Lost...

Passengers aboard flight 040710, this is your delirious captain MsHap speaking. My crazy, disoriented state is not the result of little sleep, I got plenty, well into this afternoon. It is not the result of lack of intellect, I would best any of your Jeopardy scores. I am just going nuts. Little by little, day by day. My heart, beating just enough to keep me alive to dwell on things, has decided to not be the only one of my vital organs to stand before the firing squad. It is said, that misery loves company, and although no other part of me wanted to hang out with my ravaged heart, it didn't matter. No one else RSVP'ed to the "great unraveling" and my heart, although dejected, was not to be denied. No. no. It decided to use its powers that do battle each day with things such as Reason, and Logic, and Values, and Lessons already Learned, and use these to get my brain, stomach, and tear ducts to open their doors, just enough, for it to hit them over the heads and kamikaze its way inside. So now, with this newly formed conglomerate of fuck, I am like a puppet on a string, subject to the desires of this terrorist group. My little Al Qaeda decided last night, enabled by the disheartening Butler loss, and a random Patron shot to go ahead and contact him. He answered. I hung up. Early this evening, while still at work, I got a few text messages. I read them. My insides pow-wow'ed and decided to unleash the flood gates I have kept tightly sealed the past week. I didn't even make it outside before my face looked like a little water park. I am valued at work, counted on, for keeping calm during everything that hell could possibly unleash on an establishment. I am an obviously emotional individual, not afraid to cry, but I don't do it at my job, or at school. I thought I had perfected, long ago, doing the robot. Weary eyes, labored mannerisms are typically never able to be expertly hidden. But all else, can be, and I, was no stranger to this dance. Until today. The terrorists hit me with their best shot, and, as is standard issue, didn't shoot to kill. But they hit their mark, inflicted subsequent pain, and let me cry like a little bitch in spite of the fact that I was still on the clock, not tucked away in my car, couldn't just chalk up my little outburst to my period. I am not even on my period. Astounding. I was outside for quite some time. Wind whipping my hair into a frenzy, moving my tears down my cheeks like they were practicing for the slalom in the winter olympics. I was hugged. Left alone. Probed. Kissed. I was spoken to in English. In Spanish. In silence. I even had a moment with a co-worker I'm convinced hates us all and could be secretly plotting our demise. I realized tonight he isn't going to ever do anything like that.

All I could think was that I really don't have time to feel like this, have this sort of feeling existing within me, ready in times both public and secret, opportune or embarrassing, triggered by anything and everything, to set off little bombs, cripple me with sniper fire. I have responsibilities, all of which I have been attending to since then, school and work and friends and family. I can see the light at the end of the graduation tunnel. I am aware I possess disturbing amounts of promise. But this is threatening it all, reducing me to going through the motions, doing what is expected, required. Smiling and laughing though inwardly pained. Moving on, although traveling a path that is dangerous and with any misstep could have me tumbling into the thorny ravine below. Learning to unlove him while yet still loving him. Learning to love myself. Eyes open, not seeing.

I have to stay busy. Must occupy my days with things that get me somewhere else in time, even if I feel like I am standing still. I haven't got that 8 mile run in yet. I would like to later today. Only problem is I have had 3 bites of a veggieburger to eat the past 24+ hours. I am not a vegitarian. I am also not hungry, still. I'm not trying to be a fucking martyr for this cause, like some heartbroken Gandhi. I am just not hungry. I am stuffed full of bile, and regret, and a desire to wake up later and hurt a little less. I am told, and know from experience, dulled pain comes with keeping on, doing right, endurance. So I know I'm going to do that run later whether or not food is consumed or not. So if you see a half-Asian running along the streets of Terre Haute tomorrow and she passes out, just pick her up and re-hydrate her. Actually, I've been drinking silly amounts of water. Shove a cheeseburger down my throat and call someone on the Iphone I've got tucked into my sports bra (I can't find my arm band). Anyone on my favorites list will work, although if you call my brother, he's in Cali and it could take a minute to get him here.

I am certain I will soon have to send in special forces to try and find my sequestered, scheming organs if this keeps up. But special forces only operate when I am trying to be better, not washing away all the work that they aim to do with alcohol. I owe it to those of you who love me to fight back, to re-establish my heart, mind, soul, spirit, and body as my own. I owe it to myself. I am going to need to make peace with God. And as I am not only not hungry right now, but also not tired because of plenty of sleep, I am thankful for the 60/40.

