Godless Angel

Adriana Lima.

That's the first thing that came to mind as I flipped through the channels and the image of this beautiful young girl covered most of my screen. Her olive colored skin and light, almond shaped green eyes reminded me so much of the Brazilian model Adriana Lima...I wasn't surprised when I checked the title of the show I was watching: HDTV Discovery Atlas - Brazil Revealed. Of course.


They cut away from the girl...so I had no idea what her story was. But they dove into all aspects of Brazilian culture. Capoeira has always been something I'm interested in, so when they explained the whole background on it and musical roots, I was pretty much hooked. The documentary was beautiful, poignant...alive. I got lost following three people in their lives in different parts of Brazil. One servant became part of a large parade in Carnival, making her dream come true. This is her:

She was so happy, and I happily hummed along to the samba rhythm she was dancing to.


Then they showed the poor parts, where the life expectancy for males is around 25 yrs old. Either drug use, gang life or a rough home life will cut their future short. It was a bit hard looking at the young boys playing soccer down dusty streets and their bright smiles reminding you that the innocence now present inside that body, wouldn't be there much longer.


They switched back to the little girl, just then, and this amazing view of her little town with cobble streets and old architecture took my breath away. She was walking the streets on her way to her father's house. The narrator explained her parents were divorced, and she lived with her maternal grandmother. Neither parent was in any shape to take her in. So she spent her free time visiting her father or mother across town. Her grandmother is ill and couldn't leave the house much. So the little girl was always alone.


This was the first year she would participate in a big, Easter Sunday celebration in her town. Thousands of people dress up like biblical characters, the little girls like angels...and the participants get to make a 'rug' out of different color sawdust on the cobble stone streets where the parade will walk through. Her dad promised her he would help her with the drawing on the floor with sawdust...but he never showed up. They show her, the ONLY little girl working by herself on a pretty big sized rectangle on the street, carefully tracing in chalk her rendition of the crucifixion and then filling it with brightly dyed sawdust. She sat a bit on her heels, looked around for her parents, no one. She kept working all the way up to 3 a.m., and went home to sleep a bit until the celebration at 6 a.m. at church. The next morning, she looked so sad as her grandmother fixed her baby pink wings made out of real feathers, she combed her hair absent minded and headed to church.


They showed the procession starting, hundreds of girls in angel wings and robes, with pearls on their hair...and in the sea of heavenly creatures and Bible folk...the camera zoomed on those light green eyes, frantically looking for a familiar face...tears falling as she realized no one was there to see her. She pushed on, heavy steps and more tears flowing, and at the end of the parade...she looked up and a perfect, wide smile formed on her lips. The narrator says, in an excited voice: "Suddenly, she spots a familiar face in the crowd..."as the camera cuts to the object of her affection. Her grandmother, ill and barely able to walk, is standing there with a proud look on her face. I cried.


I have been there with my parents. I think we all have. Our parents aren't perfect, and they make their share of bad mistakes towards us. Sometimes, or most of the time, they are never there when we need them. Some of us have a mom and dad who've hurt us more than we deserved or could ever imagine. Some of us don't have any. But the disappointment has been felt across the board.


But in my case...I had my grandmother. She took care of me, and was at the end of my 'parade' when my parents weren't. I had the love I was missing from them, in her.


The camera cuts off as the little girl, holds grandma's hand on their way back home...her wings still on, slightly crooked. It was her parents' loss...


It was my parents' loss...


(Catch: HDTV Discovery Atlas: Brazil Revealed...It's fantastic.)

Fall is here, hear the yell...

The leaves are changing and the air is crisp, cool, even in the desert.

Holidays are on their way, memories are unrelenting as usual.

I saw my breath this morning and felt the sting in my chest at such a beautiful, breezy afternoon.

I reached for hands that weren't there. I heard laughter I'll never hear again.

My one year review at work is coming up quick, in 3 weeks. I'm nervous.

I haven't written here, because I find I have nothing to say, other than sad things you all already know.

My nightmares are getting worse, I'm sleeping less. I'm pushing. Pushing. Pushing. Receding into my own mind.

I feel like I don't want to go on anymore. Not really like harming myself...much. Just laying here, with my head resting flat against the couch's armrest. Staring at the bright screen and just closing my eyes forever.

I love fall, though. Winter, too. I wish I had more to share. Iowa was okay. Work is okay.

