I don't want to. No, no, no.

I will not call you. Since when does "hang out and chill" have any sort of appeal to me?

Will I ever get through to you [men]? I know what you want and I don't want to give it to you. Hanging out with you doesn't appeal to me when hanging out means being naked on your bed. I don't want to go over to "watch" a movie. And then they get offended, what makes me think that they want to have sex with me?...I am not sorry if I offended you.

I didn't fall back then when I was a kid. I knew what was happening, although I claimed not to know, I had an idea. But it was very difficult for me not to go there to watch a movie. When I started to notice and name who I was being in his life it was too late. I had already thrown myself in a well and was deeply in love. I was so in love that 5 minutes with him was a bitter happiness that lasted years to come. At the end, yeah, it was what it had been "nothing"...but for me, those 5 minutes from his time meant everything.

That was back then, with that one guy, under those circumstances. Unfortunately for you, that is not the case.

Wherever Anthony is right now, I would like to tell him that I have come into conclusion that I agree with him. A woman is not a man, and a man's body could be whatever, but a woman's body is a house. I am guessing I haven't invited you into my house, what makes you, Mr. Nobody, think that I will go into yours to sleep with you when I don't have the slightest desire for you?

Call me that, what you wish, to call me. Go on and say that I am weird, strange, selfish, stuck up, a bitch, a loner. Psycho-analize me and say that I don't let people in, that I am afraid of intimacy, that I don't know how to be close to people, that I am not normal, that I should let myself be young...etc. etc. etc. My issues and I, many things that you don't understand about me and I don't feel like telling to half of you out there on your knees begging the abnormal woman in front of you for such thing as sex. I don't see why sex becomes my personality once I don't want to give it.

In their spite, they intend to insult me. The "smart" ones go for the mind bending games who tend to be hurtful. They meet me and I am sweet, funny, intelligent and then I become this bitch of a person because I am afraid of intimacy. Things like that have brought tears in my eyes, as it reflect the pain of growing close to someone, trust that person, have the intention to open yourself, and even open yourself to them and then realize that everything is a lie. Sex was at the beginning, middle, and end of his intentions, but you realize too late as Little Red Riding Hood is eaten by the wolf. I may be made out of wood, but once the wood was part of a tree that was chopped down. Nothing you [men] say to me will make me want to sleep with you for casual reasons.

Oh, and stop trying to get into my head to beat me morally. I may be a case for a shrink but it hasn't distorted my perception and if I say all this and refuse to get naked with you it is because I feel that you have to respect my body as much as you say that you respect me.

You can look all you want, but it doesn't mean that I will let you touch.

Did I write this?

"People create art with their fingers on canvases. Art comes through to us dancing our folklore music or swaying across the floor to a rhythm your heart and body can only explain by following the beat. Art, either as an object captured by the lenses of a camera or by the sight of a five year oldies masterpiece with crayons comes to awaken our most innate thoughts and I feel that modeling is this as well.

Models are a canvas of true artistes..."

It didn't continue from there, but I must've been writing a cover letter or something. I have never felt fearful about plagiarism because I always came up with my own silly writings that earned me B's for work that weren't ever proofread (always felt important with my uncanny ability nobody sees). From March 14 to May 7 seems like a long, long, long time. I have come, but haven't written and started to complain about that a month ago. But I am a serious procrastinator.

So much for discipline and people like me being consistent, THAT MAJOR obstacle that I can't get over: Consistency. Yes, I've written important things that haven't had an ending and then I lost motivation to write.

Am I reliable? Only when I need something, but I am a disgusting being who is very nice at heart and has the full intention of working harder than anyone she knows. But I am not consistent sir, I don't seem to have a definite plan, no discipline and I am started to doubt my determination. I am a pure human being and very animalistic and primitive...very, very basic.

What can I say? it has gotten to me people. I have wanted to reach out, but deemed it not necessary as I considered that I had nothing new to say. But at 1:27 AM, I found it necessary to break the ice.

