Desperado

I ate half of my lunch and when no one else was looking threw half of it away.

The downside of having this cold (ever lasting as it seems) is that I have no appetite. I can taste but I don't crave, which in turn is a dull way to eat.

I was raised by a chef, who taught me to eat in color. Who raised me with Moroccan dinners and trying cheese with grapes. I can almost feel the zero cola tearing apart my guts, it comes down fizzling and somehow feels better than the Cold water in a cold lab.

I love my job, but it can become a Petrie dish at times.

Three minutes left of lunch and so far I've spent 27 minutes of it staring at my phone screen and polishing off fries. The fries mind you are as horrible as the soda.

Not everything is bad, it's Pink Wednesday and it serves as something uplifting from the gray skies of Redmond.

The lunch room humms with a crowd of programmers, engineers and us. QA testers.

I'm excited for crawling into bed and not feeling the clap in my throat whenever I cough reminding me that I'm still not well.

Mama said there'd be days like this

Days like today are some of the hardest to deal with.
My chest hurts, my throat is sore and swollen and my eyes are painted.
I made it through a cheer event, coughing quietly into my elbow and not wanting to miss out on the festivities but in the end I limped out of the uber ride and planted my ass on the couch.

I don't think I was at my best today, I tried to be sassy to compensate for how ill I felt and that it was for a much greater cause then I.

The folks were kind, running in their undies and raising money for brain tumors.
Yet back I hope I sat on the couch and cried because I hate feeling weak, drained and no matter how much sleep I get I feel like my walk is getting more and more sore.
I think with more exercise that this should help my mood but for the time being i'm trying to mush my brain with nonsense television and cat cuddles.

Maybe the reason i'm writing something so vulnerable is not a cry for attention but more so for anyone else who has felt so unwell that they couldn't do much of anything besides rest.

Self care is so important especially for Latinas, you can't work that well when you are not in your best. I'm not at my best. It's a mess and I guess all we can do it work through it and be a little kinder both to ourselves and the people that matter the most.

Naked

This morning I left the house without my sketchbook or my planner (on purpose.)

The past couple of days I haven't been able to sincerely write down much and sometimes I truly believed just writing something down was being productive.

I mean if you're a writer perhaps but as of now my motivation honestly took a bit of a nose dive. I want to see what a day without the obligation to write anything down will do to me. 

"what gets scheduled gets done." 

Period and maybe with some help from pills for my muscles I won't be so achey and tired and be able to relax enough to get that energy back.

I felt myself spacing this morning, I made a smoothie and a cup of coffee I didn't finish. I hap hazardous put together my lunch this morning and splashed water on my face hoping this would somehow wash away my depression, my laziness and when my limbs hurt.

Keep. Moving. Forward.

Smack it in the air

Last night I worked my ass off to become crisper, sharper with each stunt. Hoping I'll be more visible with each. I'm terribly shy when I'm surrounded by so many physically talented people and I'm not sure of my strength yet.

(Working on it.) 

Today started a bit slower, I let myself wake up later despite my cat throwing up around 2am. I think it's from stress so I'll need to spend more time with him today.

Anyhow, my arms are sore as we slowly approach my bus stop. I'm low on energy so today should be a feat.

I can only hope to keep improving.

Don't be a sad American.

It's 7:58 am, I'm listening to Desi Arnez and musing over my grandmothers Spanish. I wish I could place her in time, so that my grandkids can see her as clearly as I do right now. She's alive and well, in her 70s and has played mother to me since I was two.

Earlier this week she helped me find a mattress, I live in a studio in the heart of downtown, I don't own a car and believe me the novelty of being a city dweller is beginning to dwindle. Most of my friends have moved out of the city, into cozy suburbs with spouses who have cars. I'm still on first.

I'm still where I was, writing blogs on busses and praying my brain will come up with a new environment but only staring at the empty Maya screen.

Everything reminds me that I'm a work in progress and I have to be patient.

I wanted to give Mama a house and all I have been able to give her is a couple of thank yous and debt.

