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.