February made me shiver

FEBRUARY: Abstract thoughts. Loves reality and abstract. Intelligent and clever. Changing personality. Attractive. Sexy. Temperamental. Quiet, shy and humble. Honest and loyal. Determined to reach goals. Loves freedom. Rebellious when restricted. Loves aggressiveness. Too sensitive and easily hurt. Gets angry really easily but thoes not show it. Dislike unnecessary things. Loves making friends but rarely shows it. Daring and stubborn. Ambitious. Realizing dreams and hopes. Sharp. Loves entertainment and leisure. Romantic on the inside not outside.Superstitious and ludicrous. Spendthrift. Tries to learn to show emotions

Awakening (more sudden than rude), Asleep (more restless than deep)

All for comfort and worry. COMFORT. WORRY. Do they both exist on parallel planes? CAN they both exist on parallel planes?I'm hitting a brick wall. I'm running straight into it, through it, with energy unsurpassed. I was sitting, listening hard. There was noise all around, but it was not noise. It was confusion. It was empty sound. It meant nothing. As the world spun around me, I was 100% focused, narrowed even.

Things change. Attitudes, actions - they all change.

I came to such a stark, candid realization yesterday. This is something that has been so incredibly long in the works, but I came to my end yesterday realizing all of my actions, my words, my thoughts, my motivations, my attitudes... they've all been so fettered - that is, fettered to this crazy idea that I have to please everyone, that I can't say no, that... well, sometimes to no idea at all. Sometimes they are blank, empty, hollow. Sometimes it's as though it's not even me.

God still bothers with me, and why? I strive to be a servant of Christ but I seldom strive with any great vigor. I strive to strive. I want to want. I desire to desire.

My life must mean something. It has to in the end. What will my life count for? More importantly, what will my earthly end count for? I don't know why I do some of the things that I do. I ruin my testimony. I speak from both sides of my mouth. I love my savior, but not enough to quit pushing him away. I'm like a 2 year-old. It's amazing.

Fearing the most, dodging the least

Buried deep as you can dig inside yourself,
and covered with a perfect shell,
such a charming beautiful exterior.
Laced with brilliant smiles and shining eyes
and perfect posture, but you're barely scraping by.

This is one time
that you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone or anyone at all.
And the grave that you refuse to leave,
the refuge that you've built to flee,
the places you have come to fear the most.

Buried deep as you can dig inside yourself,
and hidden in the public eye.
Such a stellar monument to loneliness.
Laced with brilliant smiles and shining eyes
and perfect makeup but you're barely scraping by.
And you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone or anyone at all.
And the grave that you refuse to leave,
the refuge that you've built to flee,
the places you have come to fear the most.

*** I was singing this en la manana. I'm continuously fascinated by how quickly things change. In an instant, the blinking of an eye, the flipping of a switch, the... the... something else that's really, really fast. I dunno. This isn't going to make sense today. I almost don't want it to make sense. In my life, right now, when everything else (almost) seems to be making sense, I don't want this to make sense because I don't necessarily feel like putting the effort into making it make sense. Does that make sense?*sigh*

Tomorrow is Friday. FRIDAY. VERDES. Wow. This week has gone by rather swiftly

Spread your seed, use Viagra

I have been receiving spam mail at an increasingly rapid rate these days. All of them declare stunning promises of a larger penis, a prolonged erection, a stronger sexual drive... or sometimes just a lower mortgage rate. I received a message in my inbox with this subject title (Spread your see, use Viagra) and I think it has become my favorite. It made me, quite literally, laugh out loud. So it's sticking around for awhile. I wish that they knew I don't have a penis.

It was a glorious weekend in and about the District. I got to see KHart on Saturday night as he was finishing up his double shift at Tunni's. It's great to have a third place, let me say. Tunni's was my third place while I was living in DC and that comes with residual benefits. Knowing the owners, the managers, most of the wait and bar staff... conclusion? I go and hang out for several hours, gourging myself on delicious food and endless drinks and only pay $4. It was grand, indeed.

Sunday, I met Church boy Nathan for breakfast and church. It was a good time. A really good time, in fact. I think we got a lot of issues cleared up which is always nice. I'm looking forward to the direction that our friendship will take from here. It's good not to suffer anxiety about these sorts of things.

This is an incredibly dull blog. I'm ending it now. Cheerio.

