Goodbye sir

We always knew our bodies die

But in this moment let me

Shed love

Your memory stays warm & deep

The love we had I’ll always cherish

You appeared in a moment

Left the same way

Now I’d love to hear you

Until we meet again my friend

Stay with me even though

our time has been stolen

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Don’ts

2014-05-01 08.59.53A list of Don’ts.

Growing up, my mother gave me Don’ts.  Never Do’s.  So, some of those don’ts are, as I now know, fucking stupid!

1. Don’t go to college.

2. Don’t have friends.

3. Don’t ever get married.

Who in the hell tells their daughter this bullshit?!  I mean, what the fuck kind of messed up thinking gets you to a point where you pass this kind of guidance down to your child?  Yes, guidance mom and dad.  This is what you were supposed to pass down to me, not just your son, the praised one.  And I get it.  If my brother ever reads this, he’ll just roll his eyes and be like whatever, because he’s heard it all before.  But as I sit back, and think about it.  He’s done so much better than I have because of it.

Oh, don’t get me wrong, me and my brother get along fine, always have.  But he was definitely the favored.  He was encouraged to have friends, they could spend the night and he could go out anywhere.  I was encouraged to not have friends but was never guided on how to make my way through life.  That’s something I had to learn on my own and am still working on learning now..

For starters, I am the only offspring from my parents that earned a Bachelor’s in Psychology.  I’ve gone the furthest because I eventually realized that my mom was WRONG.  In order to get anywhere, I needed to work yes, but I needed an education.  See, what no one realized is, I’m a very smart person.  Sometimes, I make stupid decisions, but who doesn’t?  But if I use my past and combine it with my formal education, shit – I’m Iron Man… without the money.  Mom was partially right.  I am currently looking at $60k in student loans from a school that I attended that lost accreditation, never helped me get a job and gave me a piece of paper that currently means nothing because the credits are not transferable.  Aside from getting my B.A., I did start my Master’s Program but I hated it and dropped it.  But with the amount of debt I still owe the government, yep, she was right in one part of that.

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However, if she’d known how to get me help in managing and maybe even avoiding this situation altogether, rather than discouraging me from the start, maybe I’d be in a different place, but whatever.  It is what it is.

My brother, from when I was young (he’s 7 years older than me) til this day has always had a strong social group.  The kind that he has had ups and downs with and still they remain friends, sometimes enter beer tastings together and do other things together.  I never understood how this was.  How was it, I grew up in the same house as him, but had no friends that I could really depend on?  So, I decided, very late in life, that I should have friends.  I don’t know what happened to my mom that made her angry, but it’s not my problem.  I now have a nice little community of friends that I hang out with.  Sometimes, they might judge me, individually, but for the most part, I feel in place.  There are a couple, of course, that I am a little closer with than the others, but nonetheless, we are in fact friends, I think.  🙂

Here’s some of them, not all my friends, but some of them for Game of Thrones night…

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My brother, the first and only offspring to get married.  From what I remember, my mom and dad were both so happy about him getting married.  So, why is it a don’t for me?  Well, whatever that was, it’s gone now.  My parents are dead and all they can do now is watch as I flip my own world upside down trying to find the right path and get my head on straight.  Maybe one day?  But then there’s that nagging itch I feel about having to settle down and never really knowing if I’ll be happy.  My mom, she didn’t seem happy to me.  I don’t want to be her.  Sorry!  But that’s not how I envision my own life.  End of life should be with someone I never want to be without, who knows all my dirty little secrets and I know his, and we still can stand each other at the end of the day.  If I’m lucky and he finds me.

But for now, all I have are a bunch of Don’ts stuck in my head from my mom and my craving for french fries with mustard.  The future only knows what’s in store for me.

To my daughter.

You are a princess.  You are smart, you are beautiful and you can make your way in this world with a smile of gold.  Because of you and your brothers, mommy has a stronger grasp on what she wants in life.  Because of you, mommy wants to consider marriage because you deserve a father who loves you more than life.  I’m sorry your father is an asshole, he always has been and that’s why we got along so well.  He doesn’t matter today but I know you yearn for his presence.  But, because of everything you are going through today with both mommy and daddy, you are going to be so strong and fierce.  I am excited to see you grow up.

Here’s my list of Don’ts for you.

