The Garden Of Love

I laid me down upon a bank,
Where Love lay sleeping;
I heard among the rushes dank
Weeping, weeping.

Then I went to the heath and the wild,
To the thistles and thorns of the waste;
And they told me how they were beguiled,
Driven out, and compelled to the chaste.

I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen;
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut
And "Thou shalt not," writ over the door;
So I turned to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tombstones where flowers should be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briers, my joys and desires.

-William Blake

Things That Make My Day...

Sometimes, just sometimes, I like to take a few minutes to check a few of my favorite websites online and cheer myself up. Sure there's the gossip websites where I secretely stalk the cast of Twilight (shut your mouth Scott). I even go on a few local websites and forums to flame someone or add a completely useless comment to a thread. However, let me show you lovely people my favorite pick of the day for each website I follow:

First off, my from trusty Walmart enthusiasts. The guys at PEOPLE OF WALMART have brought me this gem:

Because deep down, I've always wanted to wear bikini bottoms when I grocery shop.

Next, one of my favorite sites AWKWARD FAMILY PHOTO brings forth a masterpiece that allows me to be thankful that, for the most part, my family pictures are plain and boring:

Sometimes there just aren't words for a family outing...

One can never really have a complete day without seeing some mind-blowing, life-altering, oh so juicy hair sculptures! Which brings me to the wonderful peeps at Don't Judge My Hair, and in this case I'll put a few examples of glorious squee inducing images:

Because, well I actually don't really have a reason for any of these...

And for now I shall leave you with the ever favorite of mine, my friends the LOLcats, which can be found in every corner of teh intarwebz. the moar the merrier! Don't get this lingo? Then you haven't seen enough LOLcats! Take it away!:

So there you have it...this is what I do at the end of the day when work turns my head into A Mexican Chinchilla Revolution.

What amuses you?

The Art of Annoyance

I've found that my foul mood, in most cases, is directly connected to how in control my blood sugar is. If it's very high, I tend to get snappy at everyone for no reason. It's something I had heard about from reading up on diabetes and noticed on my father when he was first diagnosed. He used to be jovial and the life of the party. Nothing could ever dampen his day. His life crumbled or tragedy struck our family? Leave it to dad to find humor in the situation and lift everyone's spirits. When he started with diabetes he always seemed on edge, tired and oh so irritable. His feelings would get hurt over any little thing. He didn't laugh much anymore.

I was semi ready for the body changes and side effects to diabetes. Never these mood swings. Yikes! Sometimes just looking at someone makes me want to kick them in the face until I feel content. My fuse is so short. I snap at my loved ones at the drop of a hat, immediately feeling crappy for saying things. Sometimes it's too late, the hurt has been done no matter if I apologize. I get annoyed easily some days, too easily. Sometimes I'm trying to think of something while I'm writing or having a convo with a friend online, and I get interrupted for a silly comment or question...and I totally blow my lid. I don't mean to react that way, but you just made me lose what little concentration I had (another side effect) on what I was doing so you can tell me about an awesome joke you heard today and...what's that? You forgot how it goes? My brain just turned into mush. Sometimes I had a crappy day at work, cleaning up messes left and right while answering THE most idiotic questions a human will ever hear. So when I get home and all I want to do is NOT think about work or answer irrelevant questions...yeah you're gonna get the wrath of Khan err Yari.

Of course, who else would be at the end of these blow ups most of the time if not my father. Two diabetics, two people that can't take a joke lately, oy! He wears his feelings on his sleeve and I find every comment he makes as a direct attack from him. The other day he said he didn't like the artwork I put up on my walls because the dude was smoking. SMOKING. I can see him being blown away if I put up an angelic woman riding Satan on top of slaughtered puppies. I'd agree with him even. This is a black and white sketch of a guy walking down a sidewalk, with the city's night skyline behind him and a cigarette in his mouth. That's it. You have GOT to be kidding me. So I took that as a direct assault on MY freedom to like whatever the hell I like. He was simply stating he didn't like it. I felt like ripping him to shreds.

This is how almost every day had been for the past 2 years. So lately, since my sugar is back to acceptable ranges, everyone around me notices a "change". Oooo! Aaaah! Magnifique! I do find it less and less irritating to be around people, I smile more and I even spend time with mom without having the left side of my face melt. I'm more calm, and yeah I notice it too, I'm patient for anything that arises.

That is until a few minutes ago. My parents called me and said they forgot they had a doctor's appointment and would not be able to bring me my lunch. I come into work at noon. They called me at 11:56 a.m. when I was 20 feet from my office.

Dad: "Go and get you something before work."

Me: "I can't be late, so I guess I'll just eat snacks till I get out."

Dad (with mom doing chorus in the background): "You can't start skipping your meals, get something before work."

Me (feeling the anger): "I would've if you guys would've told me earlier. Now, I can't. Don't worry about it. See you guys later tonight."

Mom (grabbing phone): "You should get something before you go in, because I was reading...(2 minute speech about diabetes facts I already know involving skipping meals). So, go get something before work."

Me: "Listen, I cannot physically go. I cannot be late. I have snacks, I'll be fine. Let it go."

Mom (yelling): "See? I knew you weren't gonna take care of yourself for long. You always start up good and get off track. You are so irresponsible, I just can't believe you are so lazy that you can't get lunch for yourself. What are you gonna do when we're dead? Starve? Jesus, Yari."

Me: "I'm at work, I gotta go." *click*

So I'm sitting here cussing up at storm and I literally feel like punching a baby or something. My irate mood skyrocketed out of here after 30 seconds of that phone call. I haven't been this angry for a few weeks and I don't like it. I checked my sugar and it's normal. However, I have developed a schedule for eating in the past 2 weeks. It is my lunch time and there's no food in my belly. So I'm gonna blame this outburst on A) my hunger and B) the fact that i'm about to turn into a salad bowl in the next few days. Breathing.

So how's ya'll's Tuesday?

Click Here to see I'm not the only one being a Cranky Pants!

Diabeeetus Update

Just wanted to give you all a minor update on my medical stuff. Yes, I know, you are at the edge of your seat waiting for it.

My sugar levels have finally stayed under 200 (normal range should be between 70 - 120) yesterday all day. Hopefully once the antibiotics kill off the strep infection I'm having those levels will continue to go down. I'm down to about 1200 calories a day, sometimes less. I'm walking every day, up to 45 mins to an hour. I seem to enjoy walking at the park more, gives me time to think and the music on my playlist seems to make my mind drift away into a world where walking is not mindsuckingly dull.

