a plethora of pinatas

today i spent the day at tar-get in brookly, followed by prospect park, followed by union square, followed by an NYU lecture (part of the Pen series) featuring multicultural authors. i will end the day at a party for brown people like me (i'm brown at heart!). before that, however, i've decided to waste your time, and mine, with some thoughts.

the following is a photoessay about my experiences today, in the BK.

it was a beautiful day in the madrid of new york. after a very productive trip to target, and an even more productive trip to Christie's for beef patties, we settled in Prospect Park.


i was loving the Ting, until it exploded all over my face, hair, and shorts. yes, i was wearing shorts.


it was funny for awhile....


until i realized there were massive amounts of hot men and women around. quick! distraction!


hours later, in union square, i still had sticky Ting hands, so a resourceful friend offered me a sanitary wipe (read: vag chubs) to clean my hands, except it made everything worse. and i wish i had a pic of this, but i went to the NYU panel like this. and in shorts. carrying 4 bags from target.


overall, a great day, that will only get better when i go hump the air to "Pobre Diabla" in an hour.
cheers.

boricua not so morena

tonight i went to see the new Rosie Perez movie "Yo Soy Boricua, Pa Que Tu Lo Sepa" at the Tribeca Film Festival. it's the first of about 6 movies i'm seeing, and it was the most wonderful way to start my weekend, and my Tribeca experience.

the movie addresses Puerto Rican identity, the "Nuyorican" phenomenon, our complex and passionate nature and history, and what it really means to be PR, as i like to call it.
i spent most of the screening, and the discussion after, smiling, laughing, and nodding emphatically. i even yelled out a few times, except no one could hear me cause they were too busy yelling themselves.

i guess recently i've battled with my own identity issues, and in many ways, what it means to be an ex-pat. i've been dealing with incredible homesickness for the first time in my life, and i've considered moving back, and leaving new york, which is something that had never been on my radar. when i left PR when i was 18, i never ever expected to want to come back.
i can honestly say i am now very confused as to whether or not i will return. but i believe there is a big chance i will. even if only for awhile.

i've said this before, but one of the things i've gathered from having all my adult relationships be with non-puerto rican men was that i often felt that there was an entire part of me that they did not know, did not understand. the fact of the matter is that no matter how much you love me, and love where i'm from, if you're not from where i'm from, and you don't have the history i have, then there's a cultural disconnect. sometimes small, sometimes huge.

in any case, the movie was fantastic, and honest, and it's airing on IFC on june 12th, and you should all watch it. all 2 of you.

lemme see that tootsie roll

i just want to say that i can finally listen to hip-hop (well, at least the older kind) without remembering failed relationships and drunken times at horrific bars on 2nd avenue.

instead, i can now sing along to "put it in my mouth," remember my el gordo obsession, and laugh. i can stop cringing every time i hear "nothing" by noreaga. i can sing along to "juicy" and remember yvonne and noel. i can even request "patiently waiting" at hip-hop karaoke.

you'se a big fine woman. yes, juvenile, i know. i will now proceed to back that azz up.

have you seen her?

things i've learned from the hospital:

1. stay away from basements. they're dirty, completely unsanitary, and a place where meds dispatching is right next to the dumpster.
2. purell actually DOES work, and you need to do it before and after every activity, including walking, stretching, touching people, or even purelling.
3. when you see an orange wristband, the patient is at a high risk of falling. (these signs are up EVERYWHERE)
4. there's a lot of stuff/injuries/people to see here and get distracted by, so keep your vision focused on the eyes or on the floor. no one needs to know you think the doctor in the purple tie is hot, or that it's mutual, or that mr. room 721 freaks you out.
5. paperwork often takes longer than actual md-ing.
6. speaking spanish comes in handy.
7. so does ducking into the bathroom when you feel uncomfortable.
8. my day job is incredibly trivial. which is why i want to change my day job.

but...but....

