Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Do-Over and maybe Change it up

I wrestled with this concept  of the do over. We are human right? We all make mistakes, yearn for that opportunity where we could take it all back. This week's Theme Thursday is forcing me to go into the carpet bag of memories and pull out that one do-over. Shit...its a hard one for so many reasons. Mainly because I enjoy my time and my life and even though perfection is far beyond me, there really is nothing I can change, although there is that one little item that consistently nags at me.

I was married. Some of you know this. It's not my greatest accomplishment, considering the word "was" inserted before the "married". I don't like to admit it in front of other people. I don't like to be called the divorce chick. (it's happened and it annoys the fuck out of me). Privately I joke that considering how young I was when I was first married, that I might be the next Elizabeth Taylor...real fucking funny, right? But no, it's actually a very embarrassing topic for me, and here I am displaying it for the internet to dissect.

I was a divorced woman at the age of 21. We didn't have children...we were just married.

I walked down the aisle of a catholic church, the pews adorned with white flowers, as I made it to a priest who had previously lied about a chapter in history to push his own agenda...that story is for another day. I said vows that I was too young to comprehend in front of family and friends that I had not seen in years and really shared no emotional attachment. It was a show. A face I put on to prove that I had made a decision, and was going to go through with it no matter what anyone said.

I watched my aunt cry as she read from the bible. I dried my father's tears in the limo outside. I wore a white dress, and carried a gaudy bouquet. I listened to my mother's prayer as we waited to eat our first dinner with the masses who had arrived for the three course dinner and free flowing wine.

I thought of the panic attack I had in the car only two weeks before, as I cried to my friend "I am making a mistake". His face of "oh shit" made me wonder if I could play along and make this all work. Foolish thoughts for a foolish girl.

I ended my wedding night with an argument with the groom after my  new father in law placed his hand on my sweat laden back,  saying, "ah, this is what it means to call someone a wetback".

I cried on my perfect honeymoon as I spent my days exploring the Vatican alone, while telephoning home to tell them all how great this all was.

And I want to take it all back, and not get married. I don't want him to have my father's tears, my aunts choked back cries. I don't want him to be the one that I shared a vow. And to be fair, I am sure he probably wishes he had not had all of this with me either. Because there is someone that is so much more deserving than he.

I don't want it to exist. But I can not take it back. I want to! I want to pretend it didn't happen, but unfortunately it did...

But we get a do over right? So when it happens this next time with the love of my life, it won't be this huge mess of strangers all piled in a hot church. There won't be white gaudiness and taffeta. I won't be called a wetback at my own fucking wedding. But I will love every word that I utter to my babe. I will be excited to share my planning with my sisters, my parents, my brother, and aunts. I will gush to my girlfriends, and maybe his guy friends. And then, at that very moment, I will no longer wish for any more do-overs in my life.

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Want to be friends?

In addition to my documentary film review, I decided to start a new series simply for the DO's and DONT's of anything you can think of....and I mean anything. I will

This week's will revolve around friendship. I am assuming that you, the reader, as well as any other bloggers out there, are well established adults who have already gone through the woes and perils of friendships, as well as the highs. Some of us have kept our friends since the moment we swapped binky's and realized that his privates didn't look anything like mine. (Thanks Gregory...). Some of us had a moment, a pivotal incident that resulted in the disintegration of the relationship. And sometimes, we have just outgrown these people we once called friend. We have treated these people as family, and we have turned against them. We have loved and hated, gossiped and respected.

I must make the disclaimer that the following list is not my personal plan, I do not pretend to follow all of the do and dont that I am about to list. I have made many mistakes in friendships, and will continue to make them. To say otherwise would be hypocritical and simply untrue. So before the eyes start rolling and the shit talking commences, please ensure that you aware of this fact.

And now - The Do's and Dont's of Friendship

Do maintain a level of friendliness with their spouses, significant others, etc...
Don't fuck their significant others and spouses.

Do express happiness in your friend's accomplishments.
Don't tell them "why not me?" and "how the fuck did you achieve something like that" in bitch face tone.