1. Good- The Yankees beat the BoSox this evening 6-4 at Fenway. Our line-up looks good, and I'm not talking superficially. Go ahead and launch into your "of course they are good they spend unGodly amounts of money on their roster and no other team in baseball even comes close." I know you're thinking it. Indulge yourself already.
2. Bad- We lost on opening night Sunday to the BoSox, after having them down 5-2 going into the 7th. I was feeling ultra-cocky and shot out a text and wrote on the facebook walls of a couple hardcore Boston fans I know. I was in the midst of doing some pilates at home after leaving Bw3's contented with the way the game was going when I got a text from one of my cardinals loving close friends, which read, "Ouch Yankees." Fuck.
3. Bad- I have had two of the people most dear to my heart tell me at some point over the past couple days how worried they are about me and disappointed and how desperately I need to get my shit together. Completely. Cue more bullets.
4. Good- Today is a new day and with it brings the potential for change and righting my wrongs.
5. Good- I realized last night that I want to be Gordon Hayward of Butler's baby mama. And I don't want even really want kids. It is just something about his baby face, sick basketball knowledge, and his little busted lip. Go ahead and launch into your "You just love him because he'll probably be an NBA lottery pick" spiel. I know, once again, you're thinking it.
6. Bad- I have a brit lit quiz at 9 am. It's 3:01 am. I have more Jane Eyre to read before it.
7. Good- I am good at educated guesses. Oh, and a proficient reader of Sparknotes as well.
8. Good- I was reading through my newsfeed on facebook last night during the game and a reader had given me a shout-out (full name) on her status as to whenever she see's one of my blogs is up that she drops everything to read it immediately. It gave me goosebumps.
9. Good- I am losing, but I am not lost.
10. Push- I saw and talked to him this evening. That is it on that.

Escuchar (Listen)- "Me Duele Amarte" by Reik. I don't care if you understand Spanish at all. The lead's silky vocals and the sentiment behind it will be all you need to get it. Translated however, "It hurts me to Love you."

Mirar (Watch)- Aziz Answari's stand-up clips from his Comedy Central special "Intimate Moments for a Sensual Evening" on youtube. His impressions=sick. His material=hilariously on-point and current. He could have made me laugh tonight when nothing in the world was funny to me.

Leer (Read)- The Bible. Religious or not, there is some sound advice to be heeded amongst the stories of David and Goliath and prospect of hellfire.

Pensar (Think)- "Keep your heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life." - Proverbs 4:23 in aforementioned Bible. I should have done more with this one than simply be able to quote it off the top of my head.

Have a wonderful Wednesday all...I will certainly try.

Risen...

Passengers aboard flight 040410, this is your captain MsHap wishing you and yours a very peaceful and contented Easter. Whether or not you are religious and celebrating this as the day that Jesus Christ rose from the dead, saving us all from eternal damnation (as I am), or you simply are enjoying the day with loved ones and stuffing yourself full of Cadbury Eggs (which, I by the way, loathe) and Peeps (which, I by the way, love, especially microwaved to the point of near explosion), today is truly one to just think back on where you've been, value the people who enable you to understand the full scope of love, and put all the things in your life in perspective for once, really count your blessings. That is what I am doing today, despite the dull ache I have felt slowly begin to lay siege in my inner recesses. I'm not certain why, in the fifth day following our death spiral, that I am feeling this loss in this way, as Sunday's were typically our "minimal to no-contact" day. Perhaps it's because today is a holiday and one in which I have been surrounded by family and texted by the majority of my close friends that I am realizing his absence in my life in a greater magnitude than over the past few days. It must be this, paired with my lack of obligations today (no school, no work) that has allowed my mind to wander to him, to us. Had the events of Tuesday evening not shaken out as they did, the following is an almost exact replication of what would have certainly taken place between us today, via text of course.

Me: (because I always texted first, until I noted this to him and started waiting on some days for him to text me) "Happy Easter baby, have a great day"
Him: "Igual mente" (translation: Equal mindset- or right back at ya)
Me: "I love you."
Him: "Te amo tambien." (translation: I love you too)

And I would have left it at this, left him to his other life, but been at peace with the minimal exchange. I am amazed, now in retrospect, how peaceful I was with such little interactions and conversations such as these. Definitely the definition of short-changing myself in the love department. I have got to keep reminding myself of all the glaring negatives and detrimental aspects that were results of he and I. It isn't a short list. I just realized I created a fake "what if" text dialogue between my ex and I. I don't even know what that means. I wonder how long it will be before I'm not mentioning him in my posts at all.

However, my life menos him, has been progressive, positive. I have ran each of the past 5 days (weekly mile count- 12), something I have not done more than 2 days in a row since August, literally. It is as if I am trying to move miles away from him with every stride, every interval, every side cramp, every time I lace up my Asics even when I would rather just wallow in my self-pity kiddie pool. So far, I feel like it has been working. The road has been my therapist and bitch both. It absorbs my pain, and aggression, my physical and emotional struggle. It stays steady under my feet as I clear out my head, breath him in and out. I am learning more each day that the road is a great listener. I like that unlike any one else I speak to, pour out my secrets and guts to, it stays quiet. It very rarely has anything at all to say, except for encouragement and the prospect of a longer run the next time out. From the moment I hit mid-arch step one it greets me with a "Hey, you again," to its whisper when I fold over frontward, sucking air, "Yep, good stuff. You should try for 8 tomorrow," none of it goes unnoticed by me. And I'm taking the road up on this latest challenge on Monday afternoon. 8 miles. 42, 240 feet of soul-searching, grief-purging, head on the burning in my legs and regulating my breath and not on anything else love and hate and sweat.

