getting excited over nothing

my mobile vibrates... I'm thinking it's dead.  but i check it anyway...

I gasp and giggle. a smile slits across my face.  uncalled for, reflexive. solely a reaction to the knowledge that a certain person has contacted me by social media.

I can't suppress the giddiness I feel.  I want to disregard it nonchalantly... but I can't.

once again he has sent me a song. a song and nothing else.  no further message, no standard greeting informal or otherwise.  

just a link. to a song. with a title that teasing. 

Watch "Sexy Weekend - Scoundrels" on YouTube

what does it mean?  why did he send it? are there underlying connotations? or it just a good song?  i MUST know!

my mobile is on its last remnants of power.  I try and resist.  I CAN'T.  i must listen to the song. 

so i listen. and it's good. and it's funny.  and it could possibly hint towards something.

the smile is back on my face as i listen. 

I simply reply on how the song put a smile on my face as i wait for him to read it and possibly reply.

and i wait... cause once again,  I'm getting excited over

NOTHING. 

Once upon a time there was a pair of Old Shoes

I own a pair of old shoes and I've had them since late 2005.  i assume that's pretty old in shoe years since most are tossed or handed down in a year or so after being bought or acquired. i have become quite attached to them. seems to me that once i become attached to something, i tend to hold on to it. these shoes are no different.

they are a pair of Chuck Taylors I bought at a Hot Topic in Puerto Rico. although, i was initially drawn to them by nostalgia; i was quickly met with plenty of skepticism and a little doubt; considering my very first and only pair prior to these were black and these were clearly not. admittedly, i was captured by their uniqueness but i was quickly put off by their size. since they were the only pair left, they called to me and when i saw they were on sale, they sang. i felt compelled to rescue them from a fate worse than death.

these are only half

for a while, I only wore them every once in awhile; when I felt the occasion called for them. they were in good shape for at least a year or so, the average amount of time a pair of shoes tend to keep. considering my collection of footwear was comprised of several other types of shoes to include various styles of heels, boots, sandals, and running shoes, i was able to rotate the use of my shoes.

unlike my mother...
not until i was on my own, did i own more than 5 pairs of shoes. growing up, i remember having the bare essential. i also recall walking around barefoot for the most part; in turn i had rough, calloused feet. my daughter has now followed in my proverbial footsteps; we both own several pairs of shoes but prefer not wearing any. i do favor a pair of flip-flops that are the warm weather counterpart to the Chucks.

these guys look like they're in for the long haul

on a side note, i had a pair of flip-flops i wore till they literally gave out. in addition, every pair since then i have ran into the ground out of sheer over use. i am partial to walking around sans shoes but there are somethings that prevent this "au naturel" way of life.

but why a story of aging geriatric shoes?

after my daughter was born, i out grew many pairs of shoes, some of which were favorites of mine. no longer being able to wear a 7 to 7 1/2, i firmly became an 8. i slowly and sadly weeded out my dress shoes and tenuously replaced them with time. but as far as casual, nondescript, it soon came down to these:

Adidas that my ex gave me

Reebok my mom sent me

my military boots which came in both black leather & desert suede

and of course my beloved Chucks. 

my CTs soon became my primary pair of cold weather shoes. as of recently, no matter how much i wash them they remain dingy. the inside has become worn from my laziness; i wear them loose enough to slip on or off so i do not have to tie or untie my laces. with winter coming and the CTs becoming less comforting and more saddening, i began keeping an eye out for a pair of replacements especially when i could no longer ignore the deterioration. they were getting old and tattered and in serious need of retirement. i wasn't having any luck finding a pair versatile enough to replace them. this was not the first time i had thought to replace them, i tried once before but was unable to conform to the new pair.

bought these guys at JCPenny

as of now, I've settled into a pair of Keds quite nicely. again i got a size slightly bigger than i wear but they have grown on me, i don't give them a second thought anymore. They are comfy, weren't hard to break in, and im back to not tying my laces again.

lets see how long these lasts?

new year new me, well, sorta...

In the spirit of cliché I announce

new year! new me!

out with the old in with the new.

NOPE,

still 

up to 

my old tricks!!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

that old feeling, again

the holidays are upon us...after Halloween it seems to be all down hill. the next couple of months 'moosh together and blur the holidays between them like a big smudge.

