Leaving seems to be the hardest word

Passengers aboard flight 032909, this is your pondering captain speaking. Having finally loaded up the very last of my belongings (non-cumbersome furniture at least) from the house, I am left with a frenzy of emotions washing over me like high tide. The ex and I shared some kind parting words, although both of us with eyes swimming in tears, mine actually creating a splash zone on my face as I eventually crumpled Indian style on the floor of our bedroom. Our banter, though strained and uber-emotional, was tender and stayed true to the spirit of us, although now broken, as in between our apologies and "we'll meet up sporadically for lunch or dinner," was also small jabs at exactly why all fell down, me blaming his ocd's and my genetic inclination to some level of disorder and mess, and him pinning some of it on my penchant for living it up after dark and us not being able to maintain a good Christian marriage. Because as I have been told, the family that prays together, stays together, and as he and I were the family in which one person plays while the other sits around in fleece and watches Roseanne, well, the equation doesn't quite add up. But it was his last sentence to me before he left the casa that is what I will be thinking of into the night and each day into my futuro, "Han, until one of us re-marries, there will always be a chance that we can get this right again." On the Vegas line, I think our odds of reconciliation are significantly low to none, but it's nice to hope just a little bit regardless. I do love him after all, and as it turns out, I always will. The first book of our lives together is finished, and starting today, a second book begun. And despite being quite the writer, I have no idea how this tale is going to pan out, as I am only half the authorship of the saga. I just pray that this book contains characters who are striving to be ever better, ever stronger, ever more than anything, friends. I hope as well that the characters cry less, laugh more, and either learn to treat one another as equals and with respect, or find another on down the road to whom they will be the most significant other that they are able, and love without abandon because of the lessons learned in book numero uno.

 

Life is so uncertain, so unpredictable, but it is in its unexpected twists and turns, love and losses, that I see the truest beauty that it has to offer. Each day brings the promise of something finally clicking, that as long as you open your eyes with each passing day, are able to draw breaths, that things, regardless of the despair of the moment, the situations at hand, can turn around. And even if this second book finds itself telling the story of two people who move on, see no more of one another, create memories and plus-ones with others, then I have to believe that the niche he will always have in my heart is a place that he will forever inhabit, and that I will one day come to terms with that simple hold he has on me, and in the moments that he comes to mind, I won't feel haunted, but instead blessed, to have known him, to have grown from him, to have loved him.

 

Xoxo to all, and to all a good nite.

Nobody said it’d be easy

Passengers aboard flight 032809, this is your captain speaking. Despite twelve or so vaguely productive, vaguely calm, even vaguely "maybe I'm actually getting down the road toward the big picture" days, I find myself sitting here, wet cheeks, gray hoodie on with its sleeves covered in patches of fluid, most of them having come from my nose. For once, my breakdown tonite was not spurred into existence by alcohol, or made worse by it, but simply involved too emotional run-in's between the ex and I and then the most betraying fight of them all, between mi hermana y yo. I don't even have an ounce of the strength necessary to rehash the stories of this noche or what they, verbatim, involved, as one, I am certain nothing short of a long run is going to even begin to shake this absolute dismal spell I have fallen under, and secondly, despite my blatant honesty about the que paso'ings of most things in my life, where family is concerned, I'm tight-lipped. There still are, and always will be, some sacred aspects of my life, and even if I'm so irritated with kid sib that I cannot see straight and feel like pulling her down from the spoiled little throne I and her brother have placed her upon, that's all that will ever be said, as the details are here to haunt me and me alone. And honestly, as we all know, things always seem way worse at the time of impact than they do hours later, or after a night of dormir, and me going on a rant right now about two people whom I love more than I do myself, even though I know I would be justified in doing so, would be nothing more than self-destructing, pulling my own pin out of the grenade that I am right now. And what's even more, I am facing a taxing dia this Saturday upon us, chalk full of a trip to Indy (tal vez), work until close, and then a meet-up with one of mis mejores amigas, Lo, who is descending her beautiful, energetic, Mexicana self on Terre Haute anoche. I can only hope to keep up. So, as one might deduce from all of this, it is perhaps in my best interest to curl up into a fetal ball under my down comforter and Ralph Lauren throw and close my swollen ojos and sleep, at least for a bit, and hope that the nightmares of this evening are over, and that in respite I can find the sweet dreams that tonight's reality could not offer me. And yet, I have not lost the faith through the altercations of today, if anything, they have served as reminders that I should never be complacent, even after strings of success, as without the bitter, the pungent, the tear-inducing, one would never know the sweet, the savory, the shit-eating grin that life has to offer. But no matter, I'm hurt. From him, I expected the bullshit, we had three years of it on and off, and especially now as it all falls down, no surprise. But from her, nunca, it was like Benedict Sister shit.

 

But who am I to talk? If I had a tear for every tiempo I've let someone important down in my life, if only for a split second, because of a misunderstanding, or from a well-thought out or thoughtless fuck-up, I would have enough saltwater to fill up a lake and drown myself in it. And I'm 25 and still occasionally making the kinds of decisions that cause others pain, not quince anos like she is. She's just a child, what the hell is my excuse?

 

And now, as I feel like the 60-40 is going to be helpful to me in the fact that I'll have to think of six positive things in my life ahorita, bombs away…

1. Good- I have 6 of the 8 march madness teams left on my bracket, and by a small miracle, can still have a correct final 4, championship game, and champion. Woo hoo MSU Spartans, my sleeper pick for the final cuatro.
   
2. Bad- It might not even matter if I have all the rest of those games correct because the first few rounds of my bracket look like bombs over Baghdad. Wrong sleeper picks here, BOOM!!! Too much faith in other teams there, BOOM!!!
   
3. Good- I am going to Indy in about six hours to watch a couple IHSAA boy's high school basketball state championship games and even though I have no real personal ties to any of the teams, I am such a pure hoops fan at heart, that it won't matter, and I'll still be mesmerized the entire time and fall in love with the game all over again.
   
4. Good- Actually, not going to lie, it's the ridiculous amount of shopping that I'm going to do tomorrow that is what has my little corazon all aflutter, not just hoop dreams. Hip-hop-hooray for the northside of 'Nap and all it has to offer my wallet.
   
5. Bad- Once again, bills are going to be put on the back burner for high end makeup and form-fitting jeans. Priorities? Yeah, that's a day-to-day struggle.
   
6. Bad- I have a tension headache starting to mount on me like someone has a vice grip on the back of my cabeza. I would liken it to the way it seems like to me that it feels when a mother cat carries her kittens by their necks, but then again, they don't ever really complain, so it can't hurt that bad, and this, has got me limp.
   
7. Good- Everything always seems a little bit better after some sleep right? Sleep dulls a person's pain receptors right?
   
8. Bad- Who am I kidding? Until mini-me and I mend things, and after tonite, it could honestly be awhile, I will inwardly be just a bit dead.
   
9. Good- My crush who is still outta the states for about another 16 dias, called me outta nowhere a couple noches ago. Really, really, really caught me off guard.
   
10. Good- Life goes on. And even when you're tapped out in death, life goes on. It's reassuring if you ask me.
    

Xoxo to all, and to all a better night than mine.

