el pollo loco.

it's real and it's deep.

i get my relationship with chicken from my mother.

watching jamie sue get down with a plate a bbq chicken is next to nothing.

(that's not true. dad, sister, and i once had to shield ourselves with lobster-bibs from my mother whom was furiously pounding crab with a little hammer at a crab-shack in the everglades. bitch. doesn't. mess.)

there's something just so comforting about it-- it may be the cup of fat per bird, hmmm.

in truth, i learned how to cook my signature, panty-dropping dish, roast chicken, from my x (spelling intentional). it's actually one of my favorite memories of him, and it brings about warm feelings every time i make one. i like that. :)

anyway, i have a chicken and potatoes roasting, just the way i was taught to do.

i'd like to say i'm cooking it for someone special, but i'm not. nor will i be anytime in the future.

i may be a bit broken, but i still know what i want/need out of a boyfriend, and a call/text a week is not that. he's a super-nice guy, and if he ever figures it the fuck out i'm not one to shut doors forever, but i'm not about to wait around for him to figure it out.

trust. ;)

march.

will be a dry month.

too much going on, and i need to focus.

Location:Pedro St,San Jose,United States

anxiety.

so, i freak out.

my anxiety is fueled by my alcohol intake and my alcohol intake is veryoftentimes fueled by my anxiety.

yes, i am aware of the obvious solution.

no, it's not that simple.

i have been awake for five hours, and all i can do is just *think*... i hate thinking. i don't want to be a thinker. i just want to be.

it was a bad weekend. let's turn it around before i go back to work tomorrow, shall we?

mania.

he called

no, he *really* likes me.

calm the fuck, down, jim. calm down.

children.

i have two children:

no, seriously.

i look at them and i cry.

i got them when i was 25 and sometimes all i can think about is the fact that indoor cats live ~fifteen years.

which means i'll be forty when they, y'know, die.

they've been my everything for four years. literally.

clemente and ambrosia.

crap.

no, seriously, y'all are cacamami.

fuckin' mormons (link).

i'll show you some golden tablets.

need/want/desire.

if you're clever enough to have found me via thefacebook...

via said thefacebook..

i fucking want a child. i'd (i WILL) be an amazing father.

mistake.

london. (link)

paris. (link)

barthelona. (link)

beijing. (link)

i'm literally bawling.

i'm not supposed to be here.

son of.

nope, i was wrong.


crazy girl thoughts in full effect. i fucked it up.

left/right.

i really like this image.i feel it encapsulates a lot of what i'm feeling atm. more on that later.

manfriend.

so, there's this guy.

he's nice... i mean, i'm at the stage in my life to where i'm not gonna date a dude unless he's of a certain caliber, so let's just assume he's rad.

however.

he's 33 (rapidly approaching 34) and has never had a bf. i am well aware this is a pretty big red flag, but frankly i'm not spring chicken myself. he wants a bf and he tells me i'm the first guy he doesn't freak out around (he's absolutely petrified of being in a relationship but is even more so petrified about, y'know, dying alone), so that's a pretty great thing. right?

here's my issue: the gay divorce of 2009 fucked. me. up. leaving me with essentially no self-esteem whatsoever. it's gotten a lot better and that is another of the goals therapist and i are working on-- recognizing the things in myself that i like, that i think are attractive/valuable, blah blah blah. back to the issue... he sucks at communication. i don't feel bad writing about this, as he totally owns up to it. we've been dating for going on a month, slept together a few times, and have at least determined that we're "exclusive." we've gotten into the habit of seeing one another about once a week or so, and i don't necessarily need a whole lot more than that right now, but he won't return text messages or phone calls.

i mean... cue crazy girl thoughts.

when he doesn't text me back (and it's not like i expect him to right away... but later that night? yea, i think he can manage that.) it makes me feel like he's just not that into me.

okay this is why this blog is a good idea, because just reading those last few words makes me roll my own eyes at myself.

i'm gonna calm my tits (link), here, because, really, it's what needs to happen. he likes me. he's a great guy. he is NOT h.w.s.n.b.n. and i need to respect him for the man he is.

but i still want/need more attention. we'll work on that.

organizing the bookcase.

we're all the same, star dust and stuff.

perfect.

i know it's fucking saccharine, but i endeavour for nothing more than for a guy to look into my eyes and say "i got you, you'll be okay."

le sigh.

bad teacher.

i think this movie looks hilarious (i just corrected myself from using the word hysterical b/c it's sexist) and spot. fucking. on.

