Random Thought

A veces, es lo que mas me falta.

Fridays at Dad's

People constantly comment on my sarcasm. Perhaps through writing, it might not that noticeable, but in person, my sarcasm can be a tough pill to swallow. I'm constantly being called mean, rude, cold, and even inconsiderate. Of course I apologize and offer a quick reassurance that I'm like that with everyone. There's not one person that's been able to avoid my razor sharp tongue.

It could be considered a defense mechanism but to be totally honest, it's just part of my personality. As I've said before, my brothers and father are even worse. I'm no competition for them. Whenever we get together and start joking around, I start shooting blanks. I always end up losing....so I can say that I know exactly what my victims mean when they say that it stings.

Where does this thorny characteristic come from? I'd have to say from my paternal grandmother. She always had a come back for everything. But this trait is especially evident in my uncles. I never really noticed just how sarcastic my uncles were until I hung out at my dad's one Friday night.

See, my dad has a tio-get-together every weekend. My uncles bring their guitars, amps, microphones, choice of beverage, and their witty personalities. The main focus of these hangouts is to hold their mini concerts. Their performances usually start with some Beatles, then head into some Rolling Stones, then some Creedence Clearwater and even Jose Alfredo Jimenez for good measure. Ah, and they even write their own songs. And that's where their quick wit and sarcasm is most evident; in the music they come up with.

jam session in the west side

No one is safe when it comes to their bullying. They pick on each other. They make fun of city officials, nation-wide politics, local shenanigans, anything that comes to mind, it's all fair game. There's been many a night that I've sat there, laughing at their bantering and feeling super jealous because I don't stand a chance against them.  But I can say I've learned a thing or two.

Main lesson I've learned: one has to be smart with the quick wits. Words can't come at random and without any basis, because then you don't have any argument. Eventually the joke will fall on you. Words have to be chosen wisely, but one has to be fast with the quips. Otherwise, you'll be left in the dust. I'll still never be competition for my brothers, dad, and uncles. It's a good thing I don't talk to them that often.

So, yes people, there are tons of others with a harsher sense of humor than me. I'm the tamest of the bunch. But believe me, I've started carrying my notepad when my dad has the tios over. I gotta be at the top of my game. And while doing my studying, I'm listening to some pretty awesome music. To say that creativity is something that's hereditary is an understatement. I was born into a family that not only values unity but also cherishes music and writing.

Ya just can't beat that.

By the way, I think the picture below would best capture the tios-get-togethers. Everyone always has their drink with them.

McD's Coke for Tio #1; Schaefer for #2; La Natural Light para numero tres; Diet Coke for Dad
with such eclectic preferences, of course there'd be some fun times to be had

Daily Living

I might have a problem. I dunno. But I only ate at Danny's once this past week. Baby steps.

Things change so quickly. In my small absence, Danny's got a new look for their menu. I like it. 

don't the plates look pretty?

colorful as ever...I think it's friendlier than the previous one

See, I can't be gone for too long. I might miss something. 

Confessions

 1. I haven't washed my car in over six months. Now, if you saw my car, that fact wouldn't really be a secret, but since I'm not including a visual, I thought I'd point that out. My reasoning? Sadly, it's pure laziness. Don't worry though, I am getting to the point where I'm embarrassed. Just not really there yet.

 2. This past week, I ate at Danny's a total of four times. And two of those times were on the same day. I should be extremely ashamed about that, but I'm not. Is this the first time I do this? I think it just might be.

 3. As per #2, I'm sure this ain't gonna be much of a surprise but I don't really cook at my apartment. In fact, out of a normal week, I spend about one whole evening in my apartment. I'm usually visiting the 'rents, brothers, or trying to weasel a free dinner outta my friends. Yes, yes..shame on me.

 4. I wear my sunglasses at night. No, I'm not cool. I need glasses to drive, especially at night (some say I need them all the time) but sometimes I'll forget my eyeglasses at home and so I have to wear my sunglasses since they have prescription. Yes, I'm fully aware of how crazy I probably look but I'll take the chances with that instead of getting into a wreck.

 5. Now, I thought twice about admitting this specific confession but what the hell...I need to start being truthful with the reality of my life....I get most of my 'news tidbits' from Facebook. Believe me, I hide that secret from everyone, especially my dad. I would for sure be disowned.

 6. I never really understood the meaning of forgiveness until I met up with it a couple of weeks ago. It's amazing how fully embracing the word can completely change one's outlook on life. The thing about forgiveness, it can't be forced; it arrives at its appropriate pace.

 7. I believe in love.

 8. I sometimes forget my coffee mug in my car. Well, it might cuz I'm too lazy to get it down at the office or at home. There have been times when I've left my mugs for a week...with a lil coffee still in it. I always have to end up soaking the mug in warm water, soap, and some Clorox. It's gross, I know, but I'm pouring my heart out here. I ain't perfect, member?

 9. I'm OCD-ish when it comes to my apartment and office. I can't relax or work properly in a dirty or chaotic environment. My car, is a whole different story.

