As I conduct yet another late night giggling conversation in both English and broken Portuguese, I remind myself not to be too loud because of the upstairs neighbor. When I first moved in she knocked on my door after a particularly uninhibited night and discreetly informed me that this was 'like a roommate situation' because we can hear fairly well what goes on in eachothers' places.
Sometimes I wonder what she must think of me. Does she hear me playing Christmas carols in late January? Singing along to 80’s power ballads? Arguing in broken Spanish and English as the cook I am hooking up with leaves at 2am? Having loud sex on the creaky murphy bed? Crying on the phone to my mom at 3 in the afternoon on a Sunday? Is she annoyed by the smoke alarm which always goes off loudly when I burn toast in the broiler? How did she like the smell of burning oil as my shirtless Brazilian boyfriend deep fried chicken in the kitchen with the back door wide open? Could she hear my brothers, their girlfriends and I tirading about the dissolution of the American Dream at top volume during my last dinner party? Has she noticed I play the same albums over and over? And that I listen to my ‘Latin Lounge’ compilation constantly? Did she hear me dancing and wailing along to Justin Timberlake’s Lovestoned?! Has she noticed the revolving door of strange foreign men coming in and out of my apartment at all hours of the day and night? Does she sometimes suspect she is living above a brothel?!
Does she think that I am A COMPLETE MANIAC?!!?
All I know about her is that she watches A LOT of TV and she seems to enjoy dropping heavy items onto the hardwood floor. I am always hearing strange thunks and thumps right over my head. Other than that she’s a mystery. Oh, and she was once sleeping with a guy who had a personalized license plate that said ‘Let’s Play Master and Servant’. I could hear him spanking her late at night sometimes.
My only hope is that she can’t hear TOO well up there…
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Stoner
I decided I needed to smoke a little pot. I don't do this too often but it just seemed like a good idea tonight. My initial plan was to watch a documentary on the Romans. Well, 20 minutes later and I am warbling along to Mazzy Star...'I've been let down...I've been put down...and i'm still coming 'round...again with you.' Then I start thinking all these nice things about my friends and my ex boyfriend. In fact I realize that I was completely in love with him, in a way that I'd never experienced before, and I realize that I am still in love with him. I even begin to suspect that he might be in love back with me! I am so filled with love in fact, that I decide to text one of my friends about how great I think she is and how much I admire her. I had been thinking this for a long time but I guess I never really said it and suddenly I thought that it might be nice for her to hear. Funny huh? Who would guess that I would be so happy and loving stoned?! Maybe its all the meditating...
OK now I'm gonna go watch Cutting Crew 'I Just Died in Your Arms Last Night'. AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH this is the life! ha ha
OK now I'm gonna go watch Cutting Crew 'I Just Died in Your Arms Last Night'. AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH this is the life! ha ha
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Despair
So far this blog has been all about my search for love. But lest I neglect the mental illness bit, I need to talk a little about depression. Depression is awful. That’s fair enough to say. People who have struggled with depression throughout their lives are sympathetic, they understand. But those who haven’t experienced it personally can be a bit judgmental. They will suggest you ‘snap out of it’, ‘pull yourself together’, ‘stop being so self-centered’, ‘get over yourself’, ‘stop whining’, etc, etc. I’ve received that type of advice a million times. The problem is you can’t do that. Depression is not laziness, or negativity or merely a lack of will power, or an inability to appreciate things. It is many things – a biochemical imbalance, a systematic way of looking at the world, a dysfunctional coping mechanism, learned helplessness, a catalyst for change when change is needed, an illness, a symptom of our sick society, a response to problems in one’s life, an addiction, a consequence of isolation, something that runs in families. Depression completely takes over your life and distorts your perception of reality. You cannot think straight. You cannot make decisions or plan for the future. And once you know you have depression you are forever scared that you may be falling back into its strangling grip. At least I am. I’m never sure if I’m over- reacting to a situation because I’m depressed or whether the situation really is shitty. Such is the case with my life right now.
I’m tired of pretending to be OK. My life, at this point is somewhat of a fiasco. When you question what is the point of being alive on a daily basis, that is not a good thing. But I don’t know what to do. There is no one to blame. I know now that I am responsible for my own suffering. What I don’t know is how to stop.
Years of failed relationships with men who could not love me back the way I wanted (even the way I deserved, as they all later confess), friendships that I never felt secure or safe in, jobs that were not only uninspiring but completely draining, confusion about my career, crippling loneliness, depression and isolation, have left my self esteem at a low point.