And I’m feeling gooooood…

Passengers aboard flight 032409, this is your captain speaking. I have started this week off on the relatively right foot, making it to class, running the past couple days, and banking at work tonite, Ka-ching! I continue to pass through each day with a renewed sense of hope and drive and calm, and I love it. Don't get me wrong, I'm so far from all together and right that it's not even graciosa, but cada noche I put my head on a pillow and fall asleep because I am thoroughly cashed out from the day's proceedings, and each morning I wake up, having actually taken my contacts out, my hair not reeking of bar smoke, and my liver not having come up out of my throat. Es una vida hermosa.

I've crashed and burned the past couple days on the whole, "I'm going to cut out bad carbs" thing. Mama made spaghetti on Lunes, and turns out, if I'm at work, I'm going to eat rice. It's that simple—it's right in my face, I get hungry, and turns out my half Asian side makes me genetically inclined to like the little guys. Oh, and I'm four chapters into the book of Matthew. I know, not much, especially from a fast reader such as myself, but even though the Bible trumps well, every literary work EVER, I'm only being graded on the short term on my knowledge of obscure brit lit and audio production techniques. But on the long-term grading scale, I should probably dig in further into God's written word, as it's the only thing I've ever read that has never changed, and has impacted me at the most unexpected and desperate tiempos, makes me feel something. Because of my constant sewing of wild oats, only those close or somewhat familiar with mi vida know that I'm a pastor's daughter, and the older I get, the more I despise the "well you know what they say about pastor's kids" line, because honestly, I don't act out or against what I've been taught and at the core I believe because my dad kept me under some lock and key, but more because I'm just a bit loca, spontaneous, and have an addictive personality. But enough about me fighting my God-shaped void all the live long day…

Things are looking up, up, up. I have six weeks of this semester left (even though I'm going to take summer classes), miles to go (but 18 under my feet), friends near (and those who are far but dear to me and feel likewise actually keep in touch), a familia that is supportive (but still keeps me on my toes, pushes me to my limits), and God in my heart (although sometimes tucked away so far that nobody knows it but me). I hate sometimes that I have to keep being burned to the ground, with a great deal of my trials by fire being of my own arsonist tendencies, to try and rise from my ashes yet again and resculpt myself into some semblance of contentedness and fulfillment of my dreams, but maybe this is my destiny. As a child or even a high school senior, I would have said at vente cinco anos that I would be married, wrapping up med school for orthopedic surgery, have a child, and be zipping around in a high line import. And instead, at 25, I am divorced, without little ones, living at home, still working toward a degree, and driving my gramma's car around that has a fiercely shattered windshield that looks like a freaky spiderweb, and yet, here I stand. Unafraid of failure, because turns out, been there, done that. Full of hope for success, because despite my slow-jacking through the educational system, I've always known who I am deep down and of what I'm capable, as greatness becomes me. Heart broken in several places, and yet not jaded, because I will always be a hopeless romantic, capable of giving another my best, and having them love me, unconditionally, for my ups as well as my downs, for the things that I believe to be flaws, and the things they find only to be indicative of me and my unique nature. Although just an exoskeleton of who I can and will be, one day I will look back on all of this, and appreciate the opportunities, the accomplishments more, not bend under pressure like those around me that I know who have lived silver-spooned lives, have yet to be tested. I am me now.

And me now, is tired, has a test to study for and a paper to write. So, as is standard…

Xoxo to all, and to all a good night.

one week deep

Passengers aboard flight 032209, this is el capitan speaking. I am one week deep into my bMp and all things considered, it was a decently productive outing. Out of the five goals I outlined earlier, I adhered to them quite well, in attending church esta noche, running five days for a total of 13 miles, only missing dos clases on Monday morning after I'd been up all night last Sunday puking, and eating pretty decently. I did only go out once this week as well, but drank twice, and although not extremely heavily on those two days, definitely more than I had anticipated. So, with that said, I am upping the ante this week on the bettering and healing of Han, and adding increased mileage, at least tres 2-a-dia workouts, the subtraction of any white carbs (whole grains are fine), and reading my Biblia at least a chapter each day. It was amazing what a simple week of slight changes in my lifestyle made, as the night that I went out, I heard more positive compliments than I have in quite a while (and no, by compliments, I don't mean drunks going "Hey you, nice legs, wanna fuck?") Friends of mine just stated that I seemed better, looked better, was starting to radiate something positive from inside again. Those things were all I needed to hear to keep staying this course and even take it to increased levels. And aside from this, even though an it was an obviously gut-and-heart-wrenching occurrence, beginning to move my things from my former space was as therapeutic as any number of organic apples, feet of pavement pounded, or lectures actually listened to. I'm going to miss him...I already do...but no matter if he's ever to be with me again in the future, or assume a completely different or non-existent role one day...this...this, is right. Tear invoking? check. Doubting the divorce constantly? check. Finding myself and revolutionizing me through the pain? check. And drumroll por favor, the sesenta/cuarenta...oooo, that rhymes, me gusta mucho.

1. Good- My skin, which has been que paso'ing between hell and high water the past six months actually started to calm down this week. I don't know if it was the "green" foods I was occasionally consuming, or the workouts, or the fact that I was making decisions every day that didn't make me feel like a complete blob and waste of space, but breakouts were minimal, and for that, gracias skin Gods.
2. Good- Although I began to gut the home that Red and I had created together over the past tres anos this week, he and I continue to remain as committed to one another as we are emotionally able to through the stranglehold of grief and divorce, and even did dinner today with kid sis, having baby bro as our server. Muy interesante.
3. Bad- One of bro's best friends, Bern, after joining us toward the end of dinner, said to me after the ex departed, "You know there's still love there right?," which only serves to reiterate a notion that I both embrace and fight with each passing day-- that of the fact that I screwed up my life in divorcing him, and that one of the better parts of me is eventually going to be gone.
4. Good- I have been watching March Madness games all weekend. For any real sports fan who tears up when the seniors on losing teams start crying, or gets goosebumps, or screams really insanely when teams they don't even care about hit clutch game-winners, enough said.
5. Bad- My bracket, which thank God I only paid ten dolares to be in one pool, is royally fucked, or at least I feel like it is. Just about every upset I thought would go down, didn't, and well, I guess I'm not surprised. My extensive sports knowledge causes me to over analyze lineups and match ups and conferences and statistics every damn year, and therefore, I don't just pick teams based on initial gut reactions and a bit of luck like I should.
6. Good- My bracket was a sea of "x's" last year at the sweet 16 mark and I still went on to win both pools I was in because I had the proper final four, championship game, and overall winner. So, who freaking knows.
7. Bad- I have another ridiculously busy week looming over me and I'm certain I'll be falling asleep in some of my classes and in bed before 1 a.M. most evenings this semana.
8. Good- I'll be so busy drinking won't even be an option, and honestly, solid hours of sleep never did anything but help a person. And I'm talking about solid, sober sleep here, not the hungover 12 plus hours varietal that I used to typically subject myself to.
9. Bad- I have a paper to write before my 9 A.m. class.
10. Good- Turns out, I'm sort of a badass little paper-cranker-outer when I actually sit down to do so. Just ask well, anybody I know that's graduated or is in the process of doing so. I would have graduated years ago with 3 or more degrees if I could net the ones I've helped make happen. But hey, I love you guys.

xoxo to all, and to all, a great nite.

three years in boxes

passengers aboard flight 032109, this is your captain speaking. I just completed a 2 miler with baby sibster (and yes, it's 1:30 a.M.), but I am on my dia cinco of the bMp and that's just what I had to do. I am as tired as ever, and as there is no rest for the blessed, or so I've been told, today will be just as long, as I will go be a support system around noon to one of my bests (Diggy) as she lays her gramma to rest, work until people stop wanting sushi after, and then hit the treadmill or road again despues. And then on Sunday, still no sleeping in, because I've got my first broadcasting gig for state's softball squad and church and a paper to write. Sigh, elongated sigh. But enough about the trivial, mundane shit in my vida, and on the raw, the stuff that keeps you reading, keeps you interested and/or worried about me.