My mother's family (the side i know best) is not what could be known as traditionalists. we are more going through the motions than vying for religious meaning. i have yet to have a traditional anything. well, that's not entirely true still every holiday has lost its true meaning (sorta).

no holiday is complete without Tequila

over the years, my views of holidays have changed. mainly since i'm on the other end of the whole ordeal. im planning, paying and panicking thus, i hate the holidays. never thought i would be one to say it but i do. i can be lumped into the group of getting the holiday blues. in the history of my family, i can not recall a Norman Rockwell kind of holiday. to me, holidays are just an excuse to spend money, gorge ourselves out our ideal pant size, and drinking ourselves to oblivion.

i remember one Christmas like this
growing up

i can almost see why my mom drudged through them granted she half-assed it. growing up, we really didn't have much money but somehow my mom made things work. we didn't know any better so we were excited and happy, till we did know better and well things got dicey.

so, back to thanksgiving.

last year i made a turkey

thanksgiving is the next holiday on my list. its a crappy holiday since i hate to cook but like to eat, on the other hand, i love to experiment with food but its just an excuse for me to to try something new and passive aggressively irk my mother. this years turkey is gonna be cooked in champagne (my totally favorite alcohol).

and a ham

as traditions go, we have a turkey (usually dry) and my gramma prepares her usual stuffing, from scratch and memory (i am one of the few that is not a fan of her stuffing, this has almost gotten me excommunicated). there is also an array of food that is a staple, fruit salad is one that i always associate with Thanksgiving. of course, there are pies of all different flavors even pumpkin (another dish i dislike). and side dishes galore, since my grandfather's passing no one has attempted to make candied yams (yuck).

once again i have taken it upon myself to make a turkey and a few other items. my mother, (another non-fan of cooking) finds it a relief that she will not cook this year. she usually has a hand in helping with the stuffing, because it takes everyone to make gramma's stuffing. even i have helped (still dont care for it).

so, what is my beef with the holidays? 

after rambling away about thanksgiving i haven't gotten to my point. i hate getting off my lazy ass, period. but now i feel an obligation to do so, if not for the sake of my taste palate for the sake of my little crumbsnatcher. i don't want her to feel as indifferent about the holidays as i do. my mother never cooked a turkey as long as i remember and Christmas was all about getting the tree up and counting down the days till we could open presents (another tradition that my mother's family has instilled).

so why so bummed?

Karma had it in for me
when she blessed me with a child

well, thanksgiving is less of a hassle than the others. it really only requires cooking and eating and cleaning and if you are lucky drinking followed by bickering and a possible massive hangover come black Friday (another holiday i dont participate in). but when people start getting ready for Christmas earlier and earlier each year it makes me want to take a holiday from the bullshit.

i once resented Jehovah Witnesses for not celebrating holidays but now i think they are onto something or could it just be laziness?? im not sure but it's looking tempting. i would love to give up the holidays but the public mainstream wont let me and on top of it all my crumbsnatcher's birthday lands on one of my few fave holidays.

New Year's Eve. 

happy NEW YEAR!!

as a result, i have to go through the motions celebrate the inane holidays i despise and show my crumbsnatcher that there is something to celebrate. but i don't have to be traditional about them though, I am pagan after all.

man of the house

My mother and I have developed a bit of an unorthodox relationship. The oddness of the situation is in the nature of it, which has caused me to entitle myself the man of the house.

There are 4 generations of women living together.

we have been living under the same roof for nearly 5 years.

My mother and I have a strange relationship that has manifested into something quite different.

We're just repeating the cycle.

Like my mother before me
and her mother before her

Simply put, we argue; not like mother and daughter but more like an old married couple. I associate most of the tension to the fact that I'm the more liberal one of us. Both of us would rather the other cook. Plus, I get flack because I rarely help with the dishes. My mother does the bulk of the grocery shopping but hates doing it and I’ve yet to figure out a solution for this. I, at times, am asked to pick up something from the store on my way home from work.

Being that I work, it impedes my time with my daughter thus my mother has a hand in raising her. While she would rather keep her grandma status, she often complains about my parenting skills and time management. I am expected to enforce rules, teach her manners and establish a routine. Moreover, I have been saddled with the role of disciplinary. Kind of what I was raised to believe was the role of the father.

Don’t rule out the male variable in the household.

My father’s line of work causes him to be out of town more times than not. I have come to believe his frequent absence and lack of diligence has attributed to the occurrence of my mother doing everything around the house and home. I am merely enabling her with things she can not accomplish on her own.

To get things in perspective, my mother is petite in stature;
I am at about 5'3" and a bit broader in size than her.

Whenever there is some task that requires strength, endurance, height or in general a "man's" touch, my mother asks me to do it or possibly help her accomplish it. Many of the tasks she asks me to do or “help” with I attribute to the type of things you would normally ask a man to do i.e. my father.

To name a few things I’ve done. I have:

Hell, I even hang the lights each year.

• opened tight jars,
• reached for what is out of reach,
• lifted and hauled heavy objects,
• moved several types of furniture,
• uprooted weeds and over turned earth,
• arranged and removed brick paths,
• helped corral farm animals. 

My mother wonders why I have a bit of a complex.

Being mistaken for my brother
doesn't help my self image either

I chalk it up to vanity. Being I’m the taller or the two, I have been asked to place or reach for an array of things for various reasons. Albeit, I have grown accustomed to doing a lot of the heavy lifting around the house to include my daughter. I dread hearing my mother asking: Will/can you help me with something? Because, it usually entails moving something heavy or cumbersome. And as time has passed, the jars are now just placed in front of me to open; I actually find this gesture amusing.

Daddy Dearest: from the eyes of Daddy’s little girl

always rough 'round the edges

My father is a sore subject.