cristina. there is no point to becoming a vegetarian if every single time you get ravenously hungry (like at this very moment), you end up either devouring a pizza, or ordering soy burgers and smashed potatoes. is the whole point not to eat healthier? to rid your body of toxins? so please, for the love of god (buddha?). stop subbing meat with stuff you KNOW will never measure up. if not, i will be forced to shovel the entire butcher section of whole foods, raw, into your mouth as punishment. although maybe that wouldn't be much punishment. either way, stop. love, cristina.

i've been on this "making peace with the world" kick of late, and i think its working (buddha?). not only did i meet the NY michael chiklis, who i will now proceed to stalk for the rest of my life (LOVE YOU BABY!!), but today i did something that surprised even myself (my savior queen maru formerly of allston is gonna kill me - but it's a good thing, i think). i was in a horrific mood, and was purposely avoiding everyone at work for fear that i may have gotten homicidal. there was no real reason, other than the fact that i missed class last night (buddha?) and felt completely unbalanced. anyway, i knew i had to do something productive within my aims for salvation, so i emailed an old friend.

this particular friend was someone i was tight with in college, but after a series of dependent events decided was not good for me and proceeded to strain my relationship with her. i'm being vague and vaguer because i have recently acquired a nice case of pothead paranoia that follows me 24/7 and pervades every aspect of my life. even though this is a tangent, i will explain that i ALWAYS think i'm being followed, that people are out to get me, and that everyone hates what i'm doing, the way i act, the way i look, etc. clearly i think everyone i know reads this as well. which shows how delusional i am, since, who the fuck cares about what i have to say anyway?! (buddha?) here we go again. the problem is i'm not smoking up. i don't do drugs (anymore). so where this paranoia comes from, i don't know.

ANYWAY. i emailed her today. and she emailed back. and we're meeting up. and i fully expect the wrath of the mary eugene on my gmail by 9am tomorrow morning. i'm sorry. i have failed you. um "she eats leaves?"

oh my god i bet you she IS reading this.
maybe if i smoke a bowl the paranoia will go away.
maybe i should just delete this blog...be done with it all.
signing off,
mrs. drama

i love my life

Dear Chris Meloni,

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
I admit I was wrong. I got caught up in the moment and I hurt you.
I'm sorry.
I didn't mean to get distracted by The Shield's partial nudity and catchy themesong. I didn't mean to say that Michael Chiklis is the new you.
I didn't mean to create new fantasies the don't involve you. And I'm sorry.
I just spent my Sunday evening with you and Mariska, watching episode after episode of our DVRed life together. I cried. I stood on my chair and shouted. I paced nervously. I broke into a sweat.
I realized there is only one you. And that I miss you.
Please take me back.

With all my love,
Cristina

on the dachshund

i admit it, i felt guilty about kicking santiago out of bed.
i hear him pacing, barking, whining.
i know he's probably cold without sheets to burrow under.

so what do i do?
i go out and spend $100 on a dog bed.
$100 i do not have. $100 i could have used for a textbook.
it's beautiful, fancy, and has a little hood that acts as a blanket for him to burrow in.

i bring it home, put it in his crate.
not 5 seconds later, he has peed on it.
not 1 minute later, he has dragged it out of the crate and is chewing mercilessly on the hood.

instead of kicking him out of bed, i shoulda kicked him out into the street.
how do you like me now, weiner dog?
pee on this.

bourgeois lies!

we can all breathe easy, because this morning, when i finally crawl out of my purple haze, my doorman will be safely tucked away behind his desk, where i need him to be so i can get my dry cleaning, plasma TV deliveries, and so that my maid, dog walker, and personal stylist can get into my 2500 square-foot palace in the skies.

my building actually sent out a brochure of sorts, with what to do in case of the strike. it included such enlightening pieces as a section on "Entertaining," "Restaurant Food Deliveries (i'd have to go downstairs and meet my food!!," "Building Cleanliness," and "Gym." We don't even have a gym.
this contingency plan made me immediately want to pack my bags and move out. what do you MEAN, i'd have to greet my guests in the lobby?!?!?
problem is, i can't afford to move, which is the difference between me and everyone else in this building.
oh god. what if they all find out they let a poor person in?

on a tiny side note, training santiago to start sleeping in his crate instead of on my bed has been the most anxiety-inducing thing this dog has ever been through. he paces all night long, often whining or barking. i hear his poor little feet pattering around my bed, until finally i wake up the next morning and sit with him on the chair, where he immediately passes out on my lap. it's very upsetting, but i must remain strong.
just you wait until i start training you to poop outside. these pads have GOT to go.