It's the time of year where everything gets ready to go into hiding...to fall asleep. I'm doing the same.

And in the dull, listless existence of it all... I chase the hope for good. New beginnings. The right ending. The one I deserve.

Happy fall, ya'll.

Mole

And down the rabbit hole we go.

I grip your hand tight,

neon colors, blinding light.

We pass the thorny walls,

that tear at our arms,

bloody trail.

I trip on the skulls,

fall to the ground,

they shatter under me.

You keep running.

Your footsteps fade.

I go on alone.

The tunnel, deeper,

smell of damp earth.

No more noise.

You break the surface,

gasp for fresh air.

I break my bones,

at the bottom of the pit.

Choking on my blood,

there go my ribs.

I should've had a flashlight.

Daisy, Daisy...

The last week and a half I've had your voice stuck in my head, Daisy.

There's always a funny/weird combination we've had, that are a part of my daily thoughts, Twin. But this one sort of rolls around my brain all day as of late. Not only do the words hurt, ache, and make me feel a giant void in me, but I picture the look you were giving me as you said them...

We were on our way to Fenway Park. Dave was sitting in the front w/ Alex. Shane was in the middle seat with me, all cuddled...and you were sitting in your pretty, light pink dress and pearl earrings, with a matching pink Red Sox hat in the back seat. We were all excited, but also a sense of sadness was hanging in the air. It was the night before all of us were going home again. The end of our vacation visit to you.

I was looking out the window, at the green scenery passing me by and the sun was setting. I felt this urge to turn in my seat and look at you and say so many things. But all I could manage was turning in my seat, and grabbing your hand, that was resting on the space between Shane and I. I brought it to my lips and kissed it, looking in your eyes at the exact moment you were looking back at me, tearing up. I whispered, trying to hide the knot on my throat, "I was wondering when I'm going to see you again, after tomorrow..." You nodded, your tears threatening to spill and said, in your perfect Masshole accent, "Yah, that's just what I was thinking. I'm going to miss you". You gripped my hand, and I held on to it for a little longer in the ride.

So much has changed in a year, Daisy. I'm just glad you're getting to your happy place, little by little. I'm happy you've been able to visit little bro and meet our Jewish mom. That all the struggles and uncertainty, were worth it in the end.

I'm so happy, that you get to celebrate another year you've been alive and in our lives. Because, no matter how hard someone tries to ruin you and the girls' lives, you rise above. You're super-mom and sister extraordinaire. My life and world will never be same, because you are in it and I know that I'll fall asleep next to you again someday, listening to the rain fall outside our window. I'll feel your hugs, I'll look into those amazing eyes, I'll see your skirt flowing as you walk - making you look ethereal, perfect, magical.

So while I failed at writing you your yearly Birthday poem, know that I'm laying on my couch right now, at 2:06 a.m. on your birthday and when I close my eyes, I see myself walking away from your car, at the Providence airport. I can relive it a thousand times. I walked away quickly, to avoid crying...but you called my name. I had to turn around and look at you, leaning against the driver's side, halfway in the car, yelling out: "I love you, Yaritza". I don't think you heard me, because I could only mumble back "I'll miss you". And I do, Daisy. Every day, all the time, even if I haven't showed it to you.

Have a beautiful day. Thank you for being born, for existing and for loving me. I'll see you soon, my hand misses yours.

The Ignorant, The Road Trip and

Week 2 of no sleep.

I'm meeting a lot of new people. I feel very far away from the ones that truly love me. I hope they don't hate me, for drifting away. My love for them has not diminished. I'm simply lost. I need to find my way back. Working on it.

I sometimes feel like grabbing some of you, by both shoulders and stare you dead in the eyes. To beg you to quit the act. To quit the BS and to just be yourself. It's maddening to know in my heart and in my head that you're hiding so many things, things I already know about you, yet can blatantly act like you honestly think you're that good at lying. The thing is, I wouldn't hate you or kick you out of my life, if you were simply honest. I'd appreciate the bluntness and probably stop having so many mood swings during the day. It's exhausting to have my head several times a day, point out small details or small pitfalls in your web of tales. It's tiring to play dumb, ignorant...for the sake of not losing people. So, in reality, it's not really worth it. If you have to pretend to not see things, it wasn't real from the beginning. It's not fair to either party. *shrug*

Alas, I need to realize I cannot change the world, nor the shitty people in it. I can only strive to cut down on the whining I put out and hope in the end, the true ones remain. What goes around comes around, so, there's always that to look forward to...