10. If my friends and family didn't make the effort to keep in contact with me, they'd probably never hear from me again. I'm sure the reasoning's a bit deeper than laziness. And maybe it's not.

Keep tuned...the randomness will continue forth.

A Break for Fun

Yay to enjoying the crap outta life and dancing it up. If I had enough confidence, I'd be getting down to boogie at every party I'm invited to.

For now, I'll let this lively woman do the dancing for me. I sure learned a couple of new moves.

Look Into My Crystal Ball

A month after my high school graduation, my best friend and I found ourselves wandering around downtown Laredo. I don't really know how we got there in the first place. We didn't live close by and we didn't drive at that time. I'd say fate had a hand in it.

What we were looking for? I really don't know. At that time, she was planning on leaving for the Navy and I was going to stay behind and attend the local university. We had one month to hang out and embrace what was left of our childhood. Forever was upon us and we didn't know what was coming.

Perhaps we wanted answers. Maybe we wanted some reassurance that we'd be okay. That's the only way I can explain what we did that night.

random Internet photo

We walked into a psychic shop.

The gentleman we ran into inside was smoking his cigarette, patiently waiting for his next customer to stop by. The smell of the place reminded me of a moldy attic...well, a moldy attic with incense burning in the corner. He shook our hands, and graciously welcomed us in. Upon asking us what we were looking for, my best friend and I almost ran back outside when he quickly reached for her hand. He started reading her palm. Telling her how long she was going to live, when she was going to get married, how long the marriage would last, when her health would fail her, how many kids she was going to have.....We were hooked and followed him to the back of his shop where he held his readings.

We were two extremely naive eighteen-year-olds on the perch of the future and we wanted answers; we wanted some glimpse of tomorrow. I don't remember clearly what he saw in her cards. I know I was fascinated with the images of swords, grim rippers, princesses, and princes on the cards. My best friend sat amazed at hearing all that was on the way.

For my reading, the only thing that I remember was that within a year's time, I was going to be either married or pregnant. Neither of which ever ended up happening. But believe me, I had his predictions running around my head at the oddest of moments that following year. I was relieved when the year marker came and went and I was still childless and single.

After the experience, we left the his shop, going over everything it was that we had been told. We were excited, fascinated, and anxious all at the same time. Life was at its zenith. That night, we went to our respective homes, prayed for forgiveness for what we had done (born into Catholic families, we knew such a thing was so wrong), and embraced the experience for what it had been: the last hoo-rah for two lives jumping into the unknown depths of the future.

Point of the story? There really isn't one. I was just thinking about that experience a while back when I drove past a tarot card reading shop. None of the things we were told that night came true. Basically, we paid 15 bucks for a load of crap. But it was fun. Sure, kinda dark fun, but it's a fond memory I have.

Have I done it since then? Nah. Would I? No. A while back, my mom wanted to go to one of those curanderos and do some magic for me. She wanted me to snap out of my reverie and realize that I needed to leave my ex. Did she do it? As far as I know she didn't. But then again, she used to go and buy those money-bringing candles from those places. Don't judge mi mamita so harshly. She had the best of intentions if she did end up doing it.

If anyone does end up going, do share the results. From the man back in 2001, I'm supposed to be on my fourth child and second marriage by now.

I guess I missed a step somewhere.

A Note on Forgiveness

Since I left the Valley, I never had a positive relationship with my daughter's father. I had always tried my absolute best to get along with him for the sake of my daughter. Considering he was a miserable human being, she had always been very attached to him. At the time when I left him, my kiddo had just turned two and I felt like I owed it to her to make the effort to have him continue to be a part of her life. He made that task very difficult.

Though the course of 2010, he made my life hell. His calls would usually end up in threats against me and my family. His texts would remark on how I was probably partying it up over here. To him, that was the reason why I had left him in the first place. In his troubled mind, I wanted to be single again and find my daughter another father. He would call my work whenever I didn't return his calls or his texts. His newest girlfriend had also started texting and calling me, making sure that I knew she was now involved with him. For some reason, she thought I had been working on getting him back. They made my life so stressful. There were times when I thought this would never end. 

I tried my best to keep all this to myself, I figured this was the situation I had gotten myself into. Eventually, I had to let my family know what was going on. My parents would tell me to change my phone number. To ignore his texts. To not worry about him; that he really couldn't do anything to me. They never understood how that wasn't easy for me. After so many years of living that kind of life with him, I didn't know how to completely disconnect. I knew I didn't want to go back but I couldn't cut all ties with him. There was some guilt associated with that decision but more than anything, it was fear. I was scared of him. Of what he could do. Of where he could be. I was living three and a half hours away from him but I was absolutely terrified of him. 

I've always heard, some things happen for a reason. I thought people were lying when they said that. Well, in March of 2011 I fully understood that concept. That month, I stopped hearing from him. All communication from him had seized. At first, I didn't breathe any sighs of relief. I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Unbelievably, it never did. His first letter arrived sometime at the end of April. He was in jail. 

