Ouch, version 455

i am drunk.

i dont drink anymore, but today i'm drunk. just like i used to be in chelsea. before i was a teacher, before i was engaged, before i was an orphan with her own home.

i miss new york.
i miss my life there.
i am apprehensive about this new stage in my life.

and i'm listening to Ouch II, the cd Darryl made me back when he was trying to get in my pants. it came on randomly on my shuffle.
it took one nikka costa and 2 al greens to send me back to chelsea, during the worst period of my life.

that was a lifetime ago. pun intended.
i am so much happier now.
i am also so different now.

i wish i had known then what i know now.
i am now free.

i am now loved.
back then i knew not who i was.

now i'm a drunk 26-year-old teacher with a wedding 8 months away, and baby names picked out.

come home, lawyer man. i miss you.

greetings from puerto rico

i am getting used to sweating all the time.
it's a yam-bag simulator up on this island...but it's ok. i'm getting used to it.

i'm getting used to living with my boyfriend, and not having parents, or responsibilities, and being able to sit on my ass for days straight when i want to.

i'm getting used to being lonely, and the black hole in my heart, the void my parents left. i'm getting used to knowing it'll be ok, just not right now.

i'm used to the gossip, and the lack of privacy, and i'm getting used to thinking of "us" and not "me." i'm even getting used to thinking about next year, about our future.

i'm not used to being so alienated. i'm not used to being in an island, on top of an island, all by myself. puerto rico is the atlantic, my apartment is a rock in the middle of the ocean. i'm not used to being constantly alone.

i'm not used to not knowing what i want, to not knowing how to get there, and to not have anyone to ask. i'm not used to never hearing my momma's voice again, telling me what to do.

i'm not used to mother's day and birthdays and closets so full and so empty.

i'm not used to no more chanel number 5.

i'm not used to no more cancer no more mom no more dad.
i'm not used to thinking about the family i'm beginning to make for myself.
i'm not used to thinking about weddings, and children, and dates and planning.

i'm getting used to changing everything i ever knew.
i'll never get used to never having her back.

Nice time

I leave for the Dominican Republic tomorrow.

I am currently packing, listening to reggae, and coercing my boyfriend to stop working so we can plan our days over some iced tea and chess.

just spent too much money at Borders, so my suitcase is really just full of books and bikinis.
that's all anyone needs, really.

digital crack

i've lost my life to World of Warcraft.

poopity woopity

meet my personal heart-warmer. he's the reason i wake up, the reason i smile, the reason i often make the switch from "just ok" to "foking great."

he's always happy, always willing to kiss me, massage my feet (with his toungue), offer a smile and a playful nudge.

there is not a more beautiful sight than my man stretching, and napping in his arms is my favorite earthly gift.

santiago makes my afternoons much more than bearable, and santiago fills my soul with but a deep, lazy sigh, and a donut on my lap.

oh best friend, never leave my side, ok?

i wrote this as an email to a friend, describing the events of February 28th, 2007. there's really not much else to say:

"this past week has been the most surreal experience i have ever lived.
over the past weeks, i saw my mom progressively lose her speech, she
stopped eating and drinking, she stopped waking for much of the day,
she entered a coma, and then, peacefully, stopped breathing. i prayed
with her and her body, when she was alive, so that she would rest, and
when she passed, so that she would once again be herself, up there,
where she belongs.

i had been praying for her rest, for her death, for months. her mind
was gone, her spirit was tired, and we all needed this stage of our
lives to end and a new one begin.

when it finally happened, though, i instantly entered a place from
where i have not come down, and i am flying, elevated, not really
understanding, and not really denying. i am not really feeling but i
am not really sheltered.

i no longer have parents who are alive, in the physical state we
usually associate with life. it feels strange, and awful, but also
great, because i'd rather not see them than have them the way they
were when they were ill.

i dont know how to explain it, but my initial feeling upon her death
was that of joy. it's time for me to stop being selfish, because even
though i wish my mom were here, hugging me, touching me with her
hands, leaving her scent in my room, and telling me how to get on, her
body was a jail for her soul. being bed-ridden, starved, confused;
that wasn't her. so i had to tell her it was ok to leave. and she
did. and she's better now, and i'll be fine too.

for now, i am giving everything the mirza matos effort, one foot
behind the other, and staring straight ahead into what's next."

standing for something

Puerto Rico has a critical shortage of nurses. the nurses we do have are overworked and underpaid and end up leaving the island seeking better jobs in the US.

my family has had the amazing honor (and luck) of having the help of 2 of the nurses that decide to stay in PR and help. They take care of my mother, each for 12 hours at a time, and have given me my sanity back.

these two women, and particularly one of them, have changed my life. not only because their help allows me time to myself, but because they became a part of my extended family. they give me advice, they help me nonstop, and they give my mother the best care i cannot do myself.

why someone choses to do such a selfless and important job is beyond me. but it gives me hope. because my mom is just one of many patients whose lives they've touched. so maybe that makes it worth it. i just know that for me, they are a beacon of something better for all of us.