Happy Birthday To Me...

So, I'm officially 24 years old today. No way around it, whether I like it or not this happened. I'm sooo tired, not because I'm old or anything but because I went to bed very late. My friends came over last night, kind of a ritual of passing, we started like a christmas celebration and around two in the morning it kind of became a birthday party. So we had wine, beer, some junk food and (surprise, surprise) a cake, which was actually a surprise 'cause I wasn't expecting one at all (Should have known better ha?). But I thought since my dad and my step-mom and so had sang happy birthday to me at my grandmother's house earlier over two brownies and a very big candle that for some reason that was it. My lil bro and his girlfriend, it turns out, went out and bought stuff, pushed out the door by my beautiful and always thoughful mother (I'm being nice, not sarcastic, even if it sounds that way. And even if sometimes my mom and I can't really stand each other... But I guess that's part of a love-hate mother-daughter relationship.) I wasn't going to do nothing really. My plan was plain and simple: get drunk and go to sleep... Didn't happened that way. But it was worth it...

I hadn't seen my friends in about a month or so. We were all in finals at our respective universities, or working way too much around the holidays so it was the first official gathering of our vacation time. It was nice. We talked a lot about nothing in particular and we trashed people, 'cause let's be real, that's what we do when we have nothing else to talk about. We divided into two groups: the nymphomaniacs and the asexuals. Sadly, I was the only one in my group (asexuals), with the exception of one of the guys which stayed neutral (way to play it cool, eh?). Which reminds us of this very annoying chick we met through some friends. She spent the whole New Moon movie saying she was Switzerland in the whole battle of teams Edward and team Jacob. It annoyed the hell out of every one... Every time the topic would surface she would say "I'm Switzerland *giggle*". Everybody wanted to snapped at her: Really, you have nothing else in your brain!? Are you that airhead!? Did you checked the fact on the internet before coming, found it funny (for some unkown reason) and decided to makes us the focal point of your very sadistic torture!? Just remembering makes me want to very slowly twist her neck...

On the subject of snapping at people, my best friend and I remembered this guy at my family's christmas party earlier that same evening... God the guy was an asshole! Turns out he's my cousin Nancy's new boyfriend... We think he's secretely gay. He showed up at my grandma's house with her, dressed in shocking pink pants and a kiwi shirt and the attitude of a guy that thinks the world revolves around him. He sat at my grandmother's couch and put his feet up (shoes and all) on the hand knitted shams my grandma made years ago. No one, I repeat, NO ONE in my whole family has ever done that and then proceeded to ignore everyone. Him I would have love to snap at, and almost did too. Luckily for him, I'm able to control myself in important events, such as a family reunion; even when I'm dying to torture the guy very slowly...

At the end of the night though, I kissed everyone goodnight, got my self a glass of water 'cause for some reason I was horribly thirsty and just went to bed to wake up today to the bill for next semester that arrived on the mail and the annoying fact that I have to work in about two hours and every small piece of my body hurts as if a bulldozer had ran over me. *Sigh* Then again, that's life...

Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday to me...

On sports...

I'm not a very sporty person by nature. While everyone else played hide and seek, I played barbies or lego's; when they played tag I used to sing loudly in my bedroom... When everyone was bigger (usually bigger than me no matter how old, since I'm 5 foot 2 inches tall now! Imagine when I was a kid), I sat in the couch and read. The only sport I can remember ever playing with the boyz, cause there were no girl on my street, was baseball. I was a hell of a pitcher too... but that was all I could really do, lol. Running was not my forte, and batting? hell no! I tried a few things though, I took karate, and let me tell you the karate kid makes it look waaaay easier. It was cool, but then again I was like 10 so never really learned anything except that I could easily get a crush on a guy that could do a mean high kick...

Through the years I've learned that sports have become less and less physical. For example, chess has become a sport and all you do is think. So, with that in mind I signed up for the chess team. I knew how to play, damn it my dad had been a chess champion when he was my age! Turns out that's another gene I did not get. Then I thought, well I can try dancing...

And let me tell you I love dancing but damn is it breathtaking?! Still I kept trying and I can dance salsa and merenge all night if it comes to it. It's about knowing your partner, and there's something about that that's very sexual and intimate. You have to know his moves, his turns, and body language to dance great with someone. That's unless you're lucky and find a very good dancer that's willing to overlook that you step on his toes once in a while; or someone that you have great chemistry with. The first is way more possible...

