It hurt me.
The day I came home from work and I see the faces of my sister and her boyfriend looking at me like I was a broken doll. A silly little broken doll.
What? I ask.
Well, I'm just going to tell you because its eating me up inside.
Ok. I say.
And she spills the contents of her brain or the contents of her heart, I'm not quite sure where the source was actually coming from because it does make a difference, but I'm not sure.
I don't believe it. I believe it. I'm blind-sided yet, I saw it coming at me with bright headlights.
I don't know what to think, so I confront him. I ask all the questions that were in my head. Yet there were no answers to fill up that space.
Empty. I was all out of ammo. And my gun was broken in the first place.
************************
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Monday, July 17, 2006
Bring the Rain Clouds, Mr. Weatherman
When he filled me in with the news of what had happened, it was like reality had been infiltrated with some other version of reality. Harsher, grittier, like blood in your mouth. You try not to think about it but when you face it, you taste the wrought iron against your white teeth.
I had this helpless feeling of trying to do something that I had no experience doing. It was foreign to me which made me feel like I was doing everything so so so wrong. But what can one do in this situation? What can one say? This is what everyone told me when I told them of my short comings. I hated it because I wanted to do so much more. Grabbing at rain clouds.
Holding him in the darkness and feeling the trembling. Realizing it was my own body crying, not his.
*********
The funeral was on a hot day in July. The weatherman that morning reported that July was the #1 month for heat related deaths. Is that right, Mr. Weatherman?
All were not in black. All were not, not in black. The rosary was said and the pallbearers cracked their knuckles.
The tears of the widow washed over us all like an opera singer's solo. Mournful, painful. It twisted your insides to see someone in such a state...a state of something words cannot express.
The big dinosaur forklift lowered the wooden case into the ground, so far down. THen the bulldozer came to lay the blanket of gravel and dirt over the rest. It was a bit shocking to see these machines, forcing us to face what was happening. But there was a softness to it. The bulldozer scooping the dirt, smoothing it over like a baby at the beach building a sand castle, trying to create perfection before the tides pull it away.
I stood there afar in the background. Checking to see if he was ok. Trying so hard to not crumble. I wanted to hold him, hug his body, touch his hand. But all was not possible. But my insides were fighting and there were times when I felt like I couldn't breathe.
************
I had this helpless feeling of trying to do something that I had no experience doing. It was foreign to me which made me feel like I was doing everything so so so wrong. But what can one do in this situation? What can one say? This is what everyone told me when I told them of my short comings. I hated it because I wanted to do so much more. Grabbing at rain clouds.
Holding him in the darkness and feeling the trembling. Realizing it was my own body crying, not his.
*********
The funeral was on a hot day in July. The weatherman that morning reported that July was the #1 month for heat related deaths. Is that right, Mr. Weatherman?
All were not in black. All were not, not in black. The rosary was said and the pallbearers cracked their knuckles.
The tears of the widow washed over us all like an opera singer's solo. Mournful, painful. It twisted your insides to see someone in such a state...a state of something words cannot express.
The big dinosaur forklift lowered the wooden case into the ground, so far down. THen the bulldozer came to lay the blanket of gravel and dirt over the rest. It was a bit shocking to see these machines, forcing us to face what was happening. But there was a softness to it. The bulldozer scooping the dirt, smoothing it over like a baby at the beach building a sand castle, trying to create perfection before the tides pull it away.
I stood there afar in the background. Checking to see if he was ok. Trying so hard to not crumble. I wanted to hold him, hug his body, touch his hand. But all was not possible. But my insides were fighting and there were times when I felt like I couldn't breathe.
************
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Europe, thus far
So in case you hadn't been informed, I am on vacation in Europe for three weeks. It was a whirlwind of a decision because I had just started my new restaurant manager position, packed up and moved things to a different house, and all the little other things I needed to tie up before trampsing off to another country. Three weeks. That's a long time, but by the end of my last day of work, I was craving to be on an airplane thousands of miles away.