Breakfast consists of some "diet bread". Nature's Own has sliced wheat bread, 2 slices have 19g of carbs which is excellent. I usually have a sugar free pb and sugar free strawberry jam sammich in the am with one egg (usually scrambled). My sugar seems to not go so high when I have that. Oatmeal seems to raise it inmensely, even with fat free milk and splenda. I've developed a sleeping pattern and I wake up every day at the same time for breakfast. That has helped inmensely, having some sort of routine. For snacks I usually have a sugar free Jello cup or 1/4 cup of lightly salted roasted soy nuts. Also acceptable for a snack is a slice of bread with 1/4 cup of cottage cheese. For lunch and dinner I alternate between salads, soups and salads, baked potato and salad, 4 oz of grilled fish-chicken-beef w/ steamed veggies and *gulp* salad. I've cut down my Diet Coke intake to once a day. Overall I'm trying hard to take care and not go on insulin. I've lost 3 lbs since last Tuesday. Yay me!

Here's a sample of my playlist when I'm walking:

"Kiss You Better" - Maximo Park

"Superman" - Soulja Boy (yes, cue the eyeroll, this isn't my normal type of music lol)

"Guayale el Mahon" - Wisin Y Yandell (what can I say, I'm ghettotastic)

"Us" - Regina Spektor

"Supermassive Blackhole" - Muse

"Tierra del Olvido" - Carlos Vives

"Neon Tiger" - The Killers

"All I Really Want" - Alanis Morissette

"Tears in my Beer" - The Specials

"Tessie" - Drop Kick Murphys

"Hey Ya" - Outkast

"Tilt A Whirl" - ICP

And any array of Pearl Jam/The Editors/Pink (yes I said Pink)/some dance-electronica :)

I'd keep listing but it's luncho time, and here it is:

Well I'll be damned...the hokey pokey IS what's its all about...

Every now and then I get the joyous phone call from a friend of mine, that leaves me in an aggitated and dumbfounded state of mind for the rest of the day.

She has her kid, a fairly OK life, going to school, a roof over her head - you get the picture. Yet somehow she finds NO joy, not even a teeny tiny bit of it, in anything. She's used to getting everything she wants, she's used to a certain lifestyle and sooo used to attention - from anyone that will give it (resulting in compromising situations and unecessary drama). She's a bit older than me, not too much. Yet, there she is in all her glory refusing to open her eyes and realize real life is NOT a fairy tale nor will it ever be.

There is no soul mate romantic novel love in real life. There is, however, people you fall in love with - for good or bad - and start a relationship with. You hope for the best, things work out or don't, then you either strive to move past the bump on the road or call it quits. Everything you want in life requires effort. She sits there crying on the phone how she's so alone (her babydaddy left her after being treated like shit by her and she ignored him all the time while keeping her head up in the clouds dreaming of Mr. Charming), and how there's nothing good about her, woe is her! I calmly tell her, "what about J (babydaddy)? Have you tried mending that? He loved you, he wasn't perfect, but he loved you". She then goes on a rant about how he didn't understand her and meet her needs and bought her flowers and folded the towels the right way blah blah. I pinch the bridge of my nose, cuz, you know it, the nosebleed is coming.

She then moves on to how she's life's own little joke. Nothing ever goes right, she hates her life. She has nothing, she's so miserable, how I'm not being supportive and telling her what she should do. I tell her what she should do, she then goes off and says she can't do that because abandoning certain habits (the ones CAUSING ALL THE DRAMA!!) because that's all she has left and all she looks forward to. Sigh. She says "I wanna be happy like you! Why can't I have what YOU have?". My voice sort of shakes with anger and before I can stop the word vomit from spewing at her, I blurt out "You think my life's perfect? That I'm happy? What kind of person are you? How selfish can you be? Don't you realize you're not the one you should be thinking about anymore? You're lil daughter is sitting there playing on the floor by herself demanding your attention, and you're involved in endless gossip and drama and texting and just plain ole ignoring her. You have a CHILD. Someone who NEEDS you to GROW THE FUCK UP and realize, HEY! What do you know! This IS all there is to life!!! I refuse to believe you're life is miserable 24/7. Refuse it. We're all tired, we're all dealing with pressures. We're losing houses, spouses, our bodies to ailments, jobs, dreams and everything else in between! My life is FAR from perfect, my life is FAR from happy. But dammit I'm trying, and all it took from me was to WANT to change it. I could've chosen to lay over and let the water sweep over me. God KNOWS that's what I want most of the day. But I look into the eyes of my loved ones and realize its not about ME. This is growing up! Experiencing loss, disappointment, a sense of constant confusion about what's our next step. So I'm sorry if I'm all out of pity party juice, but you have a roof over your head, government aid for food and other things so you don't have to work, they PAY your babysitter so you can go to school and they even pay your schooling! I can't afford ANY of that working myself to the ground! AND THAT'S OKAY! LIFE DOESN'T END BECAUSE I'M CONSTANTLY LOSING THINGS!"

She was crying by the time I was done, and being the nice person I am, I immediately apologized and told her it didn't mean she couldn't complain or even feel depressed about certain things. We all have the right to feel angry, frustrated, resentful or anything else we might be. It's our right to sometimes shake our fist at the sky and say WHAT ELSE?!. It is our right, to sometimes wish we could run away far from anything known. However, when exercizing that right becomes a constant way to live our life and affects those around us, that's when it's time to suck it up and realize our situation could be much much worse. Because I know if I had a kid, a second spent seeing them smile is better than any day spent 6 feet under. We're all gonna die, we're gonna have miserable times at some point...so why rush into it? Cry. Yell. Be Angry. Loathe. Miss. Love. Do it all, but also take a few minutes out of your day to find one little tiny positive thing. If you have kids, just look at them play. If you don't, look outside and find something that will at least temporarily keep your mind off the current situation.

I'm not saying it's perfect or it always works, but it can't be any worse than replaying the negative stuff over and over in our heads. You can't run away from real life. It'll follow you wherever you go. You'll realize that if every new venture you start, ends down the same path and with the same results, nobody else is the problem. You are.

She assured me she wasn't giving up and she was gonna spend more time with her baby and school and this time she really was gonna be strong and go for it. Honestly? I'll hear from her again a month from now when she calls me stating she fell for a new guy that seemed perfect and GASP! he broke her heart and why is she hideous and repulsive and blah blah ... some things, will never change. I wash my hands and resign myself to listening with cotton balls stuffed up my nose.

Ah, Woe is Me, My Mother Dear

Ah, woe is me, my mother dear!

A man of strife ye've born me:

For sair contention I maun bear;

They hate, revile, and scorn me.

I ne'er could lend on bill or band,

That five per cent. might blest me;

And borrowing, on the tither hand,

The deil a ane wad trust me.

Yet I, a coin-denied wight,

By Fortune quite discarded;

Ye see how I am, day and night,

By lad and lass blackguarded!

-Robert Burns

Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance

I was diagnosed with type II Diabetes in November of 2005 at the age of 21.