Love.

so, i was looking at old emails today, while using the handy search tool on gmail, and found about 7 conversations where maru and i try to manipulate the gmail ads that conveniently adapt to whatever the text of your email is.

a sample from these conversations (there are so many others, but you get the idea)
Chain #1:
Cristina: mi sidebar esta REPLETO de tego ads. [my sidebar is FULL of Tego Calderon ads] HA. hmm, it's soooo easy to manipulate. let me try something.
nambla. pedofilia. child molestation. i love kids. nambla. gay love. maru loves children. man/boy love.

Maru: mm. There are no ads. But my phone is ringing. It's the FBI. Thanks!

Cristina: hahahaha it was worth a shot. now i have no ads either. good to know that the way to get rid of big brother is to be freaky. [i made a joke about someone after this, but i'll refrain, since i'd rather not make any more enemies, thanks]

Chain #2:
Cristina: also, estoy super offended que los ads en mi gmail son de ingles sin barreras. [totally offended that the ads are for "English Without Barriers"]

Chain #3:
by the way, mis gmailads dicen "hacer amigos - encuentra amigos." Great. [ads say "make friends - find friends"]

and here's one from the lovely and amazing jorge, which was too good to pass up (even though only a straight up cafre PR like myself will get the references):

lo unico de ads fue al noticia de que tego calderon se caso con la
mama de su hijo..good for him. on the other hand, no ensenaron fotos
de tego, y considerando de que lo mandastes un viernes 13, no creo q
exista una manera mas espeluznante de asustarme q ensenarme una foto
de tego. el tipo es huracanmente feo. for that, i am relieved and
eternally greatful to the good people at google.

[the only ads were about tego calderon marrying the mother of his child...good for him. on the other hand, they didn't show pics of tego, which considering you sent this email on Friday the 13th, i don't think there's a more terrifying (hair-raising?) way to scare me than with a picture of Tego. the dude is a hot mess (this translation is rough - his words are much better, but something is lost in english). for that, i am relieved and eternally greatful to the good people at google.]

what a poet.

it's the little things

my favorite part of the day, hands down, is when after i've been home for about an hour or so, i realize that i have spent the entire time either at the computer or on the phone, which means i have not paid any attention to poor santiago, and turn to see that he has spent the last 59 minutes patiently staring at me as if to say, "whenever you're ready to feed me, you evil bitch, i'm here. and i will continue to stare you down until you do."

i love it when my dog plays mind games with me.

my second favorite part of the day is when i realize that i'm so hungry that i have long since passed the point of making a rational decision about my meal (usually dinner). it is usually these scenarios that lead me to break my vow of vegeterianism (word? yay/nay?) and cause me to devour the nearest source of red, bloody meat (not santiago, i swear).

i am at that point right now. but because this week i am switching religions, it's ok. nothing is real anyway, right? RIGHT?
oh dear god, i fear for the safety of my dachshund.

i was going to delete yesterday because it was so pissy, but i thought i'd keep it to look back on later.
anyway, let's talk:
1. i am in love with Sarah Brown.
2. moby goes to my same Buddhism teacher and meditation classes. last night i was furiously taking notes, when my thumb started cramping again, so i stopped briefly to rest my hand, and began scanning the room for enlightened ass. instead i found moby, who later meditated next to me. it was weird.
3. jewel really annoys me. (i need to turn off MTV Video Wake Up right now. how did my remote land on this crap?)
4. the new paul auster book is changing my life as we speak.
5. karina says i use the phrase "it changed my life" too much.

here's a thought.

