May 16th, 2014
|03:41 pm - I miss LJ......|
I miss Livejournal. I miss how meaty it is. I miss the connection. I feel like connection happened here, and I miss it. I also feel like I have relied on Facebook so much to remain somewhat less isolated. I am completely isolated. I see my best friend Jill pretty much only because we work together. I did a fat swim gathering and it was good and reminded me that I miss connecting with people. I need to find a better work/school/life balance. Its summer and I want to be in the sun. I wish I had a convertible to drive up the coast with.
But more than anything, I miss connection. Right now I am too hungry and waiting on food to give a substantial update, but I will and I need to check and see if I have any friends here. I don't think I do!
March 29th, 2012
|02:34 pm - this may seem not noteworthy.....|
but sometimes, i really beat myself up for not being able to wear high heels. i mean i guess i technically could, but it would hurt, and would likely hurt for a couple days, and then i would likely fall and actually harm myself, which is never cute.
January 10th, 2012
|02:26 pm - I think I miss LJ|
My friend Dante posted the other day that FB is so flat. And I mentioned missing LJ. LJ used to be so full of life, details, pain and lory. And its like, as much as I love FB, and am borderline addicted, it lacks depth. I mean, what really can anyone say in a few lines. And all I really do is share links, which is cool, but there are no really important conversations. I feel like really important conversations, interractions and connections used to happen on Livejournal. Much more than FB. I look at my FB friends list and see a lot of people who dont even really talk to me. I am lucky if I get a "Like." And what the fuck does that mean anyway? it feels effortles and shallow. I kinda miss having peoples respond in a meaningful way to my posts. And I miss letting people know that I hear their pain and feel their joy, even if only virtually. I also miss feeling like I released a bunch of anxiety/joy/pain/rage via my fingertips into the virtual world of LJ, therefore freeing up my body to carry more goodness. So I am gonna do a general check in on where and what my life looks like in hopes that I start posting more often. I hope someone sees this, and is inspired to post to, and hopefully give me a meaty reply. I would love that.
I current work at a Give Something Back. We are a for profit company that donates up to 70% of our after tax profits to local non profits. I work in a sales based position and I pretty much love the fuck out of my job. The people I work with here at GSB and also my customers, inspire to great levels. If your place of business uses office supplies and gives a shit, you should use us: www.givesomethingback
We are also a founding B Corp, and if you are a B Corp, if only makes sense that you would buy office supplies for a fellow B corper. But aside from that: I am working full time, and I am GOING TO SCHOOL FULL TIME FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE. Actually, I am just going into my SECOND year of full time college and I have maintained a 3.48 GPA. We are talking 4 classes a semester here, people. NO half assed going on here. Its full steam ahead. Also, I am NOT taking online classes. I am taking "show up to class for 4 hours Tuesday night, 5 hours Thursday night, and 8 hours Saturday" kinda classes, that have a LOT of homework. I got my first C last semester and I was disappointed, but the 3 A's I got made up for that disappointment. I am 37 years old now. I started college when I was 36. My job inspired me and caused me little to no take home stress, therefore freeing up brain space and energy to go to school. I am so proud of myself, and really struggle to be humble about my accomplishments. Yes, a bitch (me) is 37 and only half way into her AA, but this time next year, I will be gearing up to transfer to a 4 YEAR ANNIVERSARY. I never thought my life would look like this. Damn I am proud of myself
Rochelle and I are still together and stronger than ever. Its no secret to many LJers that things got really rough for us, and many predicted we needed to and would break up. But we just spend our 4th New Years together, and I can firmly say I have a fantastic and imperfect partner and I hope she feels the same way I do. We are both in school, and she is 54 and getting ready to transfer for San Francisco State to finish her BA in Spanish, and likely ASL. Amazing, right? I am very proud of her.
We also adopted a 2 year old female pitbull named Pokchip. She is AMAZING. OMG, I need to dedicate an entire post to her amazingness. For now, a photo of her at the bottom of this post will have to suffice. You should also know she has a French gay male alter ego named Pierre. I wish I could articulate what that all means, but I just cannot right now because there is too much to share. Oh, and you have to know she is scared shitless of my cat, Monkey, who has whooped her ass a few times.
My great nephew, who is 20, is also living with us in our former dining room, which is now his little den. He is beautiful, he also causes me a lot of distress. He came out as gay (NOT a surprise to me) to Rochelle and I and we are the only ones who knows, aside from the guys he chats with on down low sites. Which is a HUGE concern to me. I dont think its easy to be a gay black kid who is chubby, and is scared to death of his mom, but the whole down low shit freaks me out. He also is lazy and talks to me like I am his fucking peer and shit is getting rough. He also talks shit about our home on Twitter and thinks I dont see it. I am working on compassion, though I am not doing a very good job at it. I am also supporting him financially. he got financial aid for school and fucked it off on shoes and hats, never giving me a dime while he eats me out of house and home. He is inconsiderate and ungrateful and if he doesnt make some necessary changes, he is going to have to move on. Sadly, his Mom does not want him back, so it kind of puts me in pickle.