I already suspected I had it. It started with the frequent trips to the restroom, every 20 minutes to be precise. The unyielding thirst was unebarable. Nothing would make it go away. I'd constantly drink water, sodas, milk, juice...anything to make the dryness in my throat go away to no avail. I had a constant cold-like fever, chills, bone ache that wouldn't disappear with tylenol. Needless to say, when I finally went to the doctor and she came back with the "you're a diabetic" diagnosis, I wasn't in the least bit shocked.

Still it was scary to hear it and to have all this new set of rules thrown at me. For one thing, I am terrified of needles. So obviously, checking my sugar by pricking my fingertip 3 times a day was my main incentive to change this. The first 2 years after that I was on a strict diet, constant excercise and it got to the point where my sugar leveled off perfectly and I didn't even need the medication. Being the smart gal I am, I considered myself cured of all evil! I started sneaking a burger here and there. I found excuses to not work out. My mind warped itself into the following motto: If it's ever high again, I can just diet and take the pill for a few weeks and be ok again. I stopped monitoring my sugar levels, out of sigh out of mind. Until it became pretty evident, I was living life like a "normal" person. I ate, drank and did whatever I wanted. Until last Friday.

Long story short, I had an eventful stay at the local hospital's ICU floor. Everyone that treated me from nurses to doctors to lab personnel could not believe I had been so irresponsible. That I was 25 and was literally playing with my life. The pain was excruciating, my body was ready to quit but I guess I managed and now I'm out of there. When I got home, I think I finished the last 2 stages of grief over this. I got in the shower and cried and yelled and cried some more because it has, indeed, dawned on me finally. I am a diabetic. For life. There is no cure. This is not the end of the world, naturally, but it is the end of a lifestyle and the end of whatever I found comforting before. It's either the fresh start or a quick end to me. I have since been checking my sugar regularly (5 times a day) and slowly trying to get over my fear of poking myself. I have been walking every night (my feet are so tender and they hurt - another fun diabetes side effect). I am getting lots of sleep (miracle new pattern for me) and have spoken to my boss and set up a new work schedule. I'll only work afternoons.

That last one will put a financial strain, so for now I'm moving back to my parents place and saving a few hundred on rent and utilities and using the left over money to pay off some bills I'm extremely behind on. However, I feel so much lighter. I don't know if it's the kick in the ass life gave me or the loving words I've gotten from my family and friends while sick. Wanna see a few? Lookie!:

Scott: "ARE YOU GONNA START TAKING CARE YOU FUCKIN IDIOT?!"

Cath: "YARITZA IRIZARRY! I AM TYPING THIS IN 32PT FONT BTW!!! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!"

Ricky: NO MORE MUFFINS. (that was hitting below the belt)

Mom & Dad: ...endless ramble

Rob O'Daniel: "DID I NOT WARN YOU ABOUT THE NURSES?!"

Mike (guitar teacher in a note): "GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR BUTT CRACK AND START TAKING CARE. LOVE YOU."

Shante: "OMFG I WANT TO CHOKE YOU, WHY ARE YOU DOING THAT TO YOURSELF?!"

Rob Mileage: "WHY YOU! WHY YOU! I SHOULD PUNCH YOU!"

Can ya feel the love? So much anger and foul violence. Alas, it is that kind of talk I respond to. I thank ya'll for checking in on me and loving me. I love ya guys, and please keep me in check. Also, if you find delicious diabetic recipes...send em my way! Till next time kiddos :)

"Diabetes is caused by melancholy" - Thomas Willis

The Secret's In The Sauce

Last night was a quiet, empty night. I had no dreams, I simply slept.

Or so I thought, because as I sit here at work staring at my candle, I am being bombarded with images from last night's dream.

I dreamed of a bonfire burning green flames on the wet sand, and it was just me staring at both it and the ocean behind it. It was night, and not much else could be made out except the shimmering ocean reflecting the clear night above. I looked back at the fire and there was a body burning atop the driftwood, I couldn't see the face but I looked at his blackened hand and there was a wedding band around it. Instinctively, my hand raised to reveal a matching wedding band and something in the night whispered what I already knew. I was a widow. I sank in the sand and watched him burn, wondering why I couldn't remember his face and what would I do now without him. I threw my bottle of liquor at the fire, shattering it and making the flames leap up high towards the darkness.

I leaned in and kissed his burnt forehead, the fire didn't touch me for some reason, and said "I'm sorry". I felt as if I had made his life miserable to the end, and he died loving me more than ever before. The sound of footsteps and voice made me search around for a place to hide. Nobody should see me there, after all hadn't I killed him? Broken heart, cause of death. I couldn't hide fast enough, and I saw his friends coming up to the scene. The taller one saw me, and quickly ran to my side, pulling me close in a tight embrace. He was crying and asking me what would happen now. He looked in my face earnestly, solemnly, with eyes that searched for an answer or requested permission. For what? I looked away and into the flames, all that was left now was the ring sitting on top of ashes. That's all that was left of something that breathed, loved and existed solely for me. I looked down and my ring was gone, but I was still alive.

Nothing comforted me. So I just walked into the black ocean...and when the water reached my chin, having trouble touching the ocean floor beneath me, I kept walking and took a big breath of air before letting myself drift off.

Makes no sense. I guess that's why I didn't remember it when I woke up this morning. To be honest, it would've been better if it had stayed in my subconcious mind next to the countless things I can live without thinking about.

"A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it." - Oscar Wilde

My parents. They deserve better....

But they are just a drop in a sea of similar stories of what's become middle America.

My mother had an injury at work that tore her meniscus on both knees, chronic digestive problems (they can't figure out what gives her pain and heartburn after 6 years) that is resilient to every stomach medication created and has now been diagnosed with osteoporosis (which I kinda suspected for a while now). Because she is over 50, she needs to be taking estrogen and calcium, but because of her upper GI issues, she can't take any medications and she has developed allergies to EVERYTHING. She'll drink water sometimes and break out in hives and get pain and heartburn. She can't stand for more than an hour at a time or two because of her knees and arthritis. She can't sit for longer than 30 mins to an hour because the osteoporosis has broken her tail bone several times. She's used to being active, she want's to work. She can't find work that allows her to sit and stand like she has to. She receives NO aid from county or federal in any way.

My dad has chronic mental illness, some days he functions - most days his depression is devastating. He's been working full time since he was 14 yrs old in Puerto Rico (which is a US Commonwealth, BTW), and always paid his taxes and Social Security...up to the age of 45. Hence, I have no issue nor do I feel ashamed in saying he is on Social Security. He didn't fake it, he actually can't work. He receives his 'pension' of $980.00 on the first of the month, and here is where I break down their expenses.

$186.00 Mortgage (I pay for it)

$300.00 in Medication for him (diabetes, hpb, depression)

$150.00 Electric

$50.00 Water

$20.00 Gas

$100.00 Mom's HBP meds

$100.00 Groceries for month

$40.00 Gas for car

$300.00 Car Payment (my dad's credit sucked and that's the lowest they could find to pay to have something to move around in.)