1. Don’t forget to smile!

2. Don’t forget to keep your standards high!

3. Don’t forget to enjoy each day, as if it’s the last of the Earth’s gifts to you!

4. Don’t ever let anyone tell you you can’t!

5. Don’t forget to dance like no one’s watching and sing your heart out – Keep singing my little Christina Perri!

6. Don’t forget to be the youiest you you can ever be!

7. And if you ever end up in jail, Don’t forget that mommy will kick your ass!

2014-03-15 10.07.30

I’m hurt and I’m a survivor but I’m not invulnerable

I’ve come to the realization today that my feelings are hurt.  I’m hurt more than I ever thought I could be, especially without seeing it coming.  Not because things happened, not because things were said, but more because things are lost.  Lost deep inside the confines of my brain where I cannot retrieve them.  I’m hurt because things weren’t quite my fault and I don’t know how they got here.  But nonetheless,

I’m hurt.

It’s been quite some time since I last posted here.  I thought I was coming to the understanding of knowing something about my life and where I am going with it.  My last post here was November 13, 2012.  Since then I’ve had to come to the realization that my family is who I choose it to be and not who I’m related to.  I’ve realized that we all make mistakes and sometimes forgiving is so much harder when the other person won’t admit the problem.  I’ve lived with people who tried to control me, and I’ve been homeless.  But what gets me the most is,

I DESERVE BETTER!

I’m hurt today.  My feelings are hurt.  I have to remind myself that I do, in fact, have feelings.  It may come as a shock, to some, for me to say this because a lot of people wouldn’t understand.  Shit, most men wouldn’t understand.  I live so shielded by my own hurt and pain that most people see a facade of who I really am.  It was only recently that I saw some people I really enjoy seeing, jumped on them to say hello, and at that point I realized that I was feeling good and really happy to see those people.  Feeling good?  Such an odd thing to feel as a homeless person who has to argue with all the relatives to see her kids and has to figure out where to go every night to catch sleep.  Feeling Good!  But, I do, in fact, have those things they call feelings.  Today,

I feel hurt.

I met this wonderful man.  We had an amazing day together.  He cooked for me, treated me to dinner and never left my side the whole day, and into the night when we went out together, as friends.  When he cooked for me, I was so excited because I’m looking at this beautiful man thinking, gosh, this complete stranger is treating me so well and I can’t even land a boyfriend.  We spent the day chatting about relationships and spending the day in each other’s company.  Every now and then, I let my mind wonder about the possibility of dating such a man.  But I’m not that cute, and I’m definitely older and there’s no possible way that I could possibly appeal to someone like him or anyone, for that matter.  Yes, my self-image is FUCKED!  Plus, why would I bring someone into my world full of homelessness, abandonment and little mini spinning tornadoes of crap.

Last night, we talked and I explained to him that I use the word love very “loosely”.  From that, he felt that I love loosely, which is not the same.  You see, I don’t see love as a word.  I see love as actions.  And if you are trying your hardest to love someone and they just don’t show you that they love you back, then you can still love them, but you have to know to love yourself more to not be addicted to the other person you love.

My feelings are hurt!

You see, what I didn’t realize until today is that, I want to know what it’s like to be in man like that’s arms, in his kiss and in his warmth.  I want to know, and I semi-yearn for it.  I wouldn’t dare to want for so much, because it would be selfish of me to want this or any more than this.  It’s selfish.  I’m a selfish person who wants to take love and remember.  Retrieve the memories from the deep, dark pits of my brain that have been fried from too much alcohol and drugs.  I want to take what I deserve and never look back at the chaos I create behind me, as I always create some sort of chaos.

But then I remember Damien and how good his kiss felt and how he hurt me.  I remember Bryant and how I may have hurt him without meaning to and I realize, I don’t deserve this happiness right now.  I should be hurt.  I need to be hurt.  I need pain like I need air.  I’m a masochistic freak that needs to feel some sort of pain to make it through those things that people call emotions.  Without pain, there is no way I can learn the lessons.  I feel like I would only hurt this man by pressing forward with something that is more of an experiment than it is anything else.  He deserves happiness, and I hope he finds it.  But right now…

My FEELINGS are hurt!

Not from something he did.  I’m intentionally pushing him and my friend together because I honestly think that would work out better than anything I could offer had we had any genuine interest in each other outside of friendship and massive soul-searching talks.

I sit here with a tear in my eye, thinking, remembering and reminding myself that I need work.  I need to work.  But I need work.