In April I wished I was dead.

I have to remind myself that moment by moment is truly worth living for. That in spite of the student debt I have moments in church with mama, that I have conversations over coffee with my Aunt Ducky, occasional emails from my mother.

The laughter from my friends , the moments they're eager to help me. That I must take it all in stride because nothing in life is guaranteed or permanent.

I hope one day I can convey why I raise my voice, why I argue, why I am so repressed or why my relationship with my dad is so complicated.

How hard it is to even type this out.

That at one point in time it was literally just us three vs. the world.

Day 5 of Lent : Anticipating

Today I fantasized about Lent being over and the welcome committee that would greet me when I re downloaded Snapchat. I wasn't looking for the journey I was waiting for the bandaid to be ripped off so I could just go back to doing the same thing and this gave me pause.

What am I doing this for?
I'm doing this because reddit became a crutch, I'm doing this because I was seeking validation in the shortest form possible. I'm doing this because clouding my brain with daydreams was better than the reality that romantically I am alone.

I was filling a tremendous void in my late twenties and I'm here. The reality is that instead of really learning from this journey I am awaiting it's end. Which sort of discourages me from learning anything, the most wonderful and infuriating thing that I have had to relearn is to take everything a day at a time. Moments, breaths, meals, highs and lows. Which leads me to today, today is a low.

I woke up with this sunken feeling, post valentines day that I haven't created nor had the desire to create in a couple of days. Valentines day was never the product of my feeling sad, in fact it didn't make me happy either but there is definitely a hierarchy in having a partner, even if you're not in love with said partner you're somehow better than those lonely, desperate saps right?

Ah well, away with the bitterness that seeps through. My joy of cooking, working out and forcing myself outside when the weather has just been so hideous helped my mood.

I want to come out of this having been weened off of reddit, i don't want to revert back to old habits because it's not making me happy. I want the new friends i've made to understand that I didn't feel like I was progressing emotionally, my disappearance didn't have anything to do with them but with me. My feelings of inadequacy and jealousy were consuming everything.

I had to find a way to stop it.

Anime & Coffee

I love days of the week that correlate with an action or an event. When I became an adult I realized that if I didn't assign something to them, to each day, at least that they would blur by. Defining days that were meant for fun or work is how I kept myself happy.

even if it was just one tiny little thing.
This blog mostly goes unedited and full of grammar mistakes mostly out of laziness, one long list of ongoing thoughts that might churn out a nugget of gold.

Today is Saturday, Day 4 of lent. If I don't think about it it's much easier to sort of pass the time, I made it my mission to go almost the full weekend without facebook but I cracked around 6pm today. I haven't posted but I did want to look. Turns out I wasn't missing as much as I thought I was and too my relief, only proves what Minush said on the "Note to self." podcast. Fear of missing out is a real thing and maybe it's our own way of keeping up to date, something to do with our mortality. Which is a very dark way of looking at it but in a lot of ways if you don't keep up with social media you are dead.. yet the people that do are not happy.

What a cycle. I think we are all trying to figure out what is the best way, or the right way to do things and it's not that simple anymore.

I find that the eventual boastful post goes away if i just think it, I think of what I want my status to be and as it dissipates I get this tiny thrill that this action is just for me. That in history, there is only a small account of what I did but no one knows I'm there aside from the few i'd told. No one knows about the walk I had from Deadpool, hell aside from this blog no one even knows I went to see Deadpool, much less rejoin a gym. Little secrets I keep just for me and well, now on this blog but even still this isn't a blog anyone actually knows about.

In this day and age we keep so little for ourselves and maybe I can try expanding on that without closing my circle, because despite not being on facebook for a full 24 hours, people still chatted with me.

People didn't forget me.
My friends didn't forget me.

I really need to remember that.

Lent: Day 3 Turning over a new leaf

Back when I was a kid the only thing really sugar coated was "American History."
When it came to achievements we received rewards for good behavior, for three legged races and science projects ( which my parents were too poor to have me participate in anyway.)