The guy from Spain came, saw all of New York City, the very parts I love and left. We kissed every morning and every time we could and it was wonderful to feel so alive under situations and circumstances where one has to hide and steal kisses, touches, caresses and everything else. With jealousy and everything, I enjoyed it.I live for forbidden moments like those, they make me feel so passionate... so intuitive...so seductive...so ho'ish...so...so...so IN LOVE...and then the slight fear that it's just lust and that if I had him then I wouldn't want him. Does he feel the same?

Nothing came and left, ten years of having my so-called period and I didn't even remember to celebrate, only a couple of days later. Hmmm. I had planned to get pregnant from my foreign lover because I am looking for reasons to live for something/someone that would truly motivate me in making sacrifices to reach heaven and bring it back to Earth for that one (or 2 or 3) thing/baby. My own ambition doesn't seem like enough, I want a baby! I wanted to make that HUGE mistake most girls my age and culture make and blame it on the baby if I don't ever get to make it. More than all of that, I want to take care of my baby and all. It was mating season...

But people like me have a major problem picturing LONG TERM RELATIONSHIPS. No pregnancy because although I fantasize about being pregnant, I don't fantasize in bringing a baby in the circumstances I am in because I don't want to feel like it could ever be a boulder in the middle of the way. And people like me just don't get pregnant that easily or get to keep the baby or babies. No Mommy material?

I cut my hair down to a Katie Holmes style, only to later realize that I wanted to look like Victoria Beckham's hair and that I actually liked my long hair. With my pajamas and the hair I can't help but feel like Jodie Foster. (OK, I know I am too black to feel like her but I do!). I wanted to look like Nicole from PCD and ended looking like no one I know, but myself with short hair.

My teenager self would've been very excited. Deep down where I buried her, she is. "I have short hair, I have short hair!" Now what? Are you foxy enough with you bob?

It was to welcome my 24th Birthday and the new niece. Whoo-hoo! Yeah, right. I am growing into my new haircut though. I am. I had 6 cakes and 3 gifts. Carvels, Basking Robbins, Dominican, Tres Leche...Not bad for someone who doesn't have friends.

I used to worry about not having friends, but now I don't even care about that...I've stopped fussing about wanting to want to go out on Fridays, having a nice toned body, going on dates, dating for no reason, being nice to men, Eddie...etc. I don't care anymore, so I don't fuss. I don't know if fuss is a word, but I am an immigrant so I shouldn't know ALL the words and how they are correctly used. I remember when I used to be embarrassed about being an immigrant and having to learn English, I felt like an intruder, and thought that I spoke with an accent. But not even that makes me fuss anymore.

What do I care about? I worry about myself sometimes. I don't understand what I have opted to do or if I am crazy under the covers. With that smile, who believes all the crazy things that go through my head? Nobody because nothing crazy goes through my head. But I wish that I thought about something crazy to do and became a badass. But that smile is my own pod.

At 2:10 AM, I should let sleep catch up with me.

Hello.

Media Poisoning

It’s great gossip, you know, the New York Governor being caught in a prostitution scandal sooo powerful that it destroys his political career. It really makes you want to put different things in perspective: How many years does it take for you to create a political team, run for Governor and win, and be there and have to resign over real “stupidities” such as being Homosexual or paying for sex. What’s so serious about the Spitzer case?! I think that America has to double check its priorities really.

So, I hate signing into AOL because it seems that High School interns are doing the writing on AOL News [for the most part] and I am always enraged on the way that news is given. Like on The New York post, where another batch of interns are working giving people their News and sometimes it surprises me how it took two reporters to write yet another cheap article. The News is NOT a parody and I strongly feel and would go out of my way to suggest that the news be given in the most objective that there could ever be of ways. Even if it’s not objective, dress it up to make it look like it’s real and it’s not based on the parody of your opinion.

So, I am already preparing my delicate stomach for the upcoming months and years [eventually] where I will have to see this girl make celebrity like appearances on “The Today Show”, “Live with Regis and Kelly”, “Saturday Night Live”, “Oprah”, make her singing debut, hang out with Paris, and most importantly make her way to the cover of Playboy…and all that stuff that the media makes you be when they become obsessed with distorting the real news. While some of us may complain about it, this girl will be earning millions for her luck [because it is luck a la Pretty Woman] and once again we learn that school and degrees only serves to distract the people who lack a sense of prostitution or who wouldn’t make the cut as a high class prostitute (like me?).

