~Still Lost....~

~"I feel suspended high in the air, hovering over several different safety nets, none of which feel like reality. I am unable to lower myself safely into any of the sticky spider webs; as though I don´t fully belong anywhere and full of the fear of getting caught up. Lost in nothing yet surrounded by everything. It´s such an empty feeling; so many people yet I feel so alone and confused. It´s as though I´m a lost puppy just trying to find her way home to loving arms and caring hands. The face that should accompany those hands is nothing but a blur. Where do I belong? Who am I really? Wanting to be in a thousand places at once yet unable to connect myself fully to any of the options awaiting me. Where will I fall? Who will catch me? Will someone even be there, with the want to lend a hand in bandaging the bleeding cuts; bright red and fresh from the fall? Will they accept all of me? The Me who is covered in deep, purple bruises that I´ve accumulated on the way down. A damaged soul covered in the newly self-inflicted marks as well as the already aged scars. I´m a mangled mess, with hands as broken as my heart and hair matted from the sweat from running. My innocence shredded by the piercing branches of insecurity. A twisted Alice in Wonderland following the cuddly rabbit into the deep pit, then destroying everything in her terrifying, yet exciting, path. Will I find peace of mind and leave this destructive side of me on the cloud on which I have been floating? Or will I continue on, once again burning my handwritten map, leaving me forever stranded and lost? A shadow of the girl I once was wandering aimlessly in search of her true self?
As I read this, I realize how far I have yet to come. I’ve since fallen off that cloud into a much deeper fog. There has been no clarity, there has been no peace, there are no caring hands waiting to comfort and heal me. I find myself more alone than ever. Broken to the core and hurting myself more and more each day. Overwhelmed by insecurities; the same insecurities that brought me here in the first place. Anger and pain are all consuming; overtaking all other emotions. No longer in control of myself, I feel so helpless. Worthless may be the correct word as I don’t even know myself anymore. I don’t like who I’ve become, why should anyone else? Wallowing in a pit of self pity is usually not my style, but I have begun to wonder why? Why am I not deserving of happiness? Why can’t I have that unconditional love? Why am I not good enough? I’m tired of it being so hard. I feel as though I am going mad. These chains that I’ve wrapped around myself now outsmart me as I can’t get untangled. If misery is all there is then why do I even bother? A bit dramatic, perhaps, but when the breaking of one’s heart causes this much physical pain… I wonder, what is the point of it all? What are we working towards? Daily monotony that drags on without change as the years fly by. Is this how it will always be?"~

~Daily Path~

(This is something that I found in my electronic storage of thoughts. I had written it while in Spain last year one lonely, pensive night. I still remember the breeze blowing my hair as I wrote it and the effect that the wine had taken on me. I sometimes miss those late nights...just me, my pen, and an ocean breeze.)

Cigarettes and red wine on a cool summer night relaxes me as I am sitting on the quiet terrace that, for now, I call home.  It is a temporary home; one of the many that I have come to have in these last several years.  They ask me when I will settle down in one place; when I will fall in love, get married, and have children.  They just don’t understand my ways of being. I, myself, find it hard to understand at times. That doesn’t mean I will conform to what is considered the 'normal' path of life. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like.  What is it like to have a place to call home? What is it like to have someone waiting on me each night when I get in? What is it like to build and raise a family?  While these fleeting thoughts occasionally pass through my head I just can’t imagine myself any other way.  The life I lead, while not traditional, is mine.  It is distinct, one that only I can call my own.  I have had many ups, many downs, and oh so many in-betweens.  It has been a crazy ride that has taken me to the other side of the world.  To a very different world from what I was used to.  The best part about it is that I have survived. I have made it in a world where I couldn’t speak the language, where I didn’t know how to react in otherwise normal social situations, where the cultural differences tested my strength each and every day.  It is, at times, a scary world, but the height of satisfaction I have reached and the self confidence I have gained makes it all worth it.  I’m making it on my own, living my life day by day, reaching new highs with every step I take.  I wouldn’t change it for the world.

Don’t get me wrong, I have had temptations to settle down. I have fallen in love, thought seriously of children, and wanted desperately to have a stable place to come home to.  For one reason or another it never quite worked out.  Many reasons have come into play.  At times people had let me down, other times things just didn’t quite equal out, and most commonly I fled running in the other direction.  I have made many mistakes; and I can’t justify them with any reasonable explanation; however I continue here. I’m still doing what I do, living my life and enjoying each second.  Even though the lonely moments greatly weigh the scale in their direction, I can’t complain.  I may not know who I am entirely, or have a steady home, but I am healthy and living my life with a heart full of love and gratitude for every person and experience that has came into my path. I continue to pray that I am going down the right path, but for now that’s all I have.  Prayer and a hope that I will eventually get it all right, that all of this will add up to something amazing and good.  I have faith and will continue on my day by day quest to my future.  Wherever it is that I may end up.