My other ride is your mom

We had a fantastic storm here in Jersey City last night. Absolutely fantastic. I was walking back to the office from the bank and was wearing my favorite black skirt that I live in these days (black circle skirt with black flip flops, tank top, and a braid - it's the best ensemble on the planet) and had to hold on to it for dear life as the gusts of wind tickled my knees and threatened to relieve me of the skirt entirely. I laughed. The guy sitting in his car at the light gawked, hoping for a show, I'm sure.

I want to go fishing. I haven't been since I was about 7 years old. Dad used to take JC and I out on his friend's boat. Deep-sea, baby. His friend was an ass. His name was Mr. Prekosky, or Peroski, or something I don't remember. He was definitely an ass though. I left my brand-new sneakers at the dock one time that we went. They were pound puppy sneakers. They were the bright and shining item in my life at the moment - they DEFINED my life at that very moment and I went ahead and left them on the dock. I'm not sure how I got home like that, my shoelessness escaping the notice of my father. It wouldn't have happened if Mom were there. Moms notice that sort of thing. They notice when your pound puppy sneakers are missing. At any rate, my buddy Rob has been taking out the boat recently and fishing for striper bass. Apparently this is very good fish. I wouldn't know. I've been wanting to go out on the boat all week but it hasn't panned out. I'm so clueless when it comes to these things. I'm no fisherman. I don't know my ass from my elbow when it comes to these things, but it just seems like the appropriate time to fish. And seems sort of pleasant. Fish guts and Pabst blue ribbon - so nice.

I'm ready for Friday. I long for Friday. I'm definitely going to DC this weekend. Can't get out of this one. It's Brandon's birthday and he is aching to get out of town. So we're going to DC. Not sure what we're doing, not even sure where we'll stay - but we'll have a raging good time, I'm certain of it. Perhaps see Dr. Brian and his pooch, Isaac again.

Help me out - I'm trying to think up a joke involving a toothbrush and non-dairy creamer. It's near impossible.

Bumbie's Mom

I killed Bumbie’s mom last night. Well, I didn’t kill her with my own two hands or anything quite that grotesque. Actually, I didn’t really kill her at all. It was my brother, JC. He didn’t do it on purpose, it was all an accident. A big, fat, juicy, horrible accident. Coterminously, he killed Bumbie as well. Alright – enough with the Bumbie bit. If you have never been hooked on Animaniacs like I was, then you won’t get it. So forgive me.

JC somehow convinced Kelly and I to go out with him last night and look at a car that he planned on purchasing. A real “fixer-upper” and a steal at $500. we looked at the car, it was fine. A ton of work had already been done on it. The interior was mint and the outside was all prepped for a new paintjob. The body was immaculate. JC was jazzed. Pretty jazzed, if I do say so myself. We floated most of the way home in good spirits. JC was playing his favorite song on the hi-fi.

As we motored home, a deer (bumbie’s mom) ventured out into the dangerous road as JC was veering through each curve like a skilled driver, one of those guys who drives for the Acura commercials, on a closed course and whatnot. Anyway, he was maneuvering the Volkswagen through each curve when the deer decided to cross his path. Squealing of tires, screaming, the car turned this way sharply, then that way even more sharply and then we made contact. The deer flew, flew hard. She flew FAR. She could have made the cut for one of Santa’s 8 the way she was flying. Goo and other not-so-pleasant-deer-innards sprayed everywhere. Our windows were open. All of them. Poor JC. His car is pretty banged up. Bumbie and his mom were dead and quite dead (respectively) on the side of the road. I couldn’t open my door. So I waited. I waited while JC kicked the side of the car and screamed in frustration as (I’m sure) he thought of how he had just planned to sell this car and now he couldn’t. I waited as one, no two cars stopped and offered help (?). One man offered to call the police. JC yelled at him. Kelly made him apologize and say thanks for stopping. All this excitement going on and all I could was sit there in the car and WAIT. Pretty irritating if you ask me.

So we finished the rest of our journey home where we dug up a flashlight. We took a few minutes to inspect the damage, all of us crouched down on the ground, squinting, waving the smoke from our eyes (yes, the car was smoking. It was amazing). We had to pry the hood open with a crow bar. It was fascinating. I finally grew tired of inspecting the damage and went inside to blow my nose. Damn allergy season.

