Me, myself and I...

I AM heartbroken and it's obvious. At a birthday party I went to today, the waiter wrote me a poem and it had something to do with the look in my eyes...

I WANT to finally close this chapter of my life. I need a new adventure.

I WISH I were someone else sometimes. This doesn't mean that I don't like being me but I would like a different perspective.

I WONDER why I am not enough. Or maybe I'm too much?

I REGRET very few things. But it's done and it's over so I move on.

I AM NOT where I thought I would be.

I DANCE most weekends. And I do it enthusiastically because dancing is my one GOOD excuse for not going to the gym.

I AM NOT ALWAYS punctual even though I try to always be. This is where my inner German meets my inner Dominican.

I MAKE WITH MY HANDS stuff that's absolutely useless like paper airplanes or crazy drawings.

I WRITE because it's the only way I can truly express what I feel. I talk plenty but writing works best.

I CONFUSE the hell out of most people. And it's not because I am a complicated person, but because I am complex ;)

I NEED to find peace.

I SHOULD take more risks.

I START too many things of which about half remain undone until I pick them up again years later.

I FINISH eating first most times. My meals are usually smaller and I have no patience to stay sitting at the table for hours on end.

I TAG whoever feels like it.

Happy Birthday Yuri :)

You can find pictures of the birthday soiree here.

An open book...

"Like the first time I saw you, you do me that way.
What should I say?
I see you there standing and I am afraid...

I might get in the way."

-Stolen Away on 55th and 3rd by DMB

There is some merit in being a cold person. Personally, as we have already established, I am not one of those; however, sometimes I think that I would be better off if I were. Maybe that way, I wouldn't be so exposed and ultimately so vulnerable. Most of the time, I don't care that I am the way I am but sometimes I wish I was different.

A couple of days ago, my friend Schuey wrote a post about the women he loved. In it, he said that "I notice that I can’t “be” with women who show their affection toward me. It grosses me out. " Later, while in conversation, he said that he thought it was German thing. I don't think that's it at all. I think it's a power trip. And it ultimately shows that he is the one who has the power...a power I wish I had...even if it was so I could pretend.

There is a power struggle in everything. One has the power one doesn't. That goes for every kind of relationship. Very rarely will you find an even playing field, well intentioned though the players may be.

HWMNBN and I spent time together last week. Originally, I had every intention of being cold and aloof. I don't know why in my mind that made sense. I wanted to be a wolf in sheep's clothing and yet, the reflection on the glass door was that of a little girl in yellow shorts and a tank top trying to contain a feeling bigger than her. Which I was and I was.

I can't love someone and not show it and by the same token, I can't not feel loved. For me it is important that we know and that the world knows in the corniest possible way. Because that way there is no misunderstanding. Because even if the words aren't there, you just know.

So, yeah...I am not cool in that way. "Cool people" like Schuey or like those people who hide behind power suits and go through life controling everything from their work to their emotions may be better in a lot of ways and make me feel like an everyday Jane. I wish I could do that...be like them so that if nothing else I could hide the heartache I feel right now. But that's not me.

I am like a child in that I need affection and I need displays of it all the time or my insecurities kick in and I feel unloved. That's part of who I am: If I love you, you know. If I hate you, you know too.

I'm not German, and right now I think that this realization has made me gross myself out...

Delayed reactions

It's been four days and today it hit me.

Like that one day, when it took a walk to Starbucks to make me break down, today I woke up and I felt broken. Once again, I felt incomplete because I was reminded of what it felt like to be whole.

I woke up, took a shower, got in my car and started driving. It was then that I felt like I had no air. I made it to school and somehow I sat through three hours of biophysics. Rather than going to the gym, during my break I came home. Once again I feel like the life is being sucked out of me because I am back to that unnatural state that is life without him in it. My mom asked me to go pick Sally up at the vet so I did. While I waited I held someone's Lulu trying to comfort myself because nobody can comfort me. Not without the "I told you so" or the "you should have known better". I came back home and Ivan asked me to do something for him so I did. Then, against my will, I sat down to eat and pretended I liked it when in reality I couldn't even taste what I was eating. Ivan called. I was eating. I called back, there was no answer. I asked my mom to play with my hair. She wouldn't because I've been moody. Ivan comes home we get into a fight. I can't even argue because I have no strength. So we just yell and I know it's stupid fight but he is pissed off and in some levels it is my fault but I have no strength to say it is my fault or to apologize. So I let him leave. I sit on the couch and sip on my coffee. Tears cloud my vision but I don't want to cry. Because it would be too obvious. I don't want anyone to know that I'm pissed off because I am sad. I'd rather let them think that I'm just being a bitch. So I came to the office. Alone. Wondering if I'm being stupid, if I was stupid, when I thought that maybe this time it would be different because that night it was different. I looked at myself in the mirror and the bruise has faded but it's still there. So once again I know it really happened. And I hate my body for being a reminder. And I can't help myself but cry because no matter how many times I tell myself that I am complete as I am, when I am finally making some progress he comes back and I know then that I am not whole. That everything is too much. That breathing is painful because we don't share the same space. And I miss him...

because against my better judgement I know that it is only when HWMNBN and I are together that we find ourselves in our most natural state...