I like yoga and tai chi; and can tolerate pilates but even then exercising seems to be something for which I never have time...

Back on sports, I must say I believe in the deepest, darkess corner of my self that Nascar is NOT a sport. Driving around in circles at high speed is not a sport!!! Come on! I do that every time I'm drunk. Well, not really but I could. It's stupid and dangerous and simply irrational... like the chicken races they use to do. If your not a chicken you win, but you know what? you're also dead, so guess what? joke's on you!


We are living in a world where must of the people are fat, including me, and that makes advertising really difficult to watch. Sporty people or fat people that lost weight and are now sporty people. It's depressing. I mean, it's not about fat or skinny, it's about healthy. I might be fat but I'm mostly healthy. Only got one thing or two to worry about but they're hereditary so no way avoiding them. Life has become difficult for us not sporty times. I mean, I wish I had the desire in me to win the kentucky derby (me being the horse allegory, lol... BTW another think I don't believe it's a sport except if you say it's a sport for horses!!!!) but i don't, nor do I think I would ever succeed.


I do like watching sports. I like soccer a lot and baseball. I love to swim, problem is I like to swim in pools. I like the style and long of it, and I love that I can do laps easily. I like doing laps so much my friends end up bored. I don't like getting in the water to just float, that's silly. I was born to swim, I think I have a bit of fish in me.

So on sports... unless it involves a pool, I know absolutely nothing! But man am I opinionated! lol

About Love, Marriage, Kids and the Whole Nine Yards

I was talking with one of my friends a few days ago… She’s hopefully getting married. (Her hopes not mine, not because there’s anything wrong, I’m very happy for her, just stating a fact. Like Leonard’s mother would say in The Big Bang Theory: They are not my accomplishments.) Anyways, we were talking and planning and fantasizing and all that, when it hit me that ever since I was in high school the simple thought of getting married gave me the creeps. I used to say I didn’t believe in marriage, in my experience it didn’t work so great. My dad is the plain example of a bad succession of marriages. He married for the first time when he was 19 years old, separate and got back together before getting divorce. Then he met my mother when he was 29, a good 10 years later (you’ll think he learned… but no) and he gets married again. This time it lasted close to 11 years. Not bad, eh? Ended horribly though. Last but not least he married my step-mother, and that one was a very lucky mistake.

My mom on the other hand never really re-married, except when she lived with someone I used to call step-father but that too ended horribly. My step-father was an asshole that left her because she couldn’t give him children (my mom had a tumor and they had to take everything out), and because she had to split her time between working, her children, her ailing mother (my grandma has alzhemeirs) and getting his drunk sorry ass off the couch! She never had time for him, blah blah blah…. So he got a young bitch to do all of that and left my mom. Not before making a pass at me when no one was looking.

Marriage, or fake marriages… they never gave me any reason to WANT to get married. Seems to me the whole deal doesn’t work. I believe in living together… it’s the simpler way to either throw his sorry ass out of my life when I get tired, or just make my bags and go. No attorneys, no papers… simply goodbye and that’s that.
Lately, though, I admitted to the possibility of getting married after forty. It would be nice to know you have steady company, someone that can make you laugh, because laughing is so important when one grows old. .. and that still wants to have sex at least once a week, lol. That’s all I ask.

On the subject of kids, well… I had a dream once that kind of cured me a bit of my fear of dying(but that's a different conversation). I was old and laying on my bed, dying and as I looked around me I could see this 3 tall guys with intelligent eyes and a smile so sad, I couldn’t help but cry. They were my sons, I realize, and I was so proud. So proud of whom they were and how they turned out to be… And I made up my mind. I always thought for some reason that if I ever had kids, they would surely be boys. I’m no good with girls though I try… And so I thought well then I want 3 kids or none. I was joking, kind of. But as I approach 30 and my biological clock starts ticking I was completely sincere with my best friend and told her that even if I spent the rest of my life alone I wanted to have one kid. Just one. I don’t need a whole football team, just one kid if possible. I want to know what it feels to have another human being inside of you (and not in a sexual way). If it can’t be for some kind of fertility reason or something; then, I know it would leave a void in my heart but that’s ok too. One can’t ever focus too much on those little holes in one’s life, or we would never be happy. If I get distracted by something else, like traveling with my lover around the world, writing my next best-seller or simply relaxing with a glass of wine and a warm body, it’ll be fine too… I have plenty of nephews and nieces, even have a god-daughter and two of my brothers are not even married so…

I believe there is something great for each of us; we just have to know how to reach it. I’m certain because it’s not my dream, not my aspiration that my something great ain’t the white picket fence, the 3 kids and the whole nine yards. My something great is out there, I still don’t know who or what is it, but I know is there.