I have NO idea how much more they pay in medical bills ($5 to $10 towards old hospital bills).

So that brings the total to approx. $1226.00 in monthly bills for 2 disabled people. Do you see where I'm going with this? They make ends meet by taking odd jobs like cleaning my house, my mom cleans houses, my dad mows grass on good days. Anything.

Lately, my mom keeps getting gov't doors shut in her face because she doesn't qualify as a 'low income' citizen. She too, has been working since she was 15, paying taxes and never had her or my dad so much as tried applying for unemployment. Low and behold, now what do they do? They don't qualify for anything except my dad's social security check. Various agencies sit there and seriously tell them they can live on less than $1,000.00 a month.

I am an only child, I can't share this worry or burden with any sibling. I can't call my sister or brother up and say "Hey mom and dad have no groceries. I don't get paid till next Monday, can you get them a few things?" or "Mom has an appointment for a mammogram and she's scared, can you go with her while I catch up on overtime?". Anyone who knows me, or has known me, I often gripe about my parents being weirdos but deep down I would do anything for them. I don't consider them an obligation, all I do for them I do for love. They're not a note in my agenda "Meet with dad for a beer Tuesday between 6 and 6:30 p.m."..."Call Mom on saturday between 9 and 9:30 am to see how she's doing". I am constantly checking in on them, I try to make the quality of their life better with what little I have left over after my debts and monthly bills. Sometimes I have nothing for me, but I slip a $20 or more in my mom's purse, and she refuses to accept it! She reluctantly says "fine I'll do your laundry and clean your house", to which I say No (unless I really need clean undies)...I'm trying to help her so she can rest!

I have to sit here and see corruption left and right. See people get financial and medical aid just because they lied on key questions during a welfare interview. You sit there and deny my mom the chance to detect early cancer with a colonoscopy, but give $1000 extra a month to Tammie Jo or María because she's a "single" mom? How can she afford that latest cell phone she has in her hand, look at that nice manicure...is that a designer bag? Where are your investigators that follow up on families that request help?? I'm not asking for money even! I just need you guys to help me. I'm a young adult who doesn't qualify for home buyer's grants, so I rent. I'm a young adult who has medical expenses that my insurance can't cover until I meet my ridiculously high deductible, only to have my bills denied as a "pre-existing" condition. I'm a young adult who brings home less than $22,000.00 a year, and still makes ends meet and supports her parents to an extent.

You're telling me you can't cut me some goddamn slack and at least help me with a BIT of my mom's medical expenses? Give her SOME sort of backup so that doctors can schedule her testings and procedures without rolling their eyes or flat out saying NO when seeing she's a non-insured person?!

Spit on all of you who abuse the system without need, just because you're too lazy to do what millions of other people around you do - WORK HARD FOR WHAT YOU HAVE. SHIT on all of YOU that help them cheat, sitting in your gov't positions KNOWING people are scamming ya and you look the other way. PISS on all you bureaucrats and politicians that have one hand on the Bible swearing to fight for the American people and the other hand deep inside the pockets of your insurance company buddies and federal aids funds.

“Power corrupts. Knowledge is power. Study hard. Be evil.”

Happy Birthday, Daisy J!

I met you by chance
I loved you by choice.
You make my soul dance
my feelings rejoice.

A bond quickly formed
With trust that grew strong
My life you adorned-
you're my heart's song.

On this brand new day
I celebrate the the birth
Of my sister, Daisy Jay,
and her place in the earth.

(i love you, im feeling pretty gay right about now lol)

Curiosity killed the Me

4chan is not usually a site I frequent... So why did I feel the need to discover what this boxxybabe crap was about? Why did I look her youtube up? Why must I always go on a quest for things that should've been left out of my brain. Forever I shall be haunted by this creature.

...and now, so will you!

Lobo

He's there, watching me.

I saw his golden eyes just a few seconds ago, peeking from behind that big tree trunk covered in snow about 10 yards to my left. He lowered his head, tentatively sniffing the ground below his wet paws, never losing eye contact with me. My eyes scan the forest around me quickly, it seems he's come alone. His tongue darts out quickly, licking snow off his muzzle and when the fog from my warm breath clears, he's no longer there.

Only then do I feel the cold wetness threatening to freeze my toes. I slowly lift my feet and start walking towards the direction I last saw it, my feet being swallowed in knee-deep snow. The blizzard is not stopping any time soon, the air around me swirling with oversized flakes, both soaking my face and clothes. The wind cutting, the sky darkening...I fear nothing. If he wanted me to follow, I would.

I just hear my steps, branches creaking under the weight of the wet snow, and then his growl. He's right ahead, I see his snow covered fur attempting to blend in with my surroundings...but he can't. I am looking for him. I will find him. For hours we've been at this game, with him letting himself be seen for a few seconds and me following his quickly fading paw prints when he's no longer there. Only his howl cuts the winter's silence. He IS alone.

He wants me to follow. He's slowing down his pace now, I see him all around me. One second sneaking under some bushes, then I feel his steps behind me and is right there, in plain view when I turn around to face him. His stance relaxed, I am not his hunt, he is my prey. I kneel down in the middle of the clearing, looking at nothing except his eyes. I am at eye level, my fingers digging into the snow to balance me. He is 20 feet ahead, undisturbed by my proximity and sniffing the air once again - his low growl more of a question than a threat.

"Come...", says my voice in a quivering whisper while my hand shakily outstretches towards him. He cautiously takes a few steps towards me as I try not to move, holding my breath, for this was it. Hours of chase, mind games, he was ready to take his next course of action. "Please", I breathe out towards him. I hear howls in the distance, coming from behind the pines that circle the clearing, and he too looks behind him as if hearing a quiet pull back to his world. He's leaving me, again. He belongs with them, not me.

He leans in and gives my fingers a quick lick just as I sink down on my heels, letting my air out in a long sigh. I stumble after him, for he's already darting back towards the loud howls. My knees give in and I fall into a hidden snow trap, my face struggling to look up from the ice. I just catch a glimpse of him looking over his back at me, before blending into the dark woods.

He belongs away from me. He was merely curious about me, but he will always be a world that is not mine. I lay on my back, breathing fast, listening to the flakes hitting the ground in a perfect sloshy rhythm. Geese fly overhead in a perfect "V", with my eyes following them but my thoughts finding a new path to go back home. I'm sure I'll see him again, running with his pack right past the field behind my cabin, like he does on occasion. He'll stare at my cabin for a few seconds and continue, maybe remembering that the pair of eyes staring at him behind a dusty window meant something to him in the past. The pack, it's moving on and he will follow.

This time, I will not.

"A girl is a person who screams at the mouse, and smiles at the wolf" - Shyam Kapoor

Small Town, USA

I may not have sky scrapers...but I have a beautiful open cloudless sky, no smog and an amazing display of color at sunset.