But I know I am ultimately responsible, I am the only one who can change things. And how I have tried to get better. I may have been ignorant but certainly not lazy. I have tried everything I can think of: therapist after therapist to liberate me from my depression, medication – so many different ones to quiet the obsessive negative ruminations of my mind, to help me feel ‘OK’ enough to make it through the day, hours and hours at the gym exercising to help me feel better about my body, to create enough endorphins to dull the pain, countless hours of prayer, pleading to a god I am uncertain of, a million tears to cleanse my eyes, days of silence and meditation trying to unravel my existential questions. Yet, I am lost. As lost as I’ve ever been. As lonely as I’ve ever been. And so, so, sooooo tired of it. I just don't know what to do next.
I don’t want to die. I don’t want to kill myself. I just want to change. I want to be at peace. I want to feel alive again. I want to feel that my life matters.
The teacher at one of my Buddhist classes last night reminded us, ‘Every life contains ten thousand sorrows and ten thousand joys.’ Certainly there has been joy in my life but at this point I feel blind to it. Like I will never, ever, glimpse it again. I’m terrified I will never find love. I’m terrified this depression will never leave. I’m terrified I will never feel alive and happy again.
I’m tired of pretending to be OK. My life, at this point is somewhat of a fiasco. When you question what is the point of being alive on a daily basis, that is not a good thing. But I don’t know what to do. There is no one to blame. I know now that I am responsible for my own suffering. What I don’t know is how to stop.
Years of failed relationships with men who could not love me back the way I wanted (even the way I deserved, as they all later confess), friendships that I never felt secure or safe in, jobs that were not only uninspiring but completely draining, confusion about my career, crippling loneliness, depression and isolation, have left my self esteem at a low point.
But I know I am ultimately responsible, I am the only one who can change things. And how I have tried to get better. I may have been ignorant but certainly not lazy. I have tried everything I can think of: therapist after therapist to liberate me from my depression, medication – so many different ones to quiet the obsessive negative ruminations of my mind, to help me feel ‘OK’ enough to make it through the day, hours and hours at the gym exercising to help me feel better about my body, to create enough endorphins to dull the pain, countless hours of prayer, pleading to a god I am uncertain of, a million tears to cleanse my eyes, days of silence and meditation trying to unravel my existential questions. Yet, I am lost. As lost as I’ve ever been. As lonely as I’ve ever been. And so, so, sooooo tired of it. I just don't know what to do next.
I don’t want to die. I don’t want to kill myself. I just want to change. I want to be at peace. I want to feel alive again. I want to feel that my life matters.
The teacher at one of my Buddhist classes last night reminded us, ‘Every life contains ten thousand sorrows and ten thousand joys.’ Certainly there has been joy in my life but at this point I feel blind to it. Like I will never, ever, glimpse it again. I’m terrified I will never find love. I’m terrified this depression will never leave. I’m terrified I will never feel alive and happy again.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
The Mating Text of the Alpha Male
I’ve never been one to date your run-of-the mill, business major, domineering yet completely average, guy-next-door, kinda guys. They were never attracted to me; I was always too weird, or too chubby, or too over-the-top for these guys. The feeling was mutual; their conventional ways filled me with boredom and contempt. However, things have changed recently. All of a sudden these guys are into me, they think I might fit into their world. That is, until I open my mouth and start taking! I blame my long, blondish hair for the initial deception…ha ha…
Never-the-less, in an attempt to be open minded, I found myself out on a first date with a guy whose online title was ‘sf_techguy’. I mean, really...not very promising. Couldn’t he have used just a tad bit more creativity here? I myself came up with the witty and winning moniker of ‘whoreableperson’ and that’s the best he can do?!
Anyway, he was your typical alpha male – tall, dark and handsome, with a good job and nothing of much interest to say. The kind of guy who is used to getting what he wants. Immediately after our first date, which was quite mediocre and PG (I gave him a quick hug goodbye), he texted me telling me how cute he thought I was. The next day he texted about how much he wanted to kiss me. Despite my reservations, he seemed nice enough, rich enough and hot enough that I thought why not give him a second chance? However, later in the week he canceled our next date saying he had been dating someone and they had decided to be exclusive.
A month later, completely randomly, I get a text from him asking me to go out for a drink with him this weekend. I questioned him ‘aren’t you dating someone?’
His reply: ‘she’s out of town this weekend and i have this burning desire to make out with you.’
He quickly followed that with: ‘i want to make you moan’. (I’m cringing here…)
Then when he got no response from me: ‘if that was too forward, i apologize, i just get really turned on thinking about you… are we on for drinks tmrw night?’