"they're really expensive, per tit."

"yea, and you gotta get two of 'em."

love me some cammie diaz.

p.s. also love phyllis from "the office."

vin.

let's not beat around the bush:

i like the sauce.

it's one of the main reasons i'm here... single (see previous post), anxiety-ridden, and living in a shitty apartment. i've lost friends because of it, my work has suffered, and, ultimately, it's to blame for my breakup with h.w.s.n.b.n..

i'm in treatment for it. i've been seeing a therapist for going on six months now and there's been a lot of progress... like, a lot.

i mean what we've been working on more than anything else is the root-- why i feel the need to drink to excess on purpose. there are a lot of reasons... excuses... as to why: leaving davis, being alone, falling in love with a man whom was unavailable, a shitty job, and then living with said unavailable man who, it turns out, was more unavailable than i ever thought possible.

a quintessential case of escapism, really.

i just have a lot of feelings (link).

but that's okay. i'm learning it's a blessing and a curse. i'd rather be overly sensitive than insensitive, trust.

however, as stated, a lot of progress has been made. i don't drink when i'm sad anymore, and i do my best to only drink on the weekends.

i didn't drink for 32 days and that made me feel really good about myself. and thanks to my friends and family i'm learning how to self-moderate and "behave" as dad likes to put it.

at the end of the day i feel a lot better than i did a year ago, which is really all that matters.

i'm fully able to admit that i didn't get here in no-time, and i fully accept that it won't take no-time to get back to good behavior.

yea, this blog is gonna be real. i'm cool with it.

"why" i'm alone.

there has been an article lately that's been getting a lot of attn:

why you're not married (link.)

the general gist of it is, supposedly, there is one or a combination thereof of the following six qualities that has deemed you an undesirable:

1. you're a bitch

2. you're shallow

3. you're a slut

4. you're a liar

5. you're selfish

6. you're not good enough

i was really intrigued/entertained by the article, if not for the pure inanity of it all. taking into account that we're all ALL of those things at times, the author is a complete #1... i mean she states that she's been married 3x and she's 41. fuck you, lady... fuck you for being able to "make the mistake" of your first two marriages and yet i can't. (not that i want to make two marriage mistakes before i get to the good one, but i digress.)

anyway.

i resent being "informed" as to the reason of my singledom, as it were. i think you have to be a bitch in order to assert yourself and what you want/need in a relationship, i think there's clearly a bit of shallowness involved in weeding through potentials, in terms of being a slut i... well i don't think there's anything wrong with a (safe) healthy sexual appetite... i don't really get into lying but i understand polishing out the rough edges/omitting unnecessary info, being selfish can aide in making sure you don't settle, and... well she may have a bit of a point on the last one. but that's for another post.

THE POINT IS... i think she's way off base. i think there are soooo many reasons as to why one is single.

hence, the rebuttal (link).

what this second author does *brilliantly* is lay out the fucking myriad reasons as to why one can be and/or (get this) choose to be single.

i mean, i'm feeling it:

as i hurtle toward my fourth decade, i am PAINFULLY aware of my single, childless existence. just in this 2011 there have been no less than two dozen marriage/baby announcements; this isn't bitterness, mind you; i want and will have those things-- that's non-negotiable-- but as the second author states, "we all have issues."

am i single? yes (although i've recently started dating a very nice man, so that could be up for debate in the near future). am i okay with it?

...

yea, i am. :)

catharsis.

in an ever-present need to find creative outlets, i think i'd like to start writing.

i haven't kept a blog for a few years, so we'll give it shot. additionally, there really something is in my head telling me to write down my stories/ramblings/musings.

goals: express my thoughts and frustrations in a healthy way. provide useful commentary on article, pictures, videos i find interesting in some way. work on my writing skills.

facts/stats: aged 27. 6'3". 197 lbs (as of this past weekend, wahoo!!). i teach high school english in cupertino. i am single (though working on it). i live in willow glen with clemente and ambrosia. i do not use capital letters very often.

that should do for now. i would like to update often; not just for myself but for the relief of those that follow me on thefacebook. this should be fun, though i expect it to be difficult at times, especially as i really start to explore what's going on inside.

andiamo!