There's no famous bars or multi level clubs with fancy drinks and dress codes...but C.J. smiles and greets me at when I go to BWW for wings: "Yari, the usual?". (that can be good or bad, the bartender knows my name and what i always drink??)

There's no world-known fairs or festivals with famous music guests...but there's a carousel inside our shoe-sized mall, and the kids smiles are just as big as if they were riding a DisneyWorld ride.

I dont work for a multi-million dollar medical practice, where you come in for treatment and walk out my door and I never see you again. When I treat a patient, he's more than a patient. He's a friend, and I get to meet and treat his wife, kids, parents...most of the time for life. We're extended family to them.

There's no big highways, no significant scenery, no mountains...but there's Clements street on Sunday night. Slow cruising around the same street, loud music blasting, greeting the person next to you in traffic with a nod and a smile. (and booking it when they call the cops!)

We don't meet up friends at a 5 star restaurant on fridays to see how the week was. We got Sonic Drive in, a Route 44 Coke and leaning against the parked cars relaxing.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is: it's not all bad. I've lived here in a dot in the middle of nowhere for 6 yrs now. It has its charm, I actually like living in relative peace half the time.

So what's the problem? The undeniable cultural detachment I feel towards the people around me. Specifically the hispanic group. You might say, "But Yari, aren't you a lil beaner yourself? A lil hispanic nerd?". Yes. I am. However, the type of latina I am is way...way...EONS away from what hispanic people are here. I try, hard, to fit in with that specific group, but even the language is a barrier. I can't say words that are normal in spanish to me, because the mexicans consider them cuss words. I can't use my regular spanish accent when speaking spanish, because apparently puerto ricans speak fast in spanish...so usually I have to repeat myself 3 or 4 times when speaking 'puerto rican'.

I don't fit in. Hard as I try. My sense of humor is frowned upon and sometimes they just plain ole just don't get a simple joke. My choice in music and clothing doesn't fit they're choice of looks for a hispanic woman (sorry for wearing clothes MY size and not 3 sizes smaller). I don't do the whole drama thing they love to do every time there's a get together.

So living here in Small Town, USA has turned me into someone I barely recognize. An accent I didn't need, a dullness inside just to fit in. I much rather hang out with white people, they get me. They understand my music tastes, they have such an open mind about individuals (most of them anyways), they dont laugh at me for reading or doing nerdy things. They don't hold it against me that I'm trying to break the stereotype everyone is forcefully trying to shove me in. The problem I face with white people around her is that, they're all pretty tight knit. Which is a good thing, except when you're new and are trying to find a place to belong. I know I'd have more fun with a group of people I can at least mold myself to easily, something I can't do with the hispanics around here. I just can't fit with them, lord knows I try, but half the time I wanna punch one or I get a nosebleed at the backwards way of thinking they have towards life. They are so closed in their traditions and patterns, that I'm viewed as a threat.

So I have nobody. Six years in this small town, and I can't even say I have someone I can call and say 'Hey wanna watch a movie or come over?'. The few people I've found, have since moved away. Whenever people do come over I have to take a huge does of "GODHELPMELIVETHROUGHTHENEXTFEWHOURS" and slap a smile on. They're not bad people, but why can *I* adjust to their culture but they can't accept me for who I am?

Small Town, USA...I may have peace, but it's because I'm lonely.

New York, New York

Or a village in Iowa

The only difference is the name

If you're alone

Whether on Main Street

Or on Broadway

If you're alone

They are both the same

A town's a lonely town

When you pass through

And there is no one waiting there for you

Then it's a lonely town

You wander up and down

The crowds rush by

A million faces pass before your eyes

Still it's a lonely town

Unless there's love

A love that's shining

Like a harbor light

You're lost in the night

Unless there's love

The world's an empty place

And every town's

A lonely town.

-Sinatra

It's a Yari thing

Counting

I am counting from 1 to 10, repeatedly, seeing if the anger subsides. I vowed I would never write on here when I was either drunk or angry with somone. Yet it seems if I do not write, if I do not let out what I'm feeling this exact second...it's just a step back. Going right back to who I used to be biting my tongue for people that seldom deserve it.

So yeah, I'm pissed. The reason needs not to be put here. Why is everything an argument? A struggle? Everything has to be with snippy remarks and eye rolling. I'm beginning to envy the dude that just got stabbed by an orc's spear on t.v. He just let out his breath and died. Oh to let out my breath!

Positive things. Right. So yeah I have a new couch, it's nice and brown and soft. I got rid of all the old stuff my mom had left on the walls and put up new artwork, and got an earful from my dad who says my drawings are satanic (the dude is walking on a dark street with the city skyline in the background and a damn cigarette in his mouth). WTF does he want on my wall? A cross? No. I'm still moving around and trying to make it feel like it's a happening place. I have the task ahead of re-arranging my dvds, which makes me nice and mind-numb. (LOL @ "why does he hates poor smeagol?"). So...

I guess guitar lessons are going good, the weather is getting cool'ish and rainy and I'm hungry. I have a few things I'm working on besides reading...like my book and a few poems/micro fiction. Not that they're any good but hey! it's free therapy. I think I'll be back later, who knows/cares/needs to know.

p.s. this is one of the art pieces im putting up tonight, done by an old 'friend' of mine Chris Raymond.

"For everything you do
Id like to swallow you
And everyday Im gonna blame you
Even if you justify
Every fucking bullshit lie
It only makes me want to break you."
- I Fucking Hate You - GODSMACK

UPDATE UPDATE

So earlier in the year a few of my accounts got hacked and I ended up deleting my old blog.

I was devastated that I had some original work posted that, genius here, hadn't saved originally before posting on a blog (told ya I'm bright).

Turns out tonight, panda bear has saved me. He actually for some miracle of google reader, had ALL my posts from my previous blog and was gracious enough to forward me all my stuff.

So after triple saving shit, I'd like to direct ya'll to my blog archive. Most of the old stuff starts in December of 08 and ends around July 12 this year. Only 2 of my old posts (or 3) made it as new entries tonight.

So for all 4 of you that care, Go for it. Read my stuff. It's good. (and if you don't know spanish, just assume I was talking about masturbation or something).

Toodles.

p.s. what the heck...ill even throw in a LOLcat

Peggy, The Ugandan Housewife (Old Rant, still annoys me lol)

There are TWO things in life, that utterly and just...wow yea I have no words for it. They annoy the living hell out of me. *ahem*

Exhibit (A): Random Yahoo IM's

You see last night I spent my valuable time in a books & literature chat room, which, was about as fun as watching amateur porn with fat people in it. ONE person out of the whole chat room was actually interested in talking about literature in general...the rest was an array of pedophiles, 12 yr old girls with ADD and my personal favorite, Ugandan/Indian guys looking for their match.

