do’ vorrei andare...

MAY 5, 2008 entry taken from my previous blog

Recently, a good friend of mine sent out some photos of her new beautiful belly. No, she's not some psycho who is proud of being fat, but she is pregnant. She's absolutely too cute to boot in her temp body and it got me to thinking about some things. Two things that really struck a chord in me were: 

"...Do I recommend it? Without a doubt, though I think it's important to get all of your SELFISH DESIRES out of the way. I am very glad that I waited until later in life to begin my family because everything in life has become about the baby. So that fabulous VACATION to Costa Rica, Peru, Europe, Vegas etc. don't put it off. Do it now and enjoy it."

Another friend who got me thinking about this stuff was "J" who awhile back was hospitalized for meningitis. It was some scary shit for him, but his whole thing was "the world is worth exploring and life is too short to be strapped behind a desk." I was just in awe that he's following his motto or whatever you call it.

Then there was the Italian who came to dinner. Gianluca, had spent all this time in Mexico and then came to Austin with his street performance group. While they were here, they spent the whole time couch surfing. 

And yet another friend who I envy is Vato who in this past year took off to Mexico for a good 2 months, came home, went back and came back into the US on the West Coast went to the East Coast and came back and has now uprooted from Austin and is in Buffalo, NY. 

To put it plain and simple, I want to be that person. I want to be the person who just takes off con el viento. I don't want to be the person who has to prepare for a trip 6-12 months before. Unfortunately, I'm not that kind of person and I have all the places that I want to visit before I have children.

1. San Felipe, MX

2. Costa Rica

3. Macchu Picchu, Peru

4. Cozumel, MX...we're visiting the temples 

5. Dubai, UAE

6. the Alps, dunno which country though

7. Flagstaff, AZ..."Let's go skiing!"

8. Australia...once John and Kori get there

9. Buffalo, NY

10. Lund, Sweden...so close, yet so far

11. San Juan, Puerto Rico

12. IRELAND! If Mamma Rita can go, why can't I?

13. Bhutan, Russia, Greece, Turkey...these places would be kick ass to visit if I get the chance to.

And of course, ya'll know I want to visit the new Republik of Kosova but may have to wait till I can afford to adopt a child.

discriminazione di età

APRIL 2, 2008 entry taken from my previous blog

I look young; I know it. It’s never really bothered me. In fact, when I first started working at Brookside, the UPS man came up to the check-in window with a package, looked at me and said in an authoritative voice, "I’m gonna need someone 18 or older to sign for this." My smile turned into a pout and I said, "I’m 23." He said, "oh."

Like I said, it’s never truly bothered me becos it doesn’t happen often that people will question my education, experience, or other credentials. But when it does occur, it’s enough to ruin the whole day. 

I’m not the kind of person to linger on unpleasantries too long; however, my recent run in with an ageist left me a little upset.

One of my darling coworkers decided to schedule an "options counseling" and guess who got stuck with Little Mary Sunshine? Yours truly.

I had the pleasure of speaking with her and her spouse and her main concern was how to deal with feelings of sadness or depression. I told her that if she needed long-term help, I could provide her with resources. She paused and said, "If I needed phone numbers for psychiatrists or other counselors, I can do that on my own. I’m asking you what should I do." And she was rather rude about this. I toughened up and flat out said, "You came in here to find out what your options are, I WILL NOT make your decision for you."

The lady and her husband began to ask me questions about procedures and I answered them with ease. It wasn’t anything that couldn’t be answered over the phone. The lady was concerned about risks with her procedure and I addressed them and even informed her about additional risks regarding obstetrical history. She seemed kind of closed off, but was still asking good questions. Towards the end our discussion, I asked the lady if she was interested in an examination/scan by one of the nurses and the lady decided she would prefer it.

PERFECT! Get outta my face, Get Outta My Face, GET OUTTA MY FACE!

As I approached the front desk, I said, "I don’t ever want to speak to that lady again!" Something just didn’t sit right.

After lunch, Ann approached me and asked how I was doing. I told her I was fine up until the point that I had to talk to that lady. She then told me that as the patient was leaving she said, "I feel sooooo much better after having talked to you." Now, becos I love to joke about race, you would assume that I would be rash to say it was fueled by the fact that Ann is white and well, I am not. But that wasn’t even the case, Ann is older and has more "life experience" than I do; however, I gave that lady all the correct answers. Ann even confirmed that during her "session" with this nut job, the lady would ask a question, Ann would answer it, and the lady’s husband would say, "That’s what the counselor told you. You already asked that question." Ann said that this happened for every question the lady asked.