I'm headed to San Antonio this weekend for a girls' weekend away with Shanidy. I'm excited, nervous about meeting new friends and naturally, scared to death of getting shot. Friday I'll have lunch with her and friends, then hopefully have an awesome night checking out the scene (did I mention trying not to get shot?). Saturday, more hanging around, possibly shopping during the day, then going to catch a Twitter bud's band playing at a bar with some other Twitter folk. Should be interesting, and hopefully, I won't get shot or stabbed.

I am in love with the Droid X so far. I'm also going on a 2 week trip to Iowa again. I'll meet some Twitter folks over there too. (Seeing a pattern? I like Twitter folk, for the most part)

I'll have my laptop with me in Iowa, so maybe I'll blog a bit more of the scene from over there...you know, actually post up pictures. Plus I can blog from Droid now. Hell to the yes.

I'm so thug.

It's going to be alright.

While I Take a Cold Shower...

Yeah. This.

What I want from you

Is empty your head

They say be true

Don't stain your bed

We do what we need to be free

And it leans on me

Like a rootless tree

What I want from us

Is empty our minds

We fake a fuss

And fracture the times

We go blind

When we've needed to see

And it leans on me

Like a rootless...

So fuck you, fuck you, fuck you

And all we've been through

I said leave it, leave it, leave it

It's nothing to you

And if you hate me, hate me, hate me

Then hate me so good that you can let me out

Let me out of this hell when you're around

Let me out, let me out,

Let me out of this hell when you're around

Let me out, let me out

What I want from this

Is learn to let go

No not of you

Of all that's been told

Killers reinvent and believe

And this leans on me

Like a rootless...

So fuck you, fuck you, fuck you

And all we've been through

I said leave it, leave it, leave it,

It's nothing to you

And if you hate me, hate me , hate me,

Then hate me so good that you can let me out, let me out, let me out

Let me out of this hell when you're around

And fuck you, fuck you, fuck you

And all we've been through

I said leave it, leave it, leave it

It's nothing to you

And if you hate me, hate me, hate me

Then hate me so good that you can let me out

Let me out, let me out, let me out,

Hell when you're around...

Let me out, let me out, let me out...

It's hell when you're around.

Opposite End: I Tried

I've been known to not be a very optimistic person. Please, please, do not show such shock in your faces at this great revelation.

However, after spending most of my life making wishes that never come true and hoping for the best, only to be met by utter disappointment, I can honestly say I'm the chubby, human version of a Phoenix. As much as I hate to admit it, I still have high hopes in certain things. Almost like standing at the edge of a cliff, waiting for the right sign that it's okay to jump. That it'll all end well.

I'm not saying I just sit here, with both my thumbs safely tucked in my rectum, waiting for things to just HAPPEN for me without me working on them. I don't spend my days wondering why my life is not the fairytale I wanted, because life is all about the tiny happy moments that make every other long periods of misery worth living through. Do I get sick of trying and caring for people that in the end weren't worth it? Well, yeah. Do I have depression and other mental health issues? Who the hell doesn't. Just because I get in a funk for a few days, weeks or months at a time, it doesn't mean I'm weak or stupid. We all have issues. We all deal with them in different ways. We all have grief we carry close to our heart. We are not unique, yet we are not the same.

Naturally, I try to be understanding when I meet someone that sits there and tells me there's no sense in trying anymore. I've felt it. I've lived it. Maybe I'm the one that's stupid for still trying to make something good happen. But, sometimes, by completely giving up and losing hope that anything will ever change, you shut out the new day that's dawning. The things that simply fall on your lap when you least expected them. You shut out someone that's not out to hurt you, that's not out to lie to you, and ultimately - you end up laying in the empty, cold bed you made for yourself. It's no one else's fault. You did this to yourself.

And in the process...you end up hurting people that really do, deep down, care about you. That wanted to show you, that you don't have to take a blind jump into the unknown. Not everyone wants to rush you into new things, or to change who you are. There is such a thing as accepting everyone how they are and loving them for it. No one wants to be with someone that makes you change or that you have to pretend to be something you're not in order to not be so alone.