First stop, Paris. Let me tell you, the French know their wine and cheese. I didn't go a daz without drinking a bottle of wine. I ate some escargot as well but it just tasted like butter because of the pesto sauce they drowned the shelled delicasies in. And the baguettes were a treat as well. I got a chance to do things other than eat and drink, mind you. There was a Louvre and the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triumph. (But the Arc visit was more so to find a restroom...) Anyhow, my impression of the town was that it was suave and sophisticated. The people were friendly too unlike what some people had told me.
After that great city, off to Amsterdam. If sin and sustenance were to have a child it would be sucking on the teet of this city and it's playground would be in the Red Light District. Attractive big bosomed blondes tapped on glass booths giving come hither eyes to passerbys. It was a strange feeling of curiosity and fright especiallz with all the strange loin-itching old men around. I dont think I stayed longer than 45 minutes before I was ready to call it a night and return to reality. I dont know what it is but something about Amsterdam or at least the parts that I saw of it, seemed like I was on an artifical movie set. The colorful and authentic architecture of the buildings, the rippling canals and loads of cyclers with scarves wafting in the wind as they rode down cobblestone pathways was like something out of a painting. We met a cool bartender at a place called Get Down to It with a menu of Mary Jane delights. His name was Pedro and introduced me to Wiekse Witte a white beer which I think now is probably not a popular choice among the locals after I got manz strange looks as I tried to order it at some other places. I tried mushrooms but was luckz enough onlz to feel its effects while i was sleeping. A parade of colorful butterflies and rhinos passed throuhg mz brain as if on a horizontal escalator like at airports. My arms tingled and I had trouble sleeping but that was ok. For the most part it was an interesting experience, but I donät know if I would do it again. I also got a chance to see mz two Dutch friends I met in Singapore. I met them up in Utrecht where on eof them was studzing and thez made me pasta for dinner and took me out for dinks. It was interesting seeing them. Asking them tot ake time out of their lives to show me some semblance of what thez called their dailz lives. It was nice and different at the same time. Where once these people wer ein mz life, my tight circle of friends, so quicklz vanished by distance and time to be reunited in this temporarz space. How one day you see them every day, but now you cant remember how the sound of their laughter is like.
Thus far in the trip, I have been having this aching for something back home. A lack of a piece of me that I left behind and canät wait to get back to. Isnät that funny, alwazs wanting vacation when zou donät have it but once zouäre on it and the load and frustration of being awaz eats at you, you canät wait to get back home. Its a life paradox, a cunundrum. But I do miss it, so much I can hardly stand it.
First stop, Paris. Let me tell you, the French know their wine and cheese. I didn't go a daz without drinking a bottle of wine. I ate some escargot as well but it just tasted like butter because of the pesto sauce they drowned the shelled delicasies in. And the baguettes were a treat as well. I got a chance to do things other than eat and drink, mind you. There was a Louvre and the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triumph. (But the Arc visit was more so to find a restroom...) Anyhow, my impression of the town was that it was suave and sophisticated. The people were friendly too unlike what some people had told me.
After that great city, off to Amsterdam. If sin and sustenance were to have a child it would be sucking on the teet of this city and it's playground would be in the Red Light District. Attractive big bosomed blondes tapped on glass booths giving come hither eyes to passerbys. It was a strange feeling of curiosity and fright especiallz with all the strange loin-itching old men around. I dont think I stayed longer than 45 minutes before I was ready to call it a night and return to reality. I dont know what it is but something about Amsterdam or at least the parts that I saw of it, seemed like I was on an artifical movie set. The colorful and authentic architecture of the buildings, the rippling canals and loads of cyclers with scarves wafting in the wind as they rode down cobblestone pathways was like something out of a painting. We met a cool bartender at a place called Get Down to It with a menu of Mary Jane delights. His name was Pedro and introduced me to Wiekse Witte a white beer which I think now is probably not a popular choice among the locals after I got manz strange looks as I tried to order it at some other places. I tried mushrooms but was luckz enough onlz to feel its effects while i was sleeping. A parade of colorful butterflies and rhinos passed throuhg mz brain as if on a horizontal escalator like at airports. My arms tingled and I had trouble sleeping but that was ok. For the most part it was an interesting experience, but I donät know if I would do it again. I also got a chance to see mz two Dutch friends I met in Singapore. I met them up in Utrecht where on eof them was studzing and thez made me pasta for dinner and took me out for dinks. It was interesting seeing them. Asking them tot ake time out of their lives to show me some semblance of what thez called their dailz lives. It was nice and different at the same time. Where once these people wer ein mz life, my tight circle of friends, so quicklz vanished by distance and time to be reunited in this temporarz space. How one day you see them every day, but now you cant remember how the sound of their laughter is like.