That upset me simply becos I’m a confident, educated, professional, young woman who was completely discriminated against becos I’m not 40/50-years-old. I understand that with age comes wisdom, but this lady was 40-years-old and was still acting like a child. I wanted to take her face in my hands and shake some sense into her. I would have offered for another counselor to speak with her, but the other gals are even younger than I am. I wanted to scream at her, "Guess What! Other 40/50-year-old women don’t want to deal with your shit! They don’t want to talk to you about your vagina issues! They have better things to do!" 

After the initial frustration, I tried to joke about it. But it just got to me, ya know? I’ve come across plenty of ageist, but this one just stuck with me. I guess most other times I have no validation from other observers; however, this time I had proof and two parties who could account for the discrimination. 

Ugh, I guess I just had to get this out. 

* the term "lady" is used very loosely in my article.

le donne di Kosova

MARCH 28, 2008 entry taken from my previous blog

The other evening I attended the Vagina Monologues at my old alma mater. This was my second year to attend the event and I have to say I was looking forward to it. My BFF and her sister are truly passionate about women’s rights and how to prevent violence against women, so the Vagina Monologues were right up their alley.

I remembered the majority of monologues, but there was one that made me cry last year and got me bawling this year. As you may have noticed, I have a great respect and interest in Kosova. I have had the great pleasure of meeting people from this now independent country and have been even more fortunate to have these people share their stories. Now this next story is extremely sad in my eyes, but it depicts some of the horrific experiences women have had to experience…especially in times of war.

So this is dedicated to the brave women of Kosova…

My vagina was my village

An extract from Eve Enlser’s Vagina Monologues

My vagina was green, water soft pink fields, cow mooing, sun resting, sweet boyfriend touching lightly with soft piece of blonde straw.

There is something between my legs. I do not know what it is. I do not know where it is. I do not touch. Not now. Not anymore. Not since.

My vagina was chatty, can’t wait, so much, so much saying words talking, can’t quit trying, can’t quit saying, oh yes, oh yes.

Not since I dream there’s a dead animal sewn in down there with thick black fishing line. And the bad dead animal smell cannot be removed. And its throat is slit and it bleeds through all my summer dresses.

My vagina singing all girl songs, all goat bell ringing songs, all wild autumn field songs, vagina songs, vagina home songs.

Not since the soldiers put a long thick rifle inside me. So cold, the steel rod cancelling my heart. Don’t know whether they’re going to fire it or shove it through my spinning brain. Six of them, monstrous doctors with black masks shoving bottles up me too. There were sticks and the end of a broom.

My vagina swimming river water, clean spilling water over sun-baked stones, over stone clit, clit stones over and over.

Not since I heard the skin tear and made lemon screeching sounds, not since a piece of my vagina came off in my hand, a part of the lip, now one side of the lip is completely gone.

My vagina. A live wet water village. My vagina my hometown.

Not since they took turns for seven days smelling like faeces and smoked meat, they left their dirty sperm inside me. I became a river of poison and puss and all the crops died, and the fish.

My vagina a live wet water village.

They invaded it. Butchered it

And burned it down.

I do not touch now.

Do not visit.

I live some place else now.

I don’t know where that is.

le mie avventure in H.E.B.

JANUARY 28, 2008 entry taken from my previous blog

My household was in dire need of groceries and as much as I hate crowded areas; I love my H.E.B. It's ethnic, there are people that look just like me and there are people that stick out like sore thumbs. Folks either approach me speaking Spanish and others in English. As you venture in the place, you have your produce and bread on the right, the frozen foods towards the middle left and random, non-food products on the left. The meat section covers the backside while the seafood area is barely noticeable.

Most of the time, I make my way around at a leisurely pace tuned into my iPod. Today's choice of music was Oasis becos I was feeling nostalgic. There was nothing out of the ordinary today. There was an African American lady who kept on swatting around her face in the baking area. She was trying to get away from a moth and we chuckled together becos she realized how crazy she looked. Then in the alcohol aisle I spent a good while trying to pick a decent red and white. Well, in the midst of this, an older man was doing the same and at the check out line, we discussed our picks. I mentioned that I wanted the Coppola Rosso & Bianco, becos I absolutely love his red, but it's $15 and this one was only $7. It's a steal.