Of gas and tank tops...

I'm slowly recovering from what was surely a surreal weekend- well, long weekend, as I started it Thursday. It had been a while since I had slept so little. I was thinking about writing at length about how it went but I think I'm just going to highlight the basics...

1. He who must not be named was in town. Temporarily, we went back to our most "natural state"
2. Birthday parties are fun!
3. Dancing is fun
4. Free drinks are fun
5. Having excessive amounts of free tickets for one particular event is awesome
6. I was sad but I didn't cry
7. My friends are far too vivacious. Marlene and Yuri are too much fun.
8. Deep Dish: I am still waiting for The World Is Mine and Dreams...but what a night!
9. Seeing Bracuta in a tanktop for the first time ever was priceless.
10. When your ride dies because it ran out of gas in the middle of the highway at dawn, that can be fun
11. You know you love your mom when you stay up all night and then stay awake just so she can have you around for mother's day.
12. Adrian and Maria are too good to me.

There is more but I forget...maybe it'll come back to me later. If so, I'll write about it then.

The World Is Mine...

...and I would like to thank the fine people of PAV Entertainment for hooking me up with my ticket :)

when you say you are leaving, I want you to hold on...

Your holiness is gone
Sometimes love will make you sad
Until you know where you belong
You'll dream of what you never had

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah ...

You can feel the falling leaves
Filling up our vacant lives
When I fall onto my knees
I pray you don't leave me behind

-September Baby by Joseph Arthur

The warm up for saturday...

DJ Stryke 10:00pm

I need to be the ant but I think I'm the elephant.

Millions of mangos, mangos for me. Millions of mangos, mangos for free...

I love mangos. Mangos kick ass. And it pisses me off to see things like this. I mean seriously, what kind of self respecting mango lover will eat a mango like that?

Mangos are meant to be eaten sloppily. The sloppier, the better. Mangos are good for the skin so why not take advantage of it?

These are the mango-eating rules according to me:

1. Wash the mango
2. Take a bite off the unpeeled mango
3. Spit out the peel
4. Take a bite off the mango
5. Repeat until mango is completely gone
6. Suck on the seed until it's completely dry
7. Take the peels and suck them dry as well

There. That's how you eat a mango. Fuck the peeling and cutting and stuff. If you need to go through ALL of that hassle, then you are not a true mango lover.

I have spoken.

xox-
me.

HOT-HOT-HOT

It's hot people!

I don't know what else to do...these past couple of weeks have been like hell on earth. It's been close to 100 degrees F every single day. I've eaten ice cream like there is no tomorrow, I've had tons of fruits and water, I've worn nothing but shorts and skirts in a desperate attempt to not die of heat but it's been useless. As a result, I feel useless. Heat is very tiring.

And to think that it's not even summer...

I really should move to the beach.
(or something)

Rompe Rompe! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I hate spinning class.

That said, I started my group fitness training certification class this past weekend and I am loving it. It's very physically demanding but it's the most fun I've had in a while. I am beginning to think that my future really is in the fitness and nutrition field because I love everything about both things.

Except, of course, spinning.

Today I took my very first spinning class ever. Part of my "homework" for my certification class is to take group classes in the different disciplines (kickboxing, aerobics, step, dance, spinning, etc.) in addition to my regular work out. This is going to be a challenge for me because as it is, I spend roughly 3 hours a day at the gym and with school and life I don't have the time. So what I decided to do is take the classes I don't usually take and work from there. Today was spinning day.

And I suck.

Taking into consideration that it probably didn't help that last night I went to Happy Hour until late and didn't go to bed until even later, I was truly horrible. First, I couldn't get the bike comfortable, once I did I couldn't get in "the zone", then my quads were killing me, I found the work out boring, it pisses me off to ride a bike (albeit stationary) and not get anywhere and last but not least, the top reason why I hate the class was REGGAETON.

Reggaeton makes my ears bleed and my soul cry in pain. As a self respecting woman I can't listen to that crap. I don't know what I am going to do because I do intend to keep taking the damn class until I get really good at it (or my legs/ass start getting too big whichever happens first) but I will not get all ghetto fabulous to do it.

If only I could use my iPod during the class...

Though I have already decided that for my spinning test I'm going to design my class using house/progressive/trance music. That's some good stuff :)

sometimes, like this is perfect...

It's okay to support Canadian DJs too...

...and thanks to the fine people of 809k for hooking me up with my ticket :)

The perils of hanging out with single good-looking boys...

Tonight I thought it would be cool to "hang with the boys".

Maybe I should rewind a little bit...I have been a med student for a semester and two weeks- basically, all of this year. During this time, in my partying mostly, I have had the pleasure of befriending a number of almost doctors and medical students at my level. I have met most of them partying and all of them (no exception) have been guys. Great looking guys at that!

On the most part, I've hung out with them accidentally in party settings and then individually either at school or at their homes. Never together. Never in an environment that was somewhat party-somewhat "vitrina".