This break-up has a name boys and girls. It's called motivation. And with that said, I am wrapping this up to spend some time in workout mode with kid sister and then doing the church thing again and watching a movie and opening night of the mlb. Drumroll please...the 60-40...

1. Good- Opening day of major league baseball is tonight and my Yankees (defending and 27 World Series title champions) are going to beat the BoSux circa 8 P.M. Pinstripes!!!
2. Good- I am going to see Clash of the Titans in 3d with sister. I haven't seen a 3d movie since Avatar and I am hyped. In preparation and anticipation of this cinematic adventure I wrote this entire post with my 3d glasses on. I'm honestly not sure why I even still have this pair and in such close proximity to my computer. Weird.
3. Bad- I have a redic amount of reading to do for school tomorrow and mounting absences I'm gonna have to have documentation for by semester's end. I skipped last Friday. But it was Good Friday and I'm a pastor's daughter. No brainer. I wonder if my prof's will accept a note from my dad on a church letterhead. I just laughed out loud.
4. Bad- The stress of dwelling on he and I's demise and the untimely but always relieving arrival of my time of the month has me slightly broken out and majorly annoyed.
5. Good- Butler, and I'm not even going to use the word 'upset' anymore, beat MSU last night and is playing Monday evening in Indianapolis for the NCAA National Championship against Duke.
6. Good- I don't have tickets, but I'm going downtown Indy with some friends tomorrow night to watch the game and I guarantee you no matter the result, the city is going to be absolutely LIVE (as in, watch out, live wire) after. I want to be a part of that atmosphere. I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about it.
7. Bad- I might have to work at Hollister Tuesday morning and I can imagine how I might be feeling during that shift. I pray I'm a call-in. And then I pray they don't need me.
8. Bad- I missed my Grandma that passed a bit over a year ago more than usual today, and was struck with this feeling by the presence of one of my Easter basket items from dad (those little gum balls shaped like eggs in a small carton).
9. Good- I had a friend approach me out last night to let me know he has a couple book ideas swirling around in his head that he really thinks are gonna be great and he wants me to write them.
10. Good- I'm introducing a new little section to the my blog today. See below.

Escuchar (Listen): Vanilla Twilight- Owl City

Mirar (Watch): Opening night baseball (Yanks/BoSox 8 PM) or the Life series on Discovery.

Leer (Read): The Book Thief by Markus Zusak (life altering. seriously. if you know me personally, ask me to lend it to you. and I might. and if you don't, buy it, kindle it, steal it for all I care, it's called The Book Thief for goodness sake).

Pensar (Think): "There will be a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning." --Louis L'Amour

Happy Easter all.

the afternoon after...

Passengers on board flight 040210, this is your captain MsHap speaking. Today was one of which I started halfway finished, waking at 3:30 P.M. (go ahead and sigh all of you, but I didn't have school or work until 5 and I desperately needed it. Each and every minuto.) I awoke to no call or message from him, despite a novel-esque text that I sent before I crashed in the wee hours of the morning, putting out my last "I'm sorry's" and reiterating that I under no circumstances want us to go out in this manner, that I'm willing to make some concessions, and that I know myself to be of fault. Truth be told, I knew I wouldn't wake up to a text back. Regardless of whether or not we ever progress to anything even resembling a friendship in the future or go on to give this another shot, yet another certainty exists. He is going to make me grovel. Ignore me whether he can't sleep at night or not. Make me prove, over emotionally grueling seconds, minutes, hours, and days, that I meant what I said last night. That I am indeed capable of personal progress, change. I know this is a chance for me, a win-win situation to embrace and proceed towards what I know is missing in my life, reinvent myself as MsHap 2.0. If I work toward this societal re-release, fine tuning my already strong, core traits, honing new skills, and shedding old skin, people, and routines, then weeks, months, or a year from now, I will be better for all this labor, clean-up. And whether or not he works himself back into my equation, I know in the pit of my gut, that it's high time for me to step up to the plate, embrace the destiny and opportunities that have awaited me for so long. It's time for me to not only understand that my intelligence and God-given abilities do not entitle me to any success and happiness, but that none of those things will come without working my ass off, waking up when no one else is, saying no to drinking through the week and absolute debauchery on the weekends, and re-configuring every detrimental habit that I have developed over the past 8 years. If nothing more, I hope that one day he thinks of me and is proud to have known me, loved me. Because as it stood last night, I saw nothing but utter disdain and weariness toward me in his ojos, a far cry from the usually soft quality they take on when I am in view.

With all that said, despite my tardy start into Thursday, I managed to accomplish a handful of positives, namely working, running for the third day in a row, and doing an abs/arms circuit that involved upwards of 500 total reps. Work was interesting, as I am uber close to a handful of my co-workers, and bullshitting them about anything, especially my state of mind, is nearly impossible. Guests are easily fooled by robotic smiles and gestures, and honestly, unless they know me personally, don't really give a shit about whether their server has "sad eyes" anyway as long as the service is efficient and accurate, and the food great. And as for my place of employment, check all of the above. But as I said, a few of those around me were like sharks on blood, probing me with "Hey, you ok's," and "No, seriously, what's wrong with you, talk to me's" the moment we locked eyes. And I, like the open book that I am, did divulge everything to those that I trust and was met with a smorgasbord of responses. They ranged from absolute disbelief on the parts of some, to knowing, pained looks from others, as we all have known for so long, both spoken and not, that it was not a matter of it all falls down, but simply when. *To each of you, and you know who you are, I love you guys. The hugs, and condolences, and the fundamental concern that you exuded and showered me with earlier is indescribably appreciated.* A couple of them insisted that although it is all seemingly for the best, that it is far from over. A good guy friend whispered in my ear, "He'll call." And honestly, even if he doesn't, just hearing that from him spoke volumes to my heart.

