float on, part deux

after about 36 hours in puerto rico, i am now in Houston, visiting my mother on the Palliative Care floor.
but that's not why i'm writing.

i remember most events by their association to music or books.
Paloma San Basilio and Raul DiBlasio took me through childhood in a rose-tinted house. Boyz II Men and Mariah Carey were sitting next to me during the introduction to cancer, and all the Underground rappers of the Carolina 90's helped me dance when even smiling seemed impossible.
I agreed with Fiona Apple, I felt loss with Soraya, and I learned to play the guitar with Shakira. I went to bed with Zero 7, I cried with Jeff Buckley, I saw rainbows with Pink Floyd. Rising up with Jenny Lewis was more fun that getting through my work days with Cat Power.

Judy Blume and Louis Lowry made my pre-adolescent neuroses seem normal, Kay Redfield Jameson made my diagnoses bearable, and Adrien Nicole Leblanc vocalized my outrage. Paul Auster became my brother, and HH the Dalai Lama gave me peace.

but Assata. Assata made me think. Assata Shakur made me proud again, Assata inspired. Assata got me from NY to PR to Houston. And in three days she managed to change my mind.
Read Assata by Assata Shakur. and think of me when you encounter her poem about her mother.
excerpt:
"Leave the past behind
where it belongs
and come with me
toward tomorrow

I love you mommy
cause you are beautiful
and i am life that springs from you:
part tree, part weed, part flower.

My roots run deep.
I have been nourished well."

civilization

i went to a hospital benefit last night, wore a dress, tried to act refined, and got pseudo-groped by a celebrity. my ass still has the dirty mark of shame.

in other news, i am "taking a leave" from new york today.
but we've covered that.

see you on the other side.

about my weekend

This weekend I attended the 3-day teachings planned by Tibet House, featuring HH the Dalai Lama. From Saturday until today I spent all day every day listening, praying, trying to absorb every ounce of wisdom this person has to offer.
I can't really describe what happened, but I can say I have been changed.

More than anything, though, I saw someone whose joyous core was apparent for all to see. His sense of humor is wicked, his humility surpising (despite all we know about him) in it's sincerity, his ability to remain completely current absolutely life-affirming.

I also met 2 people, on my first day there, in the Saturday morning 7am line to get in. One of these people also managed to change me. She read me like a book and was generous to a fault with me, someone she had just met.
The most incredible part was that she was not the only extraordinary person I met this weekend. It was just a coming together of hearts.

I had standing room tickets, which at first seemed like an inconvenience, but ended up being a great blessing. The sense of community that developed between all of us, some who had come from Seattle, and even Europe, I think had more than a little to do with the fact that we often had to take turns shifting so we could see the stage, and let others walk through the aisles to get to their seats (or the bathroom).

I don't really think I've understood everything that's happened yet, but I do know I'll be thinking about it for a very long time.

my dog is a murderer.

the story of the scary necklace

i had this pendant made awhile back. i wear it every day. i've worn it every day since i got it.
i couldn't afford a real chain to go with it, so instead i bought one at Target and hoped it would do the trick.
it did. i thought.

it was only today that i realized the true curse of my obsession with Target.
because it looks like i've been wearing a green necklace of another sort for months now.
and i didnt realize it until today, when i took off the damn chain.

someone help

SOMEHOW, SOMEHOW, a fly has entered my apartment.

and it is driving my dog crazy.
he leaps
he barks
he looks at me, frustrated.

this fly is impossible to catch.
it's starting to piss me off.

help.

and we'll all float on

so i finished. i'm done with the hospital, i am out of school.
i finished.

i leave in less than a week, i have but one more duty before i go. i go pray with the dalai. and then i go.
i was invited to a fundraising benefit for my unit at the hospital.
i'll go, and then i go.

i leave with trepidation, i leave with certainty, and un.
i leave with the best farewell weekend i have ever received, courtesy of 2 friends who went out of their way.
i leave with a message of love from my bosses on the unit, and i leave with the stamp of approval from my sole parental figure in new york.

i guess i'm ready. i finished by realizing i cannot finish right now, until i finish in guaynabo.
and i'm ready to learn some patience.
we'll all get on with it, soon.

en la mia con n-o-t-a

things i've done so far from my list of things to do before i leave:

1. lots and lots of Rickshaw Dumplings.