There are several men that I’ve met over the past couple of months that I would love to be in a relationship with.  I’m a finicky gal who has both a desire and no desire to settle down and/or have a long-term commitment of any sort.  It’s confusing for me, even more than anyone else.

I love me.  I am worthy and I am beautiful.  I may not be the thinnest or the prettiest, but when you remove some of the shell into my heart and soul and open the doorway, I am so worth it.

My feelings are hurt because I allow them to be.  I allow things to happen and I grow and change all the time.  These are my truths.

 

Here’s some turtles…

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Work for one…

I’ve been sitting on this post, in my head, for a couple of days. Just building up to what I want to say. It’s hard for me because, I have to face a negative. A vice, one I’d rather live without.

FEAR…

Yes, I know we all have fear. However, I’ve never been the type to let it get to me or stop me. Today, it has.  I had the (un)fortunate opportunity, this year, of working in a position that I hadn’t done before.  The arrangement was made so that I would be given everything I needed to learn the position and


try my best at it.  A learning opportunity. I was excited and more than ready to learn. Through some strange events, nit only was I denied the information I needed, I learned nothing of the position and came out being told that they kept talking about replacing me the whole time. I really did try and those familiar to the situation said there was nothing I could have done to change the outcome… I was fucked from thee beginning.  I was blamed for things that were out of my control and kept in the dark on most decisions that affected the whole project.

"Consumer" by Clint Carney

On the bright side, I met a lot of wonderful people and had

a great time filming and seeing the story come to life.

The other day,i saw a posting for the same position.  No pay, which is ok, but I feel like I would do more damage than good. Not fair! I really shouldn’t feel this way!  Worse part is, someone I consider a friend and partner helped to put tho’s doubt in my mind. I can do anything!!! I know I can!  I went to school in 2002,a 26-year-old, single mother. I lived on welfare, part-time work, uncooperative family who told me to quit and work full-time, who kicked me out and made me homeless before I not only graduated from community college with an A.A. in Economics but I went on to graduate from a university with a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology! They all said I couldn’t! Since I was 10, I’ve been hearing about how I couldn’t, shouldn’t and wouldn’t. People trying to get into my head and stop me from what I want.

So then why let fear get me now?

I know exactly why. It’s because I’m now a 35-year-old single mother. My benefits at the job I don’t enjoy are so good, i’m afraid of losing them. Because I know how crappy welfare and medi-cal can be and how the doctors think less of you. Since I have little to no help from any of my exes, I’m scared of losing everything.

I do realize that I’m on the verge of losing everything anyways. In order to experience the changes that are inevitably coming, I’ll have to lose everything.  They say, when a woman cuts her hair, big changes are about to come. I haven’t cut my hair yet, but I feel the urge coming on.

Today, when I’m done with everything, I’ll sit down, do my homework and then read the book. Preparation will be the key to make myself and family happy.  Thank you for reading.

You let me down

When I needed you the most, you let me down. Now you are trying to come back and I’m not trying to be around.

 

Why is it that whenever we are on our knees (figuratively), begging and pleading for assistance from our so-called friends, they turn their backs?  They say they are too busy, they ignore us.  However, as soon as they have something going wrong, you are the first person they call and you have no issue with helping?  These are the same people who claim to live by a certain faith, religions belief system or moral system, yet they always show you different.


Trust me, I’m not bitter.  I’m just no longer blind, haven’t been for a while.


I will not, however, change being me.  In MMORPGs, I tend to play the cleric.  However, looking through the history of my life, have I not always played a cleric?  My best friend was a kid whose parents were alcoholics, they neglected him.  His uncle, who was the only male role-model he had, was a drug addicted gang-member who eventually took up religion and left my best friend fending for himself at the age of 12 or 13.  Of course, not before introducing my best friend to drugs and the gang lifestyle.  My family always marked my best friend as no-good, but I always saw the best in him and helped him whenever I could.  He was my play brother.


In and out of jail all our lives, as we got into our high school years, he would just disappear for months at a time.  I would hear from him as soon as he was in jail and as soon as he was out, I wouldn’t hear from him again.  At least, until the next jail episode.  