A person without CNN or any sort of TV news (I have no TV) and too cheap to buy The New York Times after it increased to $1.25 (it did make me do the math and I haven’t looked back), I rely heavily on reading the news online and things like AOL news pisses me off (to the same effect as reading The New York Post), especially when a prostitution scandal is overemphasized.

I think I see it coming, just like at 4PM you see rush hour coming. This girl making headlines and appearances and writing books on her ordeal and people focusing on that matter instead of looking at the whole picture, as in the prostitution ring is still out there and this girl hasn’t been charged. On the contrary, she will sort of become a heroine from this whole matter (Monica Lewinsky who was an intern at The White House became a national enemy…NOTHING, it just makes me thinks about Media’s perspective in matters…and this same Media [A.K.A CLOWNS] has favored Obama for the most part…It just makes me wonder how disgusting all this is).

Now, even though I already have a bunch of people telling me, when I ask “WHAT’s THE BIG DEAL?” that Spitzer may have been using Government funds to hire our lovely Kristen, you guys know that that is a problem but the World could have bigger issues that could get headlines.

What did the World catch the Governor doing? Like finding out that your uncle Tom hired a prostitute, a source of embarrassment for your uncle (possibly, but shouldn’t be), but uncle Tom wouldn’t be banned from the family would he? The question is, is the guy doing the job? Yes? No? We have sex, we may have sex while at work, we can masturbate…do we go back to our jobs and work normally? I don’t know about you, but I can, so I think everyone else can too.

What’s the big deal? I sometimes feel like I will forever be an outsider, I just don’t accept none of that and it makes my stomach sick. Is there anything like Media Poisoning? Stale Britney, who cares if the girl used in the Clinton commercial is an avid campaign whatever for Obama at 17 yrs. Old, two teenagers being thrown from an airplane because they were beautiful and you go like “dressing slutty doesn’t mean that you are necessarily beautiful.”

A Note on that: You have guessed it! Next one in line will be I. I will get in an airplane and dress in a skimpy outfit and I will go out of my way to become a high pay call girl too…Oh, and do drugs too. Why not?! Only in my case, because I am Dominican and morenita (black!), my headline on The New York Post will read “Slutminican” and only then will law be passed and enforced and I will have to pay for my intrusions in taxes, tickets, and fees (of course). No book contract for me, even though I too have been homeless.

I would leave the country, but have nowhere to go really. What’s a girl to do?
I only feel, all this talk just to say, that Eliot Spitzer did nothing and I just can’t stand a fuss being made over nothing. Was he the BIG BOSS smuggling drugs and human trafficking underage women so that they could be used for prostitution in The United States? Have you heard the stories of Human Trafficking? These are underage girls/kids who are kidnapped and sold (like slaves) or women who were brought here illegally by people who promised them an American Dream that doesn’t exist (look what happened to our American Dream girl, not Barbie) and are raped and made to sell (but they don’t get paid anything an hour and forget trips to St. Tropez) their bodies on a daily basis.

It’s good to have gossip. But there are better things to focus, learn about, and possibly try to do something about. There are bigger criminals to catch, bigger stories to discover, and people to help and educate. In all this, and among other things, I really get disgusted at the thought that the World rather pay attention to people who are so into themselves that they do whatever to get attention and they do and we don’t look into the lives of wonderful people as often (only if they die) and become a conscience.

Well, most artists live in poverty with their wonderful art and become legends after death. But do we have to wait that long to celebrate someone who has taken care, not only of themselves, but of others as well to offer our gratitude?
Hmmm…What am I talking about? I am the same. Why don’t I celebrate my Mother’s life as often as I celebrate my own bad behavior?

A note on my Mother: Yesterday, she said that she complains a lot but that she knows that her kids are not only smart, but really good people at heart. I felt like telling her that I felt the same about her, but only looked at her and told her that I should’ve recorded that so that when she started complaining about my organization techniques again. Reactions like that, from me, have the uncanny ability to haunt me. I ask myself, do the people around me, my family; do they know that I love them?