Thus far in the trip, I have been having this aching for something back home. A lack of a piece of me that I left behind and canät wait to get back to. Isnät that funny, alwazs wanting vacation when zou donät have it but once zouäre on it and the load and frustration of being awaz eats at you, you canät wait to get back home. Its a life paradox, a cunundrum. But I do miss it, so much I can hardly stand it.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Real Things
I slept 11 hours last night. Woke up at noon. I needed to catch up on my sleep so don't judge. My head was achy and my throat was sore and I couldn't breathe through my left nostril. I was coming down with something. Or maybe it was allergies...but I don't recall having allergies.
And my hand, my right hand, was contorted into a hideous claw. All week during manager training, I had been wok cooking and those things give you arthritis injections like for real. Through blurry eyes I looked at my right appendage and thought, Is it worth it?
Tingling bolts of lightning shot through my fingers as I tried to flex it. It was going to be a long day. I literally slid out of bed like a snake. My muscles weren't cooperating and I lay on the carpet floor for about ten more minutes before my brain kicked in, Come on, newbie, welcome to the real world. You're an adult now.
Today was my day off though. Thank god. They time these days off perfectly because they know that by now your body is a pail of smush peas. My reflection in the bathroom mirror doesn't look like me. The eye cream isn't working. Fuck, since when do 23 year olds need eye cream? And there's a pimple on my nose. I smear some toothpaste on it and some on my toothbrush too.
The day was nice so I decided to read outside of my apartment. The breeze was gorgeous and the sun was creeping around the way and so I decided to tan my legs.
The hours droned on and 3 o'clock rolled around which brought about the local kids playing in the courtyard. They were too loud for me continuing to read so I went back inside. Kids would be scared of the crazy lady with bags under her eyes and a glob of toothpaste on her nose anyway.
Dinner with Nancy and Andy. Andy's uncle was in town and so we all ate at Rudy's BBQ which was fabulous and the counter boy gave me a free soda which made me feel good. His uncle had n accent since he was from Wisconsin and it makes you wonder how accents come about if we're all speaking English for the most part here in the States. It was funny.
I finished off the day watching Sideways on HBO with more toothpaste on my nose. Then I did some more reading because it opens me up. I've been reading a lot of Jewish novels lately. Not particularly about Judaism but characters related to that faith. And it got me thinking about life and love and the aspects where I am lacking in those categories and thought Some things just aren't real, and they never will be real and things do not become real simply because we want them to be so...
And my hand, my right hand, was contorted into a hideous claw. All week during manager training, I had been wok cooking and those things give you arthritis injections like for real. Through blurry eyes I looked at my right appendage and thought, Is it worth it?
Tingling bolts of lightning shot through my fingers as I tried to flex it. It was going to be a long day. I literally slid out of bed like a snake. My muscles weren't cooperating and I lay on the carpet floor for about ten more minutes before my brain kicked in, Come on, newbie, welcome to the real world. You're an adult now.
Today was my day off though. Thank god. They time these days off perfectly because they know that by now your body is a pail of smush peas. My reflection in the bathroom mirror doesn't look like me. The eye cream isn't working. Fuck, since when do 23 year olds need eye cream? And there's a pimple on my nose. I smear some toothpaste on it and some on my toothbrush too.
The day was nice so I decided to read outside of my apartment. The breeze was gorgeous and the sun was creeping around the way and so I decided to tan my legs.
The hours droned on and 3 o'clock rolled around which brought about the local kids playing in the courtyard. They were too loud for me continuing to read so I went back inside. Kids would be scared of the crazy lady with bags under her eyes and a glob of toothpaste on her nose anyway.
Dinner with Nancy and Andy. Andy's uncle was in town and so we all ate at Rudy's BBQ which was fabulous and the counter boy gave me a free soda which made me feel good. His uncle had n accent since he was from Wisconsin and it makes you wonder how accents come about if we're all speaking English for the most part here in the States. It was funny.