I feel like maybe coming out will free up having to live 2 lives, for him, but its his choice. Hes so fucking scared. Pobrecito. I dont know what to do.
Here are a couple pictures, because we all know we all love pictures:
April 27th, 2011
|01:41 pm - Half ass attempt at an update....aka, freewrite|
i am in school full time. for the first time in my life. i work full time at give something back and i love it. i am going to fail my english class. not because i dont do excellent work, but because of my grandparents.
a little over a month ago, i got a call from my nana mimi. my grandpa was in the hospital and they sent them home with a nurse. this is my dead mothers parents. my nana loves me. my grandfather is homophobic. my nana told me to just show up at their house. i was in no way prepared for what i pulled up to. i passed by their house because i did not recognize it. their was trash, junk, antiques, all the way out to the street. i walked in the house and almost gagged. the smell. i cannot describe it. my grandfather is apparently a hoarder. you could not even walk through the living room. the kitchen floor is covered in old food. only 1 of their bathrooms has a working toilet, and i cannot tell you what it looks like. the other toilet, unworking one, was still being used, because it has an attachment that maes it usable for my disabled grandmother. but it never gets flushed. you cannot imagine the smell. but moreso, the full body pain i felt when i realized that my people were living like this. the hospital sent a social worker over. a white guy who doesnt speak spanish. my grandfather couldnt understand him due to language, but also the mental isues he is dealing with. my grandfathers eyes are so sad. he is dirty. he smells like pee. he calls me rachel. and he is sweet and tender with me. rachel is my mom, his daughter, his pride and joy.he thinks i am her. the social worker says that i must remove them from the house that day. there are so many clothes, i cannot find any of their clothes. i cannot even use the restroom because.....i just cant. there is cat food everywhere, because they feed a stray cat, and i still wonder: were they eating cat food? i know they were eating rotten food. their neighbor yelled at me for not being there for my grandparents, and i snapped at her. i let her know that family business is just that. and thanked her for taking them to appointments over the years, but from here on out, i am taking care of things. he kept calling me rachel and i decided not to correct him anymore. me and my dog laid on their dirty bed, and i told my sad dirty and confused grandpa, that no matter what it looks like, i will take care of them and NO ONE WILL TAKE HIS THINGS. he has a look of death and sadness in his eyes, the same look that my mom had. and its killing me. but i refused to cry. i would be strong, even if there was not one suitable cup to drink out of, in a house that is filled with STUFF, from floor, to about 4 feet high. you would not know there is a couch, to walk around, you must walk on clothes. everyone asks me: is it like that show hoarders???? tell me about it, please! i love that show. and i just answer "yes". but what i want to say is: this is not a fucking show, its not funny or interestings, its my fucking grandparents you asshole, and there are reasons why people DO THIS. namely, from loss. when my mom died 5 years ago, this all started happening. and i bet you are wondering why i didnt know about it until now, right? well, remember my grandfathers homophobia? that is why. he never would allow me there, and i guess it came to the point that he knew he needed me.
background: my parents divorced when i was 8. i will be 37 in a few months. they were high school sweethearts and their parents were good friends to one another. my father always kept in contact with my moms parents. when my mom died, my dad and step mom paid for my moms service, and made himself available to his ex in laws.
i called my dad and step mom and told them what was going on. he said to bring them to his house, so i did. my grandfather is so vulnerable and confused. my grandmother had a double knee replacement and can barely walk without falling. we left the house, with their dirty underwear, dirty clothes, and a guitar. he wanted to bring a guitar. they have pictures of my mother above their bed like shes a saint or a goddess. and she really was/is.
i delivered them to my dads. we had dinner, and i cried a lot to my step mother. i got home and just let loose with the tears to my partner.and she just carried that pain, and offered her assistance with whatever was needed. i was scared to talk her there because i didnt know how my grandfather would be. but now i told her i need her to go back with me.
my dad and some of my other family, ordered 2 dumpsters, secured some storage spaced, and hired 2 day laborers anmd started working on the yard. my dad called me after a day of being at their house and told me: i dont even know what to say.
i totally understood. about 3 dumpsters (the size of a bedroom) later, the yard is in okay shape and the county has backed off. the inside? well.....
the next week i took rochelle with me after my dad told my grandfather i would be bringin my *friend*. he told my dad "okay".