It is 4:07 am and I am still awake, laundry washing and drying, me pondering on whether or not to go ahead and stay up the remaining 5 hours until my first class like a crack head, or give into the slow, soft serenade of slumber I am starting to hear traces of in my ears. I should probably sleep, if only for an hour or three, as my Friday is, on paper, loaded. I suppose my blog in the next day or so will fill you in on if I actually did so. Or well, my lack thereof if I thus so crash and burn. So on to the 60/40...

1. Good- I am always amazed that the cliche "when one door closes another door opens" is indeed true the majority of the time. In my case, it came in the form of a couple phone calls from two individuals that I had not spoken to in quite some time, both close to my heart in varying degrees. One was the father of one of my exes just letting me know he was thinking of me and hoped me well, and the other The Texan, a boy who came into my life 6 years ago in California, and has managed, despite the fact that we've never actually dated or even lived in the same, or neighboring states, to remain a fixture of sorts in my romantic sphere, a what-if that I have always wanted to pursue. Both calls caught me off guard.
2. Good- A friend of mine I have not seen in months is coming into town this afternoon to spend the entire remainder of the evening with me and I could not have asked for better timing on her part. At this point, any distraction is a welcome one, and when it involves someone who gets me, even better.
3. Bad- My sleep schedule has been absolutely fucked up this week so far. It's 4:18 for goodness sake.
4. Good- I have adderall. Enough said.
5. Good- I heard the song "Vanilla Twilight" by Owl City today (download it) and got through it without crying, despite its hard-hitting relevance to my current situation. Favorite line, "As many times as I blink, I'll think of you tonight."
6. Bad- Owl City's biggest and first hit, "Fireflies," is a song that I hate with a passion, change every time I hear it on the radio, and am now subjected to, my revulsion be damned, by the new Hollister playlist. Yes, I work there too. I am eerily good at folding things and creating visually appealing walls and displays.
7. Good- We are one day away from the Final 4 games in Indy, including home-state Butler playing Michigan State. (I'm prophesying a Butler victory here folks, remember me doing so later). And, on this same note, I'm going West Virginia over Duke as well.
8. Bad- Indianapolis is going to be absolutely raging on Saturday evening and I have to close at work and need the money. So no party for MsHap. There at least.
9. Bad- Every time I hear my little iphone text alert I secretly wish it was him and am honestly saddened a little more when it isn't.
10. Good- I am going to better me, and in turn, get better. I feel it. Don't look for this to happen over night though. I am the queen of sabotage remember?

Good night all. Sueno conmigo.

ain't no sunshine when he's gone...

Passengers aboard flight 040110, this is your captain MsHap speaking. I'm a disturbing mix of equal parts absolute heartbreak and absolute self-hate at the moment, following the dissolution of a relationship of sorts that I had with someone, right about 2 hours ago. I feel like an eerie prophet right now, as I called this break-up out in my welcome back blog two noches ago, and lo and behold, was finally dealt my K.O. punch. We had been sparring in love's ring since around independence day , on again, off again, taking little jabs at one another, landing some, but always able to recover from our various body blows with a little coaching from those in our corners, or a little vaseline and stitching. But not tonight. He floated like a butterfly and stung like a bee, and I, previously weakened from a little damage of my own I inflicted this past weekend, a bit of self-sabotage, went down without even time to shield my face from the punch he delivered. Oh, did I say face, I meant my heart.