Well, after seeing that other lines were shorter, one of the staff members moved me to another line and I met an unhappy lady. First off, there was a crackhead who dragged the cashier to the tobacco wall to get some snuff. When they came back, he scanned it at $3.99 and the crackhead only had $.69. WTF???!!?!?!?! How are you gonna go to the store without enough money? He was nice enough to purchase the rest of it for her. Meanwhile the grumpy lady is talking to me in Spanish and saying, "He's taking too long." I smiled back and said, "At this time of the day, I expect to have a wait." She just frowned and said, "No, he's taking too long."

Ugh…

So that lady left and it was my turn. I smiled, made small talk, and tried to put out some positive energy to make up for that negative woman. Once we were done, both the cashier and bagging person asked if I needed help to the car. "I'm fine. I got it," I said. That's when the guy bagging my groceries looked me straight in the eye and said, "I just had to say you have such a beautiful smile."

I blushed.

"And you have pretty eyes, too."

I'm sure I turned red. But I said "thank you" and walked to my car.

It was a good day and that comment made it even greater. So I came home and cooked penne pasta with alfredo sauce mixed w/ ground beef and spinach. We enjoyed salad and a nice little dessert concoction of cake, vanilla ice cream, and a berry mix with whipped cream on top. I was feeling extremely productive today.

nei suoi occhi

SEPTEMBER 11, 2007 entry taken from my previous blog

"Ugh, there's no parking," she sighed. She was wondering why there were so many people, when usually it was rather calm at this time. She drove around the block and eventually found a spot near the library. With picnic and blanket in hand, she proceeded to the park eyeing the perfect spot.

It was one of those moments where you see what you want and hope no one else has noticed your discovery. The kind of moment where the closer you get, the more you envision someone else swooping in and stealing your desire. Okay, maybe that's too psychotic, but someone out there understands that feeling.

Things were going well; low humidity, nice breeze, a sense of excitement in the air. The conductor stepped up to announce the evening's pieces. Today's show consisted of the audience's big band picks. This evening proved to be promising.

The show kicked off with a timeless crowd pleaser, In the Mood as recorded by the Glenn Miller Orchestra followed by String of Pearls.

Still no sign of him.

By now she was trying her hardest to focus on the music; but in the back of her mind she was kicking herself for getting her hopes up. It was too good to be true. Was he really planning on showing up or had he backed out? Did he in fact show up and discover that he wasn't too keen on what he saw?

"He's not coming," she thought to herself. She could feel her level of self confidence quickly diminish as Here's That Rainy Day began to play. What is it about that trumpet that helps put things into perspective? Or maybe it's the sultry voice of the singer, executing each not to perfection. The emotions of that song were so real, one could touch them. And yet, it obviously was interpreted differently by the different groups of people at the park. You have your couples in love, your new families enjoying the classics, your swingin' singles enjoying the people watching, the college kids who need extra credit, and…her.

Niente. Nulla.

Alone, silent and becoming more and more discouraged with each note, she popped open the basket. She sighed, "Well there's no sense in lettin' this go to waste." How else can one enjoy Begin the Beguine than with a salad that would have looked sadder had she waited any longer? But then the music started picking up and the classic 1930's piece filled the air with a fabulous drum beat. Sing, Sing, Sing (With a Swing) by Louis Prima sure helped to pick her spirits up and put a little bounce in her mood. And I just have to say that that's the glory of music…it can pick you up when you're down. A minute and a half into the song, the drums caused her hands to mimic their beat and her shoulders to sway from side to side. For those brief five minutes, she was lost in the past. During days where mostly everything seemed less complicated than today's world.

She envisioned herself in a dimly lit dancehall with paper stars hanging down from the ceiling and Christmas lights decorating every inch. The band was clearly visible on the stage and in hearing the music she couldn't help but get excited. What must it have been like to experience history in the making? She pictured seeing the people around her get up and create a whole new genre of dance and moves to fuel the emotion met through this song. A new era of music was being born and transformed before her eyes. And even if it was just a fantasy, she couldn't help but deny this beautiful scent that enveloped her.

"I must have a truly great imagination," she thought. She was transported to a wonderful time in music. And that's when Tommy Dorsey's I'm Gettin' Sentimental Over You began to play.

In opening her eyes, she discovered the source of the scent and a hand asking for hers.

She was shocked!

She was surprised and in looking for an answer…

she found it in his eyes.

She grabbed his hand, he smiled that familiar smile, and he escorted her to the grassy dance floor. Not a word was said between the pair, but they danced heart to heart with an occasional twirl. They stared into each other's eyes intensely and she could tell he was apologizing for being late.

Come Fly With Me played and the dancing didn't stop there.

"Hi, I'm Albert. I never expected ime zemra to be so beautiful. Forgive me, zemër?"