To which I replied: ‘I’m not into cheaters.’
Him: ‘Her and I aren’t exclusive. This isn’t even remotely cheating. Let me take you out for a drink tmrow. Let me taste your lips.’…
(Are you fucking kidding me??!!!)
Me: no response
Him again, a little later: ‘I chose to tell you she’s out of town right? A cheater would have lied and said we broke up. Think about that! Cmon, I don’t want to be dry all weekend!’
Me: no response
But thinking:
I don’t want to be dry all weekend!
UMMMMMMM EXCUSE ME????!!! Let me get this right, your girlfriend is out of town for the weekend. You want to fuck me. BUT its not cheating (on her) because you told ME that you were with her. That makes no sense. I’m sure SHE would consider it cheating! And you can’t possibly go two days without sex so I’m supposed to take this as a wonderful opportunity to come over and screw you?!!!
Is this guy out of his mind?!
I’m offended for myself and for the sake of all womenkind!!!
Never-the-less, in an attempt to be open minded, I found myself out on a first date with a guy whose online title was ‘sf_techguy’. I mean, really...not very promising. Couldn’t he have used just a tad bit more creativity here? I myself came up with the witty and winning moniker of ‘whoreableperson’ and that’s the best he can do?!
Anyway, he was your typical alpha male – tall, dark and handsome, with a good job and nothing of much interest to say. The kind of guy who is used to getting what he wants. Immediately after our first date, which was quite mediocre and PG (I gave him a quick hug goodbye), he texted me telling me how cute he thought I was. The next day he texted about how much he wanted to kiss me. Despite my reservations, he seemed nice enough, rich enough and hot enough that I thought why not give him a second chance? However, later in the week he canceled our next date saying he had been dating someone and they had decided to be exclusive.
A month later, completely randomly, I get a text from him asking me to go out for a drink with him this weekend. I questioned him ‘aren’t you dating someone?’
His reply: ‘she’s out of town this weekend and i have this burning desire to make out with you.’
He quickly followed that with: ‘i want to make you moan’. (I’m cringing here…)
Then when he got no response from me: ‘if that was too forward, i apologize, i just get really turned on thinking about you… are we on for drinks tmrw night?’
To which I replied: ‘I’m not into cheaters.’
Him: ‘Her and I aren’t exclusive. This isn’t even remotely cheating. Let me take you out for a drink tmrow. Let me taste your lips.’…
(Are you fucking kidding me??!!!)
Me: no response
Him again, a little later: ‘I chose to tell you she’s out of town right? A cheater would have lied and said we broke up. Think about that! Cmon, I don’t want to be dry all weekend!’
Me: no response
But thinking:
I don’t want to be dry all weekend!
UMMMMMMM EXCUSE ME????!!! Let me get this right, your girlfriend is out of town for the weekend. You want to fuck me. BUT its not cheating (on her) because you told ME that you were with her. That makes no sense. I’m sure SHE would consider it cheating! And you can’t possibly go two days without sex so I’m supposed to take this as a wonderful opportunity to come over and screw you?!!!
Is this guy out of his mind?!
I’m offended for myself and for the sake of all womenkind!!!
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Change
Despite, or perhaps, because of, all the drama, suffering and self-involvement expressed here (and lived out in my life) I would like to start the New Year off more positively. I just started an 8 week Buddhist class called Transformations of the Heart. The teacher shared this quote with us from The Dhammapada that I find very beautiful and true.
We are what we think.
All that we are arises with our thoughts
With our thoughts we make the world.
Speak or act with an impure mind
And trouble will follow you
As the wheel follows the ox that draws the cart.
We are what we think.
All that we are arises with our thoughts
With our thoughts we make the world.
Speak or act with a pure mind
And happiness will follow you
As your shadow, unbreakable.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Street Urchin
Lots of people hate Christmas but I love it. Not for the presents, the bustle of shopping, the consumerism, not for religious reasons. I love it for the gaudy colored lights, the smell of cinnamon and pine, hot mulled wine, the comfort of family together in a warm house. It’s New Year’s Eve and Valentine's Day that I detest. Valentine’s Day is obvious; do I possibly need another reason to be depressed about being single and unloved?! But New Year’s Eve is just a mess. Drunk people everywhere, stress and expectation. Stupid myths about how you start off your year, ridiculous resolutions and insincere promises. Outlandish cover charges at lame bars. The complete unavailability of taxis. Those dumb hats people wear. It’s just plain annoying.
