Amazed is the word that tumbles
off my tongue so roughly
Falling into a distance unknown
to the naked eye
Perhaps it is the way she wears
that hair of hers that makes you
want to be her.
Thin and eloquent,
gentile and servile you can't
not help but think that he would
love you more if you had a
smile like that.
The heavy stone that weighed
down your loose tongue
has now withered into slow
rotting dust in heavy wind storms
Your independence is there
but hardly dwelled upon.
Fall to your knees in helplessness
in hope of feeling good again
the insecurities you once
felt are now thriving one more
time.
Sunday, November 01, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
my worth
So, I got robbed a couple of days ago and I guess my paranoia has calmed down enough for me to write this blog.
Don't ask me the story. Please. I've repeated it too many times to count and repeating the story means reliving it. If you want to know, ask someone close to me. I'm sure they'll fill you in.
But that's not what I'm here to talk about. I'm not here to wallow about how distraught I feel or flaunt the fact that I can cross "be caught in a robbery" off my list of things to do. I'm here to state my feelings/realizations that had come from that robbery and what I had learned from it.
This may be too cliche for you, and if it is, then don't read any further.
I guess my whole "self-realization" came when I had the foot of a criminal on my back. It was only at this moment and the following moments after this that I felt weak. Now if you know me well enough, you know that I have always walked around with a dominant swagger as if I owned the world and I can make anything happen if I really wanted to. But I am not afraid to admit that in that moment, I was weak. It's important for me to emphasize this because I haven't felt that weak in a very, very long time. My ego was the last thing on my mind.This was actually a situation I had no control over and the only reason the other guys had say of what was happening was because they had a silver revolver cushioned comfortably in the palm of their hand.
Before the robbery even happened, I was eating a Nature Valley granola bar (no advertisement!) and as I took the last bite of it, my sister pulled me hard to the ground and told me that we were being robbed. I crawled into the back room as I was told and was still chewing on granola the whole time I had a gun pointed at my face. Then I realized -- "Holy shit, if I die, the last meal ever recorded in my life is a pathetic fucking granola bar." And as much as I would have loved to have chosen what my last meal would be, I realized that I wasn't in control of that. It didn't matter to the robber that my last meal would be a cheaply put together mid-day snack product. All that mattered to them was that they got the money that they wanted/"deserved" and got the hell out of there.
And the whole idea that everyone's life flashes before their eyes is bullshit. Sometimes peoples minds are a lot more structured than that when they're in a hostage situation. After having been kicked down to the floor and forced to wiggle with my chest and legs down (you try doing that and tell me how easy it is, stupid fucking criminals) into a small room with 9 other people in it, the last thing I was thinking about was my 5th birthday party. I was more or less thinking about how I was going to push the other people I didn't know so that I could make room for my aging father and older sister. Basically, I didn't want to have to see them get kicked down on the floor like I was.
The whole process is hard to believe, especially if you're living it in that precise moment. At the time, it didn't feel like a robbery to me. It just felt like a common emergency drill or another scene from a bad law/criminal justice show on late night television. There was no one guy that tried to be a hero because we all knew that this was reality and this is what we had to be put through.
Don't ask me the story. Please. I've repeated it too many times to count and repeating the story means reliving it. If you want to know, ask someone close to me. I'm sure they'll fill you in.
But that's not what I'm here to talk about. I'm not here to wallow about how distraught I feel or flaunt the fact that I can cross "be caught in a robbery" off my list of things to do. I'm here to state my feelings/realizations that had come from that robbery and what I had learned from it.
This may be too cliche for you, and if it is, then don't read any further.
I guess my whole "self-realization" came when I had the foot of a criminal on my back. It was only at this moment and the following moments after this that I felt weak. Now if you know me well enough, you know that I have always walked around with a dominant swagger as if I owned the world and I can make anything happen if I really wanted to. But I am not afraid to admit that in that moment, I was weak. It's important for me to emphasize this because I haven't felt that weak in a very, very long time. My ego was the last thing on my mind.This was actually a situation I had no control over and the only reason the other guys had say of what was happening was because they had a silver revolver cushioned comfortably in the palm of their hand.
Before the robbery even happened, I was eating a Nature Valley granola bar (no advertisement!) and as I took the last bite of it, my sister pulled me hard to the ground and told me that we were being robbed. I crawled into the back room as I was told and was still chewing on granola the whole time I had a gun pointed at my face. Then I realized -- "Holy shit, if I die, the last meal ever recorded in my life is a pathetic fucking granola bar." And as much as I would have loved to have chosen what my last meal would be, I realized that I wasn't in control of that. It didn't matter to the robber that my last meal would be a cheaply put together mid-day snack product. All that mattered to them was that they got the money that they wanted/"deserved" and got the hell out of there.
And the whole idea that everyone's life flashes before their eyes is bullshit. Sometimes peoples minds are a lot more structured than that when they're in a hostage situation. After having been kicked down to the floor and forced to wiggle with my chest and legs down (you try doing that and tell me how easy it is, stupid fucking criminals) into a small room with 9 other people in it, the last thing I was thinking about was my 5th birthday party. I was more or less thinking about how I was going to push the other people I didn't know so that I could make room for my aging father and older sister. Basically, I didn't want to have to see them get kicked down on the floor like I was.
The whole process is hard to believe, especially if you're living it in that precise moment. At the time, it didn't feel like a robbery to me. It just felt like a common emergency drill or another scene from a bad law/criminal justice show on late night television. There was no one guy that tried to be a hero because we all knew that this was reality and this is what we had to be put through.