Yesterday was one of the hardest, most emotionally draining days I have ever endured. Although Gram's passing about a month ago was like slamming into a brick wall, I felt much of the same ayer, as packing my things up out of my former home with the ex felt like a death in and of itself. Right alongside books and clothes and knick-knacks went pics of Red and I in moments of both pure and staged happiness, anniversary and birthday cards to one another, home furnishings that we chose together. Three anos of day in and day out with another, all reduced to sacks and cardboard boxes, jammed like sardines into the trunk and backseat of my car, like I was 18 years old all over again, moving my things to and from my dorm at I.U. Deja vu really, as my freshman year of college ended up an academic disaster and now, seven years later, my marriage just the same. I had already been tearing up sporadically as I packed without anyone there, and of course, the day just couldn't be complete without the ex unexpectedly showing up during my boxing, tenderly laying his hand on my shoulder while I was hunched over a bunch of magazines in our study, not speaking for the longest time just soaking it all in. We've officially been divorced since January, but done since the fall, and honestly, until yesterday, the gravity of it had yet to hit either of us I think. It will still be a solid few weeks until I get all my big furniture out of there, and I've got one more carload to bring home later today, and then that will be it. I will have no reason to stay at the house anymore, see him randomly through the week, in passing or on purpose, and it's so heartbreaking I could almost die. I'm thoroughly drained, even by the re-telling of this occurence, and I need dormir in the worst way. As I can hardly see this screen anymore because of blurred and filled-up ojos, I am signing off.

Xoxo to all, and to all a good night.

Eyes wide open

Passengers aboard flight 031809, a lo siento of sorts from your captain, Ms. Hap. I have been menos an internet connection for the past couple days and although it is no good excuse, my life three days into the better Me project has been all that I imagined it to be—busy, frenetic, productive, and completely wearisome. I have fallen asleep the past two noches before 12:30 A.M., no small feat for those familiar with me, both lethargic and on-the-go, and not because I felt it would be to my best advantage to bed down early, but because I could not keep my ojos open. I have spent the start of this week at work, in class, over homework, running, and stocking up on organics from Bloomingfoods. Yes, organics, as in hippie-healthy fruit, steel cut outs, and even graham crackers. Dear Dios, who am I right now? But oh, dear God, I needn't even await your reply, because I know who I am ahorita, I am scratching the surface of the girl I was around this time last year, the healthy eating, at least 85% of the time, workout bulimic, to-do list dominatrix, and it feels like gold. Tired, melted down, fools gold maybe, but gold nonetheless. I was reminiscent of one of those tacky little dogs that sit up on trashy people's dashboards whose heads bob up and down and up and down today in fit for life lab, but at least I was in class. And in both classes previous to that one as well, and I'll be heading back to campus in under an hora to round out my busy miercoles. Despite a meeting with one of my profs tomorrow to discuss my attendance, I am ready to face him with eyes wide open, at least to this final stretch of spring semester and genuinely hope to convey to him that I'm ready to turn this around, that I'm building up the walls of my life and not ripping them down with rapidity and furor as I have been. And just for the record, I even skipped out on St. Patricks Day celebrations last nite, trading green drafts for "green" food. Mi vida is thick with change. But on to the 60-40 because I'm 40 minutos away from class time…

 

1. Good- I am taking a yoga class with kid sib tonight and I haven't done a downward dog for I don't even know how long. I am competitive to a fault and I know I'll overexert my lack of flexibility trying to out bend mi hermana and others in the class, but I'm looking forward to it regardless.
   
2. Good- I had the most amazing kiwi fruit last night and I'm so triste because I only bought two.
   
3. Bad- A girl that I met a month or so ago that I spent a fun night hanging out with is heading back from her temporary job here back home to Texas, and then off to another training stint in Ohio. I didn't even really get to know her much at all, but she was a kind soul and now, for the millionth time in my life, one of my good girl friends, or in this case, a potential, is out of town again. Best wishes E.
   
4. Good- I still have nothing but amor for my dearest amigas, some in Indy (Tt, Lo, Als, and Kiki) and one guy friend that I love as much any of my estrogen-packed counterparts in Washington D.C. (Bobblehead). And after unexpectedly hearing from Lo last night, I just felt one of life's great truths confirmed within me, relationships and absence are like fire and wind. If the fire is pequeno, any level of wind will blow it out over time. But if the fire burns bright enough, a gust of wind simply stirs it up even higher and hotter. And as for these friends, we are all en fuego. I love and miss you guys…
   
5. Bad- I have to work on Friday night which will mean that I will miss some of the opening round games of march madness, and honestly, as this tournament is sorta-kinda one of my life forces, ugh, that sucks.
   
6. Good- I have Thursday night off, sweeeeeet, and a bracket that I hope is insightful and dashed with just the right mixture of luck and college basketball knowledge and expertise to help me win my couple of bracket challenges that I'm in. Bring it on boys.
   
7. Bad- I wanted to take a nap, probably needed to take a nap during my two hours in between classes, but I watched dvR'ed Gossip Girl and One Tree Hill and The City instead.
   
8. Bad- I am overwhelmed with sadness at the thought of starting to move all my things out of the house that Red and I inhabited together for the past couple years.
   
9. Good- I need a change of venue, a place to call home, if only for a bit, where I don't walk in and have to face the demons of relationship past, see the ghosts of memories and hear the conversations of old about forever after, and children, and commitment. This house is haunted, and until I exorcise myself from it, he and I both will continue to suffer from nightmares.
   
10. Good- Did I mention March Madness starts tomorrow? Are you kidding me people, this is the most pure, exhilarating time of the ano, and although the tourney is a bit sad without curry and Davidson, it will create its own new heroes, and I will still cry during "one shining moment."
    

Xoxo to all, and to all a blessed day.

b.M.p.

