What I Should Have Said

Birthday Wisdom

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 05:05:48 GMT

On the birthday of someone I used to know... a bit of wisdom...

I have learned that what starts in chaos ends in chaos...

I have learned that letting go of the anger and hurt only leaves the good, and it's this that is hard to let go....

I have learned that knowing when to leave and let go is an art...

I have learned that there's a very thin line between walking away and giving up....

I have learned that walking away doesn't necessarily mean giving up...

I have learned that while we may not always get what we want, we always get what we need...

I have learned that I can do what I need to do despite the hurt it may cause...

I have learned that you can love someone and need to walk away...

I have learned that you can love two people simultaneously....

I have learned that there's more to making it work than love...

I have learned that sometimes, it's just too late...

I have learned how to live without you...

I have learned that the more I learn, the more there is to learn...

I have learned that there's an exception to all the things I've learned and that what I learned is in constant change...

I Am Not Eve

Tue, 27 Feb 2007 06:23:04 GMT

What do you see?
A set of D cup tits on a
Size 4 frame
Which of course
Means that I wanna fuck your girl

This is not the Garden of Eden,
I am not Eve
And I don’t have a fucking apple

Be glad I don’t
‘cause I’d offer it
Like the wicked witch,
Laden with Revolution,
Debilitating your patriarchal mindset

So that you would stop perpetuating
The self-hatred
For your fellow women
Just to sustain your
Oppressed place
On the moral platform
Of capitalism
And your
Roman Catholic ideology
Of me as a virgin or a whore

So what if I enjoy the revolutionary mind
Of your yellow skinned partner
& hir gender fucking presentation

Forget
That I offered you
The utmost respect as a fellow
Chicana, queer… woman

Guess what?!

I don’t want your fucking girlfriend
I can find my own partners,
No need to take yours
It’s not my fault she turned her head,
That issue is yours

So own it and deal with it and
Stop putting your shit on me

mutually exhaustive

Tue, 06 Feb 2007 05:14:58 GMT

so, I'm sitting in my Research Methods II class and I am shocked at the fact that this unnamed professor would consider a survey which only allows for a box for male/ female choices for gender "mutually exhaustive" and "collectively exhaustive". I don't want to believe that he is transphobic, but wouldn't this beg the question? Mind you, that this is a graduate course in Social Work! I was so appalled, I spoke up and he quickly dismissed my comment under jokes and laughter. So, I wonder how I am going to create a survey speaking to my population of LGBTQ adolescents, who I am asking about suicidal ideation, to participate in a study that binds them into yet another heterosexual, patriarchal, binary system that disallows for the identification of who they are? Any ideas on what to do next?

loss of innocence

Thu, 25 Jan 2007 02:12:46 GMT

Innocent: "uncorrupted by evil, malice, or wrongdoing; sinless". This is the first definition offered in the American Heritage Dictionary. For me, the underlined word in the definition is "uncorrupted". I've had my share of evil, malice, and definitely wrongdoing. But for 27 years, I disallowed myself to become corrupted by it all. I used to take pride in the fact that even through growing up poor, in the barrio, sometimes no electricity or water, I still kept my innocence. I was still sure that I would be able to move out of that, go to school, make a good living, find a partner, make some babies, and watch them grow. Everyone else enjoyed it too, that "child-like innocence" that I presented with. Completely faithful, loyal, trustworthy, honest, hopeful, naive...

I remember the day it all came crashing down. July 30, 2006. I spent the day crying, finally addressing the fact that my relationship was over and that I had to be the one to walk. It came down to me and I wasn't sure I'd have what it would take for me to do so... the universe must have known... it sent someone who looked just like me, and she drove to her apartment, made the speech, took off the ring, and walked away, despite me trying to stop her. As she got back in my truck, the universe swapped us out again... and it was me, and she was me, and I was alone... and nothing has been the same since...

loneliness

Mon, 22 Jan 2007 08:10:31 GMT

I heard today that to live with someone who can't love you is lonelier than to be alone. Damn! I want that to be true! I tell myself to believe that and most days I do. But some days, that loneliness eats at the core of my very being. We also hear all the time that love is about sacrifices and I used to believe that. But I think that maybe, it's about choices, the ones we make, the ones we don't make, the ones we should make, even the ones we take.

In this space of limbo, I am searching for something... someone... hoping that she's finding her way back to me... my peter pan lost in neverland. I want to believe... in her, in me, in us. I did, once. They say everyone needs something to believe in and in my love of choosing, I chose to believe in her, in us. And ever since I lost her, I've been lost. Trying desperately to fill the space that once held her, I keep coming up short. Helping humanity, trying to keep from insanity, I'm losing this round. And everyone thinks I'm doing fine, that the worst has passed. But it just started, not quite departed, the pain in my chest is sure to last. I'm tired of trying, tired of fighting back the tears from these pain filled eyes. Wishing they were bright and hopeful again, wishing her by my side. But she's not.