"Po, Of course. You're finally here, what else could I ask for?"

They didn't need complicated words to fill their conversation. Years of communication had brought them to this point. This was the moment they were waiting for. To finally have the chance to hold on to the one they had been dreaming about. It was pure luck that his work had him visit Austin for the weekend becos Lord knows she had been trying to save for a flight to Lund.

He leaned in and softly sang in her ear:

"…That's why darling, it's incredible

that someone so unforgettable

thinks that I am

unforgettable too."

They kissed and her heart beat so fast, she knew this is what she wanted. The thought of him slipping through her fingers was intangible. How could she go about her normal routine after having introduced him into the equation? It would be near impossible, but these are the sacrifices one sometimes makes.

They continued talking that evening, well into the wee hours of the morning. This dream was near its end, and the mood amongst them grew somber.

"I have to finish packing, zemra."

"e di," she sighed.

After saying their farewells, he reminded her that this was only the beginning and there was definitely more to come. She sensed he spoke the truth becos she saw it in his eyes. But of course you can only imagine that the drive between his hotel and her house was the longest drive ever. Funny, but it seemed to be longer than the trip between Texas and Sweden. Filled with such heaviness, she didn't know what to do but cry.

____________________________

It was difficult to drive through her tears and her heart breaking. But as she drove up, there was a bouquet on her doorstep filled with gerberas, roses, and button mums. And tucked neatly away was an envelope addressed to her. The card simply read…

të dua shumë zemra ime

and behind that a one-way ticket with her name on it.

She frantically dialed the hotel.

"Room 625…please be there, please be there, please be there…" she muttered.

The phone continued to ring in his room.

"Po?"

"edhe unë ty!"

TAG!

SEPTEMBER 7, 2007 entry taken from my previous blog

TAG! You're It! (myspace blog game)

RULES OF THE GAME:
1. Each player starts with 8 random facts/habits about themselves.
2. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their 8 things and post these rules.
3. At the end of your blog, you need to choose 8 people to get tagged and list their names.
4. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they are tagged and to read your blog.

These are eight facts about me:

1. I speak English, Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese...PLUS, I'm learning Albanian (Shqip)

2. I HATE talking on my cell phone.

3. I have a devout fear of drowning/suffocating.

4. I once laughed so hard in my sleep, that I woke up myself and my mom in the next room.

5. I used to hate thick Spanish accents when speaking English so much that I would fantasize about kicking them in the head...i.e. my cousin's ex BF

6. I lettered in Golf.

7. I've had my yahoo account since 1998 thanks to my English teacher, Mrs. Bates.

8. I'm scared to visit Scandinavian countries for fear of Neo-Nazis.

le lacrime hanno scorso

AUGUST 15, 2007 entry taken from my previous blog

AUGUST 2006 - Let's see…it was a little over a year ago that Nani called and asked to take me out on the town for my birthday (a week after the actual day). Hey, is it too much to ask for your own sister to remember your birthday? I didn't mind it, after all this would be a night of barhopping with my big sis.

The big day arrived and lo and behold, Nani shows up in sweats. I figured she was gonna get ready at the apartment and then we'd head downtown. WRONG! Her main purpose for visiting was not the fun she so promised. On the contrary, it was to tell me that mum and pops were getting divorced. That memory will forever live on in my mind and no matter how hard I try to ignore the reality, it's evident that we're no longer a family.

I decided to call my folks and confirm the details and sure enough they were true. Mum and Pops felt it better to have my sister tell me as opposed to face me themselves. It was only a day later that my denial disappeared and the tears flowed.

SEPTEMBER 2006 - I called to see how my folks were doing on their "anniversary." The two psychos decided to celebrate their 35th anniversary becos "technically, we're still married" was their excuse.

For the life of me, I couldn't figure them out. They were divorcing and the best of friends. Mum decided to move out of the house and Pops bought her a new TV to christen her new place. Mum also found enough time to cook an occasional meal for Pops and help him tidy up the place. Years of memories these two shared and a strong bond forged amongst them.

But how do a 25 and 34 year old get over their parents divorcing? It's not as though it was an abusive relationship. No physical, no mental, no emotional abuse. No hard feelings, but our parents expressed a long for the pursuit of happiness. And it begs the question, "Where was the happiness before?" Was it non-existent? Was it a different type of happiness? What was it?

I saw my parents' marriage as a template for my own marriage. I was to follow their same plan to fortify that I could one day achieve 35+ years of marriage with my spouse; but for what purpose? This situation left more questions than answers and the questions keep on multiplying.