We have been absolutely each other's everything and nothing all at the same time. Only a handful of people even knew of us, necessity really, and this level of seclusion was both emotionally and mentally crippling at times, and thoroughly exhilarating at others. It was the most pure love I have ever felt for a member of the opposite sex (family and friends excluded), and yet caused me more anguish than any alternate relationship I have ever been involved in, including my divorce. I have cried myself dry for this evening, running the tear gamut since this afternoon, ranging from the solo drop that creeps out of the very outside of your eye, and slowly snakes down your face, almost tickling you if not for the heart implosions that are transpiring simultaneously, the kind that you can almost pull off as a result of looking directly into the sun or your contact lens getting fucked up to the opposite end of the emotional spectrum, that of me speeding down the interstate home a bit ago, crying so hard it looked like my windshield was A) devoid of Rain-X & B) had no working wipers during an inland hurricane, me making that "I'm freaking the hell out" rapid sucking in of air "hic-hic-hic" breathing pattern, like a break-up's version of the pant-blow baby birthing breathing technique, except for pant-blow brings about new life, and "hic-hic-hic" usually only brings about more crying later when triggered by deciding it a good idea to get over the all falls down by watching Titanic again, or putting yourself to sleep with the help of top shelf liquor or ambien. And even there, in slumber, you're never that safe, that free, as lost loves are known to inhabit dreams as well. Well, at least all mine make sporadic cameos in mine, otherwise pleasantly unrealistic dreams until terrorized by these people who have crossed the ravines of my inner beat box, and struck a claim in some aorta, never deep enough to actually kill me, but always just enough to ensure that even years later, hearing "Already Gone" by Kelly Clarkson, the scent of Curve, or the sight of the back of their head can cause me to tense up, feel a legitimate tweak in my chest cavity, or acknowledge them, at least mentally for unGodly amounts of time. I know this one, he, will be no exception. In fact, I look for him to be far worse than any sort of post-break-up holocaust that I am subjected to, for the simple fact that although we were never publicly hung out to dry, that that is the point exactly, that our actual punishment starts now. That with each day that passes we will never be able to be together in the way that we want, isn't that what hell really is? Taking your key and placing it in another's lock, to discover that not only does it fit, but that the door swings wide open just as if welcoming you home, and then having the house's other owner come and take back your key or your stupid ass losing the only one ever made. Some people search their entire lives for that connection, and never find it. But others do, and because of their audacity to pursue it despite extenuating circumstances, will find that they are able to cultivate it in some backhanded manner, long enough for it to validate itself as real and bigger than themselves, and then have it removed, with or without warning somewhere down the road. This is God's way of letting us know, no matter what he allows, and what we think we get away with, we actually don't. And as far as punishments are concerned, he isn't worried about doling out anything above and beyond the end of this love. Because he knows, life from this point on, will be hell enough. Death would be easy, enduring without him, is a great deal harder.

Worse yet, was that tonight was the result of a string of actions that I have had going on intermittently since our start. I knew them wrong all along, or at least adverse to what he wanted, knew them potential minefields, and yet continued to strew them about and think that just because I knew where I had laid them, that I could lead him around them as well, or get them to keep their damn mouths shut under the ground. But, as is standard, I was only fooling myself, and in the moments this evening when my infamous mouth had not a damn thing to say, where tears replaced nouns, and verbs, and adjectives, where I couldn't put everything I had pre-planned for this occasion into coherent talking points, I have never felt like more of an idiot. Everything was going away and I was the cause. Although this is a concept I'm more than familiar with over my life, as dropping out of college will piss off your Asian mom, and keep you from getting a big girl job a little longer, doing things behind some one's back to the point that they hurt so bad that all the love they have for you is slowly bloodlet out of them, knowing all along but refusing to accept that this, that you, would be that razor blade that slit up their wrist, this is the feeling of self-loathing. To hurt those that love you unabashedly, to the point of no return, no reviving, no paddles or hugs or apologies or tears or your face on their face to bring them back to love, this is why I cried tonight. Oh, and because he could never quite look at me straight on, like his keys were way more important than I had ever been, like there was something on his immaculate dash that needed re-arranging. I literally slipped out his passenger side door after the silence in the vehicle began to choke what little air was left in my lungs from my previous obnoxious sobbing, and am surprised I didn't crumple outside the car onto the pavement like every bone had been extracted from my body and I didn't get the memo. I walked to my car, never turning around, as if on the way to the guillotine, about to lose my head, a modern day MsHap Antoinette, for my sins. But I would have welcomed that. Take my fucking cabeza. Just leave my heart. Anything, but my heart.

My heart peeled out faster than I could get my shaking hand to get my car keys in the lock. I wonder now when we'll speak again. I wonder now if we ever should. I've known us wrong for so long, and yet nothing feels this right. Resisting the urge to text him right now is like trying to keep your nose from wrinkling when you smell vomit or to keep from shouting "fuck" when you drop something on your foot. I would almost give away my ability to write if I could sink into a deep, lengthy sleep right now. But no, says God, I am only just beginning. Otherwise, how will you ever learn?

I miss you already. I'm so sorry. Te amo.

No 60/40 because everything in my mind is negative. I hope to feel a sliver of peace and progress in the morning. Good night. And to all you broken hearts out there...say hello and a little prayer for your new neighbor.

on the brink...