Thursday, September 03, 2009
Fucking me insane
He cursed at me the other night for not loving him enough. But after everything, how could I? The voice in my head told me he was someone I didn't know; a stranger, more or less. His hands that had once been wrapped around parts of my body had been on someone else now and there was nothing in the world that could change that.
The idea of having faith in someone was lost upon me. I was alone and wasn't sure if I should be happy about it. Freedom from this pain was all I ever wanted, and now I felt lost -- away from home.
Every feeling, passion, or excitement I once had for this relationship was sucked out of my soul like a vortex.
In some ways, I should have known. We fucked and it felt different. His thrusts were harder and careless. I wanted to scream but the weight of his body made me breathless. Our eyes never met and he didn't dare to kiss me. I felt his throbbing cock inching in and out of me, faster and faster until my powerless limbs gained enough strength to shove him off. His forehead glistened under the moonlight as he laid shell shocked on the brown carpet of my bedroom floor. "Get OUT," I said. We gave each other a look as if we could read each others minds.
I woke up to blood stained bed sheets. It wasn't like a murder scene, but more like a menstrual accident. My insides felt torn and it hurt to piss. I looked in the toilet only to see a hue of dark red and light yellow colors join together in unison. I looked at my pale white arms that held new characteristics to them -- blue and black circles forming around one another. It looked like I had been man handled by a police officer.
The cold water hit my face and I felt reborn. Water dripped from the tip of my crooked nose down to my lip and it sent a chill down my spine. I knew what had been done was done. The only thing left for me to do was to decide of how much more I wanted to deal with.
The idea of having faith in someone was lost upon me. I was alone and wasn't sure if I should be happy about it. Freedom from this pain was all I ever wanted, and now I felt lost -- away from home.
Every feeling, passion, or excitement I once had for this relationship was sucked out of my soul like a vortex.
In some ways, I should have known. We fucked and it felt different. His thrusts were harder and careless. I wanted to scream but the weight of his body made me breathless. Our eyes never met and he didn't dare to kiss me. I felt his throbbing cock inching in and out of me, faster and faster until my powerless limbs gained enough strength to shove him off. His forehead glistened under the moonlight as he laid shell shocked on the brown carpet of my bedroom floor. "Get OUT," I said. We gave each other a look as if we could read each others minds.
I woke up to blood stained bed sheets. It wasn't like a murder scene, but more like a menstrual accident. My insides felt torn and it hurt to piss. I looked in the toilet only to see a hue of dark red and light yellow colors join together in unison. I looked at my pale white arms that held new characteristics to them -- blue and black circles forming around one another. It looked like I had been man handled by a police officer.
The cold water hit my face and I felt reborn. Water dripped from the tip of my crooked nose down to my lip and it sent a chill down my spine. I knew what had been done was done. The only thing left for me to do was to decide of how much more I wanted to deal with.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
My adoration for Sylvia Plath will never die
A Mad Girl's Love Song"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
Friday, August 14, 2009
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Monday, August 03, 2009
all aboard the baby train...
Is it just me, or are babies the new trend?Babies = the new skinny jeans.
Almost everyone I knew from high school has one of these, but I gotta say, this is one trend I'm not so keen on following.
Since when did everyone decide they were responsible enough to get married and pop one of these things out (or in some of these cases, pop one of these things out and then get married)?
I'm still trying to pay off my credit card, and these people are procreating? where did all of this magical 'lets make a baby' money come from?! And where can I get some? Granted I'd use the money to make my car payment this month, but hey, that's what I wanna do with my money. And I only think it's fair that if people that aren't even financially ready to raise a family get state funds, then I should get state funds, too.
Here's a bright idea: since there's already TANF (Temporary Assistance for Needy Families) why doesn't the government create a TANS (Temporary Assistance for Needy Students)?
Or better yet, since this world is already over populated (we have to be careful to not have too many children or else we might have to mimic China and have only two kids and kill all the girls), why don't they start a program where they give people money who DON'T have children and instead use the money to help pay their college education. In an economy like this, can anyone really argue with me?
So back to my other question: where does all this baby making money come from?Oh, right, right, I totally forgot...they're those fuckers that are taking $20-$40 out of my stub each pay check. WOWEE I can't believe that I didn't know that that's where they're getting all their financial help from. While they're off buying their 3 month old babies True Religions/Baby Phat/Air Jordans, I'm at my job working hours at a time to support myself to try to make my car and credit card payments on time.
I think I'd rather just owning a dog.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
The other day...
I was talking to Alan about how I wanted a hamster and how we should invest in one together. His exact response was "ewwwwwwwwwww"."Ewwww"?!?!?!!
How could you say that about something so cute and cuddly? It's a hamster for goodness sake! I mean just look how cute it is, eating that carrot.
Hamsters are basically like mini teddy bears. Yes, they are considered rodents, but they're the cutest damn rodents I have ever encountered. What do you think?
Thursday, July 16, 2009
rewind to the past.
I remember when I was about 10 years old, all I would eat were Koala Yummies. I loved them so much, my mom would buy them for me by the dozens. The best thing about them was that it didn't matter what flavor they came in, it all tasted so good! I'm getting all nostalgic just thinking about it now.
But the sad thing is that I can't find them anywhere. I checked 99 Ranch and they had these knock off Koala Yummies, but they're called, get this, "Koala's March".
Are you fucking serious?
They couldn't come up with a better/clever name for it? Well, now that I look at it, no title can beat Koala Yummies. I mean, it's all in the name -- Koala's that are edible and yummy! Plus, Koala's March don't even taste as good as the Yummies do. They taste like chemicals and sugar. Why would you do such a thing?
