an open letter

Inspired by the numerous open letters of my fellow bloggers, I chose to follow in their spirit of indirect candor.

To the detached-looking outdoor residents of San Francisco:

Excuse me. What are you on? Are you high? Faded? Fucked up? Or whatever the term of actualization may be for your particular substance of choice. Because the way you are walking/talking/behaving is completely unstable and leads me to assume that you did not Just Say No.

And what is that smell? It is like a potpourri of all kinds of body odors, in which the undertones of stale urine and underarm sweatiness are always clearly discernable. *gag* Let's leave that alone.

Despite what it may sound, my intention is not to judge you. I am merely trying to gain a better understanding of your mind set so that when you speak to me I know how to respond appropriately. Since you insist on talking to me. Help me help you.

How should I respond to:
- Ya’ll don’t have to kill me, because I’m going to kill myself.
- Don’t act like you don’t hear it. I know you hear it. You can’t ignore it. (It = the voices in YOUR head? Because, no I don’t hear it.)
- I see your blue underwear. (So what, okay! The waist in my pants is a little big. You don’t have to announce it for the world. *sniff*)
- Do you want a dollar? Just smoke it, man. (Wait, you are offering me money?)
Because my first reaction is going to be to quicken the pace of my walk while reciting a couple Our Fathers and a quick Hail Mary.

I mean, what happened to the normal ramblings of the people on the streets of Chicago and Denver.
- Can you spare some change?
- Hey sexy.
- Do you know that Jesus died for you?
I am accustomed to these remarks. I know how to handle them.

Then I realized that whether I acknowledge you or not, you keep talking. And the more you talk, the less I understand. Wait, why are you following me down the street? Hail Mary, full of grace...

In conclusion, do not mistake my silence for arrogance. Or confuse my unwillingness to look you in the eyes with ego. I ignore you not because I am stuck up or pompous.
Truth is I’m scared.

If you say, "I'm always yours"

Make me walk, make me talk, do whatever you please
I can act like a star, I can....

Z's & G's

It's a gorgeous Saturday afternoon. The sun is shining in all it glory. You are driving down the highway peacefully singing along with Justin. Dirty babe... Wait, you are distracted by what you see. 1, 2, 3...more than 30 of the mostly the same type of car speed by you on the opposite side of the road.
What the hell is going on?
It's a car run.
A what?
Let me explain. So, there are car clubs for people in the Bay Area who drive Nissan 350Z's or Infiniti G35's. They meet up and drive to different places together to hang out, talk, and admire each others cars. This particular run happens to be to Monterey.
These people have too much time on their hands.
You are probably right.

As I sit in the passenger seat of Jameel's G35 watching the world through my window, I pray for my safety.

By far the best part of the trip was when I got a chance to visit my favorite squirrels in Pebble Beach. They are incredibly friendly and will not hesitate to come right up to you. Because although there is a clearly posted sign instructing visitors not feed the animals, it is quite obvious that it goes mainly ignored.

Her milkshake brings all the boys to the yard

In case you were wondering

1. I LOVE peanut butter m&m's. Is that enough to explain why I have single handedly eaten 3 of the Halloween edition bags of these candies since I have returned to the States? It surely does not explain why I have eaten a whole bag today and nothing else. In my defense, that melt in your goodness bekons to me without remorse. Chocolate and peanut butter, each ingredient a stand alone taste delight, are even better when paired together. Yum.

2. She's a big one. A mighty big one. Ahhh! That song has been controlling my thoughts for days now. I know that it is completely inappropriate to sing in pulic, but try as I might I cannot seem to control it. Those lyrics dance around in my head and then flow from my mouth at all the wrong times. Thanks a lot Jade! And let's not forget to thank Flavor Flav for creating this ingenious combination of harmonious words. What can I say about Flavor of Love? I despise the ignorance that show portrays. Yet I am drawn to watch it, like watching a car crash with womens' dignity and worth going down in flames. Ring the alarm. Is this what American culture has come to? Flavor Flav has some serious nerve talking about anyone, specifically Like Dat, like that anyway, because he is no prize (and that is me being nice...oh hell, why start now. He looks like a burnt shriveled up raisin. And he behaves like a dirty old man. Bottom line: he disgusts me.) What is wrong with these people? She's a big one. A mighty big one. Look at how this is junk is influencing me. What is wrong with me!