~Closing and Opening Doors~

When one door closes, another one opens.  That’s what they always say, at least.  They never go on to describe the pain associated with every creak of the closing door.  Why does the first door even have to close first before we are permitted to unbolt the door unlocking the new roads? Why can’t we just leave all the doors open and keep the house full of fresh air and daisies?  That notion is much more appealing in my opinion.

I’m a typical young woman; full of aspirations, fears, and desires. I have had amazing experiences, great friendships, as well as hill top mansions full of closed doors. In spite of the numerous disappointments and tears, I still seek out the perfect path that is not littered with speed bumps, fallen trees, or uneven gravel.  Whether or not it is to ever be found, I don’t know, but I’m determined to keep up the search.  I feel that I have exhausted the possibilities for the future without coming to a conclusion. Perhaps I need to key into some of those locked doors and examine the ransacked rooms once more.  The answer has to lie between dusty shelves and broken relationships. 

~Wild Soul Torn~

My wild soul had a moment where I thought I was ready to settle down, maybe start a family, and tame my nomadic urges. But now, since the love has practically vacated my once strong relationship, I wonder if those thoughts were only delusions. When I see children at the doctors office, or families at the park, I no longer feel that maternal urge to procreate. Perhaps I'm not meant to settle down and have children. At least, I know that I'm not ready just yet. I can't imagine giving my life to a child. It may sound harsh, but I just can't see it. I know, and believe, that there is no love greater than a childs love, but I need to find and love myself first. How could I be capable of giving it to someone else if I don't know myself enough to respect and love myself. Maybe it's part selfishness, but it's more of me being honest with myself. The pressures of todays society, to settle down with a husband and children used to affect me, but I have found a sense of contentment in the idea that it may not be in my stars. I want to want those things, to want a family of my own, a stable and secure life. Unfortunately, because of personal experiences, I have practically lost all faith in people and it scares me to bring children into such an unstable environment. The traveling bug has been gnawing at me again, I feel the need to get back out there. I'm not finished experiencing the world and all that it has to offer. I'm a little scared to leave the familiarity of my current life, and I know I will miss some aspects of it, but I'm not sure that is reason enough to stay around. I feel as though I am missing out on life; as though I am wasting my youth. I have given too many years to unhappiness and confusion, it is time to find happiness and strength. It's not an easy step, but it's one that needs to be taken. I deserve to find myself, and exhaust my passion; to be happy. Who knows who I will become, where I'll end up, or how I'll get there, but I'm looking ahead and I'm excited to see where my map will take me.

~Valentine's Day~

Bah Humbug!! ;) So I'm a little bitter. V-Day has never been that special to me. As far as celebrating it, I can't recall a fond memory in doing so. My first love was always out of the country with the military, so no romantic evenings there. I do recall going to dinner once with someone I loved very dearly. I tried lying to myself, pretending it was a romantic notion on his part, when in fact it was nothing like that. He was sleeping with someone else at the time, so now that I'm a bit more clear headed, I realize that lovely dinner meant nothing. Last year topped the cake. It is, actually, the V-Day that keeps playing in my head.

I was in Spain at the time. We had just moved into our new apartment and we were settling in comfortably. All of us chicas stayed at my place the night before since we were all, either single, or far away from our loves. That was the case for me. I'll get more into that in a minute. The day started off sweet, when a friend of ours brought us a delicious breakfast, complete with coffee. (Oh how I miss the coffee in Spain.) Back on point...After eating, we put on the music station on the TV to set the day. Of course, all of the selections were romantic and sappy. Normally I like that type of music, but for some reason, I found myself extremely sad that particular morning. I don't remember what song came on, but out of nowhere I just burst into tears. Not a few glistening drops down my cheek, but body shaking sobs. Everyone tried consoling me and they all were thinking that it had to do with the fact that it was Valentine's Day and my boyfriend was thousand miles away in the US. I, too, figured that was what my problem had to be, considering that I had no other reason to be sad. After my little episode, one of the girls, Tere, and I decided to take a walk on the beach to try and refresh my mood. It ended up being a three hour walk that involved downtown, the boardwalk, and a castle. Only in Europe. The walk was nice, but I couldn't shake the sadness. Thoughts of my family continued to pass through my mind.

Coming down off the hill where the castle was constructed, we were stopped by a man who was selling hand-made jewelry. We weren't interested in buying his product, but something about him reminded me of my father. I couldn't put my finger on it since he looked nothing like my father, but whatever it was, pulled me to glance back at him until he was out of my line of sight. We continued on our way home, tired and ready for a rest. We chose the boardwalk as our scenery and followed it for several miles. As we got closer to my apartment, I looked up to see an older man wearing a crazy green hat. This man looked exactly like my grandfather, a bit shorter, but just like him nonetheless. I commented on this to Tere, saying that he was a replica of my grandfather except for that hat. My grandfather would never wear that hat!

We continued on.