I finished off the day watching Sideways on HBO with more toothpaste on my nose. Then I did some more reading because it opens me up. I've been reading a lot of Jewish novels lately. Not particularly about Judaism but characters related to that faith. And it got me thinking about life and love and the aspects where I am lacking in those categories and thought Some things just aren't real, and they never will be real and things do not become real simply because we want them to be so...
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Call me Sniffles and call it a day....
I sneezed five times in a row today.
Not one of those polite girly sneezes. No, it was a eye-watering, snot-congested, head pounding sneeze exploding on my face. And I think something nasty flew out of my nose during one them, too. I wasn't winning any beauty contests today, I'll tell ya what.
I've been sick for these past few days and thinking about it now gives me a fever. I don't know technically if I really have a fever because who really owns a thermometer to tell. Not me, that's for sure. But I am hot...that chilly hot that you feel in the belly of your body. That can't be a good sign.
Adrian is sick too and he was a bit worse because he was actually vomiting liquids and didn't eat for 48 hours. That's crazy. He says I made him sick. Maybe, maybe...no more 'da me besos'.
My head hurts. It's the strangest thing, it always begins to hurt at 10 PM after I've watched too much tv. This never happened before I was sick but now that I am, it's like clockwork. But Tylenol is always there for me but now I'm worried what if its the Tylenol that makes it keep coming back? That doesn't make much sense, eh? Or maybe it makes too much sense....hahaha I'm freaking myself out. Sorry..it's how I entertain myself.
Speaking of which, I've been reading Capote's In Cold Blood. It's quite good. It started off a bit slow and it took awhile to get into the flow of things, but I'm at a good place now and it can only go up from here. I'm glad Phillip Seymour Hoffman got the Globe for Capote, he deserved it. Haunting.
My head's a bit lightheaded now but I think I'll pass on the Tylenol tonight, see how I feel in an hour or so. But I can feel an itch in the depths of my nasal passages..where are my tissues....ACHOOOO!!!
Not one of those polite girly sneezes. No, it was a eye-watering, snot-congested, head pounding sneeze exploding on my face. And I think something nasty flew out of my nose during one them, too. I wasn't winning any beauty contests today, I'll tell ya what.
I've been sick for these past few days and thinking about it now gives me a fever. I don't know technically if I really have a fever because who really owns a thermometer to tell. Not me, that's for sure. But I am hot...that chilly hot that you feel in the belly of your body. That can't be a good sign.
Adrian is sick too and he was a bit worse because he was actually vomiting liquids and didn't eat for 48 hours. That's crazy. He says I made him sick. Maybe, maybe...no more 'da me besos'.
My head hurts. It's the strangest thing, it always begins to hurt at 10 PM after I've watched too much tv. This never happened before I was sick but now that I am, it's like clockwork. But Tylenol is always there for me but now I'm worried what if its the Tylenol that makes it keep coming back? That doesn't make much sense, eh? Or maybe it makes too much sense....hahaha I'm freaking myself out. Sorry..it's how I entertain myself.
Speaking of which, I've been reading Capote's In Cold Blood. It's quite good. It started off a bit slow and it took awhile to get into the flow of things, but I'm at a good place now and it can only go up from here. I'm glad Phillip Seymour Hoffman got the Globe for Capote, he deserved it. Haunting.
My head's a bit lightheaded now but I think I'll pass on the Tylenol tonight, see how I feel in an hour or so. But I can feel an itch in the depths of my nasal passages..where are my tissues....ACHOOOO!!!
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Good Will Hunting
There is a certain allure to it, the hunt, the search, that makes the effort worth the time. Maybe its the cheap prices (a whole dinnerware set for $5!!)...no scratch that, it is the cheap prices primarily that draws me to the thrift stores and the GoodWill stores. Its also that indie feel you get, I suppose, that time warp you sort of drop into because you're surrounded by other people's past possessions and that seeps into the air and you're taking part of their residual energy from their tokens. It's quite existential, really.