i wrote something very late last night. it was part of this ongoing thing i've been doing, where instead of driving myself crazy with trying to figure out what i should be doing, or what my friends are thinking, i just write. it's generally a stream of thought, on Word (i can type much faster than i can shorthand), and once i'm exhausted from all the emotion pouring out of my fingertips, i stop, and continue merrily along with my evening/day/dawn.

except last night i think i managed to produce something that was much more clear. when i read it back last night, and then again just now, i was shocked at how eloquent i was in the middle of what appeared to be a breakdown.
i believe i have finally discovered why i am so pissed.
and now i don't know what to do with this information.

i thought about posting it, but it's too personal. plus, really, the people that need to know this information will never see it anyway.
so maybe i can send a mass email? but that just seems a bit self-indulgent and dramatic (there's that word again).
i can call a "circle of trust" meeting. which would be amazing.
i can stop talking to everyone i know. which, considering the fact that i don't shut up (i found a reason for that, too), would be near impossible.
or, i can do what i actually plan on doing right now, which is go meditate and pretend i didn't just realize i apparently hate my entire network of friends and family for making me feel like shit.

awesome.

now, that's just not hygenic.

i have my quality of life back.
i don't even want to get into the amount of cleaning that went on today. other friends commented at how small my apartment is, and how it shouldn't take that long to clean. in theory, this is all true.
however, the amount of bacteria (for lack of better word) living in my apartment was shocking even to me.
i also prepped 4 bags of clothing/shoe donations for the salvation army.
santiago will never sleep on the bed again (long, smelly story), and i have made a weekly appointment with myself in my calendar to spend 2 hours cleaning.
this will never happen to me again. i need my apartment to be an oasis, not a smelly breeding ground for infection.
i'm actually ashamed of myself.
but it's ok, because i'm doing something about it. just like i'm doing something about everything else that i'm unsatisfied with right now.
i'm changed. i had been changing for a long time now. but today, it's done. i see things differently.
not just because of my apartment, but because of the way i've been living.
i'm ready.

how did this happen?

At 10 this morning,
one woman sets off to disinfect, clean, and un-disease the apartment of her friend. it's a story of bacteria, dog shit, crusty sheets, and ultimately, friendship.
stay tuned to find out how long it takes 2 people to make a 275 square-foot apartment new again. or at least how quickly mariela faints from the squalor, and cristina vomits, then crawls back in bed without cleaning it up, all from a 4am hangover.

"The Costra Stories."
At 10 this morning on LMN.


and...we're off.

the tecnique

11:50am: the alarm on my cell phone goes off. i situate myself in front of my computer and prepare for battle.

11:52am: i log onto tickemaster, and pull up an additional browser for backup.

11:54am: i start playing "say" on my ipod, you know, for inspiration.

11:55am: someone starts talking to me. i quickly hush them, and refresh my browsers to make sure nothing is happening.

11:58am: i have spent the last three minutes listening to my heart pound, feeling my palms sweat, and wondering what will happen if i dont, in fact, get tickets. the thought is too painful to think about, so i distract myself by thinking about pretty things. like her hair.

11:59am: start refreshing like crazy.

12:01pm: what's going on?!?!?! it won't show the "find tickets" tab.

12:02pm: TOTAL PANIC. use multiple browsers to try and get that damn "find tickets" tab.

12:03pm: finally click on "more info" and notice that it's letting me buy tickets. why didn't i think of this before???? i just wasted 3 minutes!!!!

12:04pm: find tickets on two separate browsers. pick the ones that have my log-in info on them, because i'm lazy and worry about that whole "you have 2 minutes to decide" thing. realize later that another page may have had better seats. get upset with myself.

12:07pm: am raped by ticketmaster fees, but am now the proud owner of 2 tickets, orchestra, 8th row. feel secretly pissed because i know i could have done better.

12:10pm: call concert companion. relish in the pleasure of ticketholding.

