arrived at my first vet choice, he was sick for the day so no luck. The nurse told me the injection was in the vet's house and he wasn't authorized to do it. At 8 am I was at the second vet, waiting in line with two other people who had grooming appointments for their pedigreed lap rugs. I had a whining, tear bathed blood gargling baby mutt I desperately wanted dead. The vet took too long and I wandered off to my third vet choice. He appeared at 10:30, informed me that there was nothing to be done for the dog (No Shit!), it would cost me $40 bucks because of the small body weight and that I had to dispose of him myself. Fifteen minutes later, I was carrying a black Glad trash bag with the heaviest 10 pound weight I have ever carried. I dumped it 20 minutes later in the sea. So I guess I put that dog to sleep.
"He passed away" - His best friend confronted him at their meeting place. His best friend thought of his family, threatened to death if he failed at this. My father brought his arms up, unarmed and beseeched him to think about Mother and to let him see his unborn child just one more month due. His best friend understood this but he had a family to think about. So he put a bullet through my dad's chest and another through his head. So I guess I could say that my dad passed away.
"Turn someone away"- Make a girl feel special, so much in fact she conquers her worst phobia just to spend all of 45 minutes with him. After that, lose interest and go after the bigger fish, there are so many of them in the sea. Always keeps his options open, so he smirks a little and winks and does his little dance, keeping the cat entranced with the magical living string. Holds her close as he says goodbye, hugs her tight and for good measure throws in a secret sigh in her ear for her to take home. That's a nice touch you know, an embodiment of feeling and all that shit. He goes back home and forgets everything, but it was so much fucking fun. It is not his problem now that everyday the dagger goes deeper inside, the heart is a resilient muscle that scars, scabs, you pull the scabs and it hasn't healed enough so it starts bleeding again, only the blood is blacker and thicker and there is a pain in the bottom of the throat all the time now, and all you see when you close your eyes is the name of a place in Old English script staining greenish black the palest and softest skin.
I guess I can say I have been turned away. Sometimes I wish I could be put to sleep and pass away.
Monday, February 17, 2003
I had my first neighborhood fight. Or was called the worst names you can imagine by a gang of about ten teenage punks when I protested their use of my garden hose and my yard for wet go-cart racing. My vengeance will be to see them dead in some kind of drug war a few years down the line. Now I have to spend some money that I wanted to use for my living room in building a hundred feet long fence. Been thinking how to make my house look foreboding and spooky. I don't want to get a dog, they would probably poison it.
I have finally realized he is nothing but a two (three? Four!) timing slut. An empty shell devoid of any true emotion besides lust. Snubbed me for what!? Ha. For a moment there I felt sorry he had lost a chance at happiness with me. He doesn't want happiness. He wants a conquest. That is what makes him happy. Fuck off. Stay out of my dreams, damn it. I want to love someone else. Please.
Saw a very old friend I hadn't talked to since 1983. It was weird to see that 12 year old with a receding hairline. He was as happy go lucky as always. I remember him as one of my few true friends at that age, when I was not properly socialized/ was totally insane. Mind you: I am still totally insane, I am just better at faking it.
I have finally realized he is nothing but a two (three? Four!) timing slut. An empty shell devoid of any true emotion besides lust. Snubbed me for what!? Ha. For a moment there I felt sorry he had lost a chance at happiness with me. He doesn't want happiness. He wants a conquest. That is what makes him happy. Fuck off. Stay out of my dreams, damn it. I want to love someone else. Please.
Saw a very old friend I hadn't talked to since 1983. It was weird to see that 12 year old with a receding hairline. He was as happy go lucky as always. I remember him as one of my few true friends at that age, when I was not properly socialized/ was totally insane. Mind you: I am still totally insane, I am just better at faking it.
Sunday, February 09, 2003
Went to the casting again today. They lost the pictures already taken and called us back. They wanted Cubans and Americans. I wore my big hair and dangling pendants in order to look as stereotypical Cuban as possible. The agency director told me: "You look gringa." Go figure, in my wildest dreams I never ever see myself as remotely Caucasian, the closest to north I get is Italian. People's perceptions are crazy.
Coporate has decided to change job titles once again, only this time it doesn't look good on my resume. I am now a supervisor instead of a manager, someone who doesn't know better would believe I have been demoted. In a failing attempt to soothe, an official information packet says nothing else has changed, we will continue with the same salary (of course, the law wouldn't allow a decrease, don't think Big Brother has gone all charity conscious on me) and check this out: the same responsibilities. So what the fuck is in a name: new people get it up their asses with all these managerial responsibilities for a supervisor's wage. Us old timers get to be for all purposes backtracked in our professional careers. Big Brother: I hope you never ever get laid again and your dick rots off.
.
My house is pretty, though quite barren. I have a telephone and a stand. Nothing else. Very Spartan, I think.
The city fair was the coolest I have ever been to (better even than some concerts I have paid to go to). Bands: Cuenta Regresiva (cover band B-), Los Goyos (reggae band B+, awesome looking bassist, nice to know I still have that bass fetish), Skapulario (ska band, personal friends, can't be objective here) and OH MY GOD, LA SECTA (A+++++, the Puerto Rican answer to good olde GNR). The singer even stage dived over me, I got to briefly touch his tummy (insert hysterical 15 year old scream). It was too much fun, the next day I had full fledged bronchitis. It figures.
Coporate has decided to change job titles once again, only this time it doesn't look good on my resume. I am now a supervisor instead of a manager, someone who doesn't know better would believe I have been demoted. In a failing attempt to soothe, an official information packet says nothing else has changed, we will continue with the same salary (of course, the law wouldn't allow a decrease, don't think Big Brother has gone all charity conscious on me) and check this out: the same responsibilities. So what the fuck is in a name: new people get it up their asses with all these managerial responsibilities for a supervisor's wage. Us old timers get to be for all purposes backtracked in our professional careers. Big Brother: I hope you never ever get laid again and your dick rots off.
.
My house is pretty, though quite barren. I have a telephone and a stand. Nothing else. Very Spartan, I think.
The city fair was the coolest I have ever been to (better even than some concerts I have paid to go to). Bands: Cuenta Regresiva (cover band B-), Los Goyos (reggae band B+, awesome looking bassist, nice to know I still have that bass fetish), Skapulario (ska band, personal friends, can't be objective here) and OH MY GOD, LA SECTA (A+++++, the Puerto Rican answer to good olde GNR). The singer even stage dived over me, I got to briefly touch his tummy (insert hysterical 15 year old scream). It was too much fun, the next day I had full fledged bronchitis. It figures.