3. Forever 21 is a great place to shop if you are in the mood to really look through their merchandise. Their stores are always organized so haphazardly. I suppose that they are going for that chaotic feel, because every Forever 21 store I have ever been in has been like that. It can be frustrating if you do not have the patience and/or time to sort through everything. Yesterday I was in the mood and I ended up finding some cute stuff with Jade's help.

4. The exfoliator Modern Friction from Origins is fabulous. It really works well to improve the texture and tone of my skin, preserving my sexy. Definitely worth the money. Note: Avoid the eye area. The sales woman wasn't playing, it really burns!

Happy Birthday!

girls, food, style (?)...what else could one wish for.

(no comment)

Lately I've been feeling like a complete waste of space.
But I guess things could be worse.

A sign that Colorado may want to make their GED requirements a bit more stringent:

{scene: chatting with an old friend on a warm summer evening, mid August, sitting outside my home in Grand Junction}

moi: Well, I will be leaving early next month for Paris.
old friend: Oh, cool. You know, I still haven't been on a plane yet.
moi (with a look of feigned disbelief): Really? Wow.
old friend: Yeah, but maybe I will come over to visit you in Spain.
moi: Ummm...right. (pause) Paris is in France.

I'm moody.

I cried this afternoon.
I laid with my face in a pillow and I cried.

I cried tears of despair.
Desiring to relive mistakes of the past.
Wishing that I was not constantly haunted by the ghosts of lost memories.
I accept what is done and over with. I accept what is out of my control. Let go already.

I cried tears of anxiety.
Afraid of the unknown and the uncontrollable.
Paralyzed by fear of failure.
It is time for me to stop questioning my worth.
I am powerful and capable of accomplishing all that I set out to do.

I cried tears of joy.
I put my faith in God.
No point on dwelling on long gone events of the past.
Or being apprehensive about what has yet to happen.
Because right now, in this moment, everything is perfect.

Head in the Clouds

Am I slow? Or do I prefer to dwell in denial?
Why did it take me so long to realize that I was leaving...

Leaving everything familiar and comfortable to me. Leaving the world I know behind in hopes of creating a better me. Why don't I feel the gravity of this situation? I don't know.

I see what is going on around me, but I feel s e p a r a t e d from it all. Nevertheless I go along with the motions. I fold clothes to pack into my suitcases and organize the books I want to take along. I attempt to gauge exactly what I will need to sustain myself for the following 9 months. I'm leaving. I think it, but I don't exactly feel it the way I would hope.

I have been expecting this move for months, why doesn't it seem real to me anymore? Is it resistance to change? No. I mean, I'm moving to find the new cheese. Waiting for the feeling, I continue going along with the motions. It will come to me in time. I reassure myself. This is normal...right? Upon arriving in Toronto, my dad and I fill out cards making our departure from the US official. No, not yet.

Sleep. Eat. Watch Nacho Libre. Sleep. Sitting on the plane on the final leg of the flight feeling like I'm going on "just another trip", I give up on feeling anything more. Stop over thinking it. Live it. I'm gazing out the window just as the plane touches down on the runway at Charles de Gaulle airport; the French guy seated behind me yells out "Paris!" and it finally hits me.

Contemplation often makes life miserable. We should act more, think less, and stop watching ourselves live.
~ Chamfort

Season of Change

The end of summer vacation consistently brings change.
Back to school. Moving. New clothes.
Old friends. New friends. Exchanging of summer memories.
The carefree ease of long summer days is replaced with structure and schedule.
But never without the promises of renewal and growth.
So as I wave goodbye to summer, I embrace the changes that are coming my way.

Continuity gives us roots; change gives us branches, letting us stretch and grow and reach new heights.
~ Pauline R. Kezer