My hatred of New Year’s Eve has a long history. In fact, the list of irritations above is nothing compared to my personal history of mild catastrophes on NYE. I have had huge fights with two boyfriends on NYE and I mean FIGHTS – one I dumped beer on his head, ripped the necklace I made for him off and threw it out the window; another I sorta punched and he knocked me over in front of everyone at a warehouse party. On NYE 2000 (when the entire country was swept with Y2K rumors of immanent destruction and chaos) my bf at the time decided to take liquid LSD without telling me and I was baby sitting him all night in crowd of thousands. On yet another miserable NYE I watched my friend and cousin make out conspicuously and loudly for hours. That night culminated with a pigeon shitting on my FACE on my walk home. Last year I was in an awful night club, high on coke, with my Brazilian boyfriend and his friends, pretending to have fun. Needless to say, my track record is not good.
So, this year I decided to work at the restaurant. I assumed that would keep me out of trouble. But I was wrong. Before my shift even ended the manager had given me two drinks. Then I was convinced to go to a party at coworker’s house on the border of Oakland and Berkeley. My plan was to drink wantonly the first hour, so I could get a good buzz, and then spend the next couple hours drinking water and sobering up for the drive home. The only problem was when I went to look for my car at 2:30 am, I couldn’t find it. I went back the party house, they kicked me out saying everyone had left, it was over. I ended up wandering the streets of Oaktown, in a slightly ghetto neighborhood, alone, semi-drunk and crying for 3 hours! I called cabs - they never answered or never came. At one point a Yellow Cab operator told me the wait was 2 hours for a cab! I made phone calls; no one answered, they were either drunk or in bed asleep. The one person would I got ahold of was Teo, my ex boyfriend, who was at a party 40 miles away, wasted. I succeeded in completely freaking him out; he kept saying he was going to come get me and I kept telling him not to because he was too drunk. Instead he insisted on calling me every 5 minutes to see if I was OK. I think he called me like 30 times! I was literally running up and down side streets frantically searching for my car. At one point, I thought, 'THIS IS IT. This NYE I am going to die on the streets of Oakland, someone is going to kill and rape me and that will be the end of it all!' But no one did. I think I looked too crazy and pathetic!
At 3:30 am I ran into a woman walking her dog and she offered to let me ride her bike so I could cover more ground looking for my car. Then I was teetering through dark streets on a bike, babbling on my cell in terror to Teo and nearly crashing. Finally, around 5am the kind lady with the dog volunteered to drive me home in her old clunky van. I hopped in the front seat with the dog (I was best friends with her by now, she was so sweet and cute – a mix of chow and pitbull) and gave the lady $20 for gas.
When I got home there was a note on my front door from the 24 year old Indian guy I had went out with several days earlier (that’s another story)…
The note read (think it was actually supposed to be a song):
‘Dear, dear Violeta, O ya pretty face!
Better to keep your ears open, listen to me trying to ROCK!!!
You are the one I like for who you be and how you are!
You make me smile and happy like a fucking SUPERSTAR!!
Don’t you get MAD at me for dropping by here this card!
It’s the just way I am and I promise to change it if you want!!’
Blah blah blah… I’ll spare you the rest but it ended with.
‘I LOOOOOOOOOOOOVEEEE YA!!!!!’
Just when I was home, safe in my house and I thought the nightmare was finally over - Teo called, his voiced slurred saying he was on the Bay Bridge driving to my house. Apparently he hadn’t listened to my begging him not to drive drunk and was well on his way. He continued to call me for the next hour, completely lost in various parts of Oakland. There were cops everywhere. Miraculously, he arrived safely (and without a DUI)at my house around 7am. I opened the door and he tore my pajamas off. I like to think he was concerned about my safety but apparently he had other concerns in mind as well…
To top it all off I was expected at work that morning. I arrived 2 hours late. My coworkers were highly amused by re-enactment of the evening.
I think I will stay home next year. Maybe have a toast with myself and some sparkling apple cider. No need to temp fate anymore…
My hatred of New Year’s Eve has a long history. In fact, the list of irritations above is nothing compared to my personal history of mild catastrophes on NYE. I have had huge fights with two boyfriends on NYE and I mean FIGHTS – one I dumped beer on his head, ripped the necklace I made for him off and threw it out the window; another I sorta punched and he knocked me over in front of everyone at a warehouse party. On NYE 2000 (when the entire country was swept with Y2K rumors of immanent destruction and chaos) my bf at the time decided to take liquid LSD without telling me and I was baby sitting him all night in crowd of thousands. On yet another miserable NYE I watched my friend and cousin make out conspicuously and loudly for hours. That night culminated with a pigeon shitting on my FACE on my walk home. Last year I was in an awful night club, high on coke, with my Brazilian boyfriend and his friends, pretending to have fun. Needless to say, my track record is not good.