2. The Color Purple on Broadway.

3. counted down my top 10 favorite moments with/for my friends.

4. told matt everything i needed to.

5. Billy's Bakery

it's easy to forget

once upon a time someone gave me music. not like anyone else had given me music. this someone gave me lyrics and love, or what i thought was love. music is just about the only good thing i got from this someone, i thought. then the music became unbearable to listen to. and i lost that too.

where's the line with you, i would say. the line was nowhere to be found, it turned out. i cried, i blamed, i destroyed, myself mostly, and eventually created. the line was nowhere to be found with me, either. until i drew it. it was a mystery to me why this music was the most difficult of all my challenges. it was a mystery how i lost myself so profoundly.

it was not this someone's fault. it was my own. and since the greatest of pains i have been born again. those who seek forgiveness will find it, and i have found it for myself. i should have known, but i didn't. because of that music, because of that upheaval, i will now know forever.
so thank you. i see now this had nothing to do with you.
the push and pull is over, finally.

as a girl thinketh

i've had a lot of time to think this week, after quitting school and my hospital work. i'm free, sort of, to really grasp the stuff going on around me. for once, i don't mean my mom's illness nor do i mean my love life.

my hours spent alone in my apt, packing and reading and thinking, have allowed me to explore my relationship with my friends. i believe it is crisis that tests friendships, and also really helps us all to hone in on who matters to us, and why.

it is your friends who will remind you of your worth, it is your friends who become your pillow. it's also your friends who surprise you, in both positive and negative ways. i guess it all comes with the territory.

being able to sucessfully be lonely is a little-encouraged virtue. in our search for companionship from friends or otherwise, we often forget to sit still for a second, alone, and listen to what our minds are telling us. what we want, who we want, what's best for ME. not listening enough to myself has caused me to make big mistakes, some painful and some life-altering.

i've become a pro at being alone. and i think i see things much more clearly now.
this clarity has come just in time, since in a week i will abandon my little cave for a place where i am completely surrounded, all the time. and i'm ready for the company, the outwards expression of love. i'm ready to go to Puerto Rico, finally.

AQUI VOY

creepiest picture ever.

breathe in the air

i was supposed to go to Roger Waters tonight, and couldn't go at the very last minute. boo.

now that i've made my decision to move to PR (sept. 27th is the day), i am simultaneously heartbroken and optimistic. i get to spend time with my favorite people (family and otherwise), and i know the ones i leave behind here will always be beside me. i've mostly gotten nothing but unconditional support, and i leave with peace.

i will miss a lot about new york, i will be sad for a very long time. but i am keeping my apartment here for the next few months while i figure out the future of my schooling.

today i teared up when i realized that there will be no Japonica in puerto rico.
no billy's bakery.
no le gamin.
no nokia theater times square.
NO FISH BAR.
and no whole foods.

but i'll be with family. and friends. and love.
so i'm calm and happy and i'm hopeful and excited.

and i'm planning my next few months. i'm taking on a project. and i'm taking on sleep.
and medalla.
oh medalla.

um

i never ever thought i'd see this day.
i thought i would be in new york forever, or at least until i got into BU medical school.

but i'm leaving. for real this time.
i'm deferring school, i'm quitting the hospital, i'm leaving.

i'm heartbroken and i'm defeated.
i'm alone and i'm terrified.
but i will be triumphant.

i will do this alone.
i will find what i need.
but first, i have to go.

i had a surreal experience tonight, and i believe my father spoke to me in the voice of another person.
because it was a cab driver who consoled me when i was inconsolable.
he told me i would march on like a flower that grows through the cracks in cement.
he told me that even if i do not see him, i do have a guide.
that i will never be alone.

not a single soul in this world will ever be me. and so i will stop feeling misunderstood, and will start feeling victorious.

but first, i gotta go.

just when i think i'm going to give up

i smile.
i have the best neighbors on planet earth.

i do not want to leave them
and santiago doesn't want to leave his garden.

while i wait for him...