Passengers aboard flight 031609, this is your extremely ill and fatigued captain speaking. I had marathon puking sessions intermittently over the course of today, which have left me subsequently exhausted and I have class in t minus cinco hours and I can't fall asleep. No bueno. Manana is shaping up to be extremely loaded, full of errands, escuela, and the start of the bMp, or the Better Me Project. I have enlisted kid sister as my Made coach for the next month, in which she and I have outlined five main goals to be achieved by mid-April. It is our hope that the bMp will jumpstart my life back on the inside track and help me stay on the road to recovery and redemption. 1. I have to attend church once a week. 2. I am only to go out once a weekend and if I drink it should be extremely minimal in nature. 3. I am to run/workout 5 days a week and complete a mini-marathon in either April or May. 4. No skipped classes for the remainder of the semester. 5. Complete my room renovation at my parent's house and get moved in finally. I am at such a worn-down and weary place in my vida right now and I'm honestly very excited to get back on the wagon and down the Oregon trail. I feel sometimes that I am one slip-up away from totally face planting and the thought of making good choices and having to be accountable about them to someone other than myself is as reassuring as it is daunting. I'm crossing my fingers that I feel better after a bit of sleep than I do right now because I'd rather not have to step out of zumba tomorrow because I have to throw up or pull my car over like I did today. And now on to the 60/40 because I need to lay down whether or not I feel like it, sleep becomes me…

 

1. Good- This week is going to be go-go-go, but in having to be aqui, there, and everywhere, it leaves me very little idle time, which I found out over the course of a basically responsibility free spring break week, is the devil, the absolute devil.
   
2. Good- The Texan told me the other night that he has a week off work in May and that he is pondering coming here to see me.
   
3. Bad- My crush is off to another country for an entire month tomorrow and I didn't get to see him at all last week. Which, I'm certain he made sure of on purpose. But actually, this might be a good thing, his exeunt from los estados unidos, because in case you hadn't heard, out of sight, out of mind.
   
4. Bad- I spent a decent amount of tiempo today with my cabeza on my toilet. And for those of you who really know me, I'm not an easy puker. In fact, I can't even recall how many times I've wanted the contents of my stomach to come spilling out and either had to play like a bulimic or just get over it. But not today.
   
5. Good- I'm itching to throw my asics on with regularity again and hear "You must be a runner" again. Oh, and turns out running will help me miscarry the beer baby I've been lugging around lately.
   
6. Good- A friend of mine let me know that he's sort of a tennis guru and I'm going to start playing with him when it warms up. So exciting and turns out, I have the perfect outfits already. Pink lacoste polo and short skirts? Ummmmm, thank you.
   
7. Bad- I have a splendiferous amount of bills to attend to this month.
   
8. Bad- I watched on and off "The story of us" on lifetime tonite which was basically the portrait of red and I's marriage, minus the kids they had and the fact they had been married fifteen years and I teared up numerous times, and at the end when they kept it together, I was left with this sinking feeling that we just gave up without a fight, without really trying, and that in itself is the real tragedy to me, not the divorce itself. Live and learn.
   
9. Good-Despite the divorce, the ex and I have maintained a relationship with one another, which, I don't know of with many other people I know or have heard of having split. I hope to maintain him as a friend all my life. Which, I know of the dynamics of ours will change with the passing days, new relationships, and when I finally completely move out of his house, but for now, I cherish and value what it is that we are able to accomplish.
   
10. Good-I am doing color commentary for my first sports broadcasting gig (isu women's softball) this Sunday. I'm nervous as shit but so ready. I was born for this.
    

Xoxo to all, and to all a good night.

It’s not a sprint, it’s a marathon

Passengers on flight 031309, this is your finally focused captain speaking. I'm blogging for the first tiempo in a while without a hangover of any proportion, and although I'm certain a certain level of entertainment with my posts will go down with my decrease in alc consumption, please believe that mi vida has always been a roller coasters of sorts, and if my life isn't que paso'ing out of control because of drinking, me and the muchachos I know will keep it real. I knew this was going to be a difficult change, as people have me pegged as a drinker (which hasn't typically been wrong of them), and when they see me out, such as last noche, if I'm holding some evian, there's something not quite right with that picture. As its toward the end of spring break, the bar scene was far from busy yesterday, and yet I had to turn down a filthy amount of shots and drinks and sell people onto the idea that an epic detox is of extreme necessity for mi. and despite the difficulty, annoyance maybe, I knew in my core that it was the right move for me, that everything I said "no" to, was a "yes" for my future, a tally mark on the chalkboard of progression and healing. And perhaps it seems ass backward as well that somebody who is trying to rehab herself would go out to environments where there are drinks free-flowing, and yet for those of you who really love and know me, you know that I would be more likely to fall back into my old vices if I did hole up at home. If I'm ever going to be strong, I know it's going to have to a combination of me being able to face el Diablo on weekends and tell him to fuck off, and with a great deal of work by me through the week to ensure that my dreams start to become more than fantasy and actually achieve reality status by focusing on school, and by making sure I not only get my physical shape back to those of days of 'yore but do it through healthy, athletic means, and not by me reverting back to anorexic phases I battled in high school or by eating add meds and weird diet concoctions. Today rolling out bed and looking at myself in the mirror, it was amazing the difference simply a dia could make, but I didn't see the battle weary mess that I usually wake up to and try and see through contacts that I slept in that are glued to mis ojos, and instead saw a glimmer of hope in my eyes, saw a canvas that I'm far from contented with, but at the same time, know that I can chisel and sculpt and re-shape into an eventual masterwork. I was never a sprinter in high school, and so none of this should surprise me, especially the fact that this race, my race, is going to be to the steady and sure-handed, for days, months, years at a time to get where I want, what I want, and not going to be a half a day affair. One day down, a million to go, and all with a smile on mi cara. Who knew?

 

60/40 boys and girls…

1. Good- I am one day into soberdom.
   
2. Bad- It was already muy dificil after only one night out to turn down drinks from all sides, and the scene was far from packed with the normal people I see from week to week, only upping the difficulty factor as tiempo will go on.
   
3. Good- Even though I typically crumble, I'm up for this to hell and back of a challenge.
   
4. Good- I think that I'm going to get to see the crush out and about town this weekend.
   
5. Bad- He leaves on Monday for an entire mes, out of the pais. No bueno.
   
6. Bad- I still need to get my room in order at mi madre and padre's casa so I can get out of the ex's for good. He deserves it, way more than me.
   
7. Good- Our relationship is less strained even since yesterday, because as one who can see through my bullshit as well as a handful of my close friends and family, I think he actually sees the drive in me to change my fate.
   
8. Good- The Texan and I talked for over an hour last night. I continue to be amazed that we can see so insanely little of one another, and go days without speaking, and yet, when we do, we laugh and connect and even love.
   
9. Bad- I cannot stop biting my nails, a suicio habit that I've had since childhood.
   
10. Good- Did anybody other than me see that intensely amazing seis overtime game last night between the 'Cuse and UConn men in the big East tourney? Omg, that was a freaking multiple orgasm for sports fans everywhere. March madness come early, oh yeah…
    

Xoxo to all, and to all a healthy day of progress.

The only thing

Passengers aboard flight 031209, the only thing your captain has to say hoy is that I'm not drinking. I won't say it's going to be forever, because that's setting me up to fail, and honestly, I'd love to get to the place one dia where I can share a bottle of vino with somebody to complement the meal we're eating and not because every tiempo I think of my ex-husband or escuela or really anything, I hurt. So, until then, until I get myself well and my body healthy and my ducks in a row, I'm tapping out. It's last call for Ms. Hap. You'll still see me out and about, because the social mariposa in me would rather die than not be surrounded by people and energy, but if I don't have an agua or some juice in my hand, feel free to smack whatever it is out of my hands. They tried to make me go to rehab and I said…"Yep, sign me up please." Lo siento Ms. Winehouse.

 

Xoxo to all, and to all a healthy and wonderful night.