Well, today I thought it would be cool to hang out with all of them together at the 809k party. I don't know what I was thinking. Seriously.

One of three things can happen when hanging out with a group of single good-looking guys:

1. They will smother you. If one or more of the aforementioned guys like you, there will be no air to breathe. They will be stuck to you like gum on your shoe. then, you will either go home alone or not but until then, you are eye AND arm candy.

2. They will use you as a wingwoman. Because we all know that nothing attracts a woman (or man) more than another good looking woman (or man).

3. They will be out looking to hook up and only want you there to accent the fact that they can hold friendships with women- but they ignore you nonetheless. It makes guys look good to have friendships with girls and they will use you as an asset but leave you hanging.

Tonight I saw sides of personalities I hadn't seen.

Theoretically, I was hanging out with 4 guys: crush #1, crush #2, and two new friends.

With crush #1 I have had "moments" but nothing has ever happened with him aside the whole "damsel in distress incident" I don't care to get into. With him, I went through item #1 of my aforementioned list, but like I said, nothing happened.

With crush #2, in a...errrr...moment of weakeness, we smooched. It wasn't anything dramatic, but after that, I also went though that same item #1 with him. He gets threatened (or awed) when crush #1 is around because crush #1 is like Buddha on a mountain even for him.

The other two guys I have just been friends with and I agreed to be their wingwoman even before we actually hung out.

Tonight, I experienced items #2 and #3, though mostly #3. It's a shitty feeling.

I went to the party, and I left. I went back at an ungodly hour because crush #2 especifically asked me. Originally, I went to the party to pick up my ticket and to see crush #1, but there was something about the way he acted towards me that made me want to give that up. Apparently, after the "damsel in distress incident" now he feels all older-brotherly towards me and God knows I don't need a new brother. Crush #2, made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside because there is nothing better than knowing that someone likes you. And he wanted me there, or so he said.

Well, I went back. We danced, had a drink. And maybe my friend was right when she said that I don't act like I like people. That I played the hard to get game more like impossible to get. Regardless, I became the girl to make them ALL look good.

Needless to say, five minutes into that, I grabbed my keys and left.

I ain't fucking Cupid.

Support your local DJs...

Not a bad way to spend a Friday night...Not to mention that the only people who have ever let me win anything are the 809k people so it is important that I show some support...

And I really enjoy Heineken Thirst finalist Mr. O'Neil...he makes me wanna' dance :)

It's not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game.

Actually, that's not true. If you play the game you wanna' win. At least I do. And if you play fair, and you do everything right and then some, losing is a bitch and a half.

To this day we still don't know if my mom won the election. It's been two days and all we know so far is that her party won. Yesterday I was told to start doing my little victory dance. This morning I was told to wash the dogs cause they were coming back home.

At this point, we still don't know. But we are prepared for both.

I am proud of my mother. I really am. The number of things that she has accomplished in the past number of years is impressive. She decided one day that she wanted to run for office and she did. Despite the fact that this is still a very male-driven society, she hung with the big boys and earned their respect. The people in her province love her because she built her entire campaign on social work and when the other candidates forgot that in some of their communities some of the basic needs weren't met, my mom came through for them and got it done. All from her own pocket because unlike in the US, the candidate here pays for the bulk of their campaign.

If she does in fact wins, like we all really hope she will, she will be a valuable asset for her province in Congress. I am not just saying this because she is my mother, but because unlike most of the politicians here, she actually cares and always has. Even as children, before the political bug bit her, Ivan, Gus and I knew that we had to share our wealth with those less fortunate than us and that didn't-and still doesn't- mean to help the children of Somalia but to help the people from "the homeland". Those pilgrimages to Monte Cristi that we took over the years to give out toys, or school supplies, or home appliances or whatever were a intrical part of our upbringing and from that we learned and many benefited.

If she loses, it will be a sad day for Monte Cristi but it will also be a sad day for our household. Many people don't understand why I am so into my family but the answer is simple: because we work like the team we are to help each other accomplish our dreams, even if said dreams should remain just that. When I have wanted or needed something my whole family has rallied around me and done everything in their power to help me get there. The same thing has happened with my brothers. This time she was the one who wanted something and we all gathered around to support of her and did our part, even if at times some of us (like myself) didn't really agree with what she wanted to do.

If she loses, we all lost.

The game is a hard one to play when there is so much at stake. But we are still playing and we'll keep playing as long as we must because if she wants to play until she wins, we will all play until we win.

A mental checklist...

The guys I've spent time with in the past year or so have had the following professions:

Music promoter
Economist
Musician/producer
DJ/producer
Mortgage broker
Writer/ filmmaker
Writer

then I found that:

Music promoter has a girlfriend and lives elsewhere
The Economist lives elsewhere
Musician/producer has a wife and lives elsewhere
DJ/producer is emotionally unavailable and lives elsewhere
Mortgage broker is 35 and moved away
Writer/filmmaker wants to follow Rivers Cuomo's footsteps
Writer moved to Brazil

Maybe I should start fraternizing with single people who have sensible professions and no plans (or desire) to leave their current place of residency for a while?