I feel really bad for JC, but there’s not a thing that I can do for him at this point except price parts on ebay and see if I can find him a real steal. Hopefully, he’ll be able to repair the damage for just around $1K. He can do all the labor himself, it’s just about finding parts. *sigh*

Poor Bumbie. Poor Bumbie’s mom.

I loved me madly, deeply even

Sunshine on my shoulder makes me happy… and I think I might go for a walk outside now, the summer sun – he’s calling my name…you are the sunshine of my life…my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey

Ok, enough of that. A bit cheesy? Perhaps. But it’s been keeping me entertained. I’m in my car constantly, forever, until the end of time it seems and I sing. Oh, do I sing! I sing unabashedly and as loud as my lungs can voluminate! The sunshine pouring through the sunroof, touching my face, my ear – entering my ear, shining straight through my brain and burning the imprint of its presence into my very being – I’ve been singing ever since!

This has been a good, strong week weather-wise; plenty of strong contrasts and imaginative imagery. God is good for that sort of thing, and for this I’m grateful. The days have been warm with titan sunbeams and wispy breezes that tickle every fringe of greenery along their way. All this highlighted by midnight storms featuring the rumbling thunder of Thor and huge, fat raindrops – strong winds and lightning that is not too harsh… the thunder strikes, shakes, trembles the grounds and the lightning follows (or precedes?), laughing gently on the clouds, illuminating tree tops and hillsides in the pitch, dark night. I missed such a storm last night – I was sleeping (ba! What a waste)!

I’m at work today. I had thoughts of (once again) tripping down to DC and spending some time in the sun, on the national mall, perhaps then heading out to the Eastern Shore to visit Dr. Brian and his pooch Isaac. I then remembered: this Sunday is Mother’s Day. Hmmm… she would have been crushed.

So what am I doing for my special lady? I’m not sure yet. I should probably get to work on that relatively soon though, eh? Thank goodness it’s Friday. For real.

Vitamin L

I had such great plans this weekend, yes such great plans. I'm slightly disappointed, but not completely. I still had such a great weekend. It's difficult to decide whether or not I would trade it for the weekend I originally had planned. Circumstances come and go, things happen that we don't expect, and who can really trade that? This is life. This is experience. This is the story that I'll tell my grandchildren later (bless the grandchildren, bless their hearts). Who can exchange this? Not I. So that settles it then. I wouldn't exchange it. DC will come another weekend. Dr. Brian will be another time.

So yes, that is the weekend I originally had planned. I was going to head down to the District Saturday morning and help Rinnie fix the computer at the old office and then trip around the DC metropolitain area for the rest of the day -- hello, how are you? Good to see you again. Gracious, your hair is getting long! Want to grab a drink? Let's eat Thai for dinner, etc. -- then I was going to spend the night in my old apartment or on campus, whichever was available, and head out to the Eastern Shore on Sunday afternoon, post church activities. It didn't quite happen this way, oh no, it did not.

Friday evening I was to be in the city for an engagement dinner - something I really had no desire to miss. It was for a good friend, former roommate, future lifelong pal (I can hope so anyway) and although I would be attending her wedding in about five weeks, I wanted to see her and her fiance - it had been awhile. That, and I had never really been invited to a dinner party. My evening to feel posh, jaded, protected, privileged. I would drink decent champagne, eat shrimp cocktail the size of my head, sit on the sofa and discuss things that I didn't understand or ever cared to understand. The appeal? eh, not quite sure. But I wanted to do it just the same. Mainly, I was going to see PB. I won't hilight the journey home I had from Manhattan or the difficulties thereof, even though they are oh so interesting.

Fast forward to 8:30 Saturday morning and fast forward the contents of my stomach, up my esophagus, and out my mouth (damn that shrimp cocktail). No need for further dilineation.

I remained in bed most of the day and I realized sometime around 2PM that I would most definitely NOT be driving anywhere, and most certainly not DC. Sadness, indeed. At 2PM I was doing a bit better, nausea wise, but was feeling quite stale and had no desire (or at least no great desire) to sit in the car for four hours to arrive in the district by 6PM. So I made the best of the situation. I took the dog out in the lawn along with my current read and enjoyed the sunshine that was. I went out to dinner with Bonny at 9PM. I accomplished little, but oh so much. It was glorious.