Ahh yes, here I was enthralled talking to my homeboy JesusG about Paulo Coehlo and Garcia Marquez and every gd 4 or 5 minutes I'd get an IM asking for a/s/l and saying I was beautiful and he loved me and he wanted to marry me. It was some indian guys...but mostly Ugandan dudes. This got VERY irritating, I had forgotten what Yahoo was like. Why on earth would I give you the time of day when the first words out of your mouth are 'hello you are the beautiful what is your name marry me i love you my name is hadji im from dehli'. ?????? As appealing as marrying a complete stranger is...do you have a 401K buddy? Will my hut have a jacuzzi? Please make sure you give me the correct information I will need in that initial IM that way we can pursue this further.

Exhibit (B): Telemarketing Calls

For the past 3 weeks I have been receiving phone calls from the same number, 973-834-0059. See? I even have it memorized. I have tried a multitude of ways to deal with it since I know it's a marketer.

Me: Hello??

Indian Lady with loud background noise: Hello Peggy!!! How are you today Peggy!!

Me: Um...this is not Peggy, you got the wrong number. *click*

(5 minutes later, phone rings)

Me: Yes?

Same Lady: Hello Peggy how are you today Peggy?!

Me: YOU GOT THE WRONG NUMBER, PLEASE TAKE ME OFF YOUR CALL LIST.

Lady: hello peggy is that you peggy?

Me: ...*click*

You get it, this goes on for a few more calls until I just start ignoring them...which seems to piss them off so now theyre calling every 2 minutes. I set up my voicemail to tell that specific number that I DO NOT TAKE MARKETING CALLS, PLEASE TAKE ME OFF YOUR LIST AND DONT CALL ME!...

Which brings me to today...still getting calls, now ranging from 6:43 a.m. to 9 p.m. all from the same damn number. This morning I answered it all 3 times with a resounding "THIS IS NOT PEGGY STOP CALLING". They called YET again...so, the time has come:

Me: Who is this?

Guy: Hello Peggy, how are you Peggy?

Me: I said who is this?

Guy: This is Jared, with American Health Direct. Hi Peggy.

Me: Ok, listen "Jared" I have been telling you guys for 3 weeks to stop calling. Peggy passed away, you see she was paranoid that people wanted to find her...and when she started getting phone calls from you every 5 minutes she had a breakdown "Jared". Do you know what happened "Jared"?

Guy: Peggy?

Me: She dove into traffic "Jared" and killed herself. Because of you. So I would appreciate it, if you gave me your supervisor's info and your company's legal information so I can forward it to my attorney. And "Jared" I am holding you personally responsible for what happened to "Peggy".

Guy: Thank you for your time ma'am. *click*

So, the phone calls have stopped for now. I just hope wherever Peggy is now, she knows that I stood up for her. That I made the voices stop. Maybe she's met up with her Ugandan lover...true love and chatrooms will always prevail.

Unfinished Business (another old blog post recovered)

She stood outside, in the middle of the storm, rain pounding at her face like thousands of fists sent from heaven. She stood still, unwavering, unmoving…broken. Furiously blinking, mixing her tears with the water droplets on her face, struggling to understand why the road had brought her here tonight.

She looked up at the old boarded house. It had aged in a few short months, reflecting the tired creaking she felt in her chest nowadays. Her flowerbeds were gone, as were the wind chimes that greeted the crisp autumn breeze when she used to huddle on the porch. The porch…where was her swing? He threw it out perhaps. What else would be gone? Frozen, unable to take a few more steps up towards the stairs, to greet the front entrance.

She closed her eyes, the sheets of water unyieldingly washing over her, but she felt nothing. She was no colder than she had felt for months, her heart barely keeping pace with the falling rain. Looking up, a smile spread on her face, she could hear him working on his old Mustang permanently perched on the driveway. The breeze running through the old pecan trees, his radio buzzing in and out with its metallic serenade…she even remembered the way his hair stuck to his grease-stained face.

Thunder claps in the distance; she’s pulled back to today. She’s forgotten the sound of his voice, but her sleepless mind replays his mouth movements to her…that day he got in the car to go to the store. She remembered his dead eyes, his mumbled ‘See you in a bit’…and her knees give out. Her head slumps over slowly, meshing itself against the gravel. Her hands dig deep into the dirt…a feral scream deafens the howling wind and crashing around her.

Laying there for what seemed like an eternity, the storm around her grows more intense. This is it, she thinks, either get inside or in your car. Gathering herself up, cradling her chest with her arm wrapped around it, keeping it together. She takes one last look at the old palace, her paradise on earth…and gets back in her car. Not feeling the blood trickle down her knees…she reluctantly turns the engine on. Today she got past the second tree, a few steps farther than last night. Maybe tomorrow night, she’ll make it to the first rose bush by the steps. Perhaps tomorrow the lights will be on, and the door will be open…and his steps echoing as the front screen door slams. Perhaps his eyes, his depthless eyes, will be waiting.

White kitchen walls with a thousand windows
Turn on Winston in the den
And I'm still asleep but I can hear the piano
When you make breakfast after 10
And I smell the coffee on your fingers
I still smell the perfume in the bed
The crushed linen roses on everything
And you're still inside my head

- Blue October "Breakfast After Ten"

The Fat Lady Has Sung! (A Memoir?)

The loud bell ring woke her from the brain death known as Physics class. Who else would be lucky enough to be put in that class on the period just before lunch, right when hunger gets to be the main focus of your life? But, of course, it really wasn't a surprise to her that she got stuck with the worst possible schedule...in a class where the professor had a striking resemblance to a toad with black plastic glasses. I mean look at him! Who can concentrate on equations when you're just waiting for his tongue to dart out of his mouth and grab some unsuspecting object in the room, shoving it in his mouth while he chews boringly. She smiles at her own mental pictures and shakes her head. Slamming the notebook shut and shoving her pen along with everything else in her backpack, she eases out of her desk feeling overly conscious about her fat ass and making sure her uniform skirt didn't get stuck anywhere. God forbid someone got subjected to seeing her thighs or shorts underneath, being that anything over a size 4 was considered repulsive. What a joke, I mean what can of chances did that give her?? She was at least...she counted in her head and gave up before lunch was ruined, prompting her to become part of the bathroom lunch crowd ... "OMG i had a tic tac let me go hurl".