We separated from each other at one point, going to our prospective apartments to rest and clean up for dinner later that evening. Once I made it home I set out to clean the apartment before showering. I was alone in the house so I decided to put on some music. I hardly ever listen to 80s rock, but since my family had taken over my thoughts, I chose Def Leopard as background music. Growing up, my mom would clean the house while listening to 80s rock, so it reminded me of her. I enjoyed jamming to my once favorite song, 'Pour Some Sugar On Me'.  The 'Vault' album was my favorite from the group. My thoughts bounced from my mom to mi papi. I hadn't heard from him yet that day, but it was still rather early in the US, so I was patiently waiting. I sent him a racy valentine's text and went about my cleaning. I knew it would make him smile.

After I finished cleaning, I showered and got ready for that evenings' dinner with the girls. Putting on the finishing touches; makeup and jewelry; my phone finally rang...It was mi papi! He was calling to wish me a Happy Valentine's day and tell me how much he missed me. I reciprocated. I missed him terribly...especially on that day of love. It had been 5 months since I last saw him and the distance was painful. Nonetheless, our love stayed strong and we talked every chance we got. After reluctantly hanging up with him, smile on my face, mixed emotions in my heart, I headed out to meet the girls.

We all met at Eli's house where she had prepared an amazing dinner of paella and wine. Typical Spanish, and I loved every savory bite! My heart was still heavy, but the night was lightened with laughs and vino. As we cleaned up after dinner, we made specific plans for our girls night out. What to wear, where we would meet, what time, etc... With all of the 'important' decisions made, we relaxed and spread out throughout the house. I decided to check my email for the day and write to my family and friends back home to wish them a good day. When I logged into my email, I saw that one of my sisters had written me on Myspace. I rarely use Myspace anymore, but still have it because of some family members. It was odd that she would write me on that site, so I decided to check it out. I logged on and read the email.

'Today is Wednesday. Pap passed away.'

Short but gut wrenching. My grandfather had passed away unexpectedly three days prior. I had no idea. I lost it. The girls came in, confused and trying to comfort me. Luckily, Eli had an international phone card and let me use it to call my mom. I didn't know what to think or how to react. All I could do was cry. Mom confirmed it and told me that the funeral was that next day or so. I was shaking. It was all so unreal. I had been lucky to have never had to go through the death of a loved one. Obviously I wouldn't be able to make it to the funeral, since I was in Europe with little money, and that devastated me. After hanging up with my mom, I called mi papi. I needed comforting. He listened to me and did what he could to comfort me. All I wanted was to be there so he could hold me, but that wasn't possible. He was great though, he was there for me the best way he knew how. The rest of the night is an emotional blur. Somehow I made it home, and the girls met at my place to get ready for the night out. They tried talking me into going, to keep my mind off of what had occurred, but I tried, and I just knew that if I were to go out, that I would be miserable and be a downer on the rest of the group. I just wanted to go to bed and forget what had happened. A good friend, Tracy, my only American friend in Spain, stayed with me until my eyes grew heavy. It was an emotional day from beginning to the end. That night, I realized why I had been so sad all day. I guess, subconsciously, I knew something was wrong. I thought back to that man on the boardwalk. The 'grandfather lookalike' with the green hat. A year later, I still can't believe it.

Needless to say, Valentine's Day does not hold a special place in my heart. I'm usually sad and/or bitter from past loves. Now it reminds me of my pap which is bittersweet in itself. Today hasn't exactly went as I planned or hoped for, but it's not been that bad. I just pretend it is a regular day. The rational side of me dislikes the consumer marketing of the holiday and what it has turned it into, but the hopeless romantic that dwells within secretly wishes to get a corny card, flowers, or stuffed animal. I want to believe in love again, and I want to celebrate it, but until that miracle happens, I will do what I always do...try and forget it even exists.

~Nikki Giovanni~

Two nights ago, I had the pleasure of attending the keynote speech of Nikki Giovanni. She came to ASU to commemorate and participate in the universities' celebration. As I walked in the 'all too familiar' doors of the student union, she was seated at a table outside the hall where she was to speak.  There was a crowd around her stealing photos and trying to meet this legend. I shied away from getting a photo with her for three reasons; a.) She was already crowded, b.) Time was running close to her speech, c.) Most importantly, I didn't have a camera! :) I still regret not trying to get some sort of photo, but nonetheless I was able to go and participate in the event, that memory is enough. As 7pm arrived, I sat second row back and settled in to hear what she had to say. To be honest, before this event, I had my reservations about this lady. I had read her poetry and enjoyed most of it, but found some of it to be a bit racist, for lack of a better word. Here is an example of one of the poems that I was unsure of:
Balances

in life one is always balancing like we juggle our mothers against our fathers or one teacher against another (only to balance our grade average) 3 grains of salt to one ounce truth our sweet black essence or the funky honkies down the street and lately i've begun wondering if you're trying to tell me something we used to talk all night and do things alone together and i've begun (as a reaction to a feeling) to balance the pleasure of loneliness against the pain of loving you