I think this gave me a sort of humility to where if something was worthy of being talked about congratulatory wise that's when I would bring it up. A mild sacrifice or a mild inconvenience to you is not an achievement it's really just setting yourself in place for a goal. You're clearing out distractions so you can live out what you were meant to be doing but, hey, that's my opinion.

I stated before my little epiphany/ experiment and I won't lie to you I was jonesing a little to fall back into the habit. The whole, the app loop and i brought myself out. Yesterday alone I read the entire way to work on the bus and a whole two hours before bed.

Symposium by Plato, retranslated and then at bed time it was "The Secret" by Beverly Lewis. Yes, I am reading amish fiction.

A 28 year old Hispanic woman is reading amish fiction.
there.
have at it .

THE POINT IS...

I'm reading again, the woman who could barely sit through a game without checking her phone?
It sits quietly to my left, notifications turned off and hasn't been touched since 6:05am when my alarm was supposed to go off, which it did, but since I was up at 5:20 am anyway it wasn't needed.

The one thing I wont give up though is music, I use it to drown out the murmuring voices asking for change or cat calling. I feel terrible but the constant flow of the city can be overwhelming.

I want to redefine who I am without the funny stories on snapchat, the NSFW content on skype or the temptation and eventual vegetation of my state of being when i'm on reddit. I love those things but I love them and am on them far, far too often.

What I need & Looking for Love

Sometimes I get home after a long day of being out with family and I sit and try to watch Hulu only to be completely overwhelmed. I guess when you have so much going on all at once when you are sleepy, hearing people jabber on about fake drama, favorite sitcoms and even Jimmy Fallon can be too much.

This morning I took the day off of work, I aboard the 578 bus at 7:02 am and took my sinful ass to church with Mama. (My grandmother.) I had negated to start or finish the coffee I made this morning and peacefully read out of my amish fiction book until we arrived. Traffic of course during work hours was little to none and I mused about what I might see during Mass.

The crowd was as wonderfully bored as I imagined and as I took my seat near to Mama, I could hear the babies starting up. Some sniffed, the others babbling as the people filled in. One handsome couple and their five kids, as I shot my bewildered look to my grandmother. Christ! It was like Ireland over again. Despite my Catholic background, I don't know if that's what I can call myself anymore, I don't know if being enlightened and religious go hand in hand but I was there for her, to be by her side and enjoy a couple of masses a year so that she doesn't have to go alone. Folding my hands into my lap, I hooked my ankles like i've been taught after years of Catholic upbringing and listened.really listened to the sermon.

Today is Ash Wednesday, on this day we repent and what is most commonly known for being lent. Lent to me has always been sacrificing something, a vice, an app, a lifestyle, a choice? Something in the name of what you might become afterwards. One lent I gave up facebook another? I gave up cursing and that was truly the hardest one. I had to play with language like double dutch, curving and dodging curses left and right I found that language could be vibrant and expressive without the usual expletive. We are written anew, this has been taught to us since we were little but that in this sacrifice we may find a sort of rebirth which, lo and behold is the big fat message behind easter.

Look, I know what you might be thinking.. This bitch ran home safe where it's religious and warm.
No, not at all. If anything tradition is something I respect, revere but ultimately I know where I need to be. Reading books, enlightening myself with the works of Plato and relearning how to communicate with people without humble bragging. I need to find my faith in myself as well as the confidence that I was growing in what I know how to do before I let myself get shot out of the air.

Back to church, it was hilarious. As a kid, you're bored stiff, as an adult if you look. You'll see all sorts of odd, human behavior that makes Mass bearable. Dare I say? Fun? The Priest is a sweet man, he hails from west africa and Mama is particularly fond of him. His accent is thick which made "repeat after me" all that much more fun, he is electric and expressive. The old folks that surrounded me side eyed me quite a bit but I wasn't there for them. If anything a sweet lady that sat beside mama beamed at the both of us. Mama smirked at my jokes and gently swatted me every time I tried to pick on her. Particularly about making sure her phone was turned off.