I guess I only tried to help. But to meet someone that's at the opposite end, where I usually am when I'm feeling lost and ready to give up, has made me sad. Because, I want to fix something that's not my job to fix. I want to show that it's okay to still try again. To have some sort of wish or dream to work towards. To keep getting up when you're down.

I could tell you to it gets better, friend. But you and I know it doesn't. There's no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. But hey, what else are we going to do? Roll over and die? I guess...

But then we'd miss the cake and ice cream. Let's hang in there for the cake and ice cream, shall we?

Email #456098

Hey,

You'll prolly delete this one too. I don't care. It helps to send these and to write, so I'll keep doing it until I don't feel anything anymore.

I want to know how you were able to move on and forget a friendship so easy. How you can be there, on the messenger, and see me online and not even feel the remote desire to at least check in on me. How you can ignore emails that are begging from the bottom of a heart that cared so much for you.

You were my best friend. I looked forward to just kidding back and forth on Twitter, and to watching movies together on Netflix or talking about silly shit on text. That's the hardest part, knowing that I lost my friend.

I don't know how to watch The Office without tearing up and hurting. I can't even begin to know what to do with your copy of The Hellcats MST3K. It's in the box it came in, in the trunk of my car. I haven't opened it. I can't throw it away.

I know you're happy now, and I want to know how you did it.

It's been months. How is it not getting any easier? Isn't it supposed to by now?

It's useless to ask you for a brief hello, even though it would bring me a world of peace. Closure.

Anywhere you are in life, whatever you are doing, know that I think of you daily...more than once. I miss you, your smile, your voice, the way you twirl your hair while watching t.v. and how you're able to be the best friend I could've asked for. I don't know how long it'll take me to move on or to forget you. I'll never forget you, I guess...but I mean to not miss you like I do. But I guess I'll get there one day.

Until then I'll send these in hopes someone reads them. Someday. In hopes that you'll forgive me for not being what you needed, but still realize I want to at least be here for anything you need.

Hoping everything is okay for you, and that if it isn't, that it will be soon.

Yari

Calaveras y Diablitos

Payday springs upon me once again.

I have promises to keep, even if the ones made to me are broken on an hourly basis. I will not use it as an excuse to pay back lies with lies.

What does it say about me when I know what someone's doing behind my back, and I'm not even mad anymore? I just shrug it off and think 'Nothing new'. Should I be mad? Should I demand only the best, or at least the equality of what I put into something? Why can't I bring myself to be like every other girl I know, and throw a full blown tantrum? I can't even bring it up and discuss it like adults because, well, I'm afraid of someone being offended that I found out all the dirty laundry. What matters? Shouldn't they be glad I accept them regardless? I only want to address the fact that I'm not stupid, so don't pee on me and tell me it's raining. Actually, don't pee on me at all. That's gross.

I slithered to my desk this morning, and Fabulosos Cadillacs "Calaveras Y Diablitos" was playing on my phone. I thought of home. On a morning like this, in September, this song would be blaring in my friend's stereo while 7 of us were crammed into David's 1994, mint-green Toyota Tercel on our way to the beach. Everyone's elbow sticking to your side, someone would fart, street-racing against a beat up Civic...yeah. Teenager lameness. Get to the beach, fire up the BBQ pits, and music blaring from the open trunk of the car. Waxing the boards (oh, the days when I was fit enough to surf...I digress) and zipping up the suits was done methodically, while the smell of sea, sunblock and grilled meat filled the air. Bliss. I can almost hear the water splashing, the voices of my friends screaming and singing, and I feel the motion of the waves as I sat on that board waiting, feet dangling in the water.

Island living, disrupted by the sound of my phone ringing at my desk. The song has stopped. I'm staring at my dual monitor set up and I hear Steven's voice in the hallway talking to someone about some servers. Now LIT's 'Completely Miserable' starts playing and it makes sense.

The long weekend is almost here. So. That's something.

“No one can lie, no one can hide anything, when he looks directly into someone's eyes.” ~ Paulo Coelho

While I Run Down The Hallway...

And just like that, in the blink of an eye and beat of a heart, time flew and stillness grew. Silence was born, the rose loss it's thorn. I gained it all, I lost it all. I carry your light with me, even though you shine it elsewhere. Your words echoing in my nights, as you speak them to someone's morning. This is what's left.

I keep running down the hallway...