I didn't know what to expect when I arrived at the hall. I was worried that this would be a white bashing event. That I couldn't have stood for. For those who don't know much about this author and poet, she is known for her fight for civil rights. She grew up, for the most part, in the south, in the sixties. She witnessed a lot of injustice in her life and is not afraid to speak out against it. Seeing her in action, I began to better understand her.  While some of her comments may border on racism, I don't think that is her intent. I think it is more of her trying to explain what it is that she has witnessed and her expression of a general viewpoint of certain moments in her life. She writes about life experiences as she saw them in that moment, depending on the what was going on and when it was occurring. There could be a lot of factors playing into her choice of words.  I don't believe she was generalizing. As she approached the microphone and began to speak, humbleness radiated. She was hilarious in her speech and said what she felt without holding back. While I had already had respect for her, this event roused in me a bigger sense of understanding. The speech was filtrated with her opinions on current events as well as past issues. She had a lot to say about our current president, and while I don't necessarily agree with everything she said, it was refreshing to hear such honest opposing opinions that could be backed up. Another fascinating part of her presentation, a part that I found most interesting, was her personal relationship with Rosa Parks. She was able to give us a second had re-account of what went on that fateful day. It was incredible to be so close to history. I truly enjoyed every moment and wish it hadn't ended so soon. I left the event inspired and excited about life and what role I could play in this world. It came at the perfect moment and I thank her for that. Thanks Nikki Giovanni! As she left us with her poem she wrote to commemorate Martin Luther King, I leave you with it as well.

In The Spirit of Martin:

   This is a sacred poem…blood has been shed to consecrate it…
wash your hands…remove your shoes…bow your head…I…I…I Have a Dream

   That was a magical time…Hi Ho Silver Away…
Oh Cisco/Oh Pancho…Here I Come To Save The Day…
I want the World to see what they did to my boy…
   No No No I’m not going to move…If we are Wrong…then the Constitution of the United States is Wrong…Montgomery…Birmingham…Selma…Four little Girls…
  Constant Threats…Constant Harassment…Constant Fear…
        SCLC…Ralph and Martin…Father Knows Best…
Leave It To Beaver…ED SULLIVAN…How Long…Not Long

But what…Mr. Thoreau said to Mr. Emerson…are you doing out?

       This is a Letter from Birmingham City Jail…
This is a eulogy for Albany…This is a water hose for Anniston…
   This is a Thank You to Diane Nash…
        This is a flag for James Farmer…
      This is a HowCanIMakeItWithoutYou to Ella Baker…
This is for the red clay of Georgia that yielded black men of courage…
          black men of vision…black men of hope…
      bent over cotton…or sweet potatoes…or pool tables and
 baseball diamonds…playing for a chance to live free and
   breathe easy and have enough money to take care of
the folks they love…This is Why We Can’t Wait      

          That swirling Mississippi wind…the Alabama pine…
that Tennessee dust defiling the clothes the women washed…
    thosehotwinds…the lemonade couldn’t cool…
 that let the women know…we too must overcome…
     this is for Fannie Lou Hamer…Jo Ann Robinson…
  Septima Clark…Daisy Bates…All the women who said
Baby Baby Baby I know you didn’t mean to lose your job…
        I know you didn’t mean to hit me…
 I know the Lord is going to make a way…           I know I’m Leaning On The Everlasting Arms           

           How much pressure…does the Earth exert on carbon…
to make a diamond…How long does the soil push against the flesh…
      molding… molding…molding the moan that becomes a cry that
bursts forth crystalline…unbreakable…priceless…incomparable Martin…
    I Made My Vow To The Lord That I Never Would Turn Back…
How much pressure do the sins of the world press
 against the heart of a man who becomes the voice of his people…
       He should have had a tattoo, you know…Freedom Now…
 or something like that…should have braided his hair…
    carried his pool cue in a mahogany case…
wafted that wonderful laugh over a plate of skillet fried chicken…
         drop biscuits…dandelion greens on the side           

This is a sacred poem…open your arms…turn your palms up…
      feel the Spirit of Greatness…and be redeemed

~Dizzy With Helplessness~

What is the point? This is the question that has been haunting me lately. I NEVER thought I would get to this point; to a place where I was so tired of everything. Maybe tired isn't the word for it, it's more like confused and lost. Life is so mundane, so joyless. I know that I am the one who is responsible for my own happiness, but it is getting more difficult as each day passes. I don't even know what makes me happy anymore. When I look in the mirror, all I see is a hopeless woman, lost to herself as well as to the world. I don't recognize myself anymore, much less the people around me. The key players surrounding me are so unfamiliar. It can be scary at times. I don't know how to turn myself back around. I'm dizzy with helplessness. I feel disgusted with myself for even feeling like this. I am alive and healthy and there are people who are in worse situations than I, but I just can't seem to shake this feeling. I know I will get there, I just wonder when. It has to get better...right??