Off to vote...

To the bravest person I know...

Sometimes I think about you and I can't help myself but wonder how you found the inner strength to become the person you are today. Really. I do. You and I grew up together in a very similar fashion and yet, it amazes me to even think about how different we are and how different the cards we were both dealt have been...

Years and years ago we found each other and in finding you I learned to be the person I am today. Yet loving you was easy but keeping you in my life was not. You were there for me, I was there for you. Then as it happened, life got in the way and I had to learn to live without everything good that you brought into my life. It was still there but like everything, it changed.

I have asked myself, what would I have done had I been in your position then? what would I do if I were in your position now? how would I face the world knowing that there is a mild statute of limitations as to what concerns me? what could I do to make myself feel better if that was me? and the one thing I have asked myself repeatedly: why was that not me?

Knowing me, I know that I wouldn't have come nearly as far along the way as you have. I know that I would have taken every ounce of self pity I could find and fed from it until there was nothing...

I have never felt sorry for you and I don't think that I will ever feel that way towards you because you have never fallen a victim of your circumstance but you have bravely faced it and tried to make the best with what you have. I can't imagine that anyone who has ever met you would look at you with pity or despite your...hmmm...attitude towards certain things, which I acknowledge because I share it, would not fall in love with you- limitations and all.

Love is a powerful thing and a strange thing all at the same time. I think that anyone who has ever experienced it can tell you that love will help you look past things that would normally catch your attention. Most importantly, love is giving. If because of love one could overlook a slap in the face (literally), one could certainly overlook a limp. And I'll tell you this, if love can make someone turn against everything they believe in for its sake, it can certainly make someone wheel their loved one down the aisle if need be.

People get confused about the little things in life. They think that love is somewhat proportional to how they perceive things to be. It could very well be true, but most times it isn't. Imagine this: You are 90 years old. Would a person who has always loved you quit loving you because your face is wrinkled and you need help walking? The body we have now is something that has been and will be with us for a very long time; but just like a car, after a while it won't run as good as it used to. And what's inside...that changes the most all the while it stays inert. You grow and feel and experience and the longer you live the more there is and at the end of the day, cheesy though it may sound, that's what's important.

I don't want you to sit there and get teary eyed over something that hasn't happened nor that it's written in stone that will happen. You need to believe what I have known all along: that you are special and braver than most of the people I have ever met, if not the bravest. The people in your life are good people who have loved you unconditionally for as long as you've known them and they have loved you not because your eyes are pretty or because you are an awesome cook but because of what's inside. And just like that, one day someone will come along- if he hasn't come along already-and if he needs to carry you down the aisle he will just like he will be there for you ready to give you your shot should you be unable to do so one day.

I love you with all my heart. And you, my friend, have earned my utmost respect.

Cheer up.

xox-
ana banana-head

A tale of 3 goats.

Some people love goats. In searching for a picture of a goat online, I found a couple of sites devoted to goats. There was this one about this dude who has gone around the world looking for goats so he can photograph them. Then there are also the people who love goats because they need goat's milk for nourishment, and of course there are those who love goats because they love to eat them. Apparently, if you let them grow wild and feed them oregano they'll be quite tasty when you eat them. I wouldn't know though. I don't eat any of that.

Anyway, last Friday it was brought to my attention that due to the fact that the Congressional elections are on Tueday (tomorrow), this weekend would be a long weekend. As you know, my mom is running for Congress and for the past week I had been more than a little distressed because I didnt' think I'd be able to go see her before the elections. You know, to give her moral support and all. But there is a long weekend so I went.

My mom's province, Monte Cristi, is about 4 hours away from Santo Domingo. It's not like it's really that far but getting there is a real pain in the ass after a certain point. Saturday morning though I packed my weekend bag, got in my car (or more like my mom's car because mine has been held hostage for campaigning purposes), and left.

On the most part, it was a good trip. I had my music, I talked on the phone plenty, and I didn't even have to stop to go to the bathroom for once! But then, as I was about 25 minutes away from my destination, when I was already sporting the headache from hell, when I really didn't care what it was that Nat was saying to me (sorry Nat...i told you my head hurt!), BAM!

I almost ran over the fucking goat.

These damn goats love to run back and forth across the highway. After a certain point one needs to be really careful because they will come out of nowhere and then sometimes stop in the middle of the road and I was being careful. As a matter of fact, what I am assuming were mama and papa goat crossed the road just fine. It was baby goat who was the problem.

Okay, so I was going faster than I should have been. But I stopped like 2 feet away from the animal. It's a good thing I was driving a stable car with good brakes. But I hate goats. Really.

Then, when I finally get to Monte Cristi and I am telling them all about my adventure with the goat, you know what they all said?!?!?!?

"That could have been dinner!" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

You do? Well, I don't.

A word I have never really liked is the word marriage. Where for some people the M word conjures all kinds of pretty pictures, for me it does nothing of the sort. It annoys the living hell out of me to be honest. There are very few things I find more disturbing than the idea of having to commit to "until death" when the bond that is your word can be broken so easily and when forever can be too long.