welcome passengers to flight 033010, this is your captain msHap speaking. I have had one of those days, in which you find yourself thinking it was a push overall, the positives and the negatives battling one another so effectively, mirroring each other's every move like some sort of fucked up animal mating ritual, that you do nothing more than sigh yourself to sleep at some point and drift off thinking of what you can improve on when you wake up and what simply needs to be maintained. For me, on the bright side, I made it to all of my classes, ate well, worked out, and am sitting here currently waiting on my kid sis to return home from soCal. On the flip side, and there is always, as sure as life goes on despite your certainty that it will not at times, a flip side. But don't let me fool you, I'm not the "life isn't fair" type. Perhaps in certain situations, it is far from logical, excessively painful, erratic really, creating gale force winds for unsuspecting, undeserving, ill-equipped people. But I am not that person, one of those people. I exist with the understanding that 90+ percent of the pain that others feel in viewing my life, the pain that strangles my very heart, the stressful situations that I find myself subjected to on a near daily basis are of my creation, of my own laziness, or vanity, or inability to say no, prioritize, will myself to change and extract myself from situations that are morally unsound and absolutely reckless. People may have a million things to say about me, and when the truth is shaken out from the bullshit, you can take it to your grave that there are a handful of certainties that exist for me. Things that you can whisper behind my back or fling at me face-to-face that I will have little to no reply for...I am habitually tardy, love someone that I shouldn't, am prone to excess, and sleep too much. Oh, and that I'm loud. Get over it. Once you adjust to the volume of my voz, you'll realize there is much you can either wet yourself laughing over coming out of my mouth, or some really, really solid, non-judgemental advice. And not because I'm a know-it-all, but because I know a lot. It's different. I've fucked up enough to be able to steer you clear of nearly anything that will one day level you and blow up in your face or to be able to let you know that you will survive when you don't heed me in the first place. But perhaps one last thing that I'll guarantee you that you will never be able to deny me, regardless of whether I am an absolute waste of God-given talent, regardless of whether you hate my legs, hate my swag, hate the blunt but articulate things I have to say, is that I am genuine, never deny that I love with all of me, and receive it in copious amounts in return. And honestly, at the end of the day, at the end of all of this, what else do we really want? People talk, money talks, titles talk, and yet talking will eventually fall on deaf ears. You know what doesn't? The way you make people feel, the way that you love. I am in no shortage of this. This is what propels me on.

But at the same token, I spent nearly half an hour crying while back and forth texting someone because of them calling me out on my love, my naivety, my blind trust. He told me I love too much at times, or that I at least put forth this most tender, yet powerful of emotions on individuals who want nothing more than to have me around and then talk ridiculous amounts of shit behind my back. "Do what you want, be around who you want," he texted, "but know that despite this skewed vision you have of yourself at times, about how you are above all this, able to chill, and screw, and drink like an idiot, around certain people, with no repercussions, that you aren't. You want to be famous one day," he shot my way. "Oh, you are, but in no way the way you think or actually want." And these notions, although realized by my own self at times, were not welcome guests into my day's emotional guest house, and went on to eat all the food in my fridge, leave the toilet seat up, and not make the bed. Fuck. And worst of all, is this all came raining down on me from a person that I value more than most, and despite the peculiarities of our particular interactions, is someone that I know who never has, nor would try and verbally wound me without me pushing him to the very limits of his amor for me, having wounded him first, over and over with my blatant disregard for his feelings at times, only to always expect him to warm back up to me immediately after, coddle me when I demand it, force his own feelings and words down under a calm and smiling facade when someone around him degrades me in some way, with some words. He would later apologize, but needn't have. He was right, he is always right. And for the many reasons he moves me, this is one quality I have come to despise. Oh, what tangled webs we weave. And this one, has me like a mummified fly, bound up in the silken, but sticky threads, only able to buzz, devoid of movement. But don't blame him, I trapped myself in the first place. Each day I wait now for the fatal bite. It's coming.

I, however, feel hopeful at the prospect of the remainder of this week. I dropped about $50 at wal-mart, which, if I utilize/consume the items in my cart, could potentially create some good energy, take steps in the right direction for once, at least in physical matters that is. I have many things to do over the course of the next few days that I have been putting off and if I do so, could clear up some major mental space for me. And God knows, when your heart is already full, you need all the extra room elsewhere that you can get. Stay tuned.

And now, for the 60/40. A random run-down of 6 things/observations in my life that bring a smile to my face and 4 that I could do without having done or seen or heard. Be careful my friends, acquaintances, random members of society and tv stars. This is where you could end up one night if you're not careful, or immortalized if you floor me.

1. Good- Kid Sib should be home any minute now. With her return I get my best friend back, and some new clothes and a black sephora eyeliner (and females, it is seriously the most no budge, worth it $5 you could ever spend on something). Yeah, I'm passionate about make-up.
2. Good- I caught up on the episodes of Life (Discovery Channel) that I missed from Sunday and am absolutely floored by the camera work, mesmerized by the beauty and splendor that is God's creation, and amazed at the work some of those little fish I watched put in to get food, breed, and stay alive. I can't even get myself to do crunches. Check it out if you haven't seen it. One of the best hours on tv right now.
3. Bad- Although I worked out, I didn't get a run in today like I wanted. Which, plus for the workout, but I am "training" for a race, so ummm, yeah, about that.
4. Good- You guys are reading my posts again. and you have no idea how stoked this makes me, how much this fuels my fire to write, to share. I adore feedback so hit me with it.
5. Good- I got a somewhat random text from someone this afternoon who is relatively new to my radar about wanting to hang out this weekend.
6. Bad- He said this last weekend. We didn't hang. Thank God I'm not the reading too much into things type.
7. Good. Dad & I reminisced for 20 min. this evening where we discussed ESPN's 30 for 30 series and especially the documentary about reggie Miller and the rivalry he and the Pacers had with the Knicks Mid-late 90's. I recounted exactly where I was when Reg scored 8 pts in 8.9 sec. in '95. 12 years old. back passenger side of my parent's sweet gray 'nova at the time. Listening to slick leonard & mark on the radio. My heart almost bursting.
8. Bad- Realizing over the course of this mini-convo with pops although I do have the pacers logo tatted on my back (yanks & colts too), that I have not felt that much passion for the nba for such a very long time (thank you Artest, ignorant Detroit fans, etc.). I honestly kinda miss the hard fouls, vulgar gestures, days when Market Square Arena was so loud I thought my ears were going to bleed. But I'll be patient.
9. Bad- I'll be up another 2 hours with some stuff, it's 2 am right now, Sister is still not home (and is going to want to talk to me), and I work at 10 a.M. The humanity.
10. Good- I've got a feeling...