12:12pm: feel utterly nerdy, yet somehow fulfilled.

this. again.

same situation as last night. 2 am. raging insomnia. cancelled on j. AGAIN.
don't know why he puts up with it. cause i mean, i'm not that great. there's no reason for these shennanigans. particularly when i cancelled on him to go to bed to catch up on my sleep from last night (2.5 hours), except i ended up going out anyway tonight with other people, until just now.

i know exactly how i got here. i can pinpoint exactly the moment when i made the decision to cross the bridge from "just great" into "really pissed off and annoyed." and i still did it. again. tonight. just now.

even though i had just had a lovely time. and tina had convinced me earlier in the night that i am the funniest. and j. had forgiven me yet again. and i hadn't offended e. again like i had been every day for a month.

so really, things had been going well. until 2 seconds ago when i crossed the bridge.

i blame it on drunk-n-blog.
because at least tonight i have an excuse i didnt have last night.
which may actually be worse cause i broke my caloric count.
yes, i am that lame.
plus i'm singing kinda loudly.
um, is that my doorbell? WTF?

we all remember how it went the last time

i'm thinking of trying the vegetarian thing again.
yay? nay?

i should really stop watching "Super Size Me." It's traumatizing.

but yea, no more meat? again? hmm. something to consider.

the post below, v. 2

um, apparently people ARE up, because i just listened to a message from j, who i cancelled on tonight because i was genuinely tired (not anymore).

and then 2 minutes later tina reminded me of my favorite memory with her, when someone told us to "stop trolling the internet for sex." indeed.

alright. sleep attempt #2. or at least i'm going off ze internetzzz.

WHY IS NO ONE UP RIGHT NOW?

i think my head is about to explode. but because i dont want to get into it, i'm just going to write. write write write.

let's see. well, +1 is contacting me again. which is perfectly appropriate since now i have no time to go over there and slap his fucking face for being so damn stupid. actually, that's not true. i'm going to PR in a few weeks again i think, but maybe i'll just be an even bigger ass and avoid him.
who am i kidding?

um. i'm registered at school. which is fine. whatever.

seriously, this entry is so pointless. i'm just trying not to pick up the phone and yell. i haven't been this agitated in months. well, at least not in an angry sense. i hate you, maria eugenia, for going to bed with the gallinas.

....[this represents the 15 minute pause i just took, while trying desperately to reach a fellow insomniac friend]....

let's try something different.

i recently lost some weight (i dont remember if i already talked about this or not...oh well). it's been fine, i dieted, walked even more than i already did (which basically means i am walking everywhere), and blah blah blah a few weeks later somehow i was less "Pale J. Lo" and more "Unevenly Distributed Shakira On Platforms." it didnt hurt that my hair is out of control.

anywho, i'm thinking now that i'm all into the walking and i'm getting into the yoga, and i've signed up for a few cheese classes at Artisanal, and you know, my friends think i have this earth mother thing going on, then MAYBE, just maybe, it's time to drop this fucking anger thing i'm feeling right now, because, really, who cares? the fact of the matter is, everything beyond how i feel is just external. so if stuff with my family is complicated, or if some people just blow my mind at how fucked up they can be, then oh well.
am i still enlightened, chona? or did i just lose that status with this fucked up rant?

BAH.

if i dont get Cat Power tix when they go on sale on Friday, i will sell santiago on craigslist to get them.

"hi"

last night i received the best compliment i've ever gotten from a complete stranger. (portia de rossi?????)

last night i had simple, divey, but possibly the best in new york fun with my oldest friend.

last night i realized i'm happy, happier, happiest, and perhaps it's time to drop the sarcasm because i don't want my friends to think i'm still pissy.

last night we created the "fish club," of which k. is president and ceo and i am consilieri. we were at fish bar, which just made it all that appropriate, and i think it will become our headquarters. [not that you need an explanation, maru, but in case anyone else is confused, fiiiiiish is a term we use for the sketch. the shady. that dude who was completely playing everyone, or that friend who simply vanished. since we all fall into this demographic, we are not only the founders of the club, we are members.]

and finally, this morning jenny lewis and beth orton were on CBS Sunday Morning, and i totally freaked out, revealing completely what an absolute nerd i am.

i dont want to quote City High, but....

what would you do?