I can hear you now -- "but Lisa, there are other great Asian snacks such as Pocky or Yan Yans." I know. Trust me, I KNOW. But there is nothing like the feeling of biting the head and arms off of the tiny chocolate/strawberry/vanilla filled Koala. Pocky and Yan Yans are great, but they're so boring to eat...kind of like eating ice cream. All you can do is lick it.
With Koala Yummies, you can get creative. Now keep in mind, I was a demented little kid growing up, so I would put the Koala's in various scenarios. One would get decapitated by "Hungry Queen Lisa" or one would lose an arm (and maybe a leg) in war. It was so much fun to do!
So, if you know where they sell the original Koala Yummies, please tell me pronto. I am longing for a pack right now.
P.S. Don't even get me started on "Hello Panda"
Love,
Koala Yummy fan #1
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
puppy!
HI. My name is Fudge. F-U-D-G-E.Favorite food: FOOD!? Where?
Favorite toy: any available socks. (tube socks preferred).
Favorite drink: whaat-err.
Favorite thing to do: bite people's ankles.
Loved by: everyone.
Owner(s): angela&annalisa of the brizuela household.
I am a girl...
So now it is time for me to act like one.
I want this...
and
this...
and maybe this too. . .
I want this...
and
this...
and maybe this too. . .
Friday, July 10, 2009
A Mouth Full of Insults
He stood under a tree with a quaint smile. His sausage sized fingers brushed over the ridges on the tree bark as he patiently waited for what he believed in so much. The picnic blanked was now moist with morning dew and the fog began to cover Holland's feet. His army boots once black were now smothered with mud.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Love-Hunger Pains
Belinda rolled over to the side of the bed and looked blankly at the wall adjacent to her. She had done the unthinkable. She had just finished copulating with a man that she wasn't in love with. She lay still, silent, thinking about what she had just done. She wondered how long it would take for the man next to her to figure out it was time for him to go. She shuddered at the thought of him over staying his welcome and she wanted him out of her bed as quickly as possible. Just as soon as she turned onto her back to politely tell him to leave, the man lovingly carressed her arm.
"I can't believe we did it," the man said sounding triumphant, "after all this time, we got to express how we felt about eachother."
Belinda looked at the ceiling.
"I'm going to get some water. Did you want water?" the man asked thoughtfully.
Belinda shook her head as a modest smile escaped her face. The man got up and looked for his trousers. At least he had a nice butt, Belinda thought. She had never noticed these things about him before. Belinda sat up in her bed and surveyed the room, trying to remember where she placed her bra.
"I wonder if it would be wrong to ditch him at my own house," Belinda thought. At least she wouldn't have to see him for another week or so. Not until the small weekly meetings. There Belinda sat, plotting up escape routes as the man got a cup of water in her kitchen. She sat and thought of excuses, though she didn't have enough time to think of any before he came back. She should have asked for him to get her chips, at least it would have taken him longer, Belinda thought. The man walked into the room and said the worse thing a man can say in Belinda's situation.
"I'm so glad that you were my first"
"What?" Belinda asked, frantically grabbing her sheets and pulling them over her chest defensively.
"Yeah, I've been waiting for this ever since college. You mean so much to me. I mean, I thought that we moved pretty fast last night, but I figured after spending almost everyday with you for four years, we were good on getting to know eachother before we made love to one another."
Belinda hesitated.
"We...we didn't make love," she said
"Well I don't know if you have another definition for making love, but what we did last night was genuine love making. And it was long over due in my opinion," he said with a matter-of-fact tone.
"Well I don't know if you have another definition for fucking, but what we did last night was pure genuine fucking," Belinda responded.
"I can't believe we did it," the man said sounding triumphant, "after all this time, we got to express how we felt about eachother."
Belinda looked at the ceiling.
"I'm going to get some water. Did you want water?" the man asked thoughtfully.
Belinda shook her head as a modest smile escaped her face. The man got up and looked for his trousers. At least he had a nice butt, Belinda thought. She had never noticed these things about him before. Belinda sat up in her bed and surveyed the room, trying to remember where she placed her bra.
"I wonder if it would be wrong to ditch him at my own house," Belinda thought. At least she wouldn't have to see him for another week or so. Not until the small weekly meetings. There Belinda sat, plotting up escape routes as the man got a cup of water in her kitchen. She sat and thought of excuses, though she didn't have enough time to think of any before he came back. She should have asked for him to get her chips, at least it would have taken him longer, Belinda thought. The man walked into the room and said the worse thing a man can say in Belinda's situation.
"I'm so glad that you were my first"
"What?" Belinda asked, frantically grabbing her sheets and pulling them over her chest defensively.
"Yeah, I've been waiting for this ever since college. You mean so much to me. I mean, I thought that we moved pretty fast last night, but I figured after spending almost everyday with you for four years, we were good on getting to know eachother before we made love to one another."
Belinda hesitated.
"We...we didn't make love," she said
"Well I don't know if you have another definition for making love, but what we did last night was genuine love making. And it was long over due in my opinion," he said with a matter-of-fact tone.
"Well I don't know if you have another definition for fucking, but what we did last night was pure genuine fucking," Belinda responded.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
The early days of Autumn crept into the small city of Yonkers. The wind blew the browning leaves off the Maple trees and onto Sarah Hartman's black suede boots. She closed her eyes as she took in a deep breath of the fresh Autumn air. She sat on a park bench alone. Sarah glanced at the trees and foliage all around her, mocking her. The feeling of isolation slowly began to fill her body. Her lip began to tremble. She didn't know if it was the weather or her emotions, but all of a sudden her lip began to tremble even more. Sarah's eyes watered as her hands frantically searched her purse for a piece of tissue. She began to dabble the wrinkled tissue under her eyelashes, being careful to not smudge her mascara. With her hand lazily placed to her side, Sarah looked at the empty space in front of her and let out an exasperated and hopeless sigh.