Good night y'all.

Don't call it a comeback...

Passengers aboard flight 032910, it has been a little over ocho months since I, Captain MsHap has addressed you with a mensaje over the cabin's loudspeaker, and honestly, I wouldn't be surprised to find that none of you are interested in not only what I have to say anymore, but even still in your seats. Most of you certainly must have already enlisted the help of those sitting in the exit row to inflate those safety slides and get the hell off of Han-Air, and I can't say I blame you. The flight time you've missed over the past near year has been nothing idealistic. It has been turbulent (violently so at times) and to say that there weren't a couple instances at least that my aircraft almost crashed and burned, would definitely be a lie. And one of those times at least, was simply because I was resigned to letting it hit the ground and go up in flames, having turned on auto-pilot to handle my life's dealings, no longer willing to put up a fight against the erratic nature of the world around me, aching so much so consistently that stepping out of the cockpit and sitting in a first class seat instead, sipping on those little single-serving, complimentary bottles of alc, eyes closed, headphones pumping Schubert's Clair de Lune into my ears, patiently awaiting my demise was a welcome thought. And don't get me wrong passengers, I (aside from those faint, over dramatized moments we all encounter over the course of our lives, and usually due to a douchebag human being we just happened to fall for), did not want to die, to breathe my last. I just did not want to live. It is not the same thing.

From the outside looking in, my journey seems to be on course, riddled with time delays to and from certain departure and arrival spots, but enduring, passing inspection to maintain daily flights--school-check, work-check, health-check, friends-check, intelligence-check, family-check, humor-check, productivity-check, love-check. The passenger list aboard my plane is an enviable one. Wonderful parents, two siblings that I adore, friends and co-workers that I can count on, make me squeal with laughter, support me in success, pick me up off the ground when I fail, help me unravel the knots that I expertly tie that I am certain each time I will not be able to undo. I am blessed beyond recognition, beyond gratitude, this I have and will always know. But counting one's blessings aren't always enough, at least for me at times, to keep perspective on just how wonderful this vida I am in truly is, and this is my Bermuda Triangle, the ability to maintain my bearings, sense of up and down, right and wrong, east and west when my heart causes my mind to completely fog up, and my instrument panel goes suddenly haywire, needles spinning, plane losing altitude. Despite this, I possess an eerie quality of calm that those around me feel, are drawn to when they feel out of control, such as when a co-worker simply got oversat by a couple tables and wants to walk out, or I take a crying child out of someone's arm and instantly placate he/she. This is ironic because based on this description of one of my personality traits, one would think I would be a little better under the stresses, disappointments, and heartbreaks of my own life. But perhaps it isn't actually calm, collectedness that draws you all to me like moths to a flame, but a different mannerism that I've developed over the years of fuckups, that of resignation. When you become somewhat numb to stumbling, falling on your face, or at least banging your shin off something left and right, knowing that only your death could really shock and devastate those around you, that you've done enough disappointing over the years to ease those close to you into a lull of acceptance that you're succeeding by simply breathing, then this is more what I put off than tranquility. Or at least it is the melody of the song that I fall asleep to each night.

but fear not passengers, my plane is generally a good time, chock full of vibrant characters, memorable conversations, drunken shenanigans, and a story line that is something that would make the shit on most reality shows (e.g. The Bad Girls Club) seem really, really juvenile and tame. My life, for myself and those in contact with me is cued up to a play list that suits every type, and is interspersed with more laughter than The Hangover could have ever thought about creating. Despite all the aforementioned gloom and doom that I battle each day, I am still a thoughtful, love oozing, bend over backward, funny as fuck, whip smart individual that values my friends and family and has big plans for my forever after. It is just of utmost importance that I get my self-loathing, debilitating side time to be recognized, released from its imprisonment in my head and heart so that not only can you realize that it is not only okay, but normal to think that you're falling apart and not even believe yourself capable of righting your wrongs, but also so that I can know that I'm okay, for me to see my misgivings in black and white, right in front of my face, to vent and release and give myself a springboard as well in which I can see where the hell I need to turn off at and try this all again. And so, as I realize which each word that is springing forth from the very depths of me, that I need to get this blog back up to daily activity. However, I can in no way, shape, or form even begin to fill you in on what has been que paso'ing with me since I've been AWOL. So here's what you missed in a nutshell.