Long story short, he was sentenced to four years in a state jail. My days were calmer, my life seemed brighter, I breathed easier. All the letters he sent went unanswered. Many of them went unread. I felt like I was finally free. Until I realized I still couldn't talk about him without feeling angry. I couldn't help but feel bitter whenever I had to refer to him. I hadn't yet dealt with those feelings, or what I had gone through with him.

My mom would remark on how angry I sometimes seemed when I spoke of romantic relationships. Friends would comment on how blase I was whenever I spoke about incidents of the physical abuse I had gone through with him. Others commented on how defensive I was, and on how cold I had started to be. So I decided to write him a letter. I figured that would be part of my healing.

The first letter turned out to be five pages. It carried all my anger, pain, resentment, and my complete hatred of who he was as a person. It outlined every episode I had with him. It retold all the verbal arrows he struck me with. It let him know exactly what I thought of him as a human being. At the end, I never sent it. I figured it didn't send out the message I wanted him to receive.

The second letter turned out to be three pages. More than anything else, it carried my pain. It carried my questions of why he would ever want to hurt me in such a way. Had I really deserved it? It carried my sadness at realizing that everything I had ever done had not been enough to make our relationship work. At the end, I didn't send that letter out either. I wasn't satisfied with the overall message. He might've gotten the impression that I wanted to try again, which was the absolute last thing on my mind.

Third, fourth, fifth, sixth letters were all basically the same. Until one day, out of the blue, I felt what I needed to say.  The letter turned out to be two pages. It was void of all accusations; questions of why were omitted, and the pain had somehow evaporated. The only thing this letter carried was my forgiveness. It was a notion that had never crossed my mind, but it ended up being what I had to do to let go. I had finally forgiven him. 

I received his reply a couple of weeks ago and to be completely honest, it didn't really matter to me what he said. All I know now is that I feel at peace. I feel like I dealt with something that I was running away from for a long time. It's not to say I'm the 'normal' me. I don't think I can ever be that person again, but I'm not bitter. I'm not angry. I'm not hurting. Not anymore. 

My outlook on life is a bit brighter. My smiles are no longer forced and although I'm still defensive, I've let people in. I share my life with others, which I found so difficult to do not that long ago. I'm still a work in progress, that goes without saying, but there's hope for me yet. 

As Einstein said: "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results." That could sum up the last couple of years of my life. I felt like I was running around in circles, expecting to find an exit outta the blue; when all I needed to really do was stop, listen to my heart and finally move in the direction that I had always avoided. 

Anyways, I'm not completely fixed. I'm not completely healed. But I've made great progress because at least now, I can be sincere, which was something that had disappeared several years ago. 

Just thought I'd share that with you. Since my blog has pretty much served as my therapy, perhaps that might explain the sparse blogging. But I'll find other stuff to talk about. I always do. Besides, there's always hiccups along the way. Now, though, I feel a bit more complete to deal with them. 

:-)

Daily Living

When I was a kid, my mom placed a picture of a guardian angel over the doorways in my room. My brothers had one too. She told us that the angel was there to protect us whenever we left or entered the rooms.


Well, things have changed, but at least they're still in the house.

Except one of the pictures is in a different location.

I guess everyone needs guidance and support all the time....even while on the toilet.

P.S. Mom was shocked upon hearing where the picture now stood. She was not pleased. 

What Walks Downstairs?

Bet you all thought I was joking when I said I was gonna get my daughter a Slinky for Christmas, huh. Well, you're right. She didn't get one for Christmas but I recently got her one. This past weekend, I was rummaging around Wal-Mart's super-duper clearance bins for Xmas goods and ran into a Slinky Jr. Not only was finding it awesome, the fact that it was thirty cents made the find even cooler.

I remember now how we had to be careful with this one, we'd always end up pinching our arm hairs off

When I took it home and showed her how to use it, she didn't get such a big thrill outta it but you should have seen my brothers and me....we had some fun! It was the plastic version, which is not as good as the original metal one, but we tried our best to make it walk. We don't have stairs at my dad's house but we slanted the coffee table and were able to make it work. That's when I remembered why my brothers and I yearned to have a house with stairs when we were kids (until the two-story horror movies scared us outta that idea). As a kid, my dad's quick thinking saved the day....he got some discarded tabla, laid it at an angle against a fence, and set the Slinky to strut its stuff.

Since my daughter, upon learning how to use her Slinky didn't wanna share her toy anymore, I thought I'd go see if they still sold the original one. They still do. It's a real steal for three bucks at Wal-Mart. I bought it, telling the cashier that it was for my daughter; I felt like I needed to explain since she looked at me kinda weird. Taking the toy outta the box, it still had that chemical smell to it. Immediately I was reminded of the big difference between the plastic and metal version. Sure, neon colors were nice, but the metal one had more movement to it.

So, this past weekend, if you drove by Los Amores, you'd probably see a couple of adults and one lil girl huddled around an angled tabla seeing the Slinky do its thing. I ain't ashamed to say we had a blast.

It's all about simplicity, remember...and trying to get in touch with the child inside. Seems like I touch base every weekend, huh.