Sarah dried up her tears and shoved her raggedy tissue back in her flat brown leather purse. Her lip still slightly quivering, Sarah took in another breath. Shoving her hand into her jean pocket, Sarah pulled out all the money she had-- one dollar and twenty seven cents. Her eyes began to tear up again. She began to wonder how she could be so angry and so spiteful enough to storm out of her house with all of her belongings but still forget to take her twenty dollar bill that was rightfully hers from her fathers wallet. After all, he wouldn't notice. He was a alcoholic deadbeat that was always in a drunken stupor.
Sarah never knew why she put up with him for so long. Upon comparison, one could see her as one of the women who lived with their abusive husbands and never chose to leave them. She hated herself even more for that fact.
Her mother's words seemed to recycle in her head at that particular moment as she sat on the bench alone.
"Do not leave your family behind, no matter how burdensome they get."
Her mother's words would have had much more of an impact if she hadn't abandoned her own family and run off with the mail man. Sarah always thought her mother was a hypocrite.
She leaned forward from the bench. She saw a car coming and began to gather her belongings. The car drove closer, but she sat back down with feelings of disappointment and anxiety all at the same time. Twenty minutes passed until the rusted midnight black Mustang pulled up in front of her. The man driving the vehicle appeared to have traveled through a time machine from the early 70's. His brown leather jacket seemed to be two sizes too small for him and had creases in places where you didn't think creases could form. His polyester pants were overly flared for his own good and almost completely covered his dirty black boots.
He went by the name of Skiz Goodman. A good form-fitting name for the kind of man he was Sarah always thought. He stood lazily near the door of his car and looked at Sarah.
"You Sarah?" he asked
"Yeah," Sarah said lightly
"Hop in, Buster's waiting for you"
Sarah gathered her bags, briefly looked back at the small town behind her and entered the car.
The ride to the apartment was only twenty minutes away. Sarah wondered why it took Skiz so long to pick her up. The drive was silent with the occasional cough from Skiz. Sarah made an effort to start a conversation with him but all he did was stare aimlessly at the road ahead of him.
"So...how long have you known Buster?" Sarah asked nervously, her fingers fidgeting.
Skiz coughed.
"Well I met him when I was walking back from work one day. He said --"
"Lookie here girl, I don't mean to be rude or nothin' but I'm just here for business. I pick people up and drop 'em off. I don't do the chit chat"
Sarah became quiet.
Skiz pulled up into the gate of an apartment complex. Sarah rolled down her window as they passed a sign reading "Sunnyhills Apartment Complex" with a medium sized sun on top of the bright orange letters. Sarah was surprised--she never knew Buster could ever live in a place like this. A place that sounded like it was named after a retirement home.
Sarah dried up her tears and shoved her raggedy tissue back in her flat brown leather purse. Her lip still slightly quivering, Sarah took in another breath. Shoving her hand into her jean pocket, Sarah pulled out all the money she had-- one dollar and twenty seven cents. Her eyes began to tear up again. She began to wonder how she could be so angry and so spiteful enough to storm out of her house with all of her belongings but still forget to take her twenty dollar bill that was rightfully hers from her fathers wallet. After all, he wouldn't notice. He was a alcoholic deadbeat that was always in a drunken stupor.
Sarah never knew why she put up with him for so long. Upon comparison, one could see her as one of the women who lived with their abusive husbands and never chose to leave them. She hated herself even more for that fact.
Her mother's words seemed to recycle in her head at that particular moment as she sat on the bench alone.
"Do not leave your family behind, no matter how burdensome they get."
Her mother's words would have had much more of an impact if she hadn't abandoned her own family and run off with the mail man. Sarah always thought her mother was a hypocrite.
She leaned forward from the bench. She saw a car coming and began to gather her belongings. The car drove closer, but she sat back down with feelings of disappointment and anxiety all at the same time. Twenty minutes passed until the rusted midnight black Mustang pulled up in front of her. The man driving the vehicle appeared to have traveled through a time machine from the early 70's. His brown leather jacket seemed to be two sizes too small for him and had creases in places where you didn't think creases could form. His polyester pants were overly flared for his own good and almost completely covered his dirty black boots.
He went by the name of Skiz Goodman. A good form-fitting name for the kind of man he was Sarah always thought. He stood lazily near the door of his car and looked at Sarah.
"You Sarah?" he asked
"Yeah," Sarah said lightly
"Hop in, Buster's waiting for you"
Sarah gathered her bags, briefly looked back at the small town behind her and entered the car.
The ride to the apartment was only twenty minutes away. Sarah wondered why it took Skiz so long to pick her up. The drive was silent with the occasional cough from Skiz. Sarah made an effort to start a conversation with him but all he did was stare aimlessly at the road ahead of him.
"So...how long have you known Buster?" Sarah asked nervously, her fingers fidgeting.
Skiz coughed.
"Well I met him when I was walking back from work one day. He said --"
"Lookie here girl, I don't mean to be rude or nothin' but I'm just here for business. I pick people up and drop 'em off. I don't do the chit chat"
Sarah became quiet.