No matter how fast I try to run away from the situation or how hard I try to hide the facts, I come face to face with the source of many of my troubles. I can’t help but feel bitter when I hear people praise their dads. I find it even harder to stomach someone else praising my own father. To say the least, my father was lacking in his department as “dad”.

Father’s day is a tough holiday to acknowledge let alone celebrate. My father may not have been the worst but he defiantly was not the best. He’s a functioning alcoholic with the need to work. He lives his life with very little regret. My father is brash and loud and comedic. Yet, he is stubborn, opinionated, outspoken, harsh, and self serving. If words hit harder than fists, my dad was good at hitting your self-esteem below the belt.

esa mi'ja!

Daddy loved me best, or did he?

It was once casually said because of the lack of my father’s attention I would seek it out in other men. I pushed those sentiments aside, yet they remained in the back of my mind manifesting into a tumor. For a time, I ignored the problem.

The stages of my life have my father imprinted in it and has made it difficult for me to progress emotionally. As a child, like most little girls, I praised him and worshiped him. He was amazing and handsome. He was my dad and I was his little girl. Nevertheless, time has a way of tarnishing things. Things slowly came to light and I began to see him for who he really was and not the man I had imagined. I came to realize how much influence he had on me. It was hard to accept how he was able to screw me up without even trying. Looking back, I can see the emotional waste land left in my troubled wake.

How bad could it have been?

andale cabrones!

It was rough. It was easy for him to praise me then quickly insult me. After the age of 12, I completely lost respect for him. The blinders had come off and my blind faith was no longer there. By 14, I was pretty ashamed of him and vowed never to allow any of my male suitors near him, if I could help it. I hardly ever spoke of him and rarely spoke to him. Many friends believed my parents were divorced; I found myself wishing that were the truth. My father was hardly there. It was said, “Even when he is here, he isn't here.”

"if you cant handle a horse,
you can't handle my daughter"

My father worked out of town and was gone weeks at a time. I referred to him as a part-time dad; it was like my dad had his family for the weekends and certain holidays. At first, I would anticipate his arrival, like the migration of birds. Soon, I was wondering when those pesky birds were leaving so I could get on with my day to day life.

my dad's best friend

My mother may have tried her damnedest to incorporate him in our lives but it backfired on her. In my case, I resented him. Somehow, I had indirectly learned about independence and liberation; I didn’t agree with assigned gender roles. A woman was to be respected, treated fair, and to be an equal. Unfortunately, my father was what I bluntly put as “old school” or more accurately: traditional. The world had its labels and you had your place. His chauvinism and bigotry was a thorn in my side, it fueled my distrust. I felt I never needed a man or wanted one for that fact.

If I have become my father’s daughter, then what?

I can’t help but look back and ponder my relationship with him. As far back as I can remember, I recall that our father/daughter bonding was not easy. Given that my relationship with my father has been a strained one, it has taken a toll on me and my views on men in general.

I rarely ever have a kind word to say about my father, to my mother’s dismay. She soon started pointing out every time I had a negative word to say about, sometimes to, him but I replied that he didn’t actually go out of his way to spare my feels either. However, with time, I have found ways to cope with my animosity. Although, I still find it difficult to accept him.

i once thought i had an Electra complex

I admit to harboring a lot of negativity, animosity, and hard feelings towards this man. And, I know damn well my father will never change. Begrudgingly, I realize that I have inherited many of his traits. It’s been said that two people who are very similar are very unlikely to get along. 

Ash Wednesday

missed out on
Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday)

It seems to me every time a religious holiday comes up I consider whether I should observe the holiday or just acknowledge it?? I tend to observe the rituals and not allow for real religious connotation. Yet, I find it constraining, contradicting and all together frustrating.

My mother (who I have now dubbed the NaySayer) pointed out that I really have no obligation to this religious observance of Ash Wednesday. Granted I hadn't received ashes for several years now; I did observe the ideals behind Lent, predominantly the fasting. She further, pointed out that this should not affect me, being that I no longer “practice" Catholicism. True, I feel I am no longer bound to the rituals or rights of a catholic, adding, that I have no real interest or faith for that matter in any Christian based religions. Still, I questioned myself to a point of sever doubt and contemplation. Had I been brainwashed for so long my unconscious mind still feared the retribution of turning my back on Jesus or God for that matter?

Remember that thou art dust, 

and to dust thou shalt return. 

Genesis 3:19

Over the years, whilst studying and soul searching, I’ve found where several of the Christian holidays overlap with that of its pagan counterpart. And my brother, the Realist, reiterated how cultures affected religions over time. Alas, Ash Wednesday didn’t actually have a pagan tie. Yet, it is strategically mapped out leading up to Easter all which coincides with the Spring Equinox, Pass Over and has something to do with the full moon, sort of.

As I searched, I come to find out Lent is a time of repentance and self-denial. Obviously, I wasn’t wrong to feel this was a time of sacrifice and penance. So, combined with the New Moon, I claimed that this Lent I would deny myself many of my indulgences in hopes to better myself.