Dear partner in crime (and in secret blog endeavors), adored consumer of meat-lovers' pizza (fo mano), bud friend (late-night out the window of my room) and fellow insomniac. In short, Dear Fellow Formerly Known As "El Afro,"

as i sit up waiting for you to answer my email/call/message, i began exploring the reasons behind a few of your bold statements:

1. you hate Macs. who hates Macs? and, more importantly, why the fuck do you hate mine? this just simply will not do.
2. you always try to get me to eat pizza. are you trying to make me fat? this is an honest question.
3. i get the mol now. this was actually a statement said by me, but still, i'm shocked.

and finally, one last message:
the email about the guy who posted a fake craigslist ad pretending to be a horny submissive girl looking for a dom, then posted every single unedited reply he got at the encyclopedia dramatica? that email?

it nearly killed me.

we're glad you joined us, even if you are late.

i just reheated rice, beans and pork chops on my spankin' new (4 minutes old).....

MICROWAVE.

i bought a fucking microwave. finally. and i have never felt a bigger pleasure in my life, which doesn't say a lot about my past lovers, now, does it?

i don't think anyone will ever forget

it was not that long ago that i stopped thinking of New York as my favorite place in the world, and began seeing it as home. the place i where i live, and work, and love, and create friendships that are forever. it is a place where i have had great happiness, great loves, great heartbreak and great loss. is is the place where i have changed everything for myself, a place where i have had multiple new starts.

it was only when New York became the place where i planted roots that i understood what happened that day, not just to the world, but to this city.
i think i will be mourning forever.

yo yo check it out

so i'm sick. which is fine, since it gives me an excuse to take codeine and sleep meds.

it also gives me an excuse to beg for visits and soup.
what it doesn't give me an excuse for is watching teen movies, and CRYING.

in other news, my main source of happiness right now is my brother, who i have recently discovered is much more bitter and sarcastic than i am. this makes me long for his opinion. who else would tell me that my violent fantasies are completely warranted, and should totally be acted on?

sigh. i love it when people are exactly like me.

great moments in friendship history

thursdays are my craziest days at school. lecture, lecture, lab, lecture. 9-7. you get it.

today was particularly annoying because i think i have strep throat. (outbreak at my workplace? outbreak at my work place! bienvenue a mi cuerpo!!)

so. i'm at my last lecture, and there appears a message from Alex. "extra ticket to Shakira. come?"
here's the thing. i dont like Shakira so much anymore because I never got into her recent albums. but i still remember my obsession with her that lasted about 10 years, so i can still be loyal, right? right.

actually, wrong. you see, concerts cost money. money is the reason my bank account hit a negative today (for the first time EVER!! - welcome to studentville).
money is something i do not have.

a hot ass, yes.
awesome hair, yes.
cute feet, sure.

money, no.

BUT. she gave me the ticket anyway.

and Alejandro Sanz was there. and so was Wyclef, but Alejandro!! from the 9th grade video i made with Zaimar et al!! Where i played the dude in the "Ella" video!!! (so butch, even back then)

so i freaked. and i tried to yell but then remembered those damn kids that gave me strep.

but i danced, sorta. and most of all, i saw Shakira give the horniest concert in my personal concert-going history.
so thanks, Shakira. now i gotta go have phone sex and hump a pillow.

so. i was having a nervous breakdown and all that.

when i found, randomly, a 3-day pass to see the Dalai Lama (SOLD OUT SINCE MARCH!!!!!!).
and i bought it.

and i'm going.