Skiz pulled up into the gate of an apartment complex. Sarah rolled down her window as they passed a sign reading "Sunnyhills Apartment Complex" with a medium sized sun on top of the bright orange letters. Sarah was surprised--she never knew Buster could ever live in a place like this. A place that sounded like it was named after a retirement home.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Fantastical Fatalities of Love
It was precisely 8 am on that Tuesday morning when Karen Hart shoved the last piece of whole wheat toast in her mouth, gulped the last of her remaining coffee and headed out her door. The cold air seeped through the cracks of the dilapidated front door and brushed against her face, sending a chill down her spine. The radio was on in the kitchen informing their listeners of the snow storm that hit their small town just two days ago. As Karen began to grasp the cold brass door nob, she heard someone calling her. Unfortunately, it was her mother, begging her to bring another jacket.
"Karen, honey, you have this jacket I bought you from last year!...And what's this? It still has its price tags on it?! KAREN EMILIA HART! You are going to wear it this instance!" Karen's mom screamed, her voice trailing down the stair case from Karen's room.
"MOOOOMMM! Would you get out of my closet! You don't belong there! I have a right to privacy too ya know!", Karen screamed back in defense at her mom.
Karen's mom was always nosy. Paranoid, Karen's mom would barge into her room while she was at school and look for empty condom wrappers under her bed or a Kama Sutra book hidden behind her dusty bookshelf. At the end of her hourly search and discovering nothing dramatic, she would feel accomplished, as if she had raised the next Mother Teresa.
Karen let go of the door handle and frantically ran upstairs, fearing her mother would find some incriminating evidence.
"Mom, would you stop, I'm already wearing a a beanie, leather gloves and three extra thick sweaters. If I was to get sick, don't you think it'd happen already?" Karen asked placing her hand on her hip.
"Oh I forget how grown up you are sweetie, I guess if you get cold, you have Marcus to warm you up," her mother said smirking.
"MOTHER for the last time, me and Marcus are just friends. Nothing more..." she said as she was walking out the door, "even if I did like him, I would have totally done him by now anyways," she added under her breath.
"What was that honeykins?"
"Nothing mommy dearest," Karen responded mockingly and shut the door.
Karen stepped outside and took in a deep breath of the cold crisp winter air. She began walking towards her neighbors house, excited to tell Marcus of her good news.
She had more time to dwell on her good news seeing how the two feet of snow kept her from walking the normal pace she usually had. Karen smiled at the thought that kept recycling in her mind, but her smiling caused her lips to crack.
"FUCK," she thought to herself. She pulled out chapstick from her pocket as she reached Marcus's doorstep. She banged hard on the door.
"You're late," Marcus said with fake disappointment in his voice.
"You'd be late too if you walked in that deep ass snow..."
Marcus smiled at her as she pushed her way through his arm that was holding the door open. Karen practically lived in Marcus's house. They had known each other since they were babies. They used to take baths together and share the same bath toys. They also went to the same school ever since kindergarten and used to hold hands and sing songs together. But that was when they were kids. Now that they were reaching the age of 18, they didn't share anything anymore and they didn't dare to hold each others hands.
"Soooo guess what!" Karen exclaimed as she tried to hold back her excitement.
"You're a man"
"I have a date!" Karen screamed, knowingly ignoring Marcus's previous statement
"Who's the unlucky guy?"
"You know what, don't get mad at me just because you haven't gotten laid in the past three months...and just so you know, the lucky guy is Adam Ferguson," Karen remarked as if she had just verbally bitch-slapped Marcus.
"Karen, honey, you have this jacket I bought you from last year!...And what's this? It still has its price tags on it?! KAREN EMILIA HART! You are going to wear it this instance!" Karen's mom screamed, her voice trailing down the stair case from Karen's room.
"MOOOOMMM! Would you get out of my closet! You don't belong there! I have a right to privacy too ya know!", Karen screamed back in defense at her mom.
Karen's mom was always nosy. Paranoid, Karen's mom would barge into her room while she was at school and look for empty condom wrappers under her bed or a Kama Sutra book hidden behind her dusty bookshelf. At the end of her hourly search and discovering nothing dramatic, she would feel accomplished, as if she had raised the next Mother Teresa.
Karen let go of the door handle and frantically ran upstairs, fearing her mother would find some incriminating evidence.
"Mom, would you stop, I'm already wearing a a beanie, leather gloves and three extra thick sweaters. If I was to get sick, don't you think it'd happen already?" Karen asked placing her hand on her hip.
"Oh I forget how grown up you are sweetie, I guess if you get cold, you have Marcus to warm you up," her mother said smirking.
"MOTHER for the last time, me and Marcus are just friends. Nothing more..." she said as she was walking out the door, "even if I did like him, I would have totally done him by now anyways," she added under her breath.
"What was that honeykins?"
"Nothing mommy dearest," Karen responded mockingly and shut the door.
Karen stepped outside and took in a deep breath of the cold crisp winter air. She began walking towards her neighbors house, excited to tell Marcus of her good news.
She had more time to dwell on her good news seeing how the two feet of snow kept her from walking the normal pace she usually had. Karen smiled at the thought that kept recycling in her mind, but her smiling caused her lips to crack.
"FUCK," she thought to herself. She pulled out chapstick from her pocket as she reached Marcus's doorstep. She banged hard on the door.
"You're late," Marcus said with fake disappointment in his voice.
"You'd be late too if you walked in that deep ass snow..."
Marcus smiled at her as she pushed her way through his arm that was holding the door open. Karen practically lived in Marcus's house. They had known each other since they were babies. They used to take baths together and share the same bath toys. They also went to the same school ever since kindergarten and used to hold hands and sing songs together. But that was when they were kids. Now that they were reaching the age of 18, they didn't share anything anymore and they didn't dare to hold each others hands.
"Soooo guess what!" Karen exclaimed as she tried to hold back her excitement.
