Oh, Calliope Where Art Thou?

I met her when I was a teenager. Falling in love and not being in love with ( the story of my life ) attracted her, I think. Being so young and broken hearted, I started writing. All the passion I wanted to express will go on paper. Then when all that got sour, I burned off the 3 years in writing I had. Coulda Woulda Shoulda. Calliope then kept me company in my first two years of college, fed by a college professor who told me once, one who reads, writes. Nothing closer to the truth than that. I have always been an avid reader.

So that helped me some in my literature classes up to the time I left for the military. I think Calliope got scared of my Drill Sergeants, especially female Drill Sergeants. I didn’t write much while in the Army. I would write letters to my friends and e-mails to my family. But I don’t think Calli had much to do with it.

When I reported to my first duty station, I met my now estranged and deranged (yes Mike, he is too) husband and she came back when he was away for a whole month. She kept me company on my loneliness (“tonight, I won’t be alone, but you know it don’t mean I’m not lonely – Bed of Roses, Jon Bon Jovi) and wrote nice things too. He even got a visit from her and he wrote me a letter that I still treasure with promises of eternal and forever love. This is surprising because this is the man who would write possibly 2 lines on an e-mail.

She went dormant for about 3 years (possibly because I became a mother on that timeframe). I could hear her whispering in my ear, to use that maternal instinct and write, but once I sat down to put my ideas on the computer, something always came up. Interesting is that since the once loving now deranged (yes, Mike, deranged) husband express what he thought he felt for me (nothing), she was by my side. And here she is, making me push every key; running things through my mind and help me elaborate. Helping me, like on the beginning, to put my pain on paper.

The Amityville Horror, when he finally got to sleep.

I was watching The Amityville Horror remake. Supposedly it took 28 days for George Lutz to turn from a loving father/husband to a mad man of epic proportions. You can see how much he changes from day 1 to day 28; his eyes get redder and redder. The redder his eyes turned, the crazier he would act. He turned into a complete psycho because of one and one thing only; no sleep.
Is proven that someone with Sleep Deprivation has neurological side effects, lots of them have to do with speech but also with behavior. Who doesn’t get cranky after not getting his/her beauty sleep? Have you noticed that when a child doesn’t take a nap is very cranky? We all need our sleep.
In order so save money, hubby has decided to sacrifice some of his sleep to keep our child at home. Since then, he has been cranky (George Lutz: [to Kathy] How did you get so fucking stupid?), very worried about money (George Lutz: Rich off of somethin', but it ain't money) and really sleep deprived.
At the end of the movie, you saw the Lutz driving away on their boat after knocking the father down with the shot gun. He laid down on the back of the boat while the wife drove away. You can see how, once again he changed, going back to his old self. His eyes, from blood shot red, ( or irritated contact lens red ) back to normal, he finally got some sleep. Hubby acts the same on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. He finally gets some sleep.

Love and Other Demons

I have always had very, very, very bad luck in the Love /Sentimental Department. From the beginning of times, I’ve always was the last one who was i.e. get a date for any reason. I actually invited my date to the senior prom. No one wanted to date me. Maybe because I was sort of a book worm when in school (your eyes can deceive you). I was possibly too tall and too voluptuous and sometimes too quiet. I always kept for myself. And I had a nick to attract always the wrong kid of guy. The Man (because of me being so developed so early in life) I remember I was 15 at Playa Santa Beach Resort in Guánica, Puerto Rico and this nuyrican with a very thick accent started talking/hitting on me. So what’s the catch? HE WAS 27. Talking about a statutory date.

Then college started. Still I had no luck until almost my third year. I was 20 when I had my first intimate encounter, and as it always happens, with the wrong person. Then along came a marine just coming back from boot camp whose girlfriend couldn’t wait the three months and dumped him from someone else. We made beautiful music together. Sometimes 2 – 3 times a night. Then the inevitable happened. He stop coming back and when I called him, he finally told me he was dating someone more politically correct ( i.e. light skinned, blond, blue eyed girl). I was devastated. There I met the sex demon. I was 1. a rebound and 2. a sex outlet for this guy. The Sex Demon can mirage itself as the Love Demon. So I’ve decided to play with the Sex Demon. After that I had many meaningless encounters. And I met my first boyfriend.