Yesterday Kelly came over and we busted out the maps and my Weird NJ book. We decided to go for a drive. It took us nearly an hour to get there. Where were we going? Nowhere, really. But it took us an hour to get there just the same. We cruised down Clinton Road. My leg was shaking. I wasn't stopping, no, not for anything. I didn't travel below 35 mph the entire road. Up, down, left, right - the curves and bends were extraordinary, rivaling Marilyn Monroe during her best years. Kelly grabbed the side handle for dear life and laughed in nervousness as I nearly went off the road. We had conquered Clinton Road. It was exactly 9 miles from end to end and we had conquered it. I needed a cigarette. I needed Chicago. Yes, you ARE my inspiration, Clinton Road - you're my bitch.

We then decided what needed to be done. We stopped at a local grocery store and bought the goods for making pizza. Oh, and chocolate syrup. That's always key for some reason. We went home and made pizza and drank beer and had ice-cream with fresh strawberries (and the fore-mentioned chocolate syrup). We watched Latino stand-up comedy and stayed up later than we should have.

It was a good weekend. It was a great weekend.

Miles Davis day

I stepped outside this morning and felt sharp, warm raindrops against my bare skin. I was merely running out to start my car and was still donning a tank top, boxer shorts and flip flops. My hair was wet and only getting wetter as I ran frantically down the driveway to my car in an effort to get out of the rain. I don't know why it bothers me so - I mean, I do shower regularly.

Morning commute is typically not fun. It is typically even less fun in weather such as this. The sky is shouting down obsenities as it grumbles and churns, all grey and white (which, in this context is really only a lighter shade of grey) - I had on the radio, strangely, and decided quite promptly that this was no morning to tolerate the rantings and ravings of call-in radio shows. I opted for Miles Davis. Let me say one thing (I'll say more than one thing, mind you, but please... allow me this one): Miles Davis makes even the most grueling commute a somewhat pleasurable experience. So here I was, sitting in my Ford Foci in bumper to bumper traffic.

I gazed out at the landscape surrounding me and was amazed at the transformation. All these cars, zipping along and kicking up water like miniature popcorn kernels... even that Dodge Aries over there, the color of rusty water - the kind you would find collecting in an old metal wheelbarrel - looks so sleek and sexy now.

Everyone played a part in the music. This Volvo in front of me is cutting me off, but with STYLE; his blinker flashing in perfect rhythm...rhythm...rhythm...

It was a great commute and it's turning out to be a damn terrific Miles Davis day.

Ba da be bob skiddly do ah!

You know you've lost your corporate sheen when...

What a blissful weekend. I had thoughts of skipping down to DC this weekend but then backtracked when I realized that I had not been home really all week and I was completely exhausted. I really needed to just spend some time doing nothing and seeing no one. Talking to not a single soul. I've changed quite a bit in that manner. I remember when I was 15, my Aunt Martha - my father's sister - bought me a t-shirt that said "Help! I'm talking and I can't shut-up!" (remember all those t-shirts that were so terribly popular in the mid-nineties. Perhaps I'm remembering incorrectly, but it seems to me that everyone was constantly running around with all these t-shirts and their incredibly witty yet irritatingly stupid messages: 'My husband said that if I didn't quit shopping he would leave me... I will miss that man', or 'Why drink and drive when you can smoke and fly?', or 'I suffer from CRS: can't remember shit')?I digress...I did it again - I bought a few more new books. Lolita (which I've been wanting for a long time anyway) and Speaking with the Angel - a collection of short stories. I justified buying this because I figured I never have time to read entire books and short stories would fit a little better into my hectic schedule.I'm going to go down to DC next weekend I think. Apparently there is some sort of party at the Helix. Of course, any party seems like a pretty meager excuse to spend all the time and energy driving down to the District, but this particular party comes at Dr. Brian's suggestion and is being held at the Helix, which really balances out the hideousness of it all. Don't you agree? Good. Agreed upon then. I just finished a blowpop and again, as always, spit out the gum. What is it about that sickeningly sweet, powerpuff pink gum that I just have never been able to tolerate? Not quite sure. Most likely the sickening sweetness and powerpuff pinkness of it. Logic. LOGIC!I'm cracking up at the seams and I'm ashamed to say that I almost enjoy it. It's a new phase of life, something more to observe, learn from, live by... my co-workers don't appreciate it in this way though and why the hell should they? I have a job to do. I've decided though (as recently as TODAY) that I"m going to do that job to the best of my ability. I'm going to do it. Enough with my whining and complaining and overly complacent attitudes. Enough with apathy and general laziness. Enough with being such a damned baby. I am strong even in my weakness. I am bold and tenacious. I am a lover, not a hater. I am a rock, or an island, or other good things that Art Garfunkel said (or any other strangely big-haired music artist). That felt good. I needed that. I'm going to sit down and read for a bit and most likely fall asleep in the process. The sky is a steel-grey today and big fat rain drops have been descending from the heavens for quite a great deal of time. The earth is sloppy and moist with celestial tears and it is making me crave warmth and soft light, and fuzzy socks and even Bigelow French Vanilla tea. I am craving Miles Davis... yes, it is a Miles Davis day. I need Kind of Blue right now - that would make everything complete. Gracious, I love this - mind you, when it comes at the right moment. Today, it has arrived at the right moment. God bless America.