"You're a man"
"I have a date!" Karen screamed, knowingly ignoring Marcus's previous statement
"Who's the unlucky guy?"
"You know what, don't get mad at me just because you haven't gotten laid in the past three months...and just so you know, the lucky guy is Adam Ferguson," Karen remarked as if she had just verbally bitch-slapped Marcus.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Sugar Mama
Steven was thirty minutes into his sleep when he first heard the noise outside his window. When Steven heard the thump, he automatically propped up from his bed and looked around. He was always afraid of the dark. His hands ran over the bedsheets in the darkness searching for Mr. Huggies, his favorite teddy bear. Once he felt the soft cotton feeling of Mr. Huggies arm, Steven pulled the bear close to his chest and squeezed it hard, as if squeezing the bear would get rid of his fear. He suddenly heard another noise, not that of an object hitting the wall like the previous noise, but instead he heard a voice.
"Psst...open up!" said the voice.
"Wh-wh-who's there?" Steven nervously asked.
"Shut up and just open the window! You're window was always open before, and now you choose to close it?! Come on I've got something for ya!"
"But I don't know you! And I don't know where you are! I can't even see you!"
The voice sighed
"Jeeze Louise...do you see the tiny pink light outside your window?"
"yeah..."
"That's me! Open up!"
Steven sat in shock. He wondered if that was the boogeyman that his best friend Kyle told him about. But he remembered that Kyle said the boogeyman was a man and that he was big. But this thing was tiny and from the sound of the voice it sounded like a girl.
Steven wondered if she was the boogeyman's assistant and if she could still hurt him and take him away to boogeyman land. But the longer Steven looked at the size of the thing outside his window, he figured it couldn't do much damage to him.
Steven edged his way out of bed and walked towards the window. He lifted the lower portion of the window and stuck his head out.
"Took ya long enough" it said.
"Are you the boogeyman? Because if you are, then Kyle really sucks at explaining things," Steven said.
"Your friend Kyle sucks at a lot of things. That's why he'll never amount to anything. Anywho, I'm here to pick something up ..." it said shaking a surprisingly large bag in front of Steven's face.
Steven looked at the small floating thing in front of him. He noticed that it was a tiny girl in pink tights and that she was holding a wand in the shape of a weird rock. She also had tiny wings on her shoulder blades. He also noticed that she was wearing too much makeup on her face.
"If you're here for the marbles I won, then you're too late, my mom took them away"
"Marbles? Who said anything about marbles? Marbles are useless, I want your teeth," the tiny girl said holding her hand out as if Steven were just going to hand them to her.
Steven clasped his hands around his mouth.
"Ugh, no, I'm not going to pull them out of your mouth," the small girl said.
This kid might be just as stupid as that kid Kyle next door.
Steven's shoulders loosened up and his hands dropped from his mouth.
"Oh," he said letting out a sigh of relief.
Bakersfield, California was a strange land. Eight year old child named Steven Hoffman knew this but, since he was a child he had that ignorance of youth so he assumed thats how all cities were. Steven was your typical eight year old--he played in the mud with his male stereotyped toys, ate like an animal at the dinner table, and ate candy every chance he got-- despite his mothers wishes. Steven believed that she was bossy, even though he didn't exactly know what the word meant. He just heard his father call her that once when they had one of their fights. From then on Steven had the idea instilled in his mind that his mother was "bossy".
It was a cool autumn morning and Steven was laying across his living room carpet watching his Saturday morning cartoons and eating candy. Steven watched in amazement as his favorite super hero Superman flew across the television screen to save another helpless citizen. But just as Steven began to move up from his sloth-like position in excitement, Superman came encounter with kryptonite. Steven horrifically looked down at the pile of candy next to him. It was at that moment that Steven came to the realization that candy was his kryptonite.
"oh man," Steven said panic-stricken but still chewing the candy in his mouth.
"STEVEN!" his mother screamed at him while walking into the living room. This made Steven briefly look away from the television. When he realized it was just his mother, he returned his gaze to the television.
"Where on earth did you get all of these sugar sticks!"
"Dad," Steven responded carelessly with his eyes locked on to the television screen
His mother's face filled with rage. She couldn't believe that his own father contradicted her rules. She marched to the telephone in the kitchen. She accidentally knocked over the mail on the coffee table, but she was too enraged to notice or even care.
"Mr. Hoffman's office, this is Alicia, how may I assist you today?"
"I'd like to speak to Johnathan...NOW"
"Please Mrs. Hoffman, you don't have to yell..." Johnathan's secretary responded
"Don't give me etiquette tips you whore. If anything I should be the one giving you etiquette tips...stealing people's husbands and taking them away from their children."
"I'm transferring you to Johnathan now," his secretary said nervously.
"Good, at least I know you can do one productive thing..."
There was a click and soft classical music came on.
That bastard has the nerve to disobey the rules I set in my home. He has no right, NO RIGHT to do that. What is it with him? Does he want Steven to grow up to be a typical American obese man just like his father? Good God, I can't even imagine it.
"Psst...open up!" said the voice.
"Wh-wh-who's there?" Steven nervously asked.
"Shut up and just open the window! You're window was always open before, and now you choose to close it?! Come on I've got something for ya!"
"But I don't know you! And I don't know where you are! I can't even see you!"
The voice sighed
"Jeeze Louise...do you see the tiny pink light outside your window?"
"yeah..."
"That's me! Open up!"
Steven sat in shock. He wondered if that was the boogeyman that his best friend Kyle told him about. But he remembered that Kyle said the boogeyman was a man and that he was big. But this thing was tiny and from the sound of the voice it sounded like a girl.