i tried hard to clean the kitchen but then realized: they will never be able to come back to their lovely home. rochelle worked so hard on the unworking bathroom. she went in there, closed the door, scoppy shit and piss probably a month old out of the toilet, and tried hard to fix it, to no avail. but she did find my grandfathers 24 carat gold bracelet that has about 3 carats of diamons spelling his name.
you see, my grandfather is loaded and you would never know it. he carried 40K in his wallet because he is afraid of never having enough.
he came to california as a "bracero" during WWII. he was 15, and he came here to pick lettuce. he was 15 and never went back home.....and you see, thatsthe part that is bittersweet. half of the time he calls me rachel, and other times he calls me mija. he told me how he came to the states, something i would have never known.
i just wrote a paper on the braceros from WWII, and had no idea my own grandfather was a bracero. this is priceless information. and it makes me feel connected.
honestly, i think he knows i am not my mother: rachel. i think i just look like her, and it gives him some kind of peace to call me rachel. or his hija. even if its pretend. i cannot imagine the loss he felt when my mother died.
and then i checked them into a hotel where there have been for 3 weeks.....and i will continue this when i can.
i just needed to let all of this out, because i feel so heavy. and i wish i knew people who dealt with this and maybe had some real words for me beyond "im sorry" because as we all know, im sorry does NOTHING.
and i wish people would stop referencing the movie hoarders. it just hurts my heart to know people i love profoundly were living in subhuman conditions for so long. and i just want to cradle them.
rochelle and i adopted an amazing pitbull named Bebe Le Poop, who came potty trained. and she is AMAZING.
i have an amazing step mther and dad who are helping so much.
my grandparents need me, and they accept that, and i accept that i need to step in and care for them. and experience sweet moments with them that i thought would never come to pass.
rochelle rochelle rochelle rochelle--she is my fucking rock. i have never had ANYONE in my life who is as steadfast as she is with her support. and i am blessed beyond belief. is it perfect? no, but its good and worth it.
February 25th, 2011
|04:04 pm - tapping the mic.....|
i was sure when i typed in www.livejournal.com that it would be no longer. boy, was i wrong. however, i kinda forgot how to use it. its been a long time since i have had a full day of nothing to do. i am home sick, or something. i am almost convinced that i contracted the dengue when we were in mexico. my bones ache so bad i can barely walk. another name for the dengue is bone breaking fever. it has been almost a week since we came home and the bites i got from all the je jenes are still itching. i should be writing my field study for my anthropology class i have tomorrow, but im not yet inspired. so i am just gonna make a list of things.
we went to nayarit mexico to see and stay with my parents
i have a job that i fucking love
i am in school full time, while working full time, this is good and bad
my cat is pretty rad, and we are working on fistering a senior dog from muttville
rochelle is really supportive and calm, amidst all my work/school chaos
rochelle brought me lunch, tuna melt and mexican coke, chocolate mint cookie
my partner is a pillar of patience, support, and love
my body hurts
i dont have enough money or resources to travel the world on a whim, or even planned!
i might have the dengue
i have a field study due by 7:59 am, and its not close to done
i miss some people
i may have taken on too much by signing up for school full time. a 36 year old just starting school to get an AA feels a little embarrassing.
tell me something exciting.
i want a decadent dessert and there is not one around
November 3rd, 2009
October 9th, 2009
i wish i had something important and thrilling to report. but i don't. i went to the paramount to see some clark gable movie. i have never seen a clark gable movie. they showed old betty boop cartoon before the movie...including the one where betty boop dips into to ink to darken her skin and do a hula (?) dance. really nice. oh, and dress like an indian.
the movie was....meh. i am not too impressed, but i guess i did not expect to be. oh, it was called "it happened one night" i think. the seats, though wide, and fat friendly in that sense, were not comfortable. but that may be because i pulled a muscle, or pinched something in my chicken wing, while trying to put on too tight jeans...which got the ax for yoga coulotts (?). i am so stylish these days.
i miss my girlfriend who is in amsterdam/den haag for a month. well, its been 2 weeks, so 2 more weeks to go. she is finally getting closure and i could not be more happy for her. theres not been much room for anything else but anger and pain in our year together. i am hoping that will change. she seems clear and rational and that makes me happy.
me, on the other hand? ha. i am an angry, angry duck. oh yes i am. i started going to coda, again. well, i have been to one meeting. i am angry at myself and her, for allowing anger to be our guide. but i cannot change it. i guess time and space has given me an opportunity to find my angry voice. but i am hoping i can keep it under wraps.
we are at odds right now, because of my bullshit. its really hard not to be a defeatist. is that a word?
i am going to lay flat on my back in hopes that my chicken wing feels better. and day dream about my love. which is nothing new. i spend more time fantasizing about her, than i do making those fantasies come true. sad. sad. but everydays is a new beginning, yes? or am i kidding myself?