Waiting to exhale

Passengers of flight 031109, this is your captain finally spilling her guts after a couple days off from conscious thought. I haven't done really anything at all of worth over the course of my spring break thus far, the mixture of waking up the past few dias with a completely open schedule and spending my tiempo with friends acting like we actually left town for PCB or Cabo. My actions yesterday were borderline ridiculous, and I'm honestly not certain how I maintained the frenetic pace me and a couple of mis amigas were on, but given the personal significance of what ayer represented to one of them, Peligrosa, I just soldiered through our silly-fest that started at 6 P.M. (for me at least) and wrapped up this morning at 7. Yep, you're reading that right, 7. But like I just said, yesterday was really heavy emotionally for one of my most treasured friends, and the poise that she showed until the slightest of meltdowns late into the evening was staggering, at least for me to comprendo. I am self-admittedly weak, be it crying over, well, everything, or whining when kid sib punches me in the arm or something doesn't go exactly like I envisioned it, which, as I tend to live my life as if I'm playing Russian roulette is quite often. One of these days I'm going to have to put the gun down or my haphazard lifestyle is going to discharge it and there will actually be a shell that hits me, and depending on the logistics of the bullet, I could be dealt a fatal blow. Although it may seem to outsiders in my life looking in that I think I'm covered in full body teflon, believe me when I say that I know of my infallibility, the chinks in my armor, know that I'm at any moment a potential fatality, aqui one minute, gone the next. And so I'm certain it seems backward, completely unfathomable that I would continue down certain paths, but a veces it just all hurts much too much, and it's facil for me to just choose to float along the lazy river on an inner tube instead of swimming against the current of the seas of success. I need to start praying for strength, because right now I can't much more than get up into standing position, let alone walk or even jog toward the finish lines. I've got to get my legs back. I have got to start living this right. And if that means having to completely give up the juice until I can drink again to enjoy and not to escape, then I really have to consider that priority. But like everything, it's always easier said than done, but if my life, or at least the good life is dependent on it, then I owe it to those around me, those that I love, and most importantly to myself, to give it a fighting shot. And by shot, I'm definitely not talking Patron.

the 60/40, as siempre…

1. Good- I just watched Manchester U on espnDos and had the amor de mi vida, Cristiano Ronaldo grace my plasma for a few horas. The boy es muy caliente, and I even managed to dvR the very end of the game when he went shirtless, thank you Dios, gracias, gracias, gracias.
   
2. Good- I still have no commitments or responsibilities until manana when I return to work, so if I want to keep sitting here in my sweats, drooling over soccer boys and Puerto Rican beisbol players in the World Classic, then that's my prerogative.
   
3. Bad- A boy that I have a slight crush on is holding me at arm's length because he knows he can. Ugh, I hate when my games get twisted around on me. Hypocritical, but no me importa.
   
4. Bad/Push- Last noche when I was out with friends, a stupid girl felt the need to run her boca to us about some completely ridiculous, unmerited shit and really wanted to fight. I called her a hoodrat before I walked away, and luckily she calmed down after a bit because even though I had on a pop-collared trench coat and four inch heels, I was just in a weird enough mood to pop her if she'd kept it up.
   
5. Good- A guy who witnessed the whole thing came up to me before he walked out later and said, "Honestly, I would have put my money on you." Uh-huh. Just because I'm generally weak sauce, let not an unknowing female test me at the wrong tiempo, because I did fight battles to near death over my childhood with my baby brother, and I blacked an ex's eye when he grabbed my face and wouldn't let me walk up to our apt. years ago. One of my dearests, Tt can totally vouch for the validity of that left cross I connected to his ojo.
   
6. Good- Another one of my bestests, Diggy, described one of our hippie type of friends as all "green and granola" and honestly, that's just classic.
   
7. Bad- I haven't heard from the Texan, surprise surprise, since Friday. And I'm certain, like always, he'll call again just when I'm onto something new.
   
8. Bad- My international bestests all took off last nite for Daytona Beach and I, having to work from Thurs-Sat had to stay behind.
   
9. Good- I am way out of dos-piece shape and wouldn't really want to frolic around with minimal body self esteem and have to worry about the guy I'm hitting on being in high school. I'll take comfort in those things.
   
10. Good- I continue regularly to get such positive feedback about my blog, which just shows me, that no matter how painful, how self-hating it is at times, that you guys see bits of yourselves, believe in my potential, and are tuning in and willing to ride out this journey with me, and that is gratifying beyond palabras.
    

Have a wonderful rest of the day all, xoxo.

You can call it what you call it, I’m an (expletive) alcoholic

Passengers on board flight 030809, this is your captain speaking, liver aching and altogether run-down. I woke this morning to my ex-esposo Red telling me that as soon as we're able, "we need to talk." "About what?," I mumbled. "Your drinking problem…this isn't going to keep flying Han, I worry about you, and if you keep it up you aren't going to be able to keep staying here." Yep, you're reading this right, I cohabitate with my ex husband a veces, in our house which I have stayed in one of our three bedrooms on and off since we divorced officially in January, unofficially in October. Long story. Not going into that part of it hoy. Anywho, what my non-drinking ex doesn't comprende is that I'm not an alcoholic, I'm a binge drinker, which, depending on my stress level can last the better part of a week, but who's labeling me other than him. I don't wake up in the morning shaking for a drink, nor do I put off anything but homework and working out because of a cerveza or twelve, I simply work hard on the things I need to, and play harder. Could be ignorance, could be unnecessary on my part, could be my unraveling, but either way, this is me, now. I'm divorced and heavier than I want to be, drink like it's a contest, and put up Kobe Bryant numbers in my dating life, but you know what, perhaps it is in a person's unraveling, in being everything you despise fundamentally, that you get an extremely clear picture of who you want to be, finally comprehend just what not to do, who not to be the next day. Perhaps it's in the failings that one actually sees the future. I don't know how many more days I can get a ride here to the ex's drunk and think he's gonna put up with it, but even I know when a too-good thing is coming to an end, and I don't give me in this casa another mes. But regardless of address change, (drumroll please), the 60-40.

 

1. Good- I only worked two noches this week and was able to recuperate a bit, but regardless of the fact that en la semana pasada I worked six nights, I still made bank this week like I had worked just as much.
   
2. Good- CC boys won their first sectional basketball title in over thirty anos. Muy bien.
   
3. Bad- One of my boss's overly intelligent nine year old twins somehow figured out how to get on my blog and read through each of my posts. "Well, dot dot dot, what did you think," I inquired. "Umm, you're life is kinda crazy, and you curse a lot," she said. "Did you understand any of the Spanish that I used," I countered. "Yeah, and that was my favorite part," she said, "Because I didn't know if it was bad or not." Haha.
   
4. Good- A guy that I've crushed on para siempre, who earlier in the week I figured was off limits to me because his amigo told me talking to him would be a waste of my tiempo, turned out to be just as into me as I am to him. Not like I didn't figure as much, but, I love being validated. And the look on the caras of his friends when I cast my bait and started to reel him in was freaking priceless.
   
5. Bad- I reconnected with an old friend, who, unfortunately, although I will always care for him on some level, revealed too much to me feelings wise, and tried to call my character and self in general into question, something that I absolutely despise. Not because I have a problema casting my flaws into the limelight, because if you read this blog, I obviously do not, but simply because I don't want to be called a liar based on the delusions of another. Triste.
   