Arriving

As it seems that I cannot accompany time any longer, I am forced to believe that there is something greater for me and that's why my patience is tested so much. Or is it life, chuckling at me, asking me if, after all this time, I have learned the lesson. The lesson that you can run all you want, but if it's not your time to be the first, then running so much won't matter.

I now painted the room yellow, the furniture was painted white, the floor is light, and to not miss a bit of sunshine I have changed the curtains to white. There's only light, patience, calmness, and (best of all) pure bravery.

I did take it further and threw out memories of pain. All those notes from which I explained my constant sadness, and the notes from where I complained about feeling alone and not having a boyfriend, all those notes that didn't fit in the room any longer have been thrown away. Anything that was broken, any old sneakers with holes on the bottom, any pair of jeans that I never wore and everything that seemed an excess onto me was put in the garbage. It isn't Spring, but I am doing my clean-up.

I knew about the time when everything had a place and everything was in its place. And after 3 weeks of sorting out, everything is back to its place, where it had been before when I was so successful with myself. Everything is color coded, the books go by themes, and the notes go by notes.

Now, I want to go ahead and shake it off as I feel that harmony is back in me, only that this time it's not pretend. I will sit here, patiently and show time that I have learned my lesson.

It takes a lot more courage to follow a dream.

Saturday Night Live 2

Everyone and their mother know that I don't like going out so much. I love hosting in my place, make the environment and give them something that they won't know when they'll leave, because they don't want to. That's how good it is at my place, while I host.

But at times, I agree to be dragged out. I could go to another house party, but when I am pushed into the nightlife and into bars/lounges I really get nervous. I just don't feel comfortable around people my age, and I always try to avoid going to a place with lots of them drinking and loud hip-hop music blasting.

But I couldn't say "No" as this girl ran to and screamed my name in the middle of the street to invite me to go with her. I didn't want all that effort to be in vain. I would feel bad if I chased someone down the street to get a "No." So, I knew I could and I made an instant exemption.

So, just when I was ready to cancel I realized that it was too late to take my shoes off and I went.

We stopped at Beauty Bar, it was the perfect example of places I tried to, desperately, avoid. Loud music, dark, people standing, people sitting, people, people, people and they weren't dressed nice. No they weren't, I just can't see a white man with dreadlocks unless it's Halloween or a Costume Party. I thought that it was going to be mellow, that's what I like mellow.

I guess that the group felt the same and started heading to Webster Hall. Webster Hall?! Nooooo, I don't go to clubs, not there! But Spanish music would be nice. We were walking there when we got hungry and stopped at Blue 9 Burger (delicious!) and changed plans and stayed on the block and simply went to Bar None.

The same as Beauty Lounge but less crowded. OK. We sit in the back, with people dancing on the dance floor. I'd never been to a place like that, only in the resort and a place I went in Washington Heights.

My people were just sitting there and one was drinking a martini. I got up and tried to dance like Marcia Brady and then all of a sudden I remembered that I do have dancing feet.

It was 12 something when we got there and I started dancing. I never know I dance something, until I am dancing and then I am like...what?! I do what?! I go that low?! wait a minute?! where did I learn all this?! Oh, I dance every day at home, a day doesn't go by when I don't dance.

I started by dancing by myself and then I was dancing with some Marcus guy from NYU who was 27. He danced more than I did, but we were dancing his nature "Hip-Hop" and I just followed his lead. But when they put some Spanish, I was queen and then back and forth. I took my shoes off and kept going at it.

The music never stopped and neither did I. At times, it was just me and Marcus and Marcus' white friend guy sing a song like "I Love Rock-n-Roll." At times, I was just standing there learning the Soulja Boy dance. I know about Asian Boy's "Crank that Cameltoe", but the real Soulja Boy?! and the dance?! Nah, but then I was doing it too.

I know I dance, I dance every day...but I didn't know that I danced Flamenco! It usually happens. Like, my body becomes an instrument and moves and moves and moves. I don't get tired, I enjoy it and the dance floor. And then I see my friends there...It was 3:04 AM and they wanted to go.

It was sad to say Good-bye to my new friends, but what a great night. And I wanted to cancel...