September 29th, 2009
|07:23 am - mom dream|
this morning, rochelle woke me up at around 3am. she said i had been talking and wailing and talking in my sleep. i guess she heard what i was dreaming. i was telling my mom i was gonna come see her. she had finally answered the phone from her hospital bed, and told me she was sick again, that "it" was in her throat and they needed to shave it off. in my dream, my mom looked like cher. she didn't look like cher, too much but they definitely shared the cheekbones. in my dream, she told me she wanted me to burn her a cd w/ the eurythmics "sweet dreams". i was on limewire trying to find it. when i called her, she was gasping to breathe, and so was she. i said: i am going to tell dad to buy me a ticket to see you". and when i was trying to tell people what was going on, hardly anything would come out of my mouth because i could not catch my breath. when i said goodbye, i could hear her choking.
when i woke up, my pillow was already soaked, and my face covered with snot and tears and i was sobbing, hyperventilating. and rochelle kept saying: sophia, honey, wake up, its a dream. its a dream, its ok.
and i kept trying to convince her that my mom was sick again. so she just let me talk and cry.
and then i realized, none of it was real. and shes gone. i dont know if it was more heartbreaking to realize she was dead all over again, or to think she was sick again.
i remember when she first started getting fluid in her lungs, she simply felt like she could not cath her breath, and her fucking idiot asshole doctor tried to convince us that it was psychosomatic (sp?). healthcare in puerto rico is shit and i have a lot of anger about it. not because they could have maybe saved her life, but because she suffered way too long and was trated horribly. and IGNORED. and i am pissed at myself for coming back to my life, because i felt like i had to keep on keepin' on. death is not fair. esp. when the person you are losing lives in another country.
i dont know if i posted this, but about a month ago i went to the san leandro marina. my mom and i lived down there. i pass by the house just to...see the house we lived in, the bouganvilla i planted for her. its grown so fucking HUGE. the last time i drove by, the planters (fake terra cotta) i have hung on her windows when i was 25, with a lover, had been removed. they were sitting on the side of the house. it made my heart hurt. so i stopped and slowly walked up to the house. to ask the tenants if i could have the (disposed of) planters. out came a woman who was familiar. i heard her voice and said: maria? did you work with my mom? and she put her hand over her mouth. and she realized i was rachels daughter.
maria was in a bad place with several children when my mom was moving and my mom arranged for her to take over the house. my mom left her dishes. she showed me the collander i gave my mom, which she uses now. she let me in the house, and i felt paralyzed. i lived there with my mom! she said she has some dishes in the garage my mom left her. incl. some margarita mugs. she told me when she cleans out her garage she will get them to me. i have not heard from her, but its ok. i can stop by there.
and before i left, she said to me: your mom was sick when was still here.
and i just said "i know".
i dont know because my mom admitted it, though she did admit to me in the hospital that she knew she was getting sick for some time. which enrages me.
but since i was a child, i predicted my mom would get sick and die. i also predicted my parents divorce. i remember a summer before it happened, that i would lock myself in my bedroom, lay on the bottom bunk and imagine what it would be like when my parents got divorced. i would end up crying. i was only 7, i think. no one believes me when i tell them this. they say i am crazy, but i am not.
so when my mom decided to tell me in a parking lot that she and us kids were moving out for a summer, i cried, because i knew better. the pineapple soda she gave me didn't make the blow any easier either.
but i digress. i miss my mom and i know everyone in my life is sick of hearing about it, and frankly, i am sick of talking about losing her, and making myself to be a victim of some tragic happenings. everyones mom dies. not at 51 usually, but they die. i am no exception. and i wish i could stop being a victim to her death, but it feels so unjust. and though i talk about it, i do not allow myself to fully grieve. i can only let go to the grief in my sleep. i have no armor when i sleep. this dream thing? its not the first time it happened, and i am certain it wont be the last.
sometimes i have good, matter of fact kinda dream about her, and it feels like, i am subconsciously making memories or/with her. i just wish she were not dead.
May 25th, 2009
|08:10 pm - fat arm tattoo (x-posted on fats)|
here it is. the calavera/calaca i had drawn to commemorate my deceased mother. i just had the outline done.
this was done by rocio arteage at diving swallow in oakland. shes pretty cute!
May 1st, 2009
|09:15 am - and thats all folks....|
today is my last day at work. i have been here going on 6 years. we are going in for our exit interviews in 10 minutes. its surreal and im all kinds of fucked up about it. i was so cavalier, and i am here to tell you, i am no longer. i am pretty freaked out. i really hate saying good bye, i just want to sneak out of here, but i feel like i owe it to the people that ive spent so much time with not to do that. this is surreal. and like million of other american, i am officially unemployed. so i guess what i am feeling, i am not feeling alone.