~I'm Tired~

I'm tired. I'm tired of not knowing what I want to do with my life; I'm tired of crying; I'm tired of seeing people suffer; I'm tired of not having a job; I'm tired of being confused; I'm tired of hurting; I'm tired of selfishness; I'm tired of the same old lies; I'm tired of my attitude; I'm tired of not knowing who I am anymore; I'm tired of giving everything to someone who gives me nothing; I'm tired of hurting people; I'm tired of procrastinating; I'm tired of seeing tragedies all over the world; I'm tired of feeling weak; I'm tired of death; I'm tired of nosy people; I'm tired of seeing children go hungry; I'm tired of disappointing love; I'm tired of my weight; I'm tired of being scared; I'm tired of government corruption; I'm tired of overpriced schooling; I'm tired of giving in; I'm tired of paying student loans; I'm tired of abusive people; I'm tired of not supporting myself; I'm tired of this town; I'm tired of him; I'm tired of not being able to sleep at night; I'm tired of sickness; I'm tired of making mistakes; I'm tired of seeing friends go; I'm tired of caring; I'm tired of being tired.

To be continued....

~There Is A Stranger In My House~

There is a stranger in my house.( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pcGzLc9mgV8&feature=related ) I remember loving that song when it came out, but I guess I never really thought about the meaning behind the lyrics. I knew it was emotional and powerful, (yeah, I'm a sap and if it makes me cry, I like it) and I thought I knew what she was talking about, but the truth is I had no idea what that felt like. That is, until last Saturday. After being away for a week and a half, I came back to what I currently consider home to find mi papi waiting for me with arms open and muchos besos. :) I can't lie, it felt good, too good. I had been longing for that look, for that kiss, for that touch. It had been too long! When I least expected it, it found me. It sounds romantic and sweet, right? Right. That is what it was. I give him all the credit on that one. I appreciated the effort and the attention and it had come at a really good time, I needed it then more than ever. However these sweet moments had been few and far between lately. While being there, taking in the moment, cuddling with mi papi, a bizarre feeling came over me. A feeling that had been developing for some time now. A feeling that I had refused to accept. Unfortunately, little by little, day by day, the distance had slowly grown. As I looked at him I started to wonder just who was this man that held my hand? I mean, I know every inch of his face; every curve, every crease, every line. Yet, through all the familiarity, I found that I no longer recognized him. Had we really come so far as to be so unfamiliar with each other, to have lost everything we had worked so hard for? Will we continue to distance ourselves to the point that we pass each other in the street without an acknowledgement? Is this the way love dies, so slowly and painfully? Is this really the end?

~Painted Daydreams~

What's left of me? What's left of that girl I once was? Was it really even me sitting in the back row of class, shying away from life? Was she real? So timid and scared of everything and of everybody. When I think back on those days I feel as though it were a movie, as though another person was playing my role. I was so naive as I patiently waited for life to happen to me. They were such innocent days that passed by, one by one, without a care in the world. I was that young girl who you'd find outside, lying in the soft grass on the hill behind my house twirling a crisp green blade between my fingers while staring at the blue sky. That sky was the canvas upon which I painted my daydreams. Each cloud told a story while forming the constantly moving pictures of future days. I transported myself aboard each tiny airplane as it slowly flew by, all the while planning out my imaginary itenerary for the next exotic destination that I would reach when it finally descended. Some days I would give my imagination a break and dive into an already written tale. With each book I took on a different character, taking over their lives and stealing their adventures. If I was feeling particularly greedy, I would take on two personas at a time, combining the best attributes of each character and leaving the 'not so great' ones in the story. It was a creative time for me, but I didn't realize that my creativity was constantly being stifled by doubts in myself and my abilities. I don't only speak of artistic abilities, but life abilities as well. Sure, I had a million and three dreams to go along with my thousands of fantasies but I never believed they could ever be brought to real life. All those imagined plane rides to Europe, Asia, and South America quenched a temporary thirst, but when reality hit, I shrunk back a bit into the idea that it could never happen to me. I had no life experience topped with a healty dose of insecurities. That combination rendered me helpless...or so I once thought.
Thinking back now on that idea, on my mindset all those years ago, brings me to my question today. Where did that 'me' go? When did I finally realize that I COULD have all of those things? As I think back on these last several years, not only one defining moment stands out to me. I can only conclude that a series of events and influences had to have contributed to my drastic change. It sounds simple and rational enough, but when I think about who I was before, I wonder, why me? So many people have those same dreams and aspirations as a young person, why was I able to see some of them through? This underlying difference in my past and present selves is what brings about these questions. It is a liberating sensation to actually see and feel my dreams into reality. That first REAL plane ride as it descends into a foreign country, that spray of the ocean against my face as my feet sink into the moist sand, that exhileration of having to start from scatch, again, and reinvent myself to fit the current, distint, culture. I may not understand fully why God has blessed me with so many amazing experiences, I may occasionally contemplate what I did to deserve this, but I will never take it for granted. As the quote goes: ~Whatever we are waiting for - peace of mind, contentment, grace, the inner awareness of simple abundance - it will surely come to us, but only when we are ready to receive it with an open and grateful heart.~ I must humble myself daily and give thanks for each sweet breath that I am given. Where has the old 'me' gone? I am still here, still painting that vast blue canvas with future plans; This time, however, I'm doing my best to bring them to life, and enjoying every blessed moment of it.