6. Good- He gave me fifty dolares, which he owed me since football season because my pro squad dominated his. Who's complaining now? Not yo.
   
7. Bad- Two of my friends got into some trouble this weekend, gracias operation pullover. This should probably be a heads-up to all of us, and by all of us, I mean all of us.
   
8. Good- I am on spring break, and I plan on doing a couple fun things with my jack-around tiempo, this including sleeping in that doesn't involve me skipping school or putting off life's necessities, canoodling with a boy, and life shadowing one of my good friends, Z.
   
9. Bad- I heard the funniest/most cringe worthy joke tonight, a terrible combo yo se, especially as a sports fan, but I have to repeat it, because I'm sort of a bitch like that…The joke is in reference to the boat wreck last week that only one of four football players survived off the coast of Florida, including two NfL'ers, 3 of whom have not, and I doubt will be found, r.i.p…"Did you hear about the recent free agent signings? Cory Smith was picked up by the Dolphins." Omg, I just mouthed the sinner's prayer even repeating that, but I know a few of you are going to laugh when you think about this, and either way, haha or no, lo siento.
   
10. Good- I am going to be able to post every day, sometimes more than once because I have seven dias with nada to do, except trabajar starting Thursday. You know you love this shit.
    

Xoxo to siempre, and to all a good noche.

goosebumps

Passengers aboard flight 030607, this is your very relieved captain speaking. Having just completed my midterm in brit lit, a class that I skipped out on numerous tiempos, I must say, and not unrealistically, that I aced it. But, I must send my love and thanks to our prof, Dr. W, who made it just about as facil as he could without it being a frosh-level course. So, with that under my belt, I can breeze into the next nine days with a bit of a clearer cabeza, God bless spring break. Its gonna be a much needed stretch of battery recharge, and hopefully I can come back into the latter half of my spring semester and actually make my potential and my results equals, because right now I need to be a little less conversation, a lot more action. With that said, I'm certain my break won't be without the standard amount of shenanigans, as I have a handful of days off work and manana is the barstool open, which, I'm going on with Peligrosa, but have to stay relatively to totally sober because I have work tomorrow evening. I'd prefer to not have a repeat performance of dos anos ago when I worked at Pino's here in town and came to work that night after going on the Walk (a drinkathon to end all drinkathons) in which I spilled my coffee all over the table at our pre-shift staff meeting. However, I don't even need crossed fingers for me in this case, because I respect my boss and workplace too much to even go in there slightly tipsy, and we get all together too busy to function even stone sober so I dare not punish myself and others around me for some trivial organized drinking event. But tonight on the other hand…sigh…

 

The Texan left me a voicemail early am a couple days ago that definitely caught me off guard. I hadn't so much as a text from him for days, I'm not even sure how many to be exact, but as if on cue, as his timing never ceases to amaze me, back he is. I won't talk to him for about a semana and try and tell myself that its best that I hadn't, that long distance is the dating equivalent of disaster, that he's just not as into me as he talks like he is aqui and aca. But shit, then I wake up one morning to a couple missed calls and a voicemail that starts, "Hello my future wife," and he apologizes for the fact that he had been outta touch for a few, and that he loves me and can't wait to talk to me, so on and so forth. And it's in that 30 seconds that the band-aid I'd freshly adhered to my heart gets ripped off again, and I start thinking that maybe we will have something someday, will be together para siempre, will make something out of seemingly nothing, happily ever after a story that started five anos ago. And yet, the logical part of me (which completely falls victim to the Cinderella story part) clicks on, if only for a second, to remind me, so coldly, that if we couldn't make it work, despite the extremely difficult circumstances, and our immaturity, and being a million miles apart over the que paso'ings of five years, then we are still, and are nunca going to be anything more than shoulda, woulda, coulda's to one another. Because just like the school part of mi vida, this relationship, if ever it is to actually be thus, has to be a little less conversation and a helluva lot more action as well. On a dia when I have more tiempo, I'll talk about the Texan and I from our start, in line for the raging rapids ride @ Disneyland, to our walk on a desolate strip of beach in ca Li for Ni A where I swore at the moment that I would one day marry this boy, to his fiancé, tour in Iraq, my marriage, his broken off engagement, our Vegas encounter, to today. I have a heart that has never let me completely shake him, and I have to wonder if it's because it knows something I don't, or if it's just another way that I am being punished for all my various transgressions. Because at the end of the day, when you've played with a few corazon's over the years, just because you could, just because it was simple, a game of sorts, isn't it only eventually fair for yours to get fucked with as well? But as even the simplest of thoughts of him exhausts me, I'm on to the 60-40.

 

1. Good- My hilarious and amazing boss completely clowned on a friend of his (Mr. Latte as I will call him), and managed to do so with blending his native language of Chinese, with English, and splash of Spanish (ChiSpanGlish, henceforth), in commenting on his lack of "action" in the bedroom…"(Insert name)…Your chorizo is dry." My co-worker C and I laughed so hard I almost shot Asahi out of my nose.
   
2. Good- Poor Mr. Latte had already fell victim to my quick wit and slightly bitchy humor (and by bitchy I mean as nice as a bitch could possibly be), when he walked into work with a fresh haircut and polo shirt and glasses and I asked him if he was taking senior pictures later.
   
3. Bad- I need to spend this entire spring break trying to get my cuerpa back into some semblance of a defined shape, not this playdough shit I'm rocking and concealing right now. This is going to hurt. Literally.
   
4. Good- The Reality tV gods smiled on me like none another this week, as not only did Quest crew win America's Next Best Dance Crew, but Anoop and Matt got judges choice spots on the Top 13 of American Idol. I am such a happy girl right now.
   
5. Bad- I put off everything importante in my life to watch reality television. Kinda sick I know.
   
6. Good- Back to ABDC, and I have to comment on this because it's the reason for my headline today, the routine that Quest did last week, which I just now finally saw on my dVr hoy, orQuestra, literally made the hair on my arms stand up because it was so, so insane and inspired. It made me wanna go out and do everything that I do and want to do better, something that not even our President Obama can stimulate in me. However, if he sends me a stimulus check, I'll at least warm up to him like dos degrees.
   
7. Bad- Shows like ABDC make my inner ghetto girl come out, and make me spurt out palabras like "dope," and "ill," and various other urban phrases to describe the performances I see on there, and then after I revert back into my normal daily life and self, those words typically disappear from my vocab, like completely. Weird.
   
8. Good- Did I mention I'm on spring break?
   
9. Bad- My liver is literally aching at the thought of nine days of no school. No, in fact, and be quiet here just for a second…can you hear that? It's crying. Pobrecito.
   
10. Good- Even when I've been dealt what I consider to be a shitty hand, such as, lets say, a two and a three off suit, I can always just fold and wait for the next hand to find its way to me. Am I living it right? Nope. Do I get chances every minute to start to? Yep. And that, mis amigos, is the beauty of this. That almost gives me goosebumps.
    

Xoxo to all, and to all you estudiantes, have a wonderful, safe break. And boys and girls actually headed somewhere outta state—wrap it up, twice, don't wander off with the locals, and never, ever in a million anos is it even sort of a good idea to show your tits to a video camera or participate in a wet-t-shirt contest. Have an ounce of shame. Keep it classy. Out.

