Dietsome

Today Up to Date:

Breakfast:

1 fried egg (vegetable oil)
1 slice of white bread (toasted, with butter)
2 slices of bacon (microwaved)

Lunch:

7 chicken nugget pieces
1 Caesar Salad (with croutons and dressing)


Obsessive? Maybe... but millions do this too and no one gets killed because of it, I guess. Feeling a bit under the weather but thankfully the workplace hasn't made it worse.

Plans for the afternoon and evening are:

Shop for a pair of tennis shoes
Log onto the net and send those two resumes I marked for revision
Watch Godfather 3 (because Shame On Me I haven't yet)


BTW: watched Shaun of the Dead last night at Pepe's ... had a good time, but the under-the-weather attack came right in the middle of it all ... maybe some people noticed me a bit quieter, well, if you read this, worry not. I am fine, I will be fine.

And to that little person who can't muster up the energy to return a fucking smile: FUCK YOU! (just because you're pretty doesn't mean you can be uncivil, you sour bitch!)

ON AMBITION

ON AMBITION

Since I was a little girl, I refused to join into the rat race. Kids were scrambling all over each other to be the most intelligent, the most athletic, the prettiest, the fastes, the richest, the coolest, the most popular kid. I was always content to live a happy life with my parents, to indulge in my own nonsensical fantasies. I was happy to revel on the surroundings that fed those fantasies and gave scenery to my perennial world of make believe. I was a self-sustaining child, feeding off faerie dust.

As I grew up, my outwardly colorful personality (the princess, the ballerina, Alice in Wonderland and dark-wicked-with-wife-to-Darth-Vader all rolled into one) rolled inward, ensconced in itself and simple began the cocoon process.

Then I just wanted to become beautiful (never the most beautiful, just beautiful enough to be loved). Music came into my journey, a silky thread of plucked harpstrings and liquid voices, coiling around the pulpy, pale center that was my unfinished soul.
I really don't know when the cocoon burst open, maybe it silently ripped into the night, and contrary to my initial wishes, not the butterfly seeped out, but the moth... into the darkness, I am sure. That's what swirls and laces my wings with sorrow.

Even throughout those times when I stashed away all trascendental feelings and thoughts, I was never ambitious enough to join into the rat race wholeheartedly. I watched as my friends stomped their feet and declared with a firm voice what they wanted to be, hollered into the vast city air that they were important too. I was content enough to revel into the simple pleasures of sex, drinks and trivial good times. I might have made a good call girl then.

Today I have little by little become horrified with what ambition does to some, but I have the distinct feeling that I have surfed all this time right by the shore. Career-wise I am at best undecided, at worst... a weakling. But sentimentally... I believe that to be my core: my feelings, watery emotions that bathe the rest of me. That part has been becoming my strongest asset and my weak spot altogether for the longest time.

No ambition... but love to give by the loadful.

Singing Tangos at 2 AM.

Surrealism defeats itself in purpose. While it is not the norm, it is however part of our lives, part of reality. Can't be surreal if it's already happenning.


Singing tangos at 2AM while having insomnia is not surreal. It is certainly weird. And it proved to be way more romantic than your proverbial dinner at Chez Francois Restaurant de le Merde.

It is not possible to ennumerate the number of silly things Eze and I did night before last, or even to account for how silly those silly things were. I can only assure that we had fun... that I had fun enough to be reminded of why I want to spend the rest of my life with the big, cute, adorable lug that is my boyfriend. I felt again the way I had on our first date, even before we had gotten together, a night I was surprised to find out how compatible I was to someone I had until recently considered as "just a friend".

Nights like that one and the one before last are the ones that feed the love and not the lust. Nights that lose us sleep without us noticing, and we don't regret it, even if the day after we're dragging our asses to work at 7AM. Priceless nights, more priceless than that piece of shitty rock from Zales, more priceless than the priceless vacations Mastercard wants you to have. These nights are the ones that compose happinness, make the world go round and make it worth the discomfort in-between.

These are the nights of our lives ...

Collaborating

Although it wasn't much, if you consider the content-oriented meaning of it, I do feel like I did something to some extent meaningful and helpful in a place other than work.

Today I helped Eze with tonight's program recap for the website and also with some photos I took of him and his guests. Even if what I did changed in very little what is offered over the radio waves to the thousands of listeners out there, I felt more involved (and in a sense more alive) into something I do care about, than I have in a long while. I'd say it's almost comparable to the sensation I used to get when I was taking interior design courses. I felt useful and purposeful in a way that was actually meaningful to me.