By the time we hit our 20s, he had a baby with a crack-addicted whore and had  introduced his sweet younger brother to crack.  My disappointment, by this time, was unbearable.  I couldn’t help.  I couldn’t fix what was done to him throughout his life.  I couldn’t erase what he did to his brother or what his child was born into.  Why he couldn’t change was beyond me!  The decision to have a child with a crack addict was beyond me.  There is this certain ignorance that surrounds this lifestyle that I have grown out of.  The ignorance of nothing else but these four walls (City limits, jail cells, home) that limits the thinking of the lower-income youth.  I say this because, the youth that has family who travel to places like Europe for the summer or New York for New Years Eve celebration fundamentally understand that these four walls are non-existent.


One day, in July 2008, I’m sitting in the car with my ex, a letter in my hand.  My best friend is back in jail again.  I sat there and told my ex what I wrote to my best friend and what I told to Cousin Eddie and what I’ll tell to you now…


“When I needed you most, you were not there for me.  When I was down on my luck, you weren’t my friend, you were nowhere to be found.  Now, you are down and you want to come around and talk to me.  You need me, you want me in your life.  Well, what about me?  What do I get out of this friendship?  Nothing.  It pains me to see this happen to you, things you could have changed but didn’t.  I hate seeing you addicted to the same drugs that you were doing as we were children.  I don’t want to hear the stories about how are childhood friends are still doing the same drugs and overdosing.  No one helped me when I needed money to put food in my baby’s mouth, no one was there.  No one cared.  I had to figure it out on my own.  I found ways to make money and I have taken care of my kid since day one.  Not you, me.  By myself.  I am a grown up and it’s time to be a grown up.  It’s time for you to grow up too.


I love you, I want you to take care of yourself but I can no longer care for someone who doesn’t care for their own self.”

Sometimes, it’s much harder to let go then it is to stay.  As is the case for my best friend and cousin Eddie.

Memory of the Rocket Man

I sat at a table with 3 of my friends/co-workers at this nice little chicken joint in Hollywood.  I, like usual, faced towards the door by the mirror with one friend to the right of me and the other 2 across the table.  There were plenty of people there, it was packed.  There was a line outside to get in, like usual.  We were laughing and telling jokes and talking about work, nothing unusual for our crowd of geeks.  We had just ran a Windows 95 update on all the computers and I had been busy fixing a bunch of floppy drives while that was going on.  Just the same old boring stuff, you know.

Across the way, the security guard smiled and began to greet this man who walked in the door.  The man greeted the security guard in return, very friendly, they knew each other.  When he turned my way, his good looks and nice smile overwhelmed me.  I needed to know who he was and needed to meet him.  5’9″, dark, clean-cut with a charming demeanor.  As I sat there, trying to not make myself to obvious, I thinking about whether or not I would find a way to meet him.

It was time to leave.  We grabbed the check and headed to pay.  As we stood there, the opportunity arrived when the security walked up.  Calmly and coolly, “Who is that you were talking to,” I say to him, “introduce me, yes?”  The security guard smiles and agrees without hesitation.  Tiger is his name.  We exchange phone numbers and part ways.  Even better, he’s super nice and even cuter up close and personal.

Months later, Tiger calls me over to his house in Los Angeles, CA.  We’ve known each other for a while by now, as friends, so I didn’t see a problem about going over and really wasn’t sure what to expect. He has told me some things about himself, including his work in music.   We went into the room in the backyard, the studio.  As we walked in I was a bit surprised to see Platinum records hanging from the wall, but maintained my cool.  It’s not like I haven’t been around others in that business, but this was a first for me, a studio in someone’s back room.  As we talked about things, here and there, he says, “Butterfly, I want to do something for you.”  He sits me down across from where the mic stand is and says, “be patient.”

He sets up the mic, pushes a button and in the background the track plays, its familiar at first.  As he stands in front of the mic, he starts to sing with a beautiful and perfect voice:

She packed my bags last night pre-flight
Zero hour nine a.m.
…It’s just my job five days a week
A rocket man, a rocket man

And I think it’s gonna be a long long time…

 

He did this dance with it, while he was singing.  He always sang but this was the first time a man had ever sang to me and it had to be a Tiger… (or a Lion, as he would call himself.  He would also have called me sheep rather than the Butterfly.)  Every time Elton John’s song plays, my mind goes back to that day, in that dark, home studio, where things were peaceful, me and him and him singing Rocket Man.  Where he described things that he thought were true and I argued with him that he was wrong.  Where he laughed and played with me, as friends do sometimes.

It has been a long long time Tiger.  It’s been a long, long time.