Steven wondered if she was the boogeyman's assistant and if she could still hurt him and take him away to boogeyman land. But the longer Steven looked at the size of the thing outside his window, he figured it couldn't do much damage to him.
Steven edged his way out of bed and walked towards the window. He lifted the lower portion of the window and stuck his head out.
"Took ya long enough" it said.
"Are you the boogeyman? Because if you are, then Kyle really sucks at explaining things," Steven said.
"Your friend Kyle sucks at a lot of things. That's why he'll never amount to anything. Anywho, I'm here to pick something up ..." it said shaking a surprisingly large bag in front of Steven's face.
Steven looked at the small floating thing in front of him. He noticed that it was a tiny girl in pink tights and that she was holding a wand in the shape of a weird rock. She also had tiny wings on her shoulder blades. He also noticed that she was wearing too much makeup on her face.
"If you're here for the marbles I won, then you're too late, my mom took them away"
"Marbles? Who said anything about marbles? Marbles are useless, I want your teeth," the tiny girl said holding her hand out as if Steven were just going to hand them to her.
Steven clasped his hands around his mouth.
"Ugh, no, I'm not going to pull them out of your mouth," the small girl said.
This kid might be just as stupid as that kid Kyle next door.
Steven's shoulders loosened up and his hands dropped from his mouth.
"Oh," he said letting out a sigh of relief.
Bakersfield, California was a strange land. Eight year old child named Steven Hoffman knew this but, since he was a child he had that ignorance of youth so he assumed thats how all cities were. Steven was your typical eight year old--he played in the mud with his male stereotyped toys, ate like an animal at the dinner table, and ate candy every chance he got-- despite his mothers wishes. Steven believed that she was bossy, even though he didn't exactly know what the word meant. He just heard his father call her that once when they had one of their fights. From then on Steven had the idea instilled in his mind that his mother was "bossy".
It was a cool autumn morning and Steven was laying across his living room carpet watching his Saturday morning cartoons and eating candy. Steven watched in amazement as his favorite super hero Superman flew across the television screen to save another helpless citizen. But just as Steven began to move up from his sloth-like position in excitement, Superman came encounter with kryptonite. Steven horrifically looked down at the pile of candy next to him. It was at that moment that Steven came to the realization that candy was his kryptonite.
"oh man," Steven said panic-stricken but still chewing the candy in his mouth.
"STEVEN!" his mother screamed at him while walking into the living room. This made Steven briefly look away from the television. When he realized it was just his mother, he returned his gaze to the television.
"Where on earth did you get all of these sugar sticks!"
"Dad," Steven responded carelessly with his eyes locked on to the television screen
His mother's face filled with rage. She couldn't believe that his own father contradicted her rules. She marched to the telephone in the kitchen. She accidentally knocked over the mail on the coffee table, but she was too enraged to notice or even care.
"Mr. Hoffman's office, this is Alicia, how may I assist you today?"
"I'd like to speak to Johnathan...NOW"
"Please Mrs. Hoffman, you don't have to yell..." Johnathan's secretary responded
"Don't give me etiquette tips you whore. If anything I should be the one giving you etiquette tips...stealing people's husbands and taking them away from their children."
"I'm transferring you to Johnathan now," his secretary said nervously.
"Good, at least I know you can do one productive thing..."
There was a click and soft classical music came on.
That bastard has the nerve to disobey the rules I set in my home. He has no right, NO RIGHT to do that. What is it with him? Does he want Steven to grow up to be a typical American obese man just like his father? Good God, I can't even imagine it.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
the expense of happiness
i just had an epiphany today...while i was in the bathroom (where most of my epiphany's occur)that had to do with the topic of happiness.
How many of us are actually truly happy with our lives? I'm not talking about one portion of our lives like our work or school place, but our entire life in general. Sure we have temporary moments of contentment but the operative word in this sentence is 'temporary'. After that, everything just fades away. We get A's on our tests and we become happy. But we strive for something more and if we fail we automatically think that there is something wrong with us. This made me lead on to wonder, is it society or our own personal goals that make us feel this way? And of course there's the idea of becoming rich or having a stable job, but money can only go so far. I'm starting to question whether or not being happy with ones self for a good amount of time is actually achievable. I've been on this earth for approximately 19 years and I have never once met one person that was happy with who they were as a person or with what they were doing in life.
We all dislike something about ourselves. Be it physical features or the internal problems we have. By the end of the day, we just look at ourselves in the mirror and feel a tinge of disappointment. And what's worse is that the slight disappointment you feel you have with yourself, suddenly is the only thing that is on your mind. It blocks out any feelings of happiness you had with yourself previously, and you soon become enveloped in your disappointment, thus feeding your disappointment with attention just like a mother feeds her baby. But we can't help it. It's human nature that makes us this way.
I always wondered if people weren't constantly judged by society, would it make any difference on how easy it would be to achieve personal happiness. To not let any other outside source cloud your judgment on yourself. Which brings me back to my previous point -- is it society that gets in our way? I personally have tried my best to not let anyone's judgment affect how i live my life. And honestly, i feel lost without it. Maybe I've been told where to go in life one too many times to the point where if left alone, i can't even figure out what i want myself. And to tell you the truth, I can't see myself being happy either way. I can't see myself getting married and having a family. I just see my future self being way too passionate about my work and living in a one bedroom apartment in a busy city somewhere. But that still leaves me with a blank on whether or not I'd end up being happy.