Velocitize (yep, I'm doing it again - making it a word)

Just started another new book (I know! I know! I promised I wouldn't do it. I promised myself!) I have an entirely too huge stack of books that I've not yet read and I promised myself that I wouldn't buy any new books until I finished what I had already. I bought another Dave Eggers installment and began reading it on a drive back from Atlantic City this morning. I'm so excited for mi libro nuevo!!! Yes, I'm a huge dork. But I've really come to accept my dorkiness - embrace it even. Embracing the dorkiness, the dorkdom really. Tis a wonderfully fantabulous thing...It was once said that there is a lid for every pot. True, true... but what if you're tupperware? *sigh* Some of life's questions may NEVER be answered.

Gravity Sucks

And so it has come to this. The point where everything is questioned. Why am I doing what I'm doing? If this is not IT then why am I here to begin with? Argh - so incredibly and disgustingly cliche. It's funny how you despise something your entire life and then finally arrive at the point where it is simply inevitable, you MUST become what you hate because everyone else on the planet is and for a damn good reason too. Shit. I hate it. I hate feeling this way. I hate feeling trapped by something that used to be such a huge part of me. Well, technically it is STILL such a huge part of me, just not as voluntary as before. I'd say that before it was a huge part of who I was - now it is simply everything that I do. I eat, breathe, sleep campaign and I don't want to. I don't want it to consume me. Quite frankly my dear, I just don't give a damn anymore and I hate that too. This is not my life's work. It is not to take control over every ounce of my being. Life is to be pleasant and commodious, not bogged down and hindered. My life's work has GOT to be something other than this. Something beyond all this bullshit. Bush will lose, Bret will win, la-di-da.It sort of sucks that it's come to this. Hmmm.... yeah, it sort of sucks.

the black hills, the blue skies!

The subject is a remnant of my childhood. There was an old Disney movie called "The One and Only, Genuine, Original Family Band". It actually had Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn in it - I think that's the first film they ever did together and how they first met. Goldie Hawn's role was so minimal she was cast merely as "Giggly Girl". Anyway, the movie is a musical and that is a line from one of the songs as all the menly men dance about the place and sing of their beloved Dakota (at the time, a single state).

Speaking of Dakota though, I got a double dose (quite randomly) tonight of Dakota. A call first from Mr. H. Paul which lasted roughly a half hour - it was good to talk to him again. Really good. We've (once again) reached a new level of friendship. It's something between semi-grownup and hopelessly childish. I can't quite decide. He's setting out clear boundaries though by flirting with me, waiting for me to flirt back and then casually mentioning that he and his girlfriend are getting serious. It's very interesting - and then an even more random call from Jozzy. Yes, that's right. You heard correctly... I received a call from Jozzy! I could hardly believe it myself. Who would've thunk? We talked for a good length of time and had a really good conversation. REALLY good. It was... different. Different from any other time that we've spoken anyway. It was like a breath of fresh air. No need for either one of us to talk really, it was just good that we were on the phone, at the same time, and with one another. It connected us, melted us together. It was... good. Pure goodness in the form of a telephone conversation (if such a thing exists). It really was just that: good. I'm glad that we got the chance to catch up a little. It's amazing that we're both in the SAME EXACT SPOT politically and professionally speaking. It's actually almost creepy how similar we are right now. I told him that we're basically the same exact person. Or we might as well be. The same complaints. the same worries. The same desires. Everything is the same. Everything! DAMMIT. I can't get over it. It's great though. And I'm glad that we seemed to bond on this level. I think he'll be calling me a lot more now. I told him to. I told him to feel free to call me anytime he needs to bitch. He said that we should get married. That I should moved out to Iowa, marry him, and then I can work at Wal-Mart and he can work as a cabana boy somewhere serving drinks. I laughed a lot thinking of Jozzy as a cabana boy. It made me smile. It made me smile even more that we're in the same exact spot. At the same stop sign. We have the same rip in our jeans. We're painting our house the same exact color as one another. It's disgusting but creepily pleasant.