"What you can't turn your phone off for jesus?"
"IT IS OFF, AYE!"

This was worth it, the nitpicking has come full circle! I watched a little girl with a bowl cut dip her finger into the fountain to bless herself, and by blessing herself I mean sink a finger in, touch her forehead, go to the area where the water was trickling out, scoop some water and touch her forehead. She was precious and a reminder that kids, are without a doubt; weird.

My favorite had to be death metal baby. There was a 18 month old seated on her mothers chest who babbled innocently before letting out a demonic roar during Mass. This by far almost sent me over the edge and I just smiled, shook my head and readjusted my sweater.

I have always been a self entertaining person, ever since I was a child boredom was my eternal will.e.coyote. I made where ever I was at fun so that I could fidget less.

The sermon continued, with the relinquishing our control and allowing ourselves to truly strive for excellence. Something in this peaked my attention, I expected to be bored and granted in some parts I was. The singing is dreadful, I mean compared to baptists. We are just legit awful, somehow though I prefer it that way. It's tradition for us to sound like the party has gone sour. In that moment is when what I would give up for lent hit me.

Earlier this year I've done the bored and brilliant challenge but truth be told I think I honestly was playing it on easy mode. I don't think I truly sacrificed anything but in spite of this I truly feel that my illustration art was allowed to blossom. I am far more present, aware and in tuned with my community then I have been in ages. I find myself reaching for my phone less and seeing my friends far more often but of course within the limitations of allowing myself some alone time.

I don't think I have every truly respected that alone time quite like I did in this past year alone. Day after day I felt my mental attention span grow and even as I type this i've done so without noise, without sound, netflix, hulu or Adele to assist me. I find that being in silence is no longer quite as scary and no, my apartment is not haunted.

Maybe if I just, push all of this junk to the side for once and push my needs, my art and myself forward for once i'll be able to not only have the mental space that I need to create but allow myself t be emotionally available enough to date? Life isn't going t wait until I am ready but in spite of the Johnny come maybes I think that the truth is that I honestly don't want to.  To exert the energy it normally takes for me because I don't think that I've found anyone worth giving my attention to.

I could be wrong however, I am only human.

enough with the self congratulatory but maybe in time, I will find that urge again to step up my flirt game. To bring the gals out and maybe by reaching closer to my traditions, in the faith i've had and the faith i'm trying to grow within myself that I can come out of this as a better human, better more well rounded women and someone who can put their goddamn phone away once in a while.

My mouth tastes like sleep

I am so exhausted .

The bus is shoved and packed full, the traffic goes on for miles with no resolve and I close my eyes thankful I'm not driving in it.

The music helps but does little to distract me from the crawl of the bus. It's almost impossible to keep my eyes open at the moment and I really wish I wasn't awake. That I had a potential late start . Oh well, onward we go .

The commute is probably the absolute worst part of my day. If not for the blasted heat, the shuffling of level footed fellow patrons just trying to keep their balance or the gentleman who brought his pb & j on board (bless him he was hungry.) what a mess. 

Motivation

I haven't bus blogged in a minute. Currently Bruno Mars is whining on my pandora and I'm too lazy to change it, I started to sketch and felt nothing come out save for a lazy thumb sketch. Yesterday was two Afro super heroes but the proportions were off. My juice needs a refill so I tried to jump start my morning with a smoothie and some coffee but despite the delicious ten hours of sleep I got last night nothing worked.

Maybe I can pull for some more inspiration with journaling.

Which reminds me : Motivation.

I kept looking outwards, to draw in inspiration like a trap door spider and use this as my drive to create more. Something bigger, shocking , something to whet the appetite but it never goes beyond a palm size sketchbook and i know I need to get out of the comfort zone I carved for myself.

The reason it is so difficult is that I fought for that comfort zone that I protest when it's rattled.

I kept quietly hoping someone would tell me to keep going but that has to come from within. Without that I'm just depending on people to fix my artists block for me.