She pushes her way through the crowd, looking over everyone else...hey being tall had it's advantages. She spots Pini in the crowd, her short boyish hair dyed in black with blue streaks making her look like a cute little fairy...except her ears were more chimp looking, not that any of them would ever point that out to her out loud. The sun is beaming down in this tropical climate, right at noon...who the hell thought of dressing them in polyester plaid skirts and solid polyester vests over a polo and shorts underneath?? They were trying to so hard to give a public school the image of a private one...what a joke. Pini runs up to her and snakes her arms around her best friend. She giggles and screams "GOLDY!", and our girl just sighs and puts forth her biggest smile attempting to feel affectionate after being insulted. See, "goldy" in spanish means "chunker"...and here it is...4 yrs later, and that's all she's known for. She's "Goldy", chunker extraordinare, friend to all, jester, loan giver, willing scapegoat and ....ah, yes, hopeless romantic. Just like that, in the middle of her inner rant...she remembers that she's inadvertedly walking with her group of 'friends' towards the object of her infatuation. Because, this magnificent story wouldn't be complete, unless said Prince Charming wasn't a close member of this dysfunctional circle of hers...and Pini's current semi-boyfriend.

She looks down feeling the blush cover her face and ears, the familiar reaction every time she saw him. Of course this wasn't a secret to him, Pini or the rest of the group...this was just further fuel for the 'burn Goldy at every chance' fire. She walks by him as he puts his arm around Pini's shoulder, acting like she doesn't see him there in all his magnificent glory. She thinks to herself "head up, breathe, don't look him in the eyes...a few more steps until the lunchroom". At this point the hottest guy in existance has a name, Eduardo, and what a name. Eduardo, stands at 5' 11" (only 2 inches taller than her...not that she wants to remember how she found out...), has a tangled mess of black curls, strong mediterranean features set on a beautiful ivory skin tone...accentuated by his permanent sunburn over his nose and cheekbones, with a body chiseled by years of surfing and extreme sports. This, ladies...gentlemen...universe, is what she'd had to endure the past 4 years. Day in, day out, and some weekends at the mall or movie theater. In what realm of reality would she EVER be compatible with something like THAT. He knew it too, he knew that all he had to do was look her in the eye and use his soft voice, and his homework would be done. She was the reason Eduardo had passed middle school, and was now passing high school. She did his homework, projects and tutored him every night over the phone. Whenever she refused, whenever her heart couldn't take it anymore...he and Pini herself would pretend to have an argument, prompting Eduardo to make a few flirty moves towards her...making her eat out of the palm of his hand. This was her life.

Slowly the whole group moves into the cafeteria with the rest of the herd, single line inside that oven like building. She's leaning against the wall in this slow-moving caravan, pressing the side of her body against the cool cement. Trying to look anywhere except ahead where Pini and Eduardo are sucking face again, and of course Eduardo has his eye open and looking at Goldy's reaction. He slowly pulls out of his sorry excuse for a kiss (hey, she was jealous ok?), and asks "You ok Goldy? You look sad." Of course he says this with that impish grin he uses when he knows he's being extra snobby and cruel. The line keeps, moving up...she grabs her tray and numbly lets the creepy lunch lady slab stuff on there. Every move is calculated, making sure she can balance the bag, her tray and not look any more uncool than she already does. They all sit at the regular table, doing the normal 'who wants this' or 'give me your that' they do every day...by now they all knew each others eating habits. She digs in to her rice and as she's sliding the spoon into her mouth she looks up and Pini is, yet again, sucking face with Eduardo while sitting directly in front of her. "Oh yeah Eduardo, by the way, she's been with a guy now for a year now. Her REAL boyfriend, you know, the one she keeps telling you is just her cousin? Yeah he's her bf", Goldy thinks while chewing the now tasteless food. Ugh, her stomach didn't feel right as it usually did when it had to see all this PDA. Maybe she would tell him one day when he called on the phone for his tutoring...God, Pini would never talk to her again. Might be a good trade off, she wasn't much of a friend. She shoves another spoonful of mushy rice in, glancing around the cafeteria at all the familiar faces...smiling, relaxed, enjoying what was supposed to be a break from the mind numbing periods going on at that school. She swallows hard and takes a gulp of milk, gah, it was warm. She sighs and pushes her chair back, and has a mission now. She needs to get out of there and just be away from this torture. Everyone stares up in disbelief, as if to say 'fat girl isn't gonna finish lunch??? OH THE OUTRAGE!', she just says she'll be around school and walks away. She walks outside the cafeteria and a baggie of milk lands next to her shoe, exploding and drenching her sock and ivory converse high top sneaker in chocolate milk. She looks around and sees the a group of seniors laughing, of course, and pointing. She laughs harder than them like this is the best joke EVER, and walks off with her squishy milky brown shoe, around the back of the cafeteria...up the little hill and sits under the mango tree. She pulls out her notebook and starts writing her silly untitled love poems, when she hears the leaves behind her rustling with several footsteps. She closes her eyes and wonders if she'll ever have peace. The loud, hyena like laugh only belonging to Pini breaks the silence and then there's moaning and slurping noises. Why fight it, just embrace it, sit there and write she does.

So the day goes on, with extra joy, for all the remaining classes have Eduardo and Pini in them. Guaranteed front row to all the suck fest going on, how can she NOT be happy...blerh. Yet, she would rather see this, than spend a minute without seeing him. Without looking at the wild pattern the curls made on his head, or when he sat sideways on his chair so he could talk to both Pini and her. The way he'd pretend to stretch and lean back on his chair and end up laying on her desk top, while Pini scowled at her...like she could EVER land a guy like that or take him away from her. It was almost a blessing that the guy was a total airhead, and every day at some point he'd lose his pen. Who else could save the day but Goldy? He would make sure to kiss her cheek and she handed the pen over, her favorite one for her favorite guy. Alas, the bell has rung. Time to go home...and he goes to his....and Pini to hers, and to her BOYFRIEND. Eduardo's dad comes by first in his Ferrari, what else, and he acts like his dad just showed up in a donkey. He kisses Pini and looks over at Goldy, gives her a peck on the cheek, and with a swift godlike movement slides in the car and they're soon out of sigh. Pini puts her bookbag on the floor next to hers, they're always the last two to be picked up. They each pull a branch from the tree they're standing under. Their daily habit, clearing the leaves and beating each other senseless with the sticks and laughing like dorks. A honk in the distance, a new minivan, Pini's mom. She grabs her stuff quick and puts the angry face on...sigh she was always at war with her mom so better not let her know she was a happy kid ya know? She gives Goldy a big hug and says 'love you iggy pooh', and hops in the van without a second glance...she too gone. Slowly she leans against the chain link fence, feeling it squeal softly, the cool wire pressing against her bare legs and arms. She looks at her watch...3:45...wow, new record lateness. The town grows quiet, and it slowly starts to sprinkle...when there the old beat up wannabe green isuzu rodeo pulls up, dad looking at her apologetically. How can she be mad? It's just the way things are.