and i will figure this all out. goddamit thank you.

i have a confession to make.

more to myself, than anyone else.
i want to move back to Puerto Rico. in a few weeks.
i've been talking it over with my brother and mom for 2 or 3 weeks. it might just be the thing to do.

i've never been more homesick in my life.

but it's not just that.
i cannot be here while my mother gets neurosurgery. i cannot be here while she has her end. i cannot be here without them.
i dont want to be here anymore. it's been like this since i got back from PR.

i've been trying to put it out of my head. i have school, responsibilities. i have santiago.
but none of that matters, really.

i need to go home. and i dont know if i'm going, but i really really want to. i cant start school again in january, in PR. i'm done with being the odd sister/daughter out.

i hate it.

on michael

thank you, Oprah, for reminding me of my pubescent obsession with Michael Jordan.
thank you for making me so wound up that i cannot concentrate on my lab homework.

thank you for bringing back all my hormonal-teenage-girl fantasies about #23.
thank you for making me see how significant the #23 really is for me. maybe that's why i couldn't leave 23rd street this year.

i need to go buy me some air jordans. good golly gee.

molemolemolemolemole

(multiple posts in one day; i must be real bored)

i successfully completed basic chemistry courses both in high school and as an undergrad (the first time around). i remember enjoying it just fine, except for one tiny (actually massive) thing.

the mole. mol. Avogrado's number.

i never understood the mol. had nightmares about it for long after my courses were done and my grades in the mail.
it is the one thing i was fearing the most about abandoning my TV Production career in favor of the much more fun Pre-med Post-Bacc Style.

i am afraid of the mol. i hate it. i do not understand it. it reminds me of my ex. there's nothing i'd rather do than gather a mol of my friends (it's a numerical unit, people) and killing it off. the mol, that is. i'd like to pay someone at the Chemistry Institute (or whatever the place where Chemistry nerds hang out is called) to discredit the mol theory.

anyway, it's back. it has not only made an appearance in my new Chemistry course (ON THE FIRST DAY!!!), but it's sneaking up on me in the Biology by Campbell text that i so lovingly paid $110 for.

i've read. and reread. did not know what to do. so i Wikipedia-d it.

i feel slightly better now.
will feel even better when my hot lab-mates tutor me extensively on the nature of the mol. and anatomy and physiology.

just kidding.

the key to studying

Is to not get distracted by dogs napping on your lap, or phone calls, or the goddamn internet, or the pervasive smell of steak in your apartment, or your neighbors' loud sex, or how comfy your bed looks on a rainy day, or your home improvement fantasies.

the key is to stay focused, take short breaks, and keep at it.

the key is NOT to try out new hairstyles, or to wonder when you'll be able to wear your new coat, or pretend to study while counting the hours till the 90210 Labor Day marathon on SoapNet.

the key is to actually study.

well. i'm glad i got that down. i'll use my newfound knowledge real soon; right after i down another bar of chocolate from Chocolate Bar, followed by some random singing, which will lead to organizing my bookcase. that's a short break, right?

right.

true stories from the homefront

the following have been taken, unedited, from my doodle notebook, on my first day as a full-time post-baccalaureate premed student. the author had not attended a lecture since graduating from Boston University, over 3 years ago.

First day observations:
Assembly Hall is exactly like a JSA, only there's more people like me, not so much WASP-central. This is hot.

I'm already bored and the lecture has not even started. I'm happy I'm doing this. Where's my Round 2 Noah? [author's note: i really wish i was allowed to edit this out]

As much as I want to sit in the back, I can't see shit.
Why are Chemistry professors always weird. I mean, Quigley!??!

There's a very specific amount of coffee I can drink. Have not found appropriate amount yet.

Jittery. Need to pee. Fuck.

10:30 am - I don't have a break till 1, and I'm already thinking about lunch.

2:00 pm - made friend/lab partner.

there's a ton of hot people at this school. must plan better outfit for Tuesday.