So, I count my blessings, thank the universe for allowing me another beautiful day, to love through the pain, to find pride through the shame of merely being human. I try to remember to be grateful for all that I have, for my blessings have been abundant. I try to keep the genuine smile that stretches for miles, and the requests for more to a minimum, knowing full well, there are others in a hell, who can't even fathom the joy in the pain I speak of...

So, I let a few tears escape before taking my place, in this space where loneliness resides, in my room, in my bed, in my heart, in my head, it has yet to subside. And I wake up alone, wanting someone to hold, rather than my broken heart, but it'll be a while, I've got healing to trial, before I can make a new start. But I wait for the day, anticipate the way, another lover will feel, but for now it's pretend, existing only in never-never-land... for now, only loneliness is real.

small town love (finished for now)

Sun, 21 Jan 2007 17:47:49 GMT

Here, love has to be fast to last, dismissing the past, but it never lasts long enough… to weather the storm that was brewing before anyone ever knew it. To continue the pace, to keep up with the race, they found a way to improve it…. like cingular wireless, keeping everyone connected, the only way is to rollover it. With no time to waste, and losing the race, came the induction of the “overlap”. From lover to lover, no time to recover, never allowing for a gap…

To think, to scream, to hurt, to miss my body by your side… to remember all the early bliss, disappearing from your mind.

Just a small town girl, with small town love pumping through my veins, I wasn’t prepared, I wasn’t equipped, hell, I hadn’t even heard the name of the game. But I knew when to say when, made sure once again, that leaving was the only way… to give you the space to share the embrace, with someone who had already taken it…

So I did what I know, walked away from the show I played the lead character in… saying goodbye, pain filled my eyes, I was no heroine…I wasn’t prepared, I wasn’t equipped for the role I had been given, poorly cast, sure not to last, but I had given all I could give
but I knew when to say when, making sure once again, that leaving was the only way… to stop the pain, to heal the space losing you had created.

But leaving was never my forte, it’s staying that stole the show, so I cried the tears, faced the fears that knowing the truth bestowed… I want my small town love.
I want to lay my head in your lap, your gentle hands wrapped, around my dark curls
I want to feel your hand, on the small of my back, guiding me through a dim lit room
I want to lay on your chest, put this all to rest, and continue where we left off…

Because I knew when to say when, made sure once again, that leaving was the only way… to give us a chance, to let you come back to give me the kind of love I need for you to stay. But the fire you set, when you swept, back into my life left me burning, barely breathing, no longer seeing the love or the yearning. Did you forget what I needed? Did you forget who I was? Did you forget that I want the I need you kind of love?

The can’t wait to see you, not scared to believe you, kind of love. The don’t want to live without you, not can’t live without you, kind of love. The tears of I love you, not the tears of I loathe you, kind of love. The talking on the phone for hours, not the fighting for power, kind of love. The want to be with you, not the want to be you, kind of love. The love you don’t stray from, not the love you take from, kind of love.

I want my small town love. Knowing when to say when, I’ll make sure once again, that leaving is the only way…. And I’ll chalk it up to bad timing, back down from the fighting, and gracefully walk away. I’ll take one look back, listen to the sky in my world crack, and wait… for my small town love.

Dissecting Me (2005)

Sun, 14 Jan 2007 07:47:01 GMT

It's been a while since I've last written . . . I do that sometimes. I guess that's just typical of life. Right now, I feel like one of those frogs you get to dissect in Sophomore Biology. I guess that's what love does to you . . . splits you open, pins your peeled back skin, taut to black rubber, so that some uncertain, scared hand can move things around to see how things work, and call it learning. I call it cruel, cause you all know that before too long, the idiot-joker will come and uncaringly take out all that once made it real, and destroy it and leave it broken, in pieces no one can ever put back together again. Need I say more?

Butterflies (2005)

Sun, 14 Jan 2007 07:45:47 GMT

The butterfly that adorns my shoulder has been there since September of 1999. I let them pierce my skin with hundreds of small needles, drawing blood, even minor pain, so that I would permanently be marked with a symbol and colors I have always been associated with. But the mark was there long before the cocoon and chrysalis was broken. It was there to remind me of what I once would be after I broke through that which bound and comforted me. And when I emerged . . . confident, complete, euphoric, and beautiful, the world was new again. With childlike wonder, I spoke a different dialect, I heard the truth, I caressed rather than touched, I saw through walls and barriers, I tasted my flavors, I inhaled life.

The butterfly, in constant motion, always experiencing something new, always growing more beautiful and vibrant, me. But I have been lingering, waiting, in this stagnancy, for someone to join me on my flight. For two years I felt her pinching my wings, admiring my beauty, adorning me with solitude. I stopped flying, stopped trying . . . lying naked and alone, all color drained from my soul.

Her grip finally loosened, and as I picked myself up off the hard ground, I tried my wings, fluttered around a bit, and slowly took flight. I crossed another ocean, let the waves guide me. . . filling in my color, like a child with crayons and a coloring book, experiencing every shade.

I now know I have taken flight. . . and to return would be my death. . . so I pose the question, can the one I left catch up and join me?