How many of us are actually truly happy with our lives? I'm not talking about one portion of our lives like our work or school place, but our entire life in general. Sure we have temporary moments of contentment but the operative word in this sentence is 'temporary'. After that, everything just fades away. We get A's on our tests and we become happy. But we strive for something more and if we fail we automatically think that there is something wrong with us. This made me lead on to wonder, is it society or our own personal goals that make us feel this way? And of course there's the idea of becoming rich or having a stable job, but money can only go so far. I'm starting to question whether or not being happy with ones self for a good amount of time is actually achievable. I've been on this earth for approximately 19 years and I have never once met one person that was happy with who they were as a person or with what they were doing in life.
We all dislike something about ourselves. Be it physical features or the internal problems we have. By the end of the day, we just look at ourselves in the mirror and feel a tinge of disappointment. And what's worse is that the slight disappointment you feel you have with yourself, suddenly is the only thing that is on your mind. It blocks out any feelings of happiness you had with yourself previously, and you soon become enveloped in your disappointment, thus feeding your disappointment with attention just like a mother feeds her baby. But we can't help it. It's human nature that makes us this way.
I always wondered if people weren't constantly judged by society, would it make any difference on how easy it would be to achieve personal happiness. To not let any other outside source cloud your judgment on yourself. Which brings me back to my previous point -- is it society that gets in our way? I personally have tried my best to not let anyone's judgment affect how i live my life. And honestly, i feel lost without it. Maybe I've been told where to go in life one too many times to the point where if left alone, i can't even figure out what i want myself. And to tell you the truth, I can't see myself being happy either way. I can't see myself getting married and having a family. I just see my future self being way too passionate about my work and living in a one bedroom apartment in a busy city somewhere. But that still leaves me with a blank on whether or not I'd end up being happy.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Cheap Date
Steven smiled in amazement at the girl standing across from him.
"That was awesome," he said, "now how much do I owe ya?"
Stacy wiped the sweat off her forehead. It was a tough job.
"Forget about it, you don't owe me anything."
Steven gave her a serious look.
"Are you serious?"
"Do I look like I'm joking?" she said, smiling at him.
"but....why?"
"because it's rare that I get a customer as cute and sweet as you. all of my other previous customers were soul-less assholes, but I know you, and I think you're a one of a kind gem."
Stacy winked at him and reached for a hand towel to clean her hands up.
"at least let me tip you, I mean you did one hell of a job for me, I've been needin' that for a while now," Steven insisted.
"If ya wanna tip me hunny, then take me out to dinner...I'm starvin' after doin all that work...plus I hardly get to leave this place," she said with a sigh.
"You hardly get to leave? I thought you had would have a free schedule, you know, considering where you work..." he said looking around the dilapidated room, "who's your boss?"
"My daddy"
"Phew, if your dad is your boss, I would assume you get to go out as much as you'd like" Steven said.
"That's what you think. But we need the money...So you gonna take me out for that dinner or what? I'm not askin' for anything extravagant, just somethin' from the near by diner. Are we goin or not?" she asked with fake demand.
"Are you sure your dad won't mind? I don't want you to get in trouble..."
"Nah, he's busy with his own work right now. Come on before it gets too dark out," she said, reaching for his hand.
Steven was hesitant to hold her hand, seeing how he barely met her hours earlier. But he couldn't resist that beautiful smile. He lifted his arm and grabbed her hand. They walked towards the diner that was one mile away. Steven noticed that Stacy's hands were slippery.
"Oh, it must have been from all that lube she used," he thought to himself,"that girl's sure got the skills for fixin' cars. Her daddy sure did teach her well."
As the sun lowered down the horizon, Stacy's father turned on the lights on his store sign that read, "Albert & Stacy Mechanics: We're Here to Service Your Car 24 Hours, Rain or Shine"
"That was awesome," he said, "now how much do I owe ya?"
Stacy wiped the sweat off her forehead. It was a tough job.
"Forget about it, you don't owe me anything."
Steven gave her a serious look.
"Are you serious?"
"Do I look like I'm joking?" she said, smiling at him.
"but....why?"
"because it's rare that I get a customer as cute and sweet as you. all of my other previous customers were soul-less assholes, but I know you, and I think you're a one of a kind gem."
Stacy winked at him and reached for a hand towel to clean her hands up.
"at least let me tip you, I mean you did one hell of a job for me, I've been needin' that for a while now," Steven insisted.
"If ya wanna tip me hunny, then take me out to dinner...I'm starvin' after doin all that work...plus I hardly get to leave this place," she said with a sigh.
"You hardly get to leave? I thought you had would have a free schedule, you know, considering where you work..." he said looking around the dilapidated room, "who's your boss?"
"My daddy"
"Phew, if your dad is your boss, I would assume you get to go out as much as you'd like" Steven said.
"That's what you think. But we need the money...So you gonna take me out for that dinner or what? I'm not askin' for anything extravagant, just somethin' from the near by diner. Are we goin or not?" she asked with fake demand.
"Are you sure your dad won't mind? I don't want you to get in trouble..."
"Nah, he's busy with his own work right now. Come on before it gets too dark out," she said, reaching for his hand.
Steven was hesitant to hold her hand, seeing how he barely met her hours earlier. But he couldn't resist that beautiful smile. He lifted his arm and grabbed her hand. They walked towards the diner that was one mile away. Steven noticed that Stacy's hands were slippery.
"Oh, it must have been from all that lube she used," he thought to himself,"that girl's sure got the skills for fixin' cars. Her daddy sure did teach her well."
As the sun lowered down the horizon, Stacy's father turned on the lights on his store sign that read, "Albert & Stacy Mechanics: We're Here to Service Your Car 24 Hours, Rain or Shine"
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