She sits on the bed looking at a picture she's kept since a field trip a few months ago, listening to the rain fall loudly on her tin roof, thankfully drowning her sniffles. Her parents never did understand why she was moping over that silly boy, specially since it was Pini's boyfriend! She was sick and tired of nobody knowing the truth..if only they knew. The phone goes off for half a ring and she's already on it out of breath. "Is Goldy there?", a deep quiet voice asks politely. "It's me, Ed" she almost squeals into the damned thing...earning a quiet giggle from him. "So, Ed, we gonna go over the English vocab ok?", she starts off when he interrupts and asks quickly, "Hey should it's Pini and I's 2 month anniversary, you think she'll like some Billabong shorts?". She bites her lower lip and adds quietly, "She's had a bf for over a year now, you know who he is, Angel? Her cousin? They've been pretty serious for a while. I'm sorry." She covers her face with her hands and hides her tears. All she hears is a quiet sniffle and some fast breathing she recognizes as a sob. She's made him cry, the person she loves the most, she made him cry...oh no. Then, a click. "Ed? He...Hello?" She whispers only to receive a dead tone in return.

She nervously puts the phone back down and looks out the window...this is going to be a long year.

Smile, for me

You ask me, repeatedly, to smile for you. That you love my smile.

Shoving me along, day in - day out, trying to make conversation...and I just stare at you with my best blank gaze.

You understand, though, and I am glad you described what my social circle is like it better than I couldve. YOU WROTE THIS after I spoke to you at lunch, sitting in my car behind my work, in tears. Thank you for listening.

"If the world is a stage...where is the audience sitting?". I read that earlier today and thought about how almost my whole life, everyone around me has been like an audience for me. I've felt the need to entertain and make laugh and rack my brains out in so many ways it's left me permanently damaged...just to make them forget their problems for a while. To make them laugh and, in a way, like me.

More than once, I've had a great friendship via internet chat or other social networks, and when they meet me in person...one look at me, and they never call me again. Why should my looks matter? I can almost feel their disappointment. Here they were talking to this amazing person online who got their humor, who had a sense of humor of her own, who was easy to get along with. They were so excited to meet her and then...this. Now there's requirements as to what your friends should look like?? Can't imagine what you look for in significant others.

So I come home, and never hear from people again. People that spoke to me a lot and we shared so many things. People that don't think twice the void they left in me. I'm supposed to just accept that they didn't 'click' with me in person, even though I was the same as I was online.

Which brings me to my other performance. I'm tired of people asking me why I've changed. I haven't. That's the thing. This IS me. This is me when I don't feel like being the butt of jokes, when I'm sober, when I'm pensive. This is me when I'm feeling a little gloom. I can't always be a goddamn laugh machine! You know all I want sometimes? I want you to not ask me why I'm different than before or quiet. I want you to hug me and just sit there in silence. Sometimes there isn't anything to say, and that's ok! Silence is golden to me. I try so hard to make YOU comfortable, to ease your long stressful days, sighs. Nevermind.

There's times when I talk about myself, or when I look at my memories, and I feel like Ricky Bobby on Talladega Nights speaking about Baby Jesus. How there's a Baby Jesus, Adolescent Jesus, Divorce Jesus...that's me! I think of lil happy snot faced Yari, Adolescent Yari, Pre-Divorce Yari, Post-Divorce Yari, Young Adult Yari...yikes! You're gonna sit there and wonder if I'm turning Sybil here. Every stage of my life has its good and bad memories. One thing has always been the common denominator. I always had a smile on my face (even if I felt rotten inside) and I always was a good person, a listener, a loving friend, a responsible soul.

Now I've decided to take the mask off for a little bit, purge things...and everyone's up in arms claiming I'm not the same person blah blah...why are you quiet blah blah.

Well hell, if you want fake Yari. The one that will pretend she totally gives a crap...why didn't ya just say so! PLASTIC HAPPY GO LUCKY YAR YAR, Coming Right Up!

"Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad." - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

and take THAT you stupid fork!

I like arguing with inanimate objects.

This morning, I found a pair of jeans I really liked and hadn't worn in months. Since I've lost weight I'm rather excited about slipping these booty huggers on. After a silent prayer to the tummy gods, I carefully slide them on and up my hips...MERLIN'S VAGINA! THEY FIT! Sliding my shoes on and giving my hair a last look, I proceed to button the jeans and pull the zipper up...er....pull the...pull. Grunt. YANK the zipp...ouch! Hand goes flying up and smacking myself in the lips. I look down puzzled. The pants fit loose, there's no obvious obstruction...pull, grunt, pant, breathe, pulllll. At this point I'm getting aggravated, borderline psychopathic anger at this pair of jeans. I literally feel as if the jeans are evil and are TRYING to actually piss me off this early in the morning. It's as if they have a mind of their own, specially when I decide to take them off, and the one pant leg gets so tightly bundled up on my ankle that in order to take the jeans off i have to sit down and roll one leg out at a time. By this time I'm actually arguing out loud with them. "Oh yeah? You think you're gonna win?" I say yanking the pants off. "See? SEE? HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT BITCH?", I scream as I finally free my leg from the pant leg. I toss the jeans aside and literally flip them off...(Reader, if you know me well enough, you know I will have this same argument a month down the road. As I'll forget why I never wear the jeans and I'll wash em and put em up with the rest of them).

Sometimes, when I drop things (keys, pen, etc), I look up...almost like cursing myself for being clumsy and asking the skies "Why are you doing this to me?". I'll then proceed to have a lengthy, inside-my-head rant towards things that fall when you are in the middle of something and every second is precious (like coming in the house wanting to pee really bad and dropping something important, forcing you to do the holding your pee dance while bending over carefully and picking everything up). There's also the times when I drop the same object several times in less than a minute. i.e. a fork or other utensil. I'll pick it up once, and halfway up it'll magically slip from my hands, landing noisily again. I'll look at it, serious glare, and pick it up again and OOPS there it goes again...three sometimes up to FOUR times. At this point, when I have it firmly it my grasp with NO possibility of escaping, I proceed to slam it hard against the floor yelling "THERE! YOU WANNA FALL?! HOW DO YOU LIKE IT?! YOU LIKE THE FLOOR?!", while repeatedly kicking it around till I believe it's thirst to be anywhere but in my sink has been quenched.

There's also my guitar anger situation. I seem to believe it is the guitar's fault I keep missing the last 2 notes on the scale. After yelling at it for 30 minutes, my anger now is focused at my pinky finger..."WHY THE FUCK CANT YOU HIT THAT NOTE?! YOU PUSSY!" is often my insult of choice. But I guess my pinky doesn't qualify as an inanimate object, so I won't elaborate on what I say to it when...an hour later, it's doing even worse than in the beginning.

I think it's healthy. Maybe I'm grumpy a lot, but I've been reading up on it and apparently it's a side effect to my diabetes. I have, in fact, noticed it since I got diagnosed in Oct of 2005. I used to never get angry, nowadays office supplies and house decorations scurry as I walk by. I don't even know why sometimes, and it frustrates me when I realize I'm blowing things out of proportion. But I guess it's better than taking it out on people. So, for now, hide your things...I'll yell at them.

"When angry, count to four. When very angry, swear." - Mark Twain