Do listen actively to your friend's issues regardless of how mundane and irritating they might all fucking complain.
Don't pass judgement on their aren't fucking perfect.

Do provide objective guidance and resolutions to a friend's issues.
Don't run and fucking tell everyone about their herpes outbreak.

Do invite for lunch or coffee, to attend dinner or a movie.
Don't bring extra people without asking, its rude and fucking annoying.

Do express excitement over their new beau, remember that we all have the initial excitement period...for some it lasts longer than others.
Don't be an asshole and call them codependent, especially when they mold their personalities to their different boyfriends.

Do be grateful for the favors that they do. They do this because they love and care about you and typically don't expect anything back.
Don't expect anything in return, or disappear because that person no longer has any tangible or theoretical favors to provide. This is selfish and bullshit.

Do thank them for putting up with your attitude. Remember, these people are choosing to put up with your shit, you do not share DNA....they do not HAVE to love you, but they do anyway.
Don't give them attitude, its not their fault they are not nearly as cool as you.

Do step in when they are in danger and have no conscious perception of this.
Don't be an asshole about being their superhero and be all up in their shit all the time...realize that there is a healthy balance.

Do respond to texts/calls directly.
Don't respond via social media, putting pertinent shit on blasts for the rest of the lurking community to see. It's fucking rude and inconsiderate. If you can update your FB status, you can reply to a text.

Do express your frustrations with the friendship directly. And feel free to take some time and space. Remember that even the closest of family and friends have issues, and even if you can't resolve in the immediate time frame, perhaps you can revisit and resolve the issues at a later date.
Don't force the friendship, especially when tensions are high. Typically, this is when the worst things are uttered to one another.

There are so many to lists, but these were a few that were nagging in the recent months. Always remember, relationships, platonic or not, are fluid and always evolving. Nothing is ever stagnant.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Not so Wasted Days and Wasted Nights

I am the oldest by six years. This meant that my summers were spent terrorizing my younger siblings in to playing school, where I was the evil head master and they were disgusting and vile students. I was such a shit to them, they had no choice but to play outside and entertain me because until July rolled around, I was stuck in a backyard filled with chickens, goats, and some cactus...this is downtown San Jose, California by the way. then the end of June/beginning of July would roll around. You see, from the age of 8 up until my quinceanera, I had the good fortune of being shipped to Texas. I realize how ass backwards this may sound...."good fortune" and "Texas" do not typically jive in the same sentence. But to me, this was all I could think or talk about.

My godparents moved to Texas when I was seven years old. They had a ranch about an hour south of Austin. But it might have been hours and hours away because most of my time was spent on that ranch in a town that was notorious for its great pecan...I wish I was joking. But it didn't bother me because I was care free, kid free, and my days were spent watching Mexican smut television and eating my godmother's home made tortillas. As to why I wasn't a tumbler is beyond me. My tummy days came way later. We would take a drive in to town, blasting Selena y los dinos, or some other tex-mex station. One year, at the age of thirteen, I earned my right of passage and was allowed to drive the truck from town to the ranch...I didn't kill anyone...but I did scare the shit out of everyone in the car. It should also be noted that my driving skills come from learning to drive in a monster truck on the solitary highway of yeah...

Once in a while when my aunt Linda was in town we would take a trip down to Corpus Christi, where we would try to swim in an ocean but couldn't because of the warm salt water scratching the sight out of my eyes. Also, my aunt and godmother don't I would have been fucked. Other times we would drive to Mexico, spend the day in Piedras Negras buying candy and eating tacos from the street vendors.

I have spent a lot of summers in other places in the world. But I have to admit, Texas is place I loved to be.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Travel Tuesday - The one where I tell you how to travel

So this is where I give you tips and suggestions on how to travel without being an uptight asshole.