Freud would had a field day with this guy. He was 7 years older than me. Didn’t have a job. Didn’t have a stable place to live. Didn’t have a car. All he had was his Bible and many dreams. But will not do anything about his life. He would criticize me because I wasn’t like him (with the Bible at hand), but he would be calling me at 2 and 3 in the morning so I can come to his place and do him. I wasn’t good enough for his Bible but was good enough for his bed. Everything ended when he turned his back at me on a religious activity then he had the nerve to ask me for a ride back.

But my luck changed when I set foot on American Soil. Apparently this Dark Skinned Puertorrican is considered exotic here. I had considerably awesome luck on the dating department. Men will be turned on by my accent and women wanted to learn to speak Spanish to be like me. Not to mention that my complex of being too big and to voluptuous went out the window, because Americans worship the booty. I had many, many, many dates and I married a man who was horny enough and lured by my body that thought I was the perfect lady. There I met the Lust Demon. Once I gained weight he totally disregarded me. So I guess the lust is gone when the lusted changes.

I have many suitors. Most of them deranged. I cannot invoke the Sex Demon because the once Lust Demon now lurks on the shadows waiting to tell the luster that I am sinning (why is the demon to care? Could it be an angel?)

Much Ado About Nothing

Has it ever happened to you that you want to write but find nothing to write about? You have the inspiration, you have the drive, but you sit in from of the computer ( or typewriter or for some ol’ school folks paper with pen handy ) and blank. Nada. Have lots of ideas but you can’t seem to put them on paper. And you look around, still Nada.

You analyze what happened to you today. That cut that some idiot gave you when he illegally drove through the opposite lane to get ahead of you and you just wanted to crash the car on purpose but remembered that the owner of the car has a title loan on it making it impossible to transfer it to your name, hence, being on foot for 2 weeks while he drives a rental. Then this Ms. Prissy with a brand new Solara decided to almost rear end you because you are driving on the speed limit ( imperative in La Vergne, TN ).

Or what affects you daily. The fact your man is not in love with you anymore ( or so he said ) but when you offer him alternatives won’t budge. And snoop in your e-mails and IM’s. And IM every member of your contact list threatening to do a Lorena Bobbitt on them if they ever mess with his wife. (¿?). Or the man that hits on you for sex but not looking for the world to leave his wife because he doesn’t want to hurt her, now what sense does that make? Is you is or is you ain’t?. More on men: that I have 3 men living in my home and together they don’t make one. None of them can do home repairs, clean, cook or have sex with. And the one that can do Home Repairs ( the 4th one )has issues up to the wasoo.

Or what happens seasonally. Leaves are turning colors right now. The air is turning colder and shriveling by the minute. The days are shorter; the nights are longer and colder.


I guess I have nothing to write about . . .

For Granted

When I was a kid back in Puerto Rico, we had several trees planted in our backyard; between those a mango tree, and an acerola tree. Every spring they both will bloom and by the summer, we had mangoes and acerolas by the crates back there. However, because there was no one to pick them ( both my mom and stepdad had fulltime jobs and my sisters and me were all day at school ) the mangoes will fall off the tree and rot on the ground, bringing flies and other bugs to our backyard. For me it was more of a hassle than anything because for one, my bedroom collided with the backyard and the smell will swarm into my room. And I always wanted to get rid of the tree.

Now every time I can I purchase a mango or two. They cost me some serious dollars here ( I read that it may be considered a delicacy here and you’re supposed to eat it with a fork and a knife ). Yet I remember when I would complain about the smell.

Hubby is nursing broken toes and shin splints. I always try to do my best to assist him. He would get up ½ hour before his shift, I would have his lunch ready in the car. Our car is having problems with the connection ports of the battery. And when it rains, sometimes it won’t start. So last night I jumped it under the rain, you know the risk this represents. Hence I turned it on and let it ran so it would be warm when he gets in. All he did was walk out the door and nothing, no thank you. Everything is prepared and ready for him and he takes it for granted. I guess I know now how the mangoes feel . . .