~I Miss You~

(Image Translation: "Being so close, yet so far away")

Good Morning! I greeted myself as I rubbed my sleepy eyes. Not such a good morning. There haven't been too many of those lately. Just me and my pillow shared my dreams last night. Just me and the blanket cuddled to keep warm. The saddest part of it all? There had been a warm body beside me, but one that didn't greet me, one that didn't touch me, one that didn't love me anymore. Have you ever noticed that the worst way to miss someone is when they are right beside you and you can't have them? This situation is killing me. The distance between us is so great yet encompasses such a small space. Just at an arms length, he might as well be across the ocean. We used to be unstoppable. Don't get me wrong, we are still in motion, but this time we are headed in different directions. I'm fighting it..I refuse to accept it. The moment I can't feel him under my fingertips, I miss him like crazy. Yet when I am around him, my heart aches. He stays closed up and distant; cold at times. He is no longer openly vulnerable with me. No more late night talks of fears, future plans and aspirations. No more passing touches, a subtle greeting in a crowd of people. No more 'besitos' distracting his game 'til I drive him crazy. Right now he is only physically here, right across the room, focused on the game as I write this post. Am I fighting a losing battle? Perhaps, but I will exhaust my armada of love; I will not give up that easily. I love him.

~Hello 2010~

Well, 2010 has started and the 'New Year' fairy has yet to magically find me a job, make me thinner, or make everything better overall. Things are continuing on as they had before, day by day. I'm still looking for my dream job(really, any job would do at this point) I'm still trying out new work out programs, trying to find a healthier version of me. I'm still hopeful to find love; either reviving an old one, or opening up to something new. All in all, eleven days later, most outlets of my life have stayed the same.


Unfortunately, in all the monotony of my everyday life, one big event has occurred. My father fell sick. This is big because he NEVER gets sick. A little over a week ago, I recieved a phone call telling me that my dad had checked himself into the hospital. I can't remember my dad ever going to the hospital, not once in my entire childhood. That statement in itself scared me quite a bit. My three hour drive to the hospital had my mind racing. Thoughts under distress can get a little crazy, everything from best case, to worst case, scenarios played over and over in my mind. I arrived to find him already taken back to prep for surgery. After misdiagnosing him, twice, he was rushed back for an emergency operation. My thanks goes to God for him coming out of it ok. He was in obvious pain, but seemed much more relaxed than before the surgery. A week later, and he is still in the hospital, but he is looking so much better! God is good, even if it makes doctors look dumb with their misdiagnosis. I'll take that anyday, as long as it works out in the end.
Needless to say, the year hasn't started out as well as I had wanted, but I can't complain. I may not be rich or super model thin, but I have my family, friends and health. I could not ask for more! :)

~Goodbye 2009~

2009 has come and gone. Can you believe it!? Time seems to be flying a little faster these days. Bringing in 2010 last night, surrounded by good friends, amazing food, and dance-alicious music, made me think about past new year celebrations and how different life was in each scenario. Last year's celebration was the freshest in my memory. It was my first new year celebration overseas. A good friend of mine had invited me to spend the holiday with his family. It was a very interesting experience, in that, spanish tradition varies from our own. The night starts out with dinner with the family. The table was laid out with fresh bread, jamon, shrimp, chorizo, salad, wine, etc...healthy and delicious!! After filling ourselves with food and conversation, we cleaned up a bit and prepared for the countdown. Mama B decorated us with red bows, following the 'must wear something red' custom. Us ladies pinned it in our hair as we made bow ties for the fellas. As the clock ticked, grapes and champagne were passed around. Yes, I said grapes. It is tradition in Spain to eat twelve grapes, one grape for each of the first twelve seconds of the new year. This is done for luck. As it got closer to midnight, we prepared ourselves by grabbing the first grape and holding it close to our mouths. You had to be quick! Twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one! Happy New Year! Cheers, kisses, and greetings are passed around. Being completely honest, I got a little choked up. There was a strong sense of family and I was overwhelmed by that feeling. It was nice to be a part of it. After greeting each other, we headed to the roof of the apartment building to watch the town celebrate. Firetrucks had their sirens going off, lights were flashing, and fireworks were being set off. It sounded as though chaos had broken loose. If it hadn't been a holiday, I would have been a little scared. After greeting the neighbors on the roof, we made our way back to the house to get ready to go out. Tradition is to spend the first part of the night with your family, then after the countdown, everyone meets up with friends to party. Dressed to impress, we met up with the group in a plaza nearby. From there we bar hopped and danced until dawn. That is another thing about Spain, when you go out, you are out until you see the sun rise.