I'm getting old. I'm going to bed. I'm talking too much. I'm feeling pretty good about whiter teeth in just 14 days, thanks to Crest White Strips. Ping!

Yenta was a fat, crack ho but I'll take her advice anyway

Alejandra called me this afternoon on my cell phone (again) although she swears that I'm not being charged for the calls because she's making them from her cell phone I'm nearly certain that I'm being charged for SOMETHING because my phone bills have been outrageous lately. Just the same, I miss her something terrible and am always glad when she calls. Her Italian is getting fantastically good and I'm happy that she's getting this experience overseas. For now, I can live vicariously through her. She's having boy troubles, as always. Apparently this Italian boy Dominico, or Francesco, or Sergio, or whatever the hell his name is being a bitch and a total woman. Why is it that Alejandra and I manage to find every womanly man on the planet? We are not high-maintenance. We do not want to talk on the phone to you every night. In fact, if you called us every night we would start to feel smothered. It's the little things, folks. The little things that count. We want to know every once in awhile that someone is thinking of us, but that's it. A quick phone call once or twice a week to say howdy and see how things are. An email or text message letting us know that you're thinking of us. This is it. Wow - that's it. That's all it takes. Pretty amazing, eh? Anyway, we always seem to find these guys that are complete women and insist on calling to have one hour conversations every night or seeing us every night of the week - taking up every second of any spare time that we have. Gosh. I don't want a new life, I just want a new friend. OK OK OK - I'm falling off message here. I did want to type up my lovely little conversation with Alejandra (or make mention of it, anyhow) but I did not purpose to make it the focus of my entire entry. So I digress.

I just talked to Elisabeth moments ago and it looks as thought my little plans for her and Mr. PG might actually work. I've been eyeing to set the two of them up ever since we ran into PG in the Venetian last May. C'mon! After 6 years of never hearing from or about PG and then bumping into him quite randomly in the middle of Las Vegas... it had to happen for a reason. Elisabeth is one of my dearest buddies in the world. I think I would be quite picky about who she ended up with and I must say: I approve of PG. They've been chatting quite a bit lately via instant messenger, email, and cellular telephonic device - every other day or so. I'm glad to hear this. We all made plans to drive to Pittsburgh this summer to spend the weekend with PG and I think that's why they've been talking lately. Of course, I encouraged both of them to call one another. *sigh* it's so exciting. I've already resolved myself to the fact that this is going to be an incredibly girly entry. Ah well... c'est la vie, eh? I'm just sort of excited for ELR and PG, and also a little bored at work. I oughtn't be though - there's a ton of work to do. I have events that need to be scheduled and emails that need to be responded to on top of half a million other things, but here I am, still, motionless, thoughtless, giddy almost, typing in my journal. Because I want to; it's what I want to do right now. I'm looking out for ME this afternoon (and just about every other afternoon, these days). I'm also eating insane amounts of unnecessary sugar in the form of "sour night crawlers" also known as sour gummy worms. These things are the best.

I'll spare you all the rest of this chitter chatter. Perhaps I'll even get back to work.

An astonishing work of fantastic brilliance!

