Thursday, September 28, 2006

On talking to God

I thought this was kinda cool, so I'm gonna give it a shot before going to bed. This is me, talking to God, aka praying.

Hey God. Been a few days since we've talked, right? Sorry 'bout that. Sometimes, I do wonder if maybe you get tired of listening to the religion-less, existentialist black sheep that is me. I always get the feeling I don't quite deserve your attention, for all the things I've done in life, but here I am anyway, still ready to talk to you.

Anyway, things've been good. Money's tight, as it's been since I got here to Chicago. I've just been scraping by a living, with just enough food and water and insulin and clothes to make it through so far. Still, it'll make for interesting interviews once I reach my goals. Speaking of, I've yet to truly start on the pursuit of my goals. It frustrates me, but at the same time, I know that I also have to bide my time. I know I'm going to make it, but I guess it's these steps leading up to that moment that frustrate the most. I guess I just need to feel things out and take them as they come.

I got hired, you know that. Work's frustrating, because I can't seem to get things right, and it's kind of a reminder of being at home. But, I'm also trying my best to listen and to learn, even if this doesn't seem to be enough either. This is just something I probably have to go through to learn to like myself more. I've got plenty of self-confidence, but I'm still coming up short in the self-esteem department, as I have for a very long time. I just need to learn that not everyone hates me, and to get over my fear of being alone forever. More than that, I guess I'm scared of losing Sam. Even if he doesn't quite love me yet, I love him very much, and I want to keep him by my side as we both work towards our dreams of fame and fortune. I have the feeling that regardless of what happens, I'm going to continue loving him for a very long time. Love's a very complicated emotion, don't you think?

Speaking of, I suppose my relationship with my parents is starting to get on more even ground. A reason I wanted to move out, among many others, was to just kind of get away and stretch my wings. I wanted to estrange myself from them, and I guess I just want room to truly be myself. That doesn't seem to be in the cards though, since I talk to them over the phone now. Talking to Dad always leaves me as an emotional wreck. It might be because he's usually talking to me in a condescending tone, since he doesn't believe that I'm going to reach my goals, and since he seems to think I'm being brutally woken up to the harshness of "the real world". This is confirmed by how he always tells me I can come home at any time. I'm grateful that he leaves the door open for me, but I wish he'd realize that I left for my own reasons. Even if things're hard, I don't mind because this is what I want. Talking to Mom...well, that usually leaves me worse. I don't know what to say to her. Just the other day I was talking to her, and after I hung up, I cried my eyes out watching the beginning of Disney's Tarzan, watching Tarzan as a baby with his serrogate mother. Despite the emotional hell she tended to put me through, I miss my mother.

I just wish I could've been what others wanted me to be. I wish I knew where I'd gone wrong in life to turn out the way I did. If I'd just been what I was supposed to be, maybe there'd be less problems, and maybe my parents would be proud of me, and maybe I wouldn't have been the black sheep. But I know this doesn't matter. Sam told me himself. Just because I don't fit the mold doesn't mean that I went wrong anywhere in life. It just means that I'm meant to do something different, and who knows, that something different might be something great, something that'll shake the world and change it. I want to change the world somehow. Not in an earth-cracking way, but subtlely, in a way that people quietly remember who I was and what I did. More importantly, I want to make my parents proud, and I want them to see that my decision was the right one in the end.

But that's enough of me rambling. Watch over those I love and care for. And thanks for placing a guardian angel to watch over me. I would've never found my way after losing sight of it if she weren't around. And I'm glad you're watching over me, even though I don't really deserve it.

Love, Di.

Monday, September 18, 2006

On a general list of things to remember/learn

Some rules and things to remember.

#5: Yes, it does slip out. And yes, it's fucking hilarious, so the best way to get over it is to just laugh your asses off and then give one another blowjobs.

#36: The best way to know you're comfortable with the person whom you're currently fucking is if you're having a perfectly normal conversation during the fucking. "How was your week?" "Kinda crazy, yours?" "Pretty okay."

#50: No matter what they say, guys like the dominating latina as much as they like the submissive latina.

#120: If the girl's cooch is drying up more than it should, it means her period's imminent. Really imminent. As in, next day imminent. (Yes, my period came this morning. -Ed.)
a. You can always expect your period to come on time when it shouldn't, and to come late when it shouldn't. In other words, that time of the month's a cunt.
b. On the bright side, if you get it at the beginning of the week, by the weekend, you can have unprotected sex. (And that's the only reason why I'm not really pissed. Those fuckers at Disney better give me next Sunday off (or start me after 2 or 3pm). -Ed.)

#223: Your roommate won't mind catching you guys in the act so much as when the guy you're fucking starts making fun of the guy said roommate likes to fuck.

#224: When your roommate(s) does/do catch you, it's still funny anyway, so it's best to laugh this off too.

#457: When closing your door to ensure privacy, make sure that the cat you let out isn't the deaf, psycho one who lives under the bed. Put on your glasses if you have to. If you, indeed, accidentally let it out, if it scratches to go back in, no matter what sort of sexual position you may be in, let the fucker in.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

On walking that fine grey line

Even though it's been a year and a couple of months since I became a bona-fide legal adult, I don't think the weight of what that means ever really registered. I knew that I was no longer a kid, and that slowly, but surely, I'd be finding my way into the world, for better or worse. It didn't even hit me last month as I boarded the plane from San Juan to Chicago. It's not that I was ignoring the fact that I have responsibilites now, or that, in the pursuit of my goals and dreams, there would be a lot of times in which I'd be scraping by a living. I knew all this, and it did register. I just didn't see how it was a very big deal. To me, it was simply the way things had to progress. Nothing more, nothing less.