My only hope? That it won’t find me too late. I would sincerely hate to die alone in a forgotten bed and just dwell somewhere in the gray past of the paramedics that found me.

So… forget the whole nine yards, just get me my piece of heaven on earth before it’s too late…

Get me love! Get me the kind of love that burns your soul and leaves a mark forever… So get me someone that can make me laugh of myself, and everyone else. That can sincerely hold my hand and tell me I look beautiful or that everything’s going to be alright. Someone that would hug me strongly when I need it but won’t admit I do. Someone that knows all my defects and still finds me cute and charming and lovable… Someone that I can trust and would never, ever, do anything to make me even doubt him. Someone that knows what I want when I haven’t even said anything yet. A “no bullshit” kind of guy that goes to me and don’t start the old dancing around the whole thing, but is sure in what he wants and that what he wants it’s me. That would kiss me until I forget whatever we were fighting about for a while, and that could never ignore me in a hard day or pass on kissing me goodbye each morning.

And I know, sounds kind of fairytale bullshit but I like defects too. Headstrong, argumentative, opinionated, serious, ironic (not so much of a defect for me but still), as stubborn as a mule, full of the charisma of a know-it-all kind of guy or even so shy with everyone else they would think him mute… I don’t mind defects so much, as long as it’s not hitting or misogyny or chauvinistic pigs that think a woman should be a slave.

Deep down I just want what everyone else… someone that understands me, loves me and just wants to willingly, without promises in front of god and the whole world, stay with me. I don’t want a piece of paper but a warm man as my insurance for a companion… for whatever amount of time it lasts.

So on love, marriage, kids and the whole nine yards… I just shrug and smile…

On drinking....

I was watching this horribly dramatic and getting-nowhere kind of movie last night, reason I didn't sleep much (what a waste!), where this guy (the main guy) went to an AA meeting and admited that not drinking was just making him addicted to other stuff, and that got me thinking. When I used to go to AA meetings (yes, i did! NO, IM NOT A DRUNK.... I'm an alcoholic, know the difference right?) I use to hate the goddamn procedure of things. Everyone would say a very sad story about how they sold their bodies, minds and souls for a glass of rum and I thought: "Damn, these guys are losers!!!". I would have never sold myself for a glass of rum, whiskey maybe but rum... ugh! Now seriously, I hated it. Losers that couldn't confront their problems and ended up drowning them in alcohol like that's ever going to make anything better.

When I used to get drunk, it wasn't about forgeting my problems, it was about getting Drunk!, have a nice time, flirt with people I would never see again, mostly because I couldn't remember ever meeting them, and having the courage to stand up and read. I use to read my poetry in a pub close to my university... had my own nickname and everything. They called me "the poetic clitoris"... not very inspiring is it? lol... Anyways....

As I was saying, I couldn't stand to be in the same room with this people cause I couldn't understand them. How they abandoned everything and lost everything because of drinking. I just couldn't comprehend that, and that's why I decided I was not in the right place. I didn't hide in liquor, or revolved my life around the next beer. My problem was shyness... I couldn't stand up without a drink and a cigarrette.... And that's where everything came crumbling down. I lost almost 2 years of classes. I dropped out and worked, then party everyday and just wrote. It was the most creative time of my life but it came with a price. I became addicted to the euphoria, to the need to be applaud and, of course, to the eternal drink...

I don't remember what or who exactly made me realize I was an adicct, but I decided why not and went once to a AA meeting, where they gave me this brouchure that had questions about your drinking habits. According to that I wasn't only an alcoholic, I was a repress, sadistic and depress alcoholic... Which to be sure, I didn't felt like at all. (All except for the sadistic, even I can admit I like to sometimes do mean stuff just to see other peoples faces...)

So I went. And you know what happened... They have this part at the end when everyone hugs and get in a circle... I hated that part most of all. This drunk mfs, that sold their bodies, and woke up in their own vomit in a street a 100 miles away from their homes, were hugging me!!! I couldn't stand it and after a few times, I learned when to dash out of the place before that precise moment. And that's how my addiction to other stuff began.