I just finished "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" by Dave Eggers. Loved it. LOVED IT. I want to write like him. I want to write my memoirs. Truth be it told, I want to be nominated for a Pulitzer Prize. Bah. It's in the works, it's in the works. On to the next masterpiece!

mi familia es mi vida

Mom's side of the family is such a train wreck. It makes me sad - and as sad as it makes me, I know it makes her much sadder. She's tried for so many years to be the peacemaker, but they've never taken her seriously. They make fun of her and criticize everything she does. She's the fool, the clueless one, she's naive...

quite frankly, it pisses me off. I hate the way my mom's family is - like distant acquaintences rather than brothers and sisters. My cousins don't know me; don't know that I want to go to art school, barely know that I've been working in politics for the past 6 years, didn't even know that I lived in Indianapolis for two years. And even worse, they don't care. Lord knows that we try. We all try to break past all the awkward conversation at holiday times. We try to give hugs and sometimes even go as far as to throw out an "I love you" only to be met with cold and half-heartedly open arms and a weak, even semi-schocked "love ya too" in return (if they respond verbally at all). I know that they think we're weird, that we're freaks. We are freaks who are freakishly close to one another. We hug eachother, and even kiss eachother. We snuggle on the couch and watch movies or go for long car rides together. We spend time with one another and hang out on the weekends. My siblings are my built-in friends. When the going gets tough, thank God I have family.

Mom said the meanest thing this morning and I think part of it was said out of hurt for her own family and they way that they treat us and respond to us. But she said that the same thing would happen to all of us as we get older. How dare she?! How dare she say such a thing! WHY would she say such a thing?! I think it's important that all five of us make a commitment that this thing, this hideously unbearable thing of growing apart and not knowing one another, this thing of the bitterness, resentment, jealousy, hate WILL never happen to us. We have latin roots. We will be strong and vigilant forever! Our lives will inter-mingle as long as we walk the face of this Earth. Our children will be best-friends with one another. We will love one another. And even if we are someday living at the five points of the earth, we will anxiously anticipate the next coming together that we will all have because in between, we will miss one another so desperately that thoughts of eachother will bring a tear to the eye, a quick sob, a sleepless night...

I can't bear the thought of us growing apart. I would rather one of my siblings dead than estranged. We will all be GREAT! We will make our parents so proud. We will be George Washington, Bill Gates, The Beatles, Mother Theresa!!! We will be the greatest people to ever walk the Earth. We will change the world, we will end terrorism, we will revolutionize science, we will shake and challenge the legislative powers that be, we will be presidents, and astronauts, and surgeons, scientists, and really cool moms. And while doing all this, we will still love eachother madly, and deeply, and get together for cokes and smiles every chance that we get. No, this terrible thing will not happen to us. We are Navarro's.

Bette Midler sings Outkast

I've eaten so much today that I can nearly FEEL myself getting fatter. Bah.
Tony is sitting here right now shining a flashlight in my face and pretending to be a police officer. He's making Kelly lick his nipples. Hoorah.

We were going to go to Clinton Road tonight up in West Milford to drive around and scare ourselves silly, but JC didn't want to go and we didn't necessarily want to go with just Tony. For some unknown reason JUST TONY doesn't sound all that safe or reassuring. He's a nice kid and all, but...

I don't know why we feel it necessary to constantly be scaring ourselves. We've sat around all afternoon reading from Weird NJ and entertaining our sick minds. What sorts of ghosts or goblins inhabit Clinton Road? Satan Worshippers? KKK members? Crazy old women with shoes tied around their necks? Who knows. We were hoping to go there and find it all, to be frightened by it all. We wanted to run, and scream, and peel out with our tires screeching. We wanted to drive out of there like a bat out of hell, screaming as loud as our lungs can voluminate, hearts beating wildly. Or, we just wanted to cruise down the road with tunes blasting to say that WE DID IT. We conquered Clinton Road and without a scratch on us to boot.
I'm 24 years old... why does this stuff still fascinate me so?

Meager efforts

I had a long talk with Amanda yesterday about my wavering emotional status with my job. She seemed to understand but I had a hard time getting past all of the political bullshit to know if she is REALLY talking to me as a friend or as future deputy campaign manager of SFG2005. It's hard to know sometimes. It's sad when you feel like you can't really trust anyone. I hate the fact that I would ever feel that way about Amanda, especially since we've been friends for so damn long, but it's true. I think I'm getting stronger though now. I know that MB is really worried about me - worried that I'll fail them. I'm worried too. How can I accomplish this when I don't even really care about it anymore? That sounds horrible, that I don't care. I hate saying that I don't care. It sounds so empty, so selfish. Like saying "I'm bored". I don't think I've said that since I was about 8 years old. I remember being at summer camp when I was 8 years old and there was a speaker there at one of our chapel sessions. I don't remember much of the things that we learned throughout those many chapel sessions at the three summers I spent at camp, but I do remember this one guy saying that "I'm bored" is the same as "I'm selfish". That stuck with me and I haven't uttered those words since. Ahhhh... the wisdom that I've picked up over the years. :)