I searching in the knick knack aisles because there usually isn't anything for me in the clothing section because even though I am not above wearing someone else's garbs, I wasn't in the mood for the hangar skiiing that it entailed. Knick Knacks are easier. I found two picture frames in which would come in handy because I had just figured out that my printer can also print photos!! And that the manufacturer had even actually included some photo paper in the boz! Now that's something to make you feel great (or stupid because you should have realized this earlier, dOAH!!) But anyhow that was a good find.
In the dishware and pantry section, there were many bozes of stone dinnerware sets that looked appealing and prices ranged from $5 to $20. There was one nice one with a blue color scheme and so I opened the boz (even though it was taped shut) only to find that two of the plates had been broken.
All of a sudden I hear a crashing of a glass in the next aisle. Must be kids. They are always getting their hands into things. I hear a rush of footsteps and some GoodWill workers in their blue polyester vests. One of them stops in my aisle.
"Umm..ma'am do you need some help?" In a very stern voice, I might add.
I shake my head. "No thanks, I was just looking."
She walks closer to me and her eyes narrow. "You know, you're not supposed to open those boxes. The picture in the front shows the design clear as daylight."
I nod. "I just wanted a closer look." I close the top flap of the box.
The unusually, power-hungry staff person, takes a step closer and my hand fingers my mace keychain.
"The boxes are taped because we don't want you to oepn that. Isn't that clear--?" She stops in midsentence.
As I tried to put the box back on the shelf you could hear the slightest jangle of broken stonewear within the box.
"You broke that set! You're going to have to pay for that."
"It was already broken."
"Oh yea? You were the last one to open that box."
"It was already broken. I'm not paying for something that I didn't break." ANd with that I walked off. I bet she was just some volunteer who was unhappy with her life. That made me feel bad for her and so I didn't want to waste perfectly good mace who woudln't even appreciate what a good story that would have been to have someone spray you with mace. Good Will stores really do make you think.
With my two picture frames tucked under my arm, I walked to the other side of the store where the books resided. There were always interesting things there including dated issues of National Geographic and dusty records with pictures of ghost rock stars with mustaches and long hair.
To be continued,..
I searching in the knick knack aisles because there usually isn't anything for me in the clothing section because even though I am not above wearing someone else's garbs, I wasn't in the mood for the hangar skiiing that it entailed. Knick Knacks are easier. I found two picture frames in which would come in handy because I had just figured out that my printer can also print photos!! And that the manufacturer had even actually included some photo paper in the boz! Now that's something to make you feel great (or stupid because you should have realized this earlier, dOAH!!) But anyhow that was a good find.
In the dishware and pantry section, there were many bozes of stone dinnerware sets that looked appealing and prices ranged from $5 to $20. There was one nice one with a blue color scheme and so I opened the boz (even though it was taped shut) only to find that two of the plates had been broken.
All of a sudden I hear a crashing of a glass in the next aisle. Must be kids. They are always getting their hands into things. I hear a rush of footsteps and some GoodWill workers in their blue polyester vests. One of them stops in my aisle.
"Umm..ma'am do you need some help?" In a very stern voice, I might add.
I shake my head. "No thanks, I was just looking."
She walks closer to me and her eyes narrow. "You know, you're not supposed to open those boxes. The picture in the front shows the design clear as daylight."
I nod. "I just wanted a closer look." I close the top flap of the box.
The unusually, power-hungry staff person, takes a step closer and my hand fingers my mace keychain.
"The boxes are taped because we don't want you to oepn that. Isn't that clear--?" She stops in midsentence.
As I tried to put the box back on the shelf you could hear the slightest jangle of broken stonewear within the box.
"You broke that set! You're going to have to pay for that."
"It was already broken."
"Oh yea? You were the last one to open that box."
"It was already broken. I'm not paying for something that I didn't break." ANd with that I walked off. I bet she was just some volunteer who was unhappy with her life. That made me feel bad for her and so I didn't want to waste perfectly good mace who woudln't even appreciate what a good story that would have been to have someone spray you with mace. Good Will stores really do make you think.
With my two picture frames tucked under my arm, I walked to the other side of the store where the books resided. There were always interesting things there including dated issues of National Geographic and dusty records with pictures of ghost rock stars with mustaches and long hair.
To be continued,..
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