I have this knick for losing stuff . . .

I don’t know if it’s just bad luck but for some reason I have this thing of losing important stuff. Yesterday I was packing up stuff to put in my storage unit. Well, I put the keys down and started loading stuff up. So when I was done, I patted my pockets looking for my keys and no, they were not there. I started freaking out.. I tried not to lose my cool because then I get hubby in a bad mood.

This had happened to me many times. I remember when I was in college I was terminated from a job because I kept losing my badge. Is that for some reason I cannot keep important stuff. Is like a spell: gets in contact with my fingers and “poof” it’s gone; or even worse, they become alive. Once I remember misplacing my wedding ring set for a whole year. I turned the house upside down looking for it. And like it always happens, it appears when a. you’re not looking for it or where you least expect it.

Once I went to my dad’s to stay. I was washing one of the cars and as usual, misplaced the keys. I walked the yard in my hands and knees trying to find them. I looked in my purse don’t know how many times, I looked in the furniture between the cushions, I went crazy looking all over the house, so I finally gave up and stood in the kitchen looking out the window. And guess what I saw on top of the car: THE KEYS. I gave my father the keys, I went to my room and didn’t leave for the rest of the evening.

When I was about 9 or 10 years old, my grandma and my great aunt will send me money for my birthday. You know, $20 20 years ago where a substantial amount of money. ( yes, now you can figure out my age ). And for some reason the $20 disappeared before I could even think of what to spend them on. My mom got very upset and told me she would tell my grandma . NOT GRANDMA.

Will my hands be the next twilight zone ???

Well, my keys turned out to be under a box on my dresser. Hubby couldn’t wait until I was done cooking ( kids need to eat! ). And he was frowning sitting down on the couch playing x-box with the kids. All he needed to wait was 15 minutes.

Yo Speako Espanol

I was at work today. I work on the Bilingual Queue of an insurance company. When there are no bilingual reps available, the calls route to regular english speaking rep who then need to locate a translator. Some reps really loath it. Specifically this girl who seats next to me.
When a call in spanish comes through her, she says on a very sarcastic tone "español, un momento por favor" while she looks at me with the corner of her eye.
Today, however she started going bezerk because of the spanish calls she was getting. "if they cannot learn the language they need to get on out" to what I responded " is most likely they speak english, but they feel more comfortable speaking in spanish ". She started trying to pick up an argument, but i said that i just wanted to keep it there.
So it hit me. Since I came here 7 years ago, I 've always faced the challenge of someone trying to tell me that i live in the US now and i needed to speak english. Why? And furthermore , isn't the good U S of A a land of immigrants?. So if we think about it EVERY language is acceptable. Isn't it time that americans learn to tolerate and be open minded regarding other languages? No, we are not talking about you when we use our native language. We feel much more comfortable using our native language. And please, stop feeling inferior because you speak just english. If you do, do something about it. A lot of doors will open to you
Spanish is a very beatiful language. I have read both in english and spanish my favorite writer and it's missing something. That flavor that identify us I guess. For me, curse words on spanish have more meaning and more weight than the ones in english. It is true that englsh is spoken everywhere in the world, but the truth of the matter is that spanish is right next to it.

All of the sudden, I am feeling extremely homesick.

The leaves are changing. The days are getting cooler. The nights are longer. Is the begginging of fall. Here in Tennessee there's not really a season changing, but it cools and it gets warmer. Sometimes we get snow, but I haven't seen the white stuff in a very long time. For me, seeing snow is the synonym of Christmas. But just being cold here makes me feel home sick.

I was watching MTV3s the other night and within the programming they were showing videos. A Ricky Martin video came through. I am not the biggest Ricky Martin fan in the world, but he had in his ensemble a cuatro. Mind you, I wasn't paying attention to the lyrics, I think they are some kind of corny. But for some reason, the cuatro strung a chord deep inside my heart that opened the flood gates. I was crying as if someone has died on my family. Maybe is that little part inside me that is crumbling inside after 7 years here

http://www.flashnewmedia.net/sony/ricky_martin/