the scenario: going back to school, not for a degree, but to complete requirements to get into grad school (in this case medical school).
so let's say you got into a school that's decent, and CHEAP. CHEAPEST. so cheap, you won't end up in horrific debt.
let's say you also applied to a school that's 100 times better, but EXPENSIVE (and you think you have a shot at actually getting in). so expensive you think you may end up choking from all the debt.

you've dreamt about going to this amazing school since you first decided to go BACK to school. you fell victim to it's organized website, it's pretty colors, and, of course, the fact that it's one of the best (and don't forget dollar dollar bill grubbing) schools in the country.

what would you do? is it worth it? i mean, it's not like you're going back to get a BS from this place. you're simply completing the requirements you didn't do while at your original (and also FANTASTIC and EXPENSIVE) undergrad institution.

so the question is, is one great school enough? or are you so much of an elitist that you need to go to the best schools, all the time, even if it means owing everyone money forever? or are you simply rationalizing going to the less expensive school because you're scared you'll do terrible at the better school (or, GASP, maybe you wont even get in!)?

just wondering.

out where???

there was this guy. in the remote (and almost completely impossible) chance that he reads this, i'll keep his name out of it, but i won't refrain from giving you the dirt. oh, and i've absolutely mentioned him before. i believe i once referred to him as "+1." and yes, most of the 2 people that DO in fact read this have met him.

anyway.

there was this guy. and he was(is) amazing. and someone once said about us that they had never seen too people that got along better, or laughed more when they were together. he was charming, the smartest person i've EVER met (sorry maru), also the funniest (sorry again maru - ok, maybe he was the smartest and funniest DUDE i've ever met...), and, basically, he got me. for once, i was 100% comfortable, he felt the same away about me (more on that in a minute) and, well, it was developing very nicely.

and then, of course, i proceeded to pull a Cristina, got all "i hate everyone," and pushed him away. after a series of events i won't get into because it embarrasses me to think about the way i acted, i basically killed it, PLUS eliminated the influx of 5000-word emails arriving at my inbox on an hourly basis.

awesome.

anyway, the reason i am talking about this now is cause of course, in typical stupid girl manner, i immediately regretted my mistakes, tried to take everything back, only to have my efforts thrown back in my face (deservedly).

and finally, here i am now, and my friends claim that i never liked him as more than a friend, and blah blah blah no one cares, but the point is, as i've said 100 times this week to everyone who will listen to me talk (cause i won't shut up), I AM NOT A DATER.

the moments that make up a dull day

one of the wonderful things of never wearing a watch is getting completely lost in whatever you're doing, without worrying about where you're supposed to be, or how late you are, or how it's not time for dinner yet, or how you're overall a slave to the constrainsts of hours and minutes.

one of the terrible things of never knowing what time it is, is that you tend to be late to everything, you always have meals either too late or too early, and often your sleeping pattern gets completely fucked up, because you tend to follow how your body feels instead of what time you should go to bed according to what time you need to wake up. i'm not very good with alarm clocks either.

going back to the positive for a sec, my inability to tell time allowed me to have a wonderful, completely improvised Friday afternoon (which turned into Friday night/late-night) with a friend who apparently has as little ties to hours as i do. we walked the city, north south east west, went from after-work hangout to dinner to drinks to more drinks to meeting my dog and more drinks. all while managing to walk through every neighborhood in manhattan.

going back to the negative for a sec, my complete lack of consideration for my body's stability needs led to me to aid a friend in painting her apartment all day yesterday, followed by an extremely late birthday dinner for her boyfriend and an even later (also completely improvised) walking tour of the east village, which did not bring me home until approximately 5 hours after my body had decided it needed sleep urgently.

which brings me to today. i woke up not knowing the time, and proceeded to go ahead with my plans to take santiago to central park with other friends with dogs. except that by the time we all got there, it was after 3, and i was starving, and it was too late for breakfast. so now i'm home and i need to eat but it's too early for dinner and too late for brunch and the point of all this is to say i need to put some batteries in my swatch cause this is getting ridiculous.