I became addicted to my skin, my nose, my air, my every piece of existence and decided never to go back. I could do it on my own, I could cure myself... I spent six months without drinking. The first day was the worst, everyone was drinking around me and I had to get up there and read... I was shaking, literally and visibly shaking. Even my voice was shaking but I did it and it felt great!

Ironically, I also smoked far more than I used to and had 2 accidents in which my car was total, in the course of those six months. In both I was so sober I saw them coming and my soul jumped so strongly I think my whole body moved. Still they passed, and after that I decided I was ready to get back on the horse and had my first drink.I was so nervous...

And here I am, years later. I'm not a drunk, I was an alcoholic and now I'm just a social drinker that almost never drinks more than 3 drinks when she goes out. I smoke fairly less than ever but I have no spotlight, no poetry to read, no life to inspire me, no partner to comfort me...

All I have is this white and black keyboard like the keys on a piano, just instead of creating music, I create thoughts and ideas that most likely will never get my name on their first page but someone elses. I create this, this little piece of journal heaven where I can be myself if I want, or someone entirely different if the mode strikes...

So on drinking.... don't ever listen to me!

This IS it

This is it. That's all I could think of as I was standing outside having my strictly monitorize cigarrette of the day and my 3th or 4th glass of left over Disarono on the rocks. This is my life. I'm 23 years old, and I have nothing to say about my life but the incredible truth that I have no idea how the hell I ended up in the same place I've always been. I haven't finished my bachillers, my best friends almost married and has a kid, shit even my brother has more than me. And this first entry, to anyone that's reading this, might be the only bit of truth you'll ever get from me. That's not my real name. I'm not from Aruba, just chose that place cause i've been there a couple of times and thought it was a gr8 place to be. I'm nothing but a cranky woman whose only real ambition in life is to be a great writer... I am a great writer so everyone's always saying but I lack motivation. Well... who can blame me? I'm not a sad soul that has a torturing life experience to narrate, I'm just a middle class nobody that wishes for any kind of change.

Retracing my steps I believe it all started with getting almost everything handed moderly easily. I was not permitted to work trough high school, I was suppose to study and become something great. After all, I had (have) the potential to do so. But my heart, my talent wasn't on cutting people open, or litigating in court, or simply teaching high school students the difference between an allegory and a methapor. No one cared as much about iambic rhyme as the guy that invented it out of boredom. I swear the guy was stone when he realize, hey! if you read this like this it's like music, man!!! You outta try it... somehow it catch on.

Right before going to university I decided to dump my boyfriend... Mostly because I was so freaking pissed at the guy. We had been going out for like 3 months, right after I dumped my boyfriend (the one i had when i met him) to date him, and because I couldn't stand another second of my before him broyfriends bitch of a mother, when I just out of pure rage decided it was OVER!. Best decision I've ever made. I believe I would still be with him, if I hadn't. He was sweet and I did love him... some. But the simple thought of still being with him creeps me out. I would have settle for his good, boring ass and never experienced life...

It was the process of experiencing life that ruined my life... I got to university and all was awesome. I had straight As and was about to enter the honor program until one day i got up with this nagging feeling... This is NOT what I want. I didn't want to be a mathematician. It was interesting, it was easy, it was boring... I wanted to be a writer, to travel, to have random sex with strangers and to get drunk every night watching the sun come up as I smoked my last cigarrette of the night. I wanted, I needed, I craved life.

So I went for it...

Didn't turned out so good. Now, a few AA's meetings, some accidents, heartbreaks, and a few stories after I have exactly what I started with... An unfinished degree, a lonely heart, a heavy drink, a cigarrette and worst of all I'm still living at my mothers. I have no job... although I'm hoping that would change soon, I have to write my tesis to graduate... but I'm exhausted. And that's the main point, I'm exhausted of my life. I need to move, to be independent, I need to start writing again, I need... A LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And this is why after I finished smoking I decided to start this blog. It's not like my other blog, full of poetry and hot nights (which no one reads)... This is real, even if it starts with a fake name and place of origin. Even if no one would know if I'm saying the truth or not... at least it's the truth of my pond...

And that's why it's call the Lost and Found Pond... Cause even if I've lost almost all my hope, my friends, my loves... I know I can find my way once again, and hopefully this time I'll get to leave this overrated, overpriced pond in which my life is drowning on...