Now at this point I could say something quite cliche and say I'm the only one in my way, but we all know that. 

I chose me : An Epiphany during love and hip hop.

For the better part of my late twenties i've treated men like they were dispensable.
To be honest  for the most part they were, a constant swinging door of boys who knew little else what to do besides thrust. Even before I hit puberty I remember the day I didn't feel the special glow of being a little girl anymore. My father and I were fighting one night, I told him that's no way to talk to a little girl and he corrected me. I wasn't.
Not to him and not in the eyes of so many older men who cat called, who pinched, touched and rubbed when they should not have. My father never laid a hand on me, but I couldn't help but noticed that this had shaped my view of men for the oncoming adult years.

Flash forward to twenty four, I had just slept with a security guard that worked in my building and he was all too eager sleep. I remember sleeping opposite ways because it was hot as hell in his apartment and how empty I felt, I slept next to his socks when the voice in my head was screaming for me just to go home. Time after time my own self worth began to dwindle  because a week later he disappeared on me.
I wont kid myself into thinking I had feelings for him but I sobbed pathetically because I had allowed this and any other piece of garbage around me thinking they were anything but.

I am watching Love and Hip Hop, God knows why because the show is absolutely devoid of intellect. I watch women after women devote lives to hip hop men who spend too much, love outside the marriage too damn much without a prior contract, since I do support other poly relationships.I can't help but wonder if money would change me to be like that, if i had the privilege of once again being in a relationship and then finding myself with that kind of payment if I  too would become a monster.

If I am not one already?

Today, present day i'm 28 sitting on the floor of my apartment despite my 500 dollar ikea couch and shabby bed sometimes my best comfort zone is on the floor, where I used to sit for three months when I first moved in. This time i'm cushioned by a shaggy white rug that I had always wanted and I can sit here truly reflecting on my treatment of people.

I don't trust a lot of people. I don't trust a lot of people out of survival, I kept my distance because the closer I got to my own family the more they pushed me away. I let people in so far, to see the sub surface level of funny, good, maybe even some interests but eventually, for the longest time they would go away.

In the back of my mind I wonder what my expiration date is from person to person.
My fear of being left behind only becomes more justified when it begins to happen. When the change in behavior happens, it's so subtle but i always notice I always notice it first and at some point I just let people go. They flitter in my life and I can't hold onto it. I cannot hold onto them because I would crush them and that's the last thing that I want to do.

when the only thing that I want is not to smother or cry.
but just for you to stay.

I've had the time of my life

There are days when inspiration hits you like a bolt of lightning on the tip of your metaphorical penis, your hand fumbles for a pen or a keyboard and the words just Pour out however, today was not one of those days.

I stumbled over my words, scrolled, refreshed and laid my cheek on my fist truly bored.i think I'm there, loving my job and seeing the expiration date inked in. Much like ink however, it's temporary and I don't know if it will stick. That fear sat in my stomach, despite a night of certain fun it sat in the back of my mind. Staring at the beautiful faces of coworkers present and past I wondered when I too, would move on to greener pastures.

Even as I write this I have never been so openly accepted as I did at this job since the 7th grade? 

What do you do when a job offers growth but your current environment is wonderful ? I mean I haven't gotten the job yet but my stomach tells me I'm a shoe in. 

As a person who loves commitment it's hard to let go.

I can't tell anyone yet but I'm sure they'll figure it out.These testers are precious to me.

My mouth tastes like sleep

I am so exhausted .

The bus is shoved and packed full, the traffic goes on for miles with no resolve and I close my eyes thankful I'm not driving in it.

The music helps but does little to distract me from the crawl of the bus. It's almost impossible to keep my eyes open at the moment and I really wish I wasn't awake. That I had a potential late start . Oh well, onward we go .

The commute is probably the absolute worst part of my day. If not for the blasted heat, the shuffling of level footed fellow patrons just trying to keep their balance or the gentleman who brought his pb & j on board (bless him he was hungry.) what a mess.