Booking the flight: In general, you have to be vigilant on sales and promotions that are offered from time to time. If its a domestic flight, Southwest offers a rapid rewards program, while sending promotional emails weekly. Southwest can be pricey, but the promotions are phenomenal. And when booking, always try to book anywhere from 40 to 60 days prior to your trip. The fares tend to go up when there are less than 40 days.
International flights are a little tricky. I've used Lufthansa, Austrian Airlines, and British Airways. From experience, I can confidently tell you that AIRLINES SUCKS!!!! They re-route you to some bummed out Scandinavian country, they lose your luggage. Do not ever fly Austrian. Lufthansa, although a little pricier, is comfortable and semi luxurious  And if you are a freak of nature who likes her international travel plans to be settled ten months prior to the trip, you can always find a flight for less than $1,000 round trip. Same goes for British, although not near as posh as Lufthansa.
Finding deals on an international flight is a little harder but can be obtained. Cheap-O-Air consistently provides cheap flight options that include Lufthansa, British Airways, Virgin Atlantic, etc. Recently we booked our honeymoon flights to Belgium and Germany for 1300 a pop.

Flight Essentials: If your trip duration is less than a week, carry on. Remember that you can carry on one small luggage, and one personal item. Because the carry on luggage will be in the overhead storage, make sure that you have the following in your personal item bag - headphones, music player, phone, books (multiple if you are like me and need to read more than one book at time), magazines (pictures and small articles are a nice break from lines and lines of text), hand sanitizer, tissues, snacks, a rosary (for us superstitious folk) etc. It is hard enough to get up for a bathroom break, making the act of getting out of your seat, opening a storage bins when you are in flight an awkward nightmare.
However, if you are gone for more than a week, and will need to check a bag, make sure that you have the following in your carry on, especially if your flight requires at least one connection - Clean change of chonis (trust me, nothing says comfort like changing the 10 hour sat in underwear at the first opportunity), toothbrush and toothpaste (the recycled air will make your breath stale and you'll reek of corpse vagina), change of clothes (in case the checked in luggage doesn't make it to your destination), deodorant and make up, because come on...what if Ralph Fiennes is in the seat next to you! MILE HIGH CLUB!(JK...I am spoken for...)
I tend to dress up when I am flying because I am a psycho and always wonder "what if we crash and I am dressed like an asshole...I need to look cute". And mind you, not even lost luggage and having to wander the cobblestone of Venice for 24 hours in 6 inch platforms deters me from this practice. Practicality is for assholes.

Your Accommodations: Ideally you want to be as frugal as possible. However, a few things I learned that are very important in choosing your accommodations - Firstly, a modicum of cleanliness is essential. But also, research your location. Check the reviews, make sure that where you are staying is not in some obscure out of the way neighborhood. Stay within a reasonable distance of a major attraction. That way, when you stumble out of the local discotheque wondering how to speak German to the Italian cabbie, you'll at least be able to get close to your destination. Also, make sure your place is close to public transit, its convenient and cheap. If you are staying for a week or more in one place, try to rent an apartment, its cheaper and much more private. This was not as common when I began my travel excursions over ten years ago, but with the advent of sites like AirBnb, and Craigslist continually listing vacation homes all over the world, you will be able to find an affordable, comfortable, and awesome temporary home for your vacation.

Now to the good stuff. You can plan all you want, but please bear the thought that PLANS will go astray. That's ok, you are on a fucking vacation. Disorder should be at the top of your to do list. Go out for a coffee and chat someone up. You will learn so much about the city, receiving greater recommendations that no travel book will ever provide. Walk! Walk everywhere, turn a corner off the main street. Get lost! Not literally, but just wander. See it all on foot. You won't get that same feeling and experience from a tour bus.

Never ever get drunk alone! Never. Yes, I have been a shit show many of times, and a few of those alone. But this is fucking retarded and should not be practiced. Have a few, relax and enjoy, but stay conscious of everything and everyone. Locals are friendly...but so are rapists. If its available, try doing a pubcrawl. Not only will you meet other tourists, but you'll safely be traversing the streets, making a mental note of where to check out next when you are on your own. And believe me, the conversations and memories you make on the pub crawls are those that will mold the stories of your whole trip. Denmarkian is now a word I will forever use with a story for how it is used.