I am back in school, attendance still sketchy, but 25 credits or less from graduation. My credit score still sucks and I have a few bills that are stressing me the flip out and I'm not sure what I'm going to do about. I am single (facebook officially) but my heart is currently, and has been in this state since around last summer's 4th of July in the hands of a person who I realize will never be with me the way I desire him to be, who has made me both better and comprehending of what I am capable of, but also morally worse and oddly enough, aware of what I am capable of (as far as destruction of sorts is concerned). My ex-esposo and I, on the other hand, are closer friends now and more respectful of each other than when we were married. My brother lives in SoCal and I miss him enough to cut this sentence short as not to dwell on it. My sister is here, increasingly my best friend and confidant, and continues to be one of my greatest sources of annoyance and also my greatest motivation for success. She and her high school b-ball team won the first girls basketball sectional in their school history. I cried like a baby. I am still drinking way too much and not running and eating right like I know I should be. Regardless, I'm signed up to run a mini marathon in the next 6 weeks. Some of my friends and I lost a good friend to a drunk driving accident in the past few months. This should have been more of a wake-up call to most of us. I miss you at the oddest times Jer, but you'd be proud of me, I'm not hand dancing so much anymore. I actually stopped caring about what I might actually look like on the dance floor and cut loose. No one's complained. My espanol is getting better by the day and I got the only A on my midterm in my class. I am about to start piano lessons and sing with a friend of mine in hopes we can get into a contest and win it. I am still using too much profanity. I am writing a novel that is loosely based on my own life (or perhaps a memoir although I'll never let all of you know what is true and what is not). I honestly think it's a little too profane for my parents to ever want to read. I made peace with my brother's girlfriend. I am still dealing with some legal stress in my life. I watched the movie Up in the Air and can relate to it. I am still growing up.

I have lost a handful of my close friends to moves, most out of state. And by lost, I mean I just don't see them as much as I'd like. I have made a few new friends, including three, and since I don't name names on here, I'll refer to you each with insider info. H, I appreciate you more than you'll ever know, even in this short time of our friendship. For letting me crash on your couch. For how funny we think Avatar is. For not judging the state of my love for someone even though it is a situation that you could never, would never let yourself get involved in. For enrique. J, from the deepest part of me, gracias. For reading the first part of my novel and not only enjoying it, but finding resonance within yourself in a part that wasn't even my central focus. For zumba. For being a strong, beautiful, wonderful woman and mother. For filming my epic consumption of Real Ha margaritas. And K, not only am I grateful for your friendship, but also for indulging my attention whorish side with tv spots for work. Congrats on your engagement. You are more than deserving of this. And for those of you who have been with me over the long haul and remain, you not only get thank-you's, but my unfaltering love and affection. Some of you have seen me in times, states, and heard me out on things that even I was squeamish to admit (and for those of you who know me, I haven't really ever been afraid to say anything).

So on this note, I end my first blog back in the longest time. I have missed you all, and hope in time you'll come back to me, to whatever drew you here in the first place. For some of you I allow you to escape the doldrums of your daily life, for some of you I kill time when you're stuck at work. Some of you enjoy my grit, others just want to talk shit about me later and know you'll strike gold here. Go ahead and talk it up, it's part of the reason I write. For some, I let you know that you're not alone in your darkest thoughts, morally unsound decisions. For some, you just like my sentence structure and vocabulary. For some, you may never read anything I write again. But for all of you, thank you. And good night.

everytime he comes around...

Yes, passengers aboard flight 070109, this is your should be in bed captain speaking, or at least just getting up following ocho or so hours of sleep, but no, I haven't been asleep at all. This is my fault, for never keeping regular hours, & oh, perhaps the fact that I slept in intermittently until literally 6 P.M. today didn't ayudame in any way, shape, or form. I am blogging at all right now, because of a mixture of the fact that I feel like I've chugged a case of RedBull, & also because tonite kinda threw me for a loop, albeit a good one, sorta, and need to unwrap my brain a bit. I spent time with the Hooper, from about 10:30-11PMish to 2 A.M., and we although we've texted and talked on the phone since our little "misunderstanding" near the second weekend in June, we haven't actually hung out since before tonite. I'm pretty sure in an earlier blog this week I said I was over the idea of he and I actually ever developing into anything beyond friends, but lo, and behold, always a different story when somebody is out of sight, out of mind, and then in your bedroom, head in your lap, telling you he's missed you, clowning around, sneaking in a hug and kiss here and there. Having felt like I've been on a spin cycle with him since we met early Mayo, tumbling in the wash with additives of "friends" & "more than friends" & "nope, just friends" I've been unsure of it all, and only certain that I needed to distance myself from the conflicting signs & just be on the amigos side of things for my sanity's sake. However, if we continue to string more evenings together like this one, I'm only ever convinced of one thing, I will fall into this, and most likely, nothing's going to break it until I hit the ground. But with that said, so be it, I've never been one to shy away from anything, even if lessons are to be learned and some price to be paid, and this will continue to be no exception. I am, however, going to keep up my 24 dates that I've left to accrue. Oh, hoop dreams.