Broken (2005)

Sun, 14 Jan 2007 07:44:11 GMT

Ani asks, "how many times undone can one person be?" I listen as she pulls the strings that hold me together and promises to leave me on the cold, hard floor. And I yearn for the cloak of invisibility to shield me from the unseeing eyes of the world, knowing understanding will never come for them. They’ll look on and make their presumptions and whisper under their breath about the grrl who fell from grace and just couldn’t pick herself up, despite all her heroics.

"Everyone has a secret hatred for the prettiest grrl in the room," she says, and look, you won again... another loose string to pull, another . . . empty moment . . . empty kiss . . . empty heart . . . empty. And they pull the cloak back, inquiring minds trying to understand that which cannot be understood, and find nothing but string, with no trace of what was once there. And they pity that which can no longer be seen and attempt to create a story that will fit in their mouths, some legend that will be passed on from ignorant generation to ignorant generation, and all that she was will be left in the mouths of those who never knew.

the more things change...

Tue, 09 Jan 2007 03:17:29 GMT

I remember a time when I was talking to my mama. I was complaining about our small town and about how I was too big for it. I couldn't wait to get out of there and as soon as I did I would never look back.

I remember what she said as I told her that I needed to find myself out there. She said, "mija, what you're looking for, you won't find out there, you can only find that inside yourself." She went on to explain how she ended up right back in that small town after leaving for so long. I listened intently, but insisted still on moving on.

I remember the day I packed up my life in my white 1991 Honda Accord, tears streaming down my face, as I drove north on 99, out of town and right near the ocean. I also remember packing it all back up, making the long trip back home, after being harassed by the guy I was to rent a room from. I felt like a failure, unable to make it on my own, and afraid to go back.

I remember, a week later, so fatigued I couldn't get out of bed. It had been coming for months. The pain in my legs was now unbearable and the tiredness had turned into plain exhaustion. I couldn't pretend something wasn't wrong anymore.

I remember the next 4 months, doctors appointments and blood tests with no answers. Waking up at 7am just to be asleep again by 10am and out until I dragged myself up to make dinner at 4:30. Then passing out again by 8pm, day after day.

I remember the day they finally figured out what it was, only to tell me that I would suffer from boughts like this for the rest of my life, but that they shouldn't get worse than this first time.

I remember moving to Fresno, close enough to be near family, just in case sickness hit me again, and far enough to warrant moving out. On my own, I was living life again, as I would be for the next 3 years. I had a life of my own, friends of my own, work, school, even a girlfriend I was playing house with.

I remember the day I called my mama, tears streaming down my face, unable to speak and finally through broken sobs, telling her that I needed to move home, that my life had fallen apart and I needed to put it back together... at home.

I remember moving home the next week. Resentful to my girlfriend for the way things were, angry with myself for failing at the relationship, failing at findinf a suitable job, and failing at being on my own, the move was hard. With my tail between my legs, I took up residence in a place I had sworn I would never return to.

Hesitatingly, I took a well paying job, began to make new friends, rekindled old friendships and worked things out with the girlfriend. Before I knew it, I had established myself and taken a role I enjoyed. Just as fast as I got comfortable with it, life got hard again.

I remember watching the tears silently roll down her cheek as I admitted my infidelity, as I admitted that I was not getting what I needed from the relationship, that she didn't hear me when I spoke, so I acted. A week later, she was in Fullerton.

I remember that year, being apart. Her coming home every weekend to be home with me so we could have a chance at working it out, her trying so desperately to get me to move down with her.

I remember the change, when she became comfortable again. I knew something was going on, not wanting to believe it, believing that if I came down here for school, it would all work out.

I remember moving here the day classes started, staying with her.

I remember the next night, when someone sent me the picture that told me more than I cared to know. I never felt so alone. My life was coming apart at the seams and no one knew. I knew no one except her and the little bit of family here. I was in an auditorium crowded with people and no one could hear me screaming.

I remember the weekend I spent crying, not wanting to face the fact that I couldn't live this way anymore.

I remember the Sunday I went to her apartment, tears streaming down my face, handing her the ring she gave me, walking down the stairs, wishing she'd come after me...

I remember like it was yesterday, the day my sky came crumbling down. Life hasn't been the same since, although I've tried. I've tried everything...

I remember the day I got her e-mail and the night she told me that she wanted me back, that she wanted a wife, a domestic partnership, a home... with me... but that oh yes, she was involved with someone else.

I remember screaming at the waves crashing against the boulders, fighting the urge to walk into the darkness...

I remember her promises to leave her, to come back, her arms wrapped around me, her smell, her hand on the small of my back, her touch, her smile, her laugh, her tears...

I remember thinking that leaving would be the hardest part, but once I did it, I'd find that it was the best thing and I'd move on...

I remember realizing that wasn't the case.

I sit here alone, finally remembering, surrounded by love and loneliness, hoping that some day soon I won't need to remember anymore, that it'll be my daily truth again...

But for now, I continue to remember...

Thu, 04 Jan 2007 04:30:46 GMT

I'm back..