Do the touristy stuff. I nearly skipped that gondola ride because of its pocket raping price of 80 euros. But how the hell do you go to Venice and not take a ride on the gondola!? Yes it was pricey, but the gondolier was cute and he was able to score some wine from one of the canal side restaurants. AND HE SANG TO ME! It was something out of a Henry James movie remake. I even went to Oktoberfest. And although I paid a shit load to stay in a hotel in Munich (300 american a night) it was the best experience of my life. I slept on the sidewalk, with a Romanian girl as we swapped stories of our parents, but please don't tell my parents I did that.

Rent a moped, go to the beach, sit and do nothing. You never know if you will ever get to go back. I am fortunate for the opportunity to visit some of my favorites in this world more than once. But you really don't know if you will ever get to go back. So go and keep your eyes open. Don't fuss with a travel book. Immerse in to that world. And don't ever ask if someone speaks American, or if the Italian restaurant serves Margaritas ... they don't know that back home a margarita is drink, not a pizza. You'll end up with the most confusing conversation ever and if you are anything like me, you will probably cry.

Now go!

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Acrostic Schmostic

So for this TT post...we were told to do an acrostic poem...NAILED IT!

Have you ever been so
Interested in something that all aspects of your life consumed by it?
Sometimes I catch myself making the most abstract of references, comparing
The modern to an ancient past.
Or trying to find a parallel between the events of today with the kings of yesterday.
Regularly I am looked and referred to as a nerd.
Its intent to demean what you after making so many references to World War II,
And sometimes the audience can't seem to grasp the concept, so I get called a

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Documentary watching Part I - How to Die

I have decided that since I enjoy depressing subjects, that I would share my views, opinions of the depressing documentaries I continually watch, with you, my gentle and loyal readers. For as much I enjoy a fictional film, there is something left imprinted in me as a person, as a writer, something that ignites an inspiration, a fire of sorts.

I had viewed the documentary before. And it mad me cry then, and yet this time when I watched, it was much different.
"How to Die in Oregon". How to die. To Die. That is exactly what was explored in this film. The documentary explains the Death With Dignity Act currently in place in Oregon. To some it is barbaric, something inhumane to have such a law in place. A law that allows a doctor to prescribe a lethal medication to a patient that is terminally ill. But to those that are in pain, to those that suffer, it is a haven, a last attempt to control the uncontrollable.

What makes it so much more heart wrenching is the introduction of humanity, the people, with their smiles and their jokes, that are painfully dying, seeking a respite in this legislation.

I was raised a Catholic, I was raised that taking your own life is a sin. There is a special place in purgatory for the ones that take their own life. But I have never truly believed that. I have been in immense pain, wondering when and how it was ever going to relieve. I can not imagine living a life in constant pain. My chronic back pain now suffices to prompt a moodiness to which the day's tone is set.

But the film and its participants joyfully created this reason, a context for which an early exit of life was necessary and completely reasonable. For one woman, the enormous collection of bodily fluid, the pain of her organs being crushed under the obtrusive tumor was more than she could bear. She didn't want to die crying in pain, she wanted to kiss her children good night, thank her husband for the wonderful life, and drift into a sleep. In the end, in the last breath after she had taken the very last and lethal dose of medication she would ever take, she said, "oh this is good, this is easy. Thank you."

The babe and I huddled together on our couch as we watched this documentary. For me it was more of a morbid curiosity that led me to the viewing, for my poor unsuspecting love, it was sprung on him by force. But as always, being the good sport that he consistently is, he sat there and watched, quite possibly got kicked in the face, which could be the only explanation for the tear that appeared in the corner of his eye. I had often joked that I would have to be the one that died first, that I could not possibly live a life without him. After watching the descent of these peoples whose lives we had just emotionally bank rolled, he stated, "you can't die first". I sympathize with this request.
I just might acquiesce.