Finally I feel this way again, maybe I have just found a way to exorcize the anxiety over not being "part of it". Yeah ... finally feeling a bit stronger and more in focus, not losing sight of who I really am and what I'm really about. Thanx, Eze!

Dreaming of Morning Sickness

The other day I dreamt I was pregnant. In essence, the notion scares the shit out of me, but the dream itself left a residue, a funny feeling that had long been forgotten in a buried recess of my heart.

Suddenly I remember the warm and fuzzy feeling that invaded me a bit over 5 years ago when I learned I was pregnant. A feeling of internal peace mixed with anxiety over what would my fate be as a single mother... I still remember what it felt like to NEVER feel alone, no matter where I went, a silent small presence filling your every moment... a comfort, to be honest.

The physical aspect of the whole 2-month-old ordeal wasn't half bad either. More interesting than unpleasant. Although I've never relished feeling nauseous, the rest of it felt like floating inside a bubble, far from everything surrounding me, strangely peaceful, introspective and light.

Truth is, I do not want a kid. I am not into the "being a mother" business, and it is very unclear to me at the time wether I will ever be. But since that dream, I remember more clearly how unearthly it felt to be pregnant ... and I do know that I would like to carry a pregnancy out to fruition sometime in my life, even if I do not keep the kid. Seems like a very selfish thing to want, but hey! Not all feelings that spring forth from our hearts have to be generous to be genuine.

Cheers to having another life inside, even if it is only for a little while!

Bare-hearted

Lately I've been reminded more than once that my weaknesses are showing a seam. Tears pour out with astounding ease and I tend to feel lonely and hopeless more often than I should. Sounds like a depression. Might be one. But the truth is that this particular set of circumstances, the combination of settings in my emotional life, my work life and my reaction to both is very new to me.

The simple fact that at last I am learning how to segregate my personal life from my work is a feat unprecedented. I usually not only found myself feeling at home in my workplace by 3 months into my position. I also used to find myself in the very awkward situation of having an affair with a coworker by that time. A sickly habit, I know. But it was a tendency that somehow made my workdays exciting.

I don't want that anymore, and it hasn't been difficult to keep myself from that, for a number of reasons. First, I am deeply in love, happily, even if my other half sadly keeps doubting it. This is a relationship I want for keeps (whatever that means). This is one person I see myself making a life with, and he knows it, although I don't know if I have made myself entirely clear. Sometimes I think I might not have.

For the other part, my workplace is entirely professional in the sense that even if we make jokes and kid around a bit, there's always this fine line between what we are in the job and what we become after punch-out time. All around me, and myself included, cherish that separation. It keeps us sane, I guess.

And then there's me looking out for myself. Maybe I finally learned that the workplace is no place to be fooling around. I guess the experience with H. proved that and drove it home deeper than I thought at first. I am glad this happenned. It does prove to keep you saner.

But still, problems bubble closer to the surface. Not with the workplace, although there are days in which I passionately hate my job (more the office than anything else), but in my personal life. Those evident weaknesses, my underbelly exposed. Or not?

I don't know about everyone else, but when I fall in love I happen to become vulnerable to the person I fall in love with. It's part of the trust I place in that person. You trust and you become vulnerable to whatever failure of that trust happens. And even if no failure happens, you become exposed to the person you love. I think it's part of human nature, or at least part of my own nature. No matter how much you get hurt, once you cross the line between just plain dating/liking/flirting with a person and loving, all the outer shell you've built around yourself crumbles. It's a delicate situation, yes. But inevitable.

Does this make one weak? I wouldn't think so. It takes strength to let go again after a long time without loving truthfully, after a time when you don't really get involved, no matter if you've gotten your brains banged out, you still sit up after that and look at the person beside you and are able to say without quiver or fear in your voice "You regret this, don't you?" and even if you get a resounding "Yes!" you don't regret it yourself ... I know I already learned what sex without love is, what craving after a person that doesn't like you does to you, how loving someone who prefers you as a plaything changes you forever ... I know where my strength lies. But where the heart is concerned I'd rather leave that acid and cynical side out. Loving doesn't kill my tough spots, it just covers them, I guess.

But being told... once and again ... it starts rubbing the underbelly into a tough spot itself. I don't want that. I don't wanna become this big tough callused person. I guess this is where the real strength has to step in and confront whatever I don't believe true about myself.

I am not any weaker. I am just more vulnerable and exposed to those who have obtained my trust. And if a failure to that trust has just made a tiny cut into my underbelly, expect some blood to come out. It's logical, isn't it?