So then I wonder why the fine grey line between adolescence and adulthood became more apparent after I lost my virginity very recently. Ho shit, I bet you all thought I was a non-virgin already. Never assume anything, my dear readers. Anyway, I finally decided that the time was right, and that I'd finally found someone suiteable. For the record, I wasn't terribely picky. My criteria: a. it should at least be someone I know; b. it'd be even better if I was friends or dating the person; and c. no one-night-stands as my real first time. Other than this, though, I simply figured that at some point, I'd lose my virginity, and that would be that. And yet, losing it turned out to be my defining mark. Not turning 18, not getting into college (and hence, getting constantly drunk), not smoking or taking on bigger responsibilities or taking the plunge to move out on my own, none of that.

I actually consider this a good thing. Since I waited to lose my virginity, rather than taking the chances that I'd gotten in high school, I lost it when I was more mentally mature and more able to realize and comprehend its consequences. It didn't end up becoming someting random, or a means to an end. I'll have a fond memory of the experience, and if I ever become suicidal enough to have kids, I can tell them about this, and they can see too that sex isn't everything when you're 14-18 years old. In the end, sex shouldn't be seen as something wholly sacred or something to be saved for your "one true love". That's how love should be seen. It's funny how people always fantasize about what their first time might be like, and yet they constantly throw around the word love without realizing that this word carries more weight than sex does. Sex comes and goes, but love doesn't, not the real kind.

It also goes without saying that I'm not the "wait till marraige" type. Anyone with a brain knows how antiquated that is anyway. Plus, no one really values marraige anymore. You date someone for awhile, you marry 'em, and then, the moment things aren't working, you divorce. So why bother saving it for then? Though it is my own personal hope that if I ever get married, we stay married. I don't particularly like the idea of dying alone and single. But well, at least I won't die a virgin.

Monday, September 04, 2006

On pot heads and Disney

I've been meaning to update this for a bit, but I hadn't quite been able to organize my thoughts to write a comprehensible entry. Also, I haven't looked through other blogs lately, and I apologize for that. I'll try making amends...well, when I feel like it.

So, how is life in Chicagoland thus far? Definitely getting easier, that's for sure. My never-ending search for employment has finally ended (I know, that was redundant). After applying to about ten different places, I've finally been The Disney Store. If you're surprised, it's nowhere near how I feel. I should just be grateful I don't have any tattoos yet. But, I guess I just kicked ass at the interview and made an excellent impression. I'm a part-timer there now, but the pay is $7 the hour, which is so awesome. First paycheck goes towards clothes. It's September already, so I'll need warmer shirts. Also, about half of every one of my paychecks is getting saved so that, by Christmas, I can get myself the present of having my own downtown Chicago cheap-ass loft. I hope I can find something that's like $400 a month or something. I'm not too particular on commodities, so long as there's maybe electricity and a shower and toilet.

One down on my list. What next? Well, soon as I've got the cash rolling in, my next step is scouring for auditions in Chicago. I really don't know where to start though, which is kind of a problem. I know that when I do figure out where to start, I'll have no problem moving forward from there. The same goes when I start finding out how to get my first novel published. I'm not all that worried, but I'm feeling more or less as preoccupied as I did while looking for a job. This just might mean that things'll all work out in the end though, as they seem to have been doing since I got here.

And, with my arrogant, egotistical jackass, yet extremely loveable, significant other, today is officially nine months. I'm amazed and extremely happy. This has been one of the best relationships I've been in thus far in my life, and I'm glad that we stopped hating each other and started being friends. We've had our ups and downs for sure. I still feel really bad about yesterday, that I must've looked like a socially inept retard around his friends and that one of my kicks mighta made him bleed (I get panicky about that because of a incident in elementary school). But the ups are completely awesome. I tell you, there's nothing like watching that huge fountain over in Millenium park with your significant other's arm around your waist, giving you a sweetly soft kiss. I know, I sound like a romantic sap. I'll be throwing up in disgust in just a moment. But it really is nice. It's rekindling my faith in that love can be found.

Speaking of Millenium Park, I and my significant other were at the Chicago Jazz Fest there yesterday. I'm not that much of a jazz fan, but it really was some great music. The piano playing, in particular, was really really great. It was also absolutely hilarious when we passed by these two people promoting pot. "There's nothing wrong with smoking pot and it shouldn't be illegal!" So said the woman completely dressed in a suit of fake pot. I know that if my significant other had more money on him, he'd've probably bought the suit from her. Speaking of pot, despite the fact that I still really hate the idea of pot and drugs and the reasons people use them, I am considering maybe getting high on pot. My main reason, though, is the legal drinking age here. I really miss drinking more alcohol, and it's annoying because people between ages 18 to 21 drink it anyway, so I don't see the problem. So pot might end up being my replacement for alcohol if I feel that I can stand overstepping my own personal opinions about it.

Anyway, I wish I had pictures to put up, but I keep forgetting my camera at the most opportune moments. I will put some up soon though, so never fear my readers. And with that, I should get back to cooking. My roommate and I have actual food now, amazing.