Saturday Night Live 1

I am sitting here asking myself why on Earth did I accept that inviation. What is it with people my age, who believe (fiercely) that hanging out starts at 10:30 PM?

The only thing that would keep me up at that time is the anticipation of sex with The Smoker or Muscle Man, television, or maybe even work. But like any movie I may sit down to watch, if there isn't the nude scene I will be very unhappy with the movie at the end. The same with going out, especially now...If it's not going to end in some nudity then I will be very unhappy!

And eyes on it! Don't touch the subject and ask me out (men). When I say that, I speak solely about The Smoker or Muscle Man, who have cought the permanent eyes of desire. My eternal desire that I want to bed both, usually succumb to the numbing thought that they happen to be brothers and that I would love to wed the ever so sensitive Smoker.

But maybe because they happen to be brothers, none of the three will ever make a final move and simply forever stare at each other wanting to rip our clothes off. But back to reality and Muscle Man out of my sight, I had been waiting to see if I see him naked again in his room...When I say "Muscle Man" I mean, MUSCLE MAN. What a comlete set of body he has and the Smoker too.

But then it's 9:50 PM and you have been waiting around as if you are going to lose your virginity in some dress and boots. Online, wasting time and yawning. I wasn't sleepy at this time yesterday, but today I got sleepy the minute I agreed to go out and have a tremendous time in the town because I guess that I am young and I should at least act like it.

To make a Summary, all I want to say is...

You are sleepy.
Waiting around.
They call.
They are nearby.
The last thing I want is to GO out!

So, what is a girl to do?
Take your boots off, you are in no need of sex. And go to bed.

But then, they are downstairs. I guess that I'll go...

No, no, no...YOU deal with it!

Well, she basically sent me to grow up camp...And in my response, I told her that if anyone had to deal with anything was HER because SHE was the one who grew up without a father and SHE was the one whose father, our father, didn't even [ever] go out there and look for her.

All is right, that's the thing about insults, you can't call someone who is not a bitch a bitch because if they are smart, they won't even argue with you because you both know that she is not a bitch. But if she is...you know, it becomes insulting for some reason. In my new found self, I wouldn't care either way.

And then again, now that I admit that I am more sensitive, I also admit that I know when I have been harsh (even if it's truth). I have no idea what went in her mind all these years when she didn't know her father. I bet that it isn't something I would want people joking about...Jamie never had a father and I don't know if she ever missed not having one. Most kids in the ghetto don't have a father, just a mother...they do seem more disoriented, but then again I feel that if a kid is going to be disoriented, having both parents won't make much of a difference (I've seen good parenting gone wrong).

Well, it turns out that I shouldn't have said that because I know better. There, I said it. But as I looked into my father last week, bored of going to visit him at the nursing home already (YES! I AM TIRED OF VISITING MY FATHER EVERY SINGLE WEEK) I felt that nobody will ever have the right to tell me to grow up when it comes to my father. That is what I think, I am not the best caretaker, but I do what I can and maybe I am not on top of his health and doctors but I visit him every week...even when I am tired, I take myself out there. I cook for him and go there. I feel like I don't have to deal with any of my siblings bullshit after that.

Do you know what I mean? I am sorry, but it's not like I am sitting at a corner with my hands crossed saying how things should be. I know that I don't know any better and don't know my rights clearly or medical terms, but I am IN THERE with him. Maybe I am just some huge eyes staring back not knowing what to ask, but I am there.

I am not angry, but I am not an idiot either. I don't do this because he has some kind of will and stuff, everyone knows better. I am there, I don't even know why, but I feel that when he dies...I won't have to go to the funeral and make a drama. Maybe I won't even go.

I am exhausted with all that. You guys have no idea, how exhausted I am. If I get a call saying something, saying that his medicare is going to be canceled and I have to run around looking for paperwork. When I have to show up and handle paperwork, I don't even know what the hell! I am sorry, but I won't deal with you. I won't deal with that and whatever happens.

I am not even trying to keep someone alive...but I am there for him while he is.

Now, if you want him and he is soooooo yours then I beg you to come and get him. OK? Is that clear? In the meantime, you deal with whatever and you do the growing up for me.