As I've gotten older I've seen some of my friends tie the knot and I've been more than happy for them. Skeptic about marriage as I am, I am supportive. I do realize that my floor is someone else's ceiling and just because I don't believe in something doesn't mean it's not okay for someone else to believe in it. As a friend, it's my duty to be supportive despite what I may believe.

I am not really fond of married people. Actually, let me rephrase that. Married people are not very fond of the single folks. Just today I was talking to a (male) friend (friend in a very unorthodox fashion) who is married and he was saying how they (he and the Mrs.) were going to go to dinner with his friend and wife and blablabla. And I've noticed that each time he's mentioned their plans, they usually involve married people. Okay.

My good friend (or I should just say friend) who recently got engaged has started hanging out exclusively with couples, either married or seriously committed. According to her, single life is mundane and she has x-y-z things to worry about and we can't possibly relate. You know, because with marriage comes a new found maturity that those of us who are more experienced in life (not to mention older) couldn't possibly understand. But okay.

I used to have a friend who until she got married I thought was wonderfully sane in a very funky kind of way. Then, it seemed like the worse attributes of her Prince Charming (who in my eyes was never neither a prince nor charming) rubbed off on her (along with his dislike of me) and next thing I knew her name on my caller ID brought dread and pressing 'ignore' became too easy. Then one day she said "I don't want to be your friend anymore". I felt like the angels sang to me! I must admit that I felt terrible because for a long time she was the coolest chick I knew but things happen for a reason.

Most people are born all alone. Everyone spends most of their life as a single complete unit where their friends help them grow and explore and learn. Then one day they meet someone and are swept off their feet. Lo and behold they want to share their lives. When did sharing two lives become having one life for two people?

I understand that when you are married things change but why is it so easy to dispose of the old life upon signing a piece of paper? what's more, why do married people think that (or just act like) single people are less because they are not part of a twosome when in reality I think that there is more merit in facing the world alone rather than have a 24 hour cheerleader...

In a perfect world both things could be had and shared without one ever affecting the other. But it's not a perfect world. So I'll just continue to be okay with losing friends to marriage and I won't be the one to remind them that 50+% of marriages end up in divorce. Because, you know, if a married person doesn't want to be friends with me becasue I am single, i don't know if later on in life I would want to be friends with a divorcee.

who's the fairest of them all?

To say that one doesn't like compliments is probably the biggest lie one can ever tell.

Some people may find compliments uncomfortable. This is something I accept and at times I am one of those people; however, on the most part I am pretty certain that even on the deepest level of our subconscious we are all wired to like nice things being said about us.

Compliments can come in a variety of ways. There are those that are vocal and honest and sweet, those that are thoughtful and considerate and those that are somewhat inappropriate but always an ego boost. Regardless of the way they are presented though, or even what these compliments represent, they acknowledge a positive attribute that good or bad is there.

And this brings me to my point: compliments must be earned.

I hate ass kissers. People who go around saying things like "oooh! oooh! you ALWAYS look great" or "oh! you are so smart" or whatever else all the time just because they feel it's going to earn them brownie points either with you or St. Peter should all be shot. In my book, that's the ultimate sign of stupidity because it's not like the person on the receiving end of the compliment doesn't know what's up-at least most of the time.

I also hate compliment fishers. YOu know, those people who go around saying stuff like "I am ugly, aren't I?" or maybe stuff like "do you think I am this or that?" knowing full well what the answer is because you have told them before.

Compliments should be well meaning and should be, above all things, honest. There are some things in life that are permanent and unchanging and the first time they are acknowledged they are noted, so is it really necessary to say 17 times a day how smart someone is? Probably not.

I don't give compliments often but when I do, they are well-meaning and whole hearted. Don't force me to say things I am not feeling at the moment because it doesn't work that way. I may say something I don't mean or worse: I could say something totally bitchy (which is something I did today).

There is a girl I know from life. She is not close enough to be considered a friend per se, but she is not enough of a stranger that I can not talk to her if I see her. We are close acquaintances, if you can call it that. Anyway, as you know, I've been sick. I've been so sick that I haven't been doign anything of substance aside going to school for almost a week. Hell, tonight I said no to a party. A good party at that (with a cute guy!!)! That's how sick I've been. To add to that, PMS sucks. Needless to say, I am not in the best of moods. This girl, every single time I see her fishes for compliments. Today was no different. And though I usually humor her, today I wasn't in the mood. So I was mean to her.

After a twenty minute speech that felt like it went on for 4 hours she says something like "but nobody takes me seriously because they don't think I am smart. But I am smart, aren't I?" At that point I just couldn't control myself. I had been trying to leave for 25 minutes stressing the fact that I wasn't feeling well and she comes to me with this BS story to ask me the dumbest question ever (because she knows why she isn't taken seriously). She just wanted to hear someone call her smart today. And that wasn't going to be me.

"You know what? you are a fucking idiot. This conversation was a massive waste of time. If you were really smart, you wouldn't need my validation, and what's more, you would have the sense to know that I am fucking sick and I want to go home. Leave me alone."