At any rate - I have the day off today and it's like I don't quite know what to do with myself. I feel completely out of place with my family's day to day routine. The maintenance guy is here fixing the gaping hole in our kitchen ceiling and he's at home with the rest of my family. He's himself. I have no idea who this man is
- I've never met him. Mom introduced me to him this morning.

Mom: "Jimmy, this is our OTHER daughter, Monica. She works 24/7".
Jimmy: "Yeah. I've never met HER before. Wow. 24/7, huh?"
Mom: "Yeah. She's a real work-a-holic."
Me: (thinking) I'm the farthest thing from a work-a-holic, but that's just fine. *smile, nod, shake his hand*

Time for lunch. I just got back from my "run" (walk just sounds like I'm not really exercising). It's a gorgeous day though and I'm sure glad that I don't have to work.

Spike Lee Major Tom Dick and Harry Connick, Jr. Mints

I'm collecting my senses about work and such. I'm really taking time to think about this decision that I've made. I don't want anything to be knee-jerk. There are times of true bliss at this job - well, true bliss is a bit over-the-top, but there are times of true goodness and I would be dishonest and kidding myself to deny that. However, those times of true goodness are truly few and far between. Most of the time I'm irritated because the big man is late (AGAIN) to an important event and I have to make embarrassing excuses for him, or I'm frustrated because I'm out of gas and out of resources to purchase gas and out of patience waiting for the resources to purchase gas, etc. Mostly I'm simply a huge baby who just doesn't feel like hacking it anymore (most of the time). There are those few moments when I feel like I can conquer the world, I'm on top of my game, I am king of the hill, I AM SPARTACUS! Oh, those moments are so wonderful! I was having one this morning and it was great. I was listening to Maroon 5, Songs About Jane (an album that is very un-typically me in that it gets quite a bit of top 40 radio play) but I was thoroughly enjoying it and feeling like I could turn the Titanic around. It was a good way to be coming into work. Today and yesterday have been my most productive days in quite a while. It makes me sad to think that I've become so lethargic.


I'm almost finished with Dave Eggers' "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius". I'm very pleased with it so far - I want to write like him. I want my books to be Pulitzer Prize finalists... someday.


Alejandra and I are busily making plans to take NYC by storm this summer for the Republican National Convention. Hoo Rah. We're hoping that one Mr. Paul Erickson will be able to assist us in this matter. I just got an email from him this morning - gosh, he's so terribly witty and SEXY. Ugly/sexy that is (did anyone ever see "Kissing Jessica Stein"? Rent it. Watch it. Know what ugly/sexy is all about).


Los dias se estan convirtiendo en mas largos y el brillo del sol mas brillante. Es hora para el resorte DE ESTAR AQUI, no justo "supuesta para estar aqui".

Enchantingly disenchanted

Yes, I'm that annoying type person who is seemingly ALWAYS in a good mood. No matter what happens, no matter what goes down, I am there smiling. If I'm not smiling, I'm carefully contemplating how the situation can be turned into a smiling type situation. I know, I know - it's irratating. But that's just who I am. The Peacemaker. The Problem Solver. The Annoying Happy Girl (I don't giggle though. I will always maintain that I DON'T GIGGLE).
At any rate... Today I'm feeling rather disenchanted and I'm not quite certain why. I guess it's a good thing that I'm confused that I'm pissed off. It's nice that I'm in the position to actually be confused when I'm pissed off.

I'm not entirely certain what the purpose in this entry was...
I'm supposed to talk to Sal today to make a game plan for my departure from ETP. I don't know what to say. Out of all the people I'll have to talk to though, I'm looking forward to talking to the big man the least. He get's back from Korea today and I just really don't want to tell him about me leaving. It makes me almost with that he was the ever-absent boss. The un-reachable CEO. ALMOST.

Everyone is getting married. What am I doing? I'm lowering property taxes. For some reason, I just don't care anymore. It could just be my mood though. :)