So, this year I decided to work at the restaurant. I assumed that would keep me out of trouble. But I was wrong. Before my shift even ended the manager had given me two drinks. Then I was convinced to go to a party at coworker’s house on the border of Oakland and Berkeley. My plan was to drink wantonly the first hour, so I could get a good buzz, and then spend the next couple hours drinking water and sobering up for the drive home. The only problem was when I went to look for my car at 2:30 am, I couldn’t find it. I went back the party house, they kicked me out saying everyone had left, it was over. I ended up wandering the streets of Oaktown, in a slightly ghetto neighborhood, alone, semi-drunk and crying for 3 hours! I called cabs - they never answered or never came. At one point a Yellow Cab operator told me the wait was 2 hours for a cab! I made phone calls; no one answered, they were either drunk or in bed asleep. The one person would I got ahold of was Teo, my ex boyfriend, who was at a party 40 miles away, wasted. I succeeded in completely freaking him out; he kept saying he was going to come get me and I kept telling him not to because he was too drunk. Instead he insisted on calling me every 5 minutes to see if I was OK. I think he called me like 30 times! I was literally running up and down side streets frantically searching for my car. At one point, I thought, 'THIS IS IT. This NYE I am going to die on the streets of Oakland, someone is going to kill and rape me and that will be the end of it all!' But no one did. I think I looked too crazy and pathetic!
At 3:30 am I ran into a woman walking her dog and she offered to let me ride her bike so I could cover more ground looking for my car. Then I was teetering through dark streets on a bike, babbling on my cell in terror to Teo and nearly crashing. Finally, around 5am the kind lady with the dog volunteered to drive me home in her old clunky van. I hopped in the front seat with the dog (I was best friends with her by now, she was so sweet and cute – a mix of chow and pitbull) and gave the lady $20 for gas.
When I got home there was a note on my front door from the 24 year old Indian guy I had went out with several days earlier (that’s another story)…
The note read (think it was actually supposed to be a song):
‘Dear, dear Violeta, O ya pretty face!
Better to keep your ears open, listen to me trying to ROCK!!!
You are the one I like for who you be and how you are!
You make me smile and happy like a fucking SUPERSTAR!!
Don’t you get MAD at me for dropping by here this card!
It’s the just way I am and I promise to change it if you want!!’
Blah blah blah… I’ll spare you the rest but it ended with.
‘I LOOOOOOOOOOOOVEEEE YA!!!!!’
Just when I was home, safe in my house and I thought the nightmare was finally over - Teo called, his voiced slurred saying he was on the Bay Bridge driving to my house. Apparently he hadn’t listened to my begging him not to drive drunk and was well on his way. He continued to call me for the next hour, completely lost in various parts of Oakland. There were cops everywhere. Miraculously, he arrived safely (and without a DUI)at my house around 7am. I opened the door and he tore my pajamas off. I like to think he was concerned about my safety but apparently he had other concerns in mind as well…
To top it all off I was expected at work that morning. I arrived 2 hours late. My coworkers were highly amused by re-enactment of the evening.
I think I will stay home next year. Maybe have a toast with myself and some sparkling apple cider. No need to temp fate anymore…
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Vet for the Insane
Last night I had a dream that there was a giant rat in my house. I never actually saw the rat until the end of my dream but evidence of it was everywhere. It was gnawing its way through my food, my furnishings... There were big, raw, exposed bite marks on everything. I was terrified of encountering it yet I needed to catch it to remove it from my house. Finally I set a trap for it. It was huge with enormous yellow fangs.
BUT the rat escaped. I was totally freaked out. Then one of my least favorite coworkers appears in the dream. I am hugging him and kissing him. Weird.
I wonder what Freud would make of all this...
BUT the rat escaped. I was totally freaked out. Then one of my least favorite coworkers appears in the dream. I am hugging him and kissing him. Weird.
I wonder what Freud would make of all this...
One other thing...
My conversation with the old poet started with me scolding him for cutting in line to the wedding buffet. I believe I called him 'Amoral'. He cut right in front of little kids, grandparents, a priest - what a jerk! After he put up with my lecture and subsequent character dissection he had the nerve to say, "You do realize you're completely crazy!"
To which I replied, "Its not the first time I've heard that..."
"But it might be the last, IF I KILL YOU!"
heh heh
To which I replied, "Its not the first time I've heard that..."
"But it might be the last, IF I KILL YOU!"
heh heh
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