That was really mean of me. I feel bad. Really. I should really apologize. Maybe I will.

...and yeah, sometimes my vocabulary is just THAT colorful.

Taking notes.

I'm still sick.

These past couple of days have been pretty bad. Spending 8 hours a day in school all the while all I wanna do is go to the anatomy lab and tell them to chop off my head is not fun. It's also not fun that I already have enough homework to keep me busy until July, but I suposse that's part of the deal.

Some of my more advanced med student friends (aka- my favorite party people) have advised me to be diligent about my studies, to set goals for myself, to make progress charts, to not under any circumstance miss class and all this other stuff; and while I understand what they are saying, I am just not feeling it.

I've never been the type of person who has ever really had to study. I read my stuff, go to class and somehow all the information is absorved almost osmotically. Sometimes I joke around saying that most of my learning is done by association. People laugh when I say that, but that really may be true. When I am challenged by something I find someone who is passioante about it to make me want to be passionate about it too.

Last semester was probably the first time that I really consciously sat down to study. After the incident with the Chemistry professor I was so close to failing the class that everyone kept telling me to just drop it and take it again this semester. But I DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE drop classes. So I studied and made Chemistry my life. I made every concept in that book something I could understand. I think my notes alone could make for a very successful "Chemistry for Dummies". In any case, the class everyone thought I would fail, sometimes even me, I got an 87 in- and that was my lowest grade.

So yeah, I am somewhat intimidated by everything that I am going to have to tackle this semester should I survive this cold. Too many physics courses, too much chemistry, and still more crappy courses; but I've already come up with a system so I'm okay. I think. As long as I follow the plan, that is. Because I know that I probably won't, seeing how I am a procrastinator and all. But I am an effective procrastinator so that's a plus.

Still, in trying to start this semester on the right foot I should at least go shower because I am already late for class...

Skeletons in the closet.

People in general seem to have a tendency to be more secretive than absolutely necessary. Whether it is because they lead a sketchy existance or because of fear that someone will use their secrets against them, it's hard to say. All I know is that it seems to me that the older I get the more private I have seen people become and I don't know what that means but I sure wish I did.

My life is an open book. To an extent, this blog has been evidence that I don't really conceal very many things. I've written about some of my most personal experiences and even when at times I have felt exposed for doing it, I've just let it be because this is who I am and I can't hide it nor will I apologize for it. In my everyday existance I am even more open to interaction. I am a storyteller, a listener, and someone who when faced by a straight forward question, will always give a straight forward answer.

I used to think that there were no skeletons in my closet. Nothing I have ever done has seemed so bad or shameful that I have had to let it go and forget about it. I mean, there is that one thing that happened that one time but it's not a skeleton because it shames me or makes me a bad person, but simply because it is a secret that needs safeguarding.

A few days ago I was out with my friend Yvette L., whose grandma just passed away. There aren't very many things you can say to a person who has had such an important loss. I mean, she loved her grandma, she believes in heaven, but there is the lingering question of what happens when you are dead. I offered her my shoulder to cry on but she wanted to talk and although our beliefs about life and death are nowhere near similar, I can always do that.

We talked for hours. We talked until she made her sad face. We talked until I cried. We talked until we were asked to leave from Caribbean Coffee.

Somewhere in our conversation I remembered that I have two skeletons in my closet and those are all mine. Not things I've done, but things that have happened that have deeply affected me. I think I have only told two people about one (and that was just to keep my sanity) and the other I never spoke about with anyone. Not even the people who were there. I really believed that it would go away.

And it did. For a while. I never again thought of that unfortunate situation until Yvette opened up to me. Until I had to explain how I felt about something as natural as is death. It came rushing back to me as if it were happening all over again. And I told her about it because I knew that in some ways it would help her feel better, and because I know that she will keep my secret no matter what.

To speak about something that I've tried for so many years to not think about was the hardest thing I've ever had to do; and yet, I am somewhat relieved that I did it. Although this isn't something I intend to speak of ever again, I now feel that the load of this secret is lighter because I share it with someone and whatever negative feelings I may have had about that one experience have been diminished because my negatives became someone else's positive.

In many ways keeping these two secrets have shaped me into the person I am. But once again, I need to remember to forget...

HONEY puhleeease!

I think I am probably the only medical student in the face of the planet who doesn't really believe in conventional medicine. Although I understand its importance, a lot of the time I find that conventional doctors cause more harm than good. Unless it's for my yearly physical or an I-can't-fix-it-myself problem, you won't see me spending too much time in one of their offices.

Don't misunderstand me though. I will not under any circumstance say that traditional medicine is a pseudo science nor that it doesn't deserve to exist; however, I feel that preventive medicine and alternative medicine are the way to go. This is one of the reasons why I want to be a nutritionist: I believe that this is where our health ends and begins.