It was completely different from last night's party. To bring in 2010 a group of us went to Memphis. A Cameroonian association from the city hosts the annual get together. One of our friends belongs to the association and invited all of us so that we could all celebrate together with good food and music. We arrived at the large house where the function was being hosted around eleven p.m. We entered and greeted everyone and then anxiously awaited the new year. Champagne glasses, festive hats, and noisemakers were passed around to the growing crowd. Music accompanied us as we awaited the countdown. There were children joining in the dancing after their initial shyness wore off. One little boy who wouldn't have anything to do with us at first, refused to be shown up by his small female counterpart when she took the floor and tried to show us who was boss. They ended up dancing together, stopping the adults in their tracks. There was no competing. :)
With three minutes to go the crowd turned their attention to their friends and or couple. With eyes on the television and constant updates of the countdown being shouted over the chatter, the excitement began to rise, well at least it did for me. This was the first time, in almost five years, that I would be celebrating with mi papi, and the second time EVER that I would have my new year kiss! Needless to say, I was ready for the clock to strike twelve.

~Tell Someone You Love Them~

A fellow blogger, Brandy, has asked several bloggers to post this extremely heartfelt post, that she wrote, on our blogs today so that the awesome power of positive thinking can work its magic.
Please feel free to copy and post this on your own blog.

My name is brandy. And I have a blog.

And a plea.

I use my blog to showcase the crazy I meet everyday, share the stories of the kids I teach and document my love for tequila, dairy products and the abdominal muscles of Ryan Reynolds. Rarely do I talk about personal issues on my blog- as personal as the dude that I adore (who I actually met through my blog- single ladies, let that be a very good reason to blog, the possibility of meeting someone as wonderful as my man), but I need your help. And it involves my dude.

He's a guy who made math comics for my class, so they would love learning about addition. He's the kinda guy who sends my friends gift cards when they are having hard times, who remembers every story I ever told him, who was the first person I celebrated with when I got a teaching job. He's the guy who sent flowers to me at school- dozens of my favourite pink roses just because he loves me. He's a guy who has spent a year patiently explaining (and re-explaining) everything there is to know about football during the important games when silence is preferred. He's made me word puzzles and comics and stayed up late playing Scrabble with me (even though I beat him almost every time). He's listened to me cry about school and family and jobs. He is everything I never knew I needed and everything I always knew I wanted.

The holidays have hit us hard. He's recently been told he may have something called multiple myeloma- an incurable cancer, that gives a person an average of five years of continued life. Though this news has came as a shock, he continues to be exactly who has always been- spending his time worrying about me, rather than worrying about himself. He's the most selfless individual I know- (he stayed late on Christmas Eve to work, so his co-workers could leave early) and a post like this would never be something that he would promote or encourage but when I'm overwhelmed and feeling helpless, the blogging community has always given me tremendous support and comfort, two things I desperately need at this time.

As I write this, the future is uncertain and we aren't sure what's happening. He'll need to see an oncologist soon, to verify what's going on in his body. My hope is that everyone who reads this think positive thoughts and if you are a person who prays, could you add him to your list? (You can refer to him as 'brandy's hot awesome dude'). If you don't pray, please keep him in your heart.This cancer is only a possibility and I believe that the prayers and positive thoughts of people can make sure it never becomes a reality.

I want to give a big thank you to the blog owner who scraped their original blog plans and graciously put this up. My goal is to get as many people as possible to see and read this post. If you are reading this and want to help, copy and paste my plea into your blog or send a link through twitter, so more people can keep him in their thoughts. I would be so very grateful (even more grateful than I am to my friend who first showed me the picture of Ryan Reynolds on the cover of Entertainment Weekly. If you haven't seen it, google it. You. Are. Welcome).

I realize this all sounds dramatic, a Lifetime movie in the making- but this is life. Right now. And I'm throwing away any hint of ego and am humbly asking for you to pray or think kind thoughts. If you are able to pass this on, thank you and if you know anything regarding MM- please email me (my email is on my blog). This isn't a call for sympathy or a plea for pity. It's just one girl hoping you can think positive thoughts for the person she adores. If my current heartache provides you with anything, let it be with the reminder that life is short, love is unbending and no one knows what could happen next. Maybe it is silly, but I really do believe that positive thoughts can make a huge difference. Thank you for reading this and if you haven't already? Please tell someone you love them today.

I did.

~Shisha-Ghalyun-Cachimba-Nargila-Hubbly Bubbly-Hookah~

Different countries have different words for it, but the affect is the same all over the world. The shisha (India) was invented in India following the European introduction of tobacco to the country. A physician of the court raised concerns about the affect on health the tobacco caused, therefore designing a system of 'purifying' it using water. The emperor at the time was encouraged to take up smoking and, from that, the popularity grew with the noblemen, soon making the ghalyn (Iran) a status symbol. That is a small taste of the historical beginning of this smoking device. Now and days, it can be enjoyed by anyone. There are hookah (US/Canada) bars all over the world where one can enjoy this cultural experience. The cachimba (Spain)smoke is commonly thought to have a lower health risk than cigarettes, however studies have confirmed that it can be just as dangerous. Unlike cigarettes, though, the hubbly bubbly (South Africa) is used more as a past time than addiction. In the Arab world, smoking the nargila (Israel) is a part of their culture and tradition. It is usually done in groups and while socializing. For everyone who has experienced it, they have had their own reasons and stories about it. I want to share mine.