Not that I'm surprised...

Passengers aboard flight 030407, this is your extremely frazzled captain speaking. Today que paso'ed out of control much earlier than I had expected, in fact, I hadn't expected anything out of the ordinary at all hoy, except actually making it to all of my classes, but nah, mi vida could never be that facil. I was sitting in brit lit this morning, head bobbing and eyes rolling around in my head during a discussion on Dryden and satire (I know, stimulating as shit), when I started thinking about the 30 sec radio commercial I needed to have done for audio produciones, which, I had believed needed to be completo by Friday. Ummm yeah, dumbass, not so much, because when I flipped through my notes to find out the specifics I had written down on it, probably also during a tiempo when I was freaking dormir'ing all through class, and wow, the spot was due TODAY. At freaking 4 P.M. Oh, stop going nuts Han, you found out about 10 in the morning, and you had a half a minuto spot due 6 horas later. Oh but passengers, get this, I've missed so much class that I didn't even know how to properly utilize adobe audition to get the assignment done, especially not something that required 3 diff. sound sources. Long story short, I turned it in on time, but it sucked, and I only had my voice and some background music on it, of which the background music was so loud it almost drowned out my voice, which, subsequently, is the loudest of everyone I know, or so I'm told. Freaking terrific future aspiring sports broadcaster. Drag your fucking feet in your comm classes. Idiota. Sigh. I've really got to get my shit together to salvage the rest of this semester, and all I really have on my plato the rest of this week before I hit spring break is a paper and a midterm on Friday, so I should be able to handle that, but then again, its me, and for those of you who have been following this blog, or are just nueva to it, I'm sort of my own cancer. I don't fear my free radicals freaking out and creating mutant cells within me, because way to go Han, you do that on the daily. Fuck.

I'll compile tonite's 60-40 a bit later, because right now I'm drinking japanese keg beer, eating vegetable tempura and raw tuna, and pondering just where mi noche is going. Because I have a meeting @ 10 am in the morning, but no class. Ugh boy. Watch me go.

how do you sleep?

Passengers of flight 030307, this is your slightly saddened captain speaking. I was caught off guard this evening watching the boy's bball sectional with my baby sib, when I saw, for the first time in about a half year, a person that has meant a great deal to me and my heart since we were about diez anos old, and became more than simply a friend for about a 3.5 week period that totally turned my entire vida upside down. I won't go into any details with this, b/c honestly, i've got to keep a few dirty little secretos, but, seeing him this evening really dug deep into the core of me, much further than I had thought it would, as I really was starting to believe that I was completely over him, completely over the insanely comfortable, wonderful bubble of love we fell into a bit ago, a passion that was fueled even further by former friendship. It hurt me b/c its hard for me to comprehend how such tiempo can be spent with someone, with perfectly handled silences, laughter for days, and two personas being in perfect sync with each other, only to sit a gym apart not million years later and not speak, me next to my hermana, he next to a girl he has tried to talk to in the past, only to clown on later when we were together saying, "Han, I would have left anybody I have ever been with over the course of my life for you if you would have just said the word." Ummmm, yeah, still believe that? Our life has been centered since childhood on missed opportunities and signals and unspoken feelings, and now more than ever, even though I'm only vente cinco anos old, I don't want to jack around in meaningless relationships anymore, don't see it fitting to waste another 2 months, 10 months, or 2 years in something I know at the end of the day isn't my forever after. And so I sit lengths away from the one I always have known I would love til death did us part, regardless of his seeming flaws, and instead of being able to pursue it, I have to sit like an uncaring, unfazed mute, at least in regards to him, laughing at everything around me, and dying inside at the same time. I honestly believed I would be ok seeing him, whenever that situation arose. And turns out, I'm fucking not even close.

To change a little J-Mac for my particular situation -"It's been less than a year now, haven't heard that much from you, still missing you crazy, how do you, how do you sleep?"

But as mi vida, as siempre, even when bleak and flailing and seemingly over, must go on, here is tonite's 60-40. This six good after this kick in my theoretical nuts tonite will be hard to come up with I'm certain.

1. Good- CC boy's won their first round sectional game convincingly.
2. Bad- I had to see the person who has had the largest stake in my corazon since dia numero uno and couldn't breathe a word to him.
3. Good- The suspicious mole they found on kid sib's shoulder isn't all that worrisome to the derm that we saw today, so I'm breathing aire again.
4. Good- I ran 3 miles yesterday and am going to run here in a bit again. Slowly but surely I'm gonna get my cuerpa perfecta back.
5. Bad- I'm super hungry so most likely I'm going to stuff my face with bad shit because I have this emotional trigger that causes me to fall headfirst into a bucket of bad fats and sal, and well, somebody freaking squeezed mine tight this evening and my bullets been discharged.
6. Good- I have another day off work tomorrow where I won't have to be forced with the no-show that is M.
7. Bad- I am running out of all the money I made last week because of bills and irrational spending.
8. Good- I will never consider two on sale ralph lauren items irrational spending. And the striped dress I got is sooooooooo gonna be my verano staple.
9. Bad- I have a breakout on my chin that not only looks like mt. vesuvius, but hurts like it's erupting as well. Bitch.
10. Good- I feel my pulse for yet another dia. Gracias Dios.

Xoxo to all, and to all a good nite.

Up to speed

Passengers of flight 030207, this is your captain again, and this time, to make sure I present the popular 60-40 that everybody in my vida is trying to get onto, at least under the good section, and after not having blogged for days, I definitely have had some things que paso'ing this semana pasada that are worth mentioning. I had the most lucrative week that I have ever managed in my nearly half decade of fine dining experience at Umi, and although I had to work literally 6 straight dias to get it, who's complaining. Especially when I have random bills out the ying-yang and a shopping habit that in no way reflects that fact that when I got divorced in the fall that I lost my breadwinner and that something like a recession is going on right now, but ehhhh, I'm over it. Even though I am in no way, shape, or form the prototype Christian, I think God allows me to still make money because I tithe ten percent of everything I make to church, because A. that's what the Bible says (and believe it or not, I do adhere to a few of the regulations), and B. it helps my dad out, because not many people in our congregation are actually making decent money. So yeah…without further hindrance, I present last week's sixty-forty, and I'm certain I'm going to leave out some really clutch quotes and occurrences because half the time I was blitzed and other than that, my memory is just absolute shit without a to-do list or something of the sort.

 

1. Good- Work has the best clientele ever and I raked in dinero from all sides. And a lovely patron of ours and also a local tv personality told me she'd help me come internship time because she has friends at foxsports in Atlanta when I'm ready to start getting my feet wet in sports broadcasting. Han in the dirty south? Uh oh.
   
2. Bad- Work was so busy over last week that at one point I literally felt compelled to do a line of coke, and I've never done hard drogas before, and I don't even know where I would get it, but that's how retarded flipping insane it was in there, that I felt the inner compulsions of an addict come out of me. Holy shit.
   
3. Bad- Turns out, because I'm so damn charming, the same personality that gets me money in my pocket, also penetrated one of my co-workers so substantially that he moved to the StL today (see the post underneath this for details). I'm honestly stunned and don't know when, if ever, that I'll actually be able to wrap my cabeza around this.
   