Anyway, today I had to go fix a mistake on my schedule for the summer semester, which by the way started yesterday. This morning I woke up not feeling like myself though. The 30 minutes it ususally takes me to get ready turned into an hour 15. The two breakfasts I eat before I am even out the door were just one and I felt like my head had been used as a bowling ball and my body was just tingly all over-in a bad way. I had witnessed Ivan go through this very same thing last week so I knew it was THE COLD.

Going to school to take care of anything is a process. Everything takes hours and hours and hours and to this day I'm not sure if this is due to understaffing, incompetence or negligence. Either way, I had to go take care of this problem because as unenthusiastic as I am about taking yet another Physics course, I must. So I went, cold and all.

After 5 hours going from line to line to line, my body was killing me. I told the woman "look, I've been here for 5 hours. I'm hungry, I am tired and I'm sick. All I need is for you to add this one class to my course load so I can go home, make myself some soup and have some honey with lime. That's it." The woman looks at me like I am retarded and tells me to go to the drugstore next door and get some medicine. I said "thanks but no thanks. I don't believe in self medicating", so she says "get a prescription from either of those guys over there (pointing towards these guys who have been "doctors" for a whole three days)". Once again, I said no because I am not SICK, I just have a cold and all I need is soup, honey, fluids and bed.

Well, apparently my position about what goes into my body might have offended a few doctors and some doctors-to-be because what began as a simple "please help me add a class so I can get soup and honey" conversation escalated into a discussion about why I want to be a doctor if I don't believe in cold medicine.

Frankly, that was the most retarded argument I have ever had.

I've always thought that really smart people probably lacked something somewhere. I used to lean towards emotional intelligence but it's ocurred to me today that really smart people, in this case doctors, lack common sense and ingenuity or if at some point they had it, they probably lost it along the way. Maybe that's what happens when you take too many Chemistry courses and not enough anthropology...

The unbearable lightness of being...

She was 92.
She was 23.
One lived a full life.
The other had a long life to live.
Her body died before her soul was ready.
Her soul died before her body was ready.
One died wanting to live.
One lived hoping to die.
She died with people she loved.
She died all alone.
She left a legacy.
She left a note.
Her head rested on a pillow.
Her head rested on a rope.
Life is a gift.
Life is a curse.

I knew neither one.
Both were in my life by way of people I love.

May they both rest in peace.

anal retentive.

I have a binder where I keep all of my recipes. This binder is organized by category (salads, appetizers, main dishes, side dishes, desserts and baked goods) and then, within each category, there are subcategories depending on the main ingredient and the temperature at which the dishes are served.

I do the same thing with my friends. In the binder of my life, my friends are organized by category. I have school friends, gym friends, wholesome friends, party friends, drinking friends, geek friends, music friends, traveling friends, old friends, new friends, best friends, real riends and fake friends. Some of them can fit in more than one category and usually that keeps them closer to me than if they were in just the one, but most people are in one category and their role in my life is pretty defined. Ocassionally I try to bring them all (or some) together but it's never something I expect to stick permanently.

Recently, I met some people who have brought a lot of anxiety to my life. I even had to create a new category for them: my uber-corrupt friends. Very few aspects of their personality and our relationship is wholesome and as such I try to keep them relegated to their category and leave it at that. When I feel saturated by them (which is often) I go with someone else, and I have made it a general rule to keep my private life and thoughts on things separated from them.
Unfortunately though, just because you don't want to share doesn't mean that they are not going to ask and when faced with a direct question one should always give a direct answer at the risk of having to hear the judgement calls and "advice" that was unsolicited to begin with.

A couple of days ago, I was having a few drinks with one of these people- though using the word friend here is an exaggeration. Lately, my inner nomad has been looking to come out again and I've not been myself. I keep thinking of ways to get out and when I am focusing on something I can think of nothing else. This friend asked me what's goign on. I said nothing. Then she became enlightened:

Friend: You know what you need? You need to have sex!
Me: Excuse me?
Friend: I know there is something wrong but you don't want to tell me so I'll just tell you that whatever could possibly be wrong with you, you can solve it with sex.
Me: How is that?
Friend: Well, if you are sad sex cheers you up, if you are depressed sex releases endorphines so you'll be happy, if you are pissed off sex is a good way to direct your energy, if you are bored it will give you something to do, if you feel fat it'll help you lose weight, it can help you get more money, and it works great with drugs. If you need an adventure, there is nothing more adventurous than sex with a stranger or someone who is taken, if you just want that change of scenery, have a couple of guys around for variety, and if what you need is motivation to stay here, find someone who is just THAT good...

After this disertation which extended far longer but I can't remember most of the especifics, I was left with a feeling of emotional discomfort that I can't really explain. At first I was like "well, the woman does have a point and all of this is true" but then I was like "what kind of values are these?" I am not the kind of person who would randomly pick someone up for a bootie call let alone the kind of person who would be willing to trade sex for entertainment or just something to do. Committed entertainment, maybe; but not just like that. That's not me.

Her way of life is not me.

This friendship is not for me.

I think I'd rather play monopoly.

Mullets are not your friends...

------------------------------------

And I am boycotting Pranzo...as should you and you and you too! Thank you.

I am not sorry there is nothign to say.

Yesterday somebody made me cry.