For me the hookah brings back some of my first memories of Spain. (Random, I know, but stick with me.) I first tried the hookah in a tea house/hookah bar with an Iranian/American friend of mine. She had just arrived from the US and we decided to explore the nightlife in the city. I had gotten to know a couple of Erasmus (foreign exchange students) in the few weeks that I had been there before her, so we decided to meet up with them at this 'Teteria'. So there we were, a curious mix of people from all over the world, all meeting together with a common sense of unfamiliarity. All of us were new to this city, yet here we were bonding in an Arabic tea house smoking the hookah. At first breath, the strong apple flavor choked me a bit. They laughed as I coughed. After a few puffs, I felt as though I was getting the hang of it. I was a non smoker, so it took me a little longer to inhale smoothly than those who smoked regularly. The flavor was strong and the smoke was thick. I felt it all the way down into my lungs as they expanded with each inhalation. Such a savory taste danced on my tongue and the smell tickled my nose. I actually felt a bit high after two or three gulps of the sweet smoke. It was an exhilarating feeling as it mixed with the glass of red wine I had already consumed. It was a night of innocence, laughs, and just plain fun. That night erased the tension that had accumulated during the day. We temporarily forgot that we couldn't understand the language, we forgot that the food wasn't 'mama's cooking', we forgot that, just that morning, we had wanted to run to the familiarity of our home countries. We were at ease, as though we had always known one another. It was a beautiful thing to see the rainbow of people all coming together and simply living in the moment...simply being there...bonding through the smoky haze exhaled from the hookah. :)

~No Cinderella Stories~

I'm not looking for a fairy tale, just a little honest love. :)

~Sticks and Stones~

So, I've had this blog space for some time now, and I have yet to make any real use of it. Sure, I have posted poetry, a few meaningful lyrics, and random Me Time ramblings; none of which have any consistency or relativeness. But, I have yet to create my blog. Simply 'having' a space means nothing if one doesn't utilize it. What has been holding me back? If I had to answer that question, the most simple response I have is fear. Fear of the big green blogger monster? Not exactly. It is the fear of my own thoughts. Let's just say, my mind is not as clear as it should be, in fact, the fog has overcast all rational emotions leaving me practically inept to form a proper sentence. On top of this fear is a sense of self doubt. Well, self doubt is a little harsh, second guessing myself is, perhaps, a better way to put it. A friend once explained it to me... he said that I am a perfectionist when it comes to my words and impatient for the outcome. What he meant, is that I want poetic precision to flow from my pen (or keyboard) to my blank paper (or screen), without flaws. So when I find my thoughts rambling and I can't organize my mind, instead of scribbling down the mumble jumble, my stubborn ass simply refuses to write at all. With that I lose precious time and thoughts out of pure stubbornness. It made so much sense! It was an interesting revelation that put me in my place. I have always dreamed of writing, and while I have yet to study the art, I can at least hold my own. Who's to know if I never try?! So, here I am...Let's see if I keep my promise to myself and at least give it a shot. After all, sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me. :)

~Again~

Another free fall...My heart is broken...Again...

I ask you why...You refuse to explain...Again...

I'll always love you...But for now I hate you...Again...

~Back in JB-1~

I have so many back logged stories to write about, and I will get to them, but for now let me keep it in the present. :) I am currently back in Jonesboro. The person I thought I was, that I found, in Spain, has not completely dissipated, however, I have digressed a bit in the strength of my heart. It is funny how that one person can make you weak, even after being so strong for so long. I haven't lost all of my nerve, but I have to say that being put back into certain situations, with certain individuals, has softened me a bit. The old, soft version of me peeks her head out every once and awhile. This old me can let too much sadness and anger in at times. I sometimes wish that I would stay strong and stand up to these temptations, but at the same time, this old Dani is still a part of me and I must embrace that. The emotional, flying off the handle, finger-snap in your face, girl must come out at times or I wouldn't be true to myself. These times are hard...a young woman just trying to figure herself out while not getting repeatedly hurt. A terrifying feat in itself, not to mention the other outside distractions that come into play. I'm a big girl now, and these bills don't pay themselves. :) It's a stressful life, but I LOVE it...the challenges only make me stronger, and the pain only makes me wiser.

~Spain-Round 2 *The Beginning*~

Bueno…Spain…Where do I start?? It’s round two of my travels in España..Things are very different this time around. The tranquility and peace I found in Huelva seems to have stayed in Huelva. It’s a whole different and exciting world here in Fuengirola. My new roommate, Sonia, from the beginning has been a very good hearted and genuine person. She’s the crazy one but I have grown to love her. We have had our disagreements, well I have to say that they are more of different view points on life, but all in all I have been very lucky to have found her. She immediately introduced me to her group of friends, whom I found to be fascinating and all around good girls. Amparo, the tall breath of fresh air amongst the storm; Tere, open yet the most misunderstood of the group; and Gema, the wild haired good girl, are the three who I find myself especially drawn to. From there, I met an array of characters that make up my life in Fuengirola.