NOVEMBER 2006 - My sister made it clear that my brother-in-law did not want to host Thanksgiving, Pops wasn't sure what his plans were, and Mum wanted to spend it with her mother. I didn't see the point in going home, so I didn't. Yet, that evening I decided to call to my sister's house only to find out that both Mum and Pops had stopped by and they were enjoying their holiday. I was jealous. I was sad. I was confused. I was angry. But most of all, I wanted to be sitting in my sister's house, seeing Pops passed out in front of the big screen watching old westerns, discussing life w/ my Mum and Nani, and catching up w/ my nieces. But I was miles away and unable to join them…and the tears flowed.

DECEMBER 2006 – The divorce was final and no one told me anything. I only found out after my mother said that she had started seeing someone new. It raised questions and as far as I know, she met Phil after the divorce.

________________________

I'm scared to go home. I can't bring myself to go back there. The furthest I get is to my sister's house in Creekwood. The last time I went to that God forsaken town was when my bestfriend got married in Uvalde, in 2005. I have no need to go back there. There is absolutely nothing waiting for me there…only Mum and Pops. Why would I want to visit my house if my Mum isn't there? Why would I want to visit her new place if my Pops isn't there? It's not the same and as much as I want to forget all of this, my heart aches from heartbreak and anxiety becos there is not a damn thing I can do to remedy the situation.

The terms of the divorce are absolutely ridiculous and should never have been agreed upon. The very thought that my Pops will have to sell the house that he's slaved over his entire life to pay my mother her half. Don't get me wrong, I love my Mum, but had the situation been reversed I would have these same feelings if my Mum had to sell the house to compensate for the half. Becos of the agreement, my Pops has to pay my Mum 50% of the buying price becos my Mum is "selling" her half to my Pops so that he can stay there. That house is not worth what it used to be. My Pop's dream was to buy a house, pay it off, grow old, and enjoy his years. My Pops can't afford and I definitely can't afford it w/ my new mortgage. So he must sell the house. I now realize that my folks threw away 20yrs worth of paychecks, they must now start paying "rent", move to the city to be closer to work, and the cycle continues. No rest, must work to get by and pay bills and rent. That work was supposed to be over for them and sadly it's starting over.

Fast forward to the present. I finished talking w/ my sister who is waiting for my brother-in-law to get served. She tells me that Mum had come over to her house and was more than upset becos Pops told her not to come over to the house anymore and to give him back the key, too. We think Pops is seeing a lady from work who is also rumored to be a Jehovah's Witness, and maybe this lady is uneasy about the friendship my folks have. Frankly, I'm not happy about Pop's lady friend. I think of myself as a pretty open-minded person, but I'm not happy about the lady's religion. I don't agree with it when it affects my family. I don't want her to date my father. I don't want her to join my family becos then she will have final sayso over his health. After the whole Selena scandal, I think it's safe to say that if my father needed a blood transfusion I WOULD NOT DENY him one. We have the technology, let's use it PEOPLE!

I was furious at the news my sister had and decided to call my father. Our conversation was normal and nothing was resolved. There was no conflict there. And when I asked when was a good time to visit, he said "anytime, your mom has the key so if I'm not here, she can let you in."

So since there was no drama there, I called my Mum and she was fine. She didn't mention a single thing about the key. But she brought up the fact that the last time she was at Pop's that she saw an invitation announcing a birthday party for my father, my late grandmother, and another aunt on his side. Okay, I understand if my mother wasn't invited, but we're his daughters! Where's my invite? Why am I soooooooo mad? I don't even like Pop's family! I hate all of them except for my Tio Nene and my Tia Rosi.

It's my own damn fault. I've isolated myself from that world. I left that world and never looked back. I don't even talk to my Mum's side of the family, but I have no hard feelings there. I'm content w/ my life in Austin. And I've realized that the only reason I don't talk to my immediate family as much as I used to is becos it makes me sad. In my mind I see my parents in their house, sharing their dinners and growing old together. I see them doing everyday things together and now that's gone. I can't come to terms that they are seeing other people and that they're probably doing those very things I listed, but with other people. I can't get over it and it makes me sad and I choose to ignore that part of my life. I choose to live in Austin, I choose to not call home every other day or every week for that matter. I choose to not cry. I choose to not dwell on the house crisis. I choose to be ignorant of the ongoing dilemma. Ignorance is bliss or else the tears flow. And through all of this, my zemër lies halfway across the world.

If you even get half way through these ramblings…thank you. I don't know how else to get my frustrations out. I tried to guide the events, but the last page is chaotic.