So in turn I made a few other people cry.

The cause of all this crying was a song. Actually, I don't know if it was the song per se, it could have been the lyrics, or the music, or the video. The fact of the matter is that the whole thing was an overwhelming experience. It had been a long time since I had listened to a song that made me feel like that.

My brother says that songs make you feel the way they do because you relate to them, or because they simply remind you of stuff. I think that in my case what affected me was the desire to find myself in that place someday...

Thank you friend for sharing this with me :)

Your Ex-Lover is Dead.

Fashion Rocks Rants.

Last night was a night filled with music, press, and clothing. Last night was Fashion Rocks: The Hard Rock Cafe Store Spring Fashion Show. It was a cool concept. They took a handful of models and mixed them up with Dominican Rock and Roll Royalty, put them in a stage in the Colonial Zone while the DJ did his thing and played runway worthy Rock music. It was certainly not the pretty people, lights and house music extravaganza I'm used to seeing in other fashion shows here but nonetheless it was cool.

About the whole thing there were a few things that bothered me as a spectator, as a former event planner, and as a public relations person. Perhaps some of these things border on the shallow and obsessive but fashion is an extremely shallow industry so if they don't care, I certainly don't.

1. In the beginning of the fashion show, the MC went on and on about how Hard Rock Cafe was going to be a home for our local artists. At one point during the fashion show one of the "rockstar models" comes out with this sign thing that said "Support local rock". Very cool. Great message. It would have totally made sense had it not gotten lost in the sounds of Mick Jagger. If you are going to talk about having a "rock and roll" venue to be home to our local rockstars, then use those rockstars as more than hot bodies and play their music. Most important media outlets in the country were there. It would have been nice if they could have also written about the music, because frankly, everyone and their mother has already written about the Rolling Stones.

2. Models. If you are a rockstar, you are certainly not a model. How you work a runway is totally unimportant because your onstage charisma comes from something separate from looks. And we all know that not all musicians are good looking. If you are a model, on the other hand, YOUR JOB it is to look good. YOUR JOB is to make what you are wearing look good. YOUR JOB is to become what you are trying to sell. YOUR JOB is to make me want to go home and cry because I can't look like that in a mini skirt.

Some of the actual female models that were there yesterday, looked like they were having a hard time grasping the "rock and roll" concept. No makeup or hair could hide the fact that they are just not raw in that way and what's more, they didn't look ethnic enough to be representative of anything Santo Domingo. But such is a part of life. The thing that totally irked me though was "the muffin". Muffin Muffin Muffin EVERYWHERE! If you are a model and you get paid to model clothes you need to be thin as hell to wear, if you must go anorexic to pull off the look then do it. There is a reason why supermodels are cokeheads and I'm not advocating drug addiction or eating disorders but if you are a model, then be a model! I'm not a model and I diet if I am 1 pound over regular "Annush weight" and I spend hours and hours at the gym so that I don't have to worry about "the muffin". It's a simple concept. If you don't like it, then get a real job.

Also, if you are a female performer (and I say it like this because that wasn't a problem with the guys yesterday because most were pretty fit) and you get invited to model because you are famous or popular or whatever, I am sure that you were given enough notice to go on a diet if you have to. Singer/actress X was on the stage and she wasn't even trying to suck in her belly. As if it wasn't bad enough that her ass was too fat for that miniskirt. WOMAN! You are a public figure! The camera adds ten pounds! You do the math... same goes for the other one who at least was smart enough to stick to jeans.

3. Apparently there was some kind of contest to pick the designs for the Hard Rock t-shirts that were going to be displayed. I have been to plenty of Hard Rock Cafes in my time and frankly they all looked the same to me. As a matter of fact, one of the few that might have been original looking looked like it had been copied from a Roxy t-shirt. Supossedly there was one with an indian illustration. I like indian stuff. Too bad I didn't see it.

Since last night I've been saying that one of the designs should have been a fun looking chacabana (aka- guayabera) with the design embroidered somewhere. It doesnt' get anymore Dominican and hip than than. They should take it as a suggestion .

Last but not least, and this is something completely urelated, if you are going to serve hors d'oeuvres make sure that the waitstaff know what is beign served. Yesterday, I took an accidental bite of something we thought was tomato but had fish underneath. Luckily, that didn't do anything to me but could have just because the waitress didn't know what the heck she was serving.

And one last disclaimer: IF YOU ARE CARELESS AND CAUSE SOMEONE TO SPILL ALCOHOL ON MY BALENCIAGA SHOES, IN THE EVENT OF ANY PERMANENT DAMAGE YOU CAN COUNT ON HAVING TO GET ME NEW ONES. We learned that as children: you break it you bought it. So walk carefully.

I like it but I don't get it.

Cause you had a bad day
You're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don't know
You tell me don't lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
You had a bad day
You've seen what you like
And how does it feel for one more time
You had a bad day
You had a bad day

i am still an immigrant...

THIS BLOG IS CLOSED IN SUPPORT OF

THE DAY WITHOUT AN IMMIGRANT.

Come back tomorrow.