4. Good- I'm going to be doing commentary for girl's softball games at State, and maybe some baseball games if they think I'm up to it this spring, and I'm so excited to finally get on air and begin to show the mundo that I actually know what the hell I'm talking about (that yes, I'm more than tits and a teleprompter). And we've got the first pitch high and inside for ball one…oh yeahhhh.
   
5. Good- I have been able to spend quality time with my friends, and especially the Hellion, cultivating relationships (which is of utmost importance to me in my life) more and more, and even did dinner and got caught up on the life of a friend of mine that hasn't been on my radar since high school.
   
6. Bad- A decent amount of the quality time that I spent with my friends was also spent with another of my friends (although mostly evil)- cerveza. Muy mala, yo se.
   
7. Good- I am going to start running again today.
   
8. Bad- I wonder at what mile marker that I'm going to taste throwup in my mouth or start breathing so erratically from being disgustingly out of shape that I just stop.
   
9. Good- I have a couple co-workers I promised I would just throw into the sixtyforty because I love them so much and they helped me keep a lunch shift on Saturday that was absolutely starting to go sur, stay together. Thanks my dears, Raquelita y Holls.
   
10. Good- I am finally getting things off my chest again. And as it turns out, I'm sorta required to. One reason of course being for me, and two, because you guys have basically made it clear to me that you check this site everyday and you get irritated and saddened when I haven't posted. Lo siento my loves, lo siento.
    

Xoxo to all, and to all a wonderful rest of the day.

When you see my face, hope it gives you hell…

Passengers aboard flight 030207, this is your exhausted, swollen-eyed, stuffed-up nose captain speaking. I cried myself to sleep last night, or more like sobbed if I'm going to be honest, following a meet up with mi amigo and former co-worker that I have mentioned here before. I remember the first time I heard the chorus of the All-American Rejects song that I referenced in my title, laughing to myself over the silly, but relevant lyrics, and have found great joy in singing along to it since, thinking of guys in my past who didn't pay me any mind date-wise when I was a 80-100 lb. high schooler (my dad's little "refugee" as he found it hilarious to say), who didn't understand the power of make-up, highlights, and hips. But oh, the mesas have turned since the early 2000's, and the looks decent wagon didn't pass me by, and so I am faced quite often with boys who want a piece of Hannah 2.0, not realizing that the window of opportunity for them was slammed shut in my mind years ago, thus the soft spot in mi corazon for the lines, "When you see my face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell." Or well, that is, until last night…

 

I was alerted to the fact that the muchacho of this particular story was going to be leaving for San Luis (or the StL for all you white kids) today, and that he hadn't planned on even saying adios to me by one of his primos, Pax as I will call him, after he and I were heading back to the 'Haute after church. Yeah, you heard that right, I was at church in the am for the second semana in a row, but I'm actually not that proud of my attendance, as both times, and especially yesterday, I was snapping my neck around like a fucking bobblehead, and only kept awake by the Hellion next to me shaking my Ugg-clad leg every 8 seconds or so. Even more embarrassing than my narcolepsy was the fact that Pax, who is completely Mexicano and I'm certain didn't understand shit that was going on at my iglesia, leaned over to me at one point during the service and said, "Ayyy, mucha cerveza," as in, omg Han, you absolutely reek of alcohol you loca freaking borracha. But hey, I'm trying people, I'm trying. Either way, hearing that M. was about to jump ship out of the state without proper exit strategies and pleasantries, I began to inwardly stew, and not even a shopping session with Pax (where I dropped some of the silly money I made last week, and by silly, I just mean insanely good) could make the emotional storm that was brewing inside of me tranquilo. I eventually had to sit down with the Hellion later on the evening and share a pitcher of Margs at Real Ha, the best Mexican in town, where I was greeted by a staff that I adore, and who likewise adore me (I'm sort-of a Mexi-magnet, not gonna lie) because of my loca half juera ways and my pretty decent use of Spanglish. But either way, palabra about M. moving away because of me had already spread like wildfire through the Spanish community in town, and the entire tiempo Hellion, who I renamed Peligrosa (or dangerous) over dinner, and I were imbibing ourselves and eating quesadillas, I had every guy in that place question me about what was going on and say their new nickname for me, "Rompe corazones," or heartbreaker at least a million times. I would have typically found that moniker graciosa, flattering even, but that was before anybody ever felt it necessary to LEAVE THE STATE because of me.

 

And so I stood later, facing him, cara y cara, ten sheets to the wind, not understanding, not comprehending just where my flirtation and friendship (at least that's what I thought it was) had taken he and I. "Por que, M., por que? How can you do this? How can you just leave? Were you honestly just going to pack up and go without saying goodbye? Even though we were friends first, before all this bullshit…You quit your job already? Are you kidding me? You start a new job in Missouri this week? Were you honestly not going to tell me goodbye?"--My end of the conversation, and if you insert intermittent bursts of tears, some Spanish curse words, and overall picture me with very minimal make-up, wind-tunnel hair, a fierce buzz, and swollen ojos then that will paint a very accurate portrait of the mess that was me. And yet he stood there my opposite, seemingly calm and collected, although his eyes and words sold him out, the pain that looked straight into me so strong that I felt as if was being gutted like a fish. "I'm leaving Marbella (my second middle name & his favorite to use), manana, and there's nothing you can do about it. I already have a job and quit the one we share, and I don't know what's going on in my life. I may only be gone a month, or this could be the last time we ever speak, I just have to be away from you. I can't stomach just being your friend, and more than that, I can't even stand to look at you anymore because it hurts me so bad. I have never loved someone like this before, and this isn't your fault, it's just something I have to do for me." -- His end of the conversation, obviously not verbatim because it was laced with español, but basically the summation of a few horas worth of back and forth. And in those final moments together, or at least for now, I saw the flipside of my post's title today, as there was no victory, no celebration in me at the fact that when he sees my cara that it hurts him, literally vice grips his heart so tight each time that he can't breathe around me, had to quit his job and leave not only our town, but the entire state of Indiana because my face gives him hell. And honestly, I think that just makes me the devil. I have never felt more to blame for something than I do this, even though he and I were never in a relationship, and I made it very clear, even until the bitter end, that we would not be able to make an anything work more than being amigos and co-workers. And yet, and yet, I know that in some respect, I am at fault, for not understanding clearly the culture that I was toying with, not comprehending that saying "Te amo" to someone, even if you do love them is way bigger than friendship, can mean so much to the otro person. But nothing goes unpunished, and watching him drive-off in my rearview, knowing there is as good a chance that I'll never see him again as there is that I will, was the start of my sentence. It will be worse every time I walk into work and see the void where he stood, not hear him ask me about how my night was, even though he hated to hear about me drinking, not see the softness in his eyes when he looked at me, eyes that made me feel hermosa even when I slunk into work disheveled and wearing the noche before all over my face. Had I ever known that when he would say, "You know I love you right," and I would quickly reply, "Of course, I love you too" would never equate the same meaning behind his palabras and mine, I would have never said it. Had I known anything, absolutely anything, I would have protected him, protected me.

 

So, lo siento M., lo siento, lo siento. Eres mi amigo siempre. Te extraño. Hasta luego…