Monday, December 5, 2011

Letters with meaning

I've decided that I may need to write some letters. In certain situations, I'm not very good one on one, and it seems the people I have to write to don't care to do the one on one with me.

Every family is held together by love, but happens when love is not enough? I always thought love was strong enough to hold everything together, but it is not. The alternative that I'm not loved anymore is too painful. I rather change my theory, or I'll be crying more than a river.

Writing a letter that conveys how you truly feel is hard. First rule is that it should be done by hand. Neat legible handwriting shows that you have put a lot of effort. I've cried writing letters before and left tear drops as stains, I have to be careful while writing these.

Words can hurt longer than a slap. When you write something be certain that it will be re-read, maybe shared for others to give their opinion.

While in the attic twice these last few weeks I came upon a pile of letters. Letters sent to me, cards from my family, notes from my kids. Amazing find. I am so glad I keep everything. By the end of the day, I had a ton of bags full of useless papers, school stuff from the kids, old books from classes that I took, and just crap that I'm not sure why I saved. The letters were saved. I cried like a sad puppy while I read card after card from my brothers when they were younger and letters from my grandma who passed in 2001. The words people put on paper can make you or break you. Especially if you care about that person. I found the one and only letter my husband ever wrote me. It was not a love letter, but it had a lot of love in it. It was written when I was pregnant in 1992, before I lost the baby. He ended with lots of love to me and a kiss to be placed in my tummy for the baby. He was in South America and I was here with my family. I read that letter and realized how much that man really loved me. I didn't dare ask him to read it and confirm that he still loves me that much. Two pretty healthy kids later, we are not the same people we were then. I do think I loved him a lot then, but more now. Love grows or it dies. It can never stay the same. That was my grand enlightenment!

Monday, July 25, 2011

Let go of your ego...

Let go of your ego's need to be right. When you're in the middle of an argument, ask yourself: Do I want to be right or be happy? When you choose the joyous, loving, spiritual mode, your connection to intention is strengthened. - Dr. Wayne Dyer

Wednesday, July 20, 2011


How do you for sure your friends are really your friends? How do you know who you can trust? Can you ever trust anyone completely?

More and more American TV exploits friendships across the board. Late at night when I can't sleep, I watch these shows in order to understand how women get so close and then fall apart by a tiny incident.

Tonight one of these reality chicks said, I don't ever talk about my relationship with my girls, not even with my best friend. So, if you can't talk to your friends about your relationship, then are they really friends? You can discuss politics, family drama, religion, clothes, perfume, but no husband/boyfriend drama. Gave me something to think about. All women can't be jealous of you.

Some friends are just anchors dragging you down. Make sure you weed those out quick or you'll be filling your lungs with water in no time. Sometimes you want to be understanding and cool, but they think you want to do what they are doing. Someone please write a rule book already. What are the friend rules?

Growing up with boys and around men made me think differently. I see men as puzzles to be solved. Some are easy, some are hard, some are impossible because they lost some of their pieces. Every relationship leaves damage or a broken/missing part. Those guys are better left untouched.

My favorite thing to do is people watch. I love figuring them out, catch them when they are not aware. I love to listen to what men really think about the women they date. Men are sensitive creatures too. When I was in Jr. High and High School I had a lot of male friends and only a few girlfriends. Most of the girls would use me to talk to the boy they liked. Once I figured this out, I had my fun with it. It will all be in my book. Just kidding, I'm not writing a book.

Thinking a lot about friendships lately. Friends that ask how I'm doing early in the morning when I'm all alone in the office, friends that send me wonderful texts that make me feel special and thought of. I hope I'm the friend that gives them the same warm and fuzzy feeling.

xox universe. I know you are paying attention to me.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

What's Real

In October 1987 I went back to Uruguay (that's where I'm from) to visit my grandparents. My grandma had just been hospitalized and my mom needed to go and take care of her a little bit. I think it was all a plot to take me back and leave me there. At 18 1/2 I was starting to rebel (yes, it took me a while). While visiting I was invited to a dance club and my mother said yes. I was so thrilled, at 18 I had never been to one so I made sure I looked my very best. Thankfully gravity was still my bff.

The place was in the middle of nowhere, but it was really nice. The weather was absolutely beautiful that night and you could stand outside and feel the breeze. The girls were showing me how "it was done". We walked around, looking forward but at nothing, pretending we were all that and then some. Suddenly, I was faced with a pair of beautiful eyes and a smile that made me stop. As I'm staring like a fool I knew that he said something, but for the life of me I could not remember what it was. I concentrated hard and said "what did you say?". He smiled again, and although my knees got weak, my mind stayed focus and he repeated his words slowly. "You...have...beautiful...eyes". I was mortified, specially because he said it slowly, I mumbled a "thank you" and just kept walking. From then on, no matter what guy asked me to dance or started talking to me, my eyes followed that boy where he went or who he danced with. I was fixated and if you know me, the worse thing that can happen is me being fixated on something.

We went home, a bunch of little pieces of papers with phone numbers on them, empty promises of "sure, I'll call you", "of course I think you are handsome, I'll call you". All the promises a lie because I didn't know how to handle these situations, I had never been in one.

The short trip with my mother turned into a three year stay. After my mother came back to the US with my brothers, I went back three more times to that club to find the boy with the eyes and smile. Finally on October 31st, 1987 I saw him at the bar. He was drinking a beer and I was wearing my shortest, I mean cutest mini skirt. When he looked up (probably because he felt my stare burning his face) I smiled and looked elegant and poised. Ok, I tripped on a step and fell gracefully. When I started to get up he was there helping me, like superman. I think he ran superspeed in my direction. He was a superhero with a great tan.

When people say, I don't know what love is, I tell them, it's because you have never been in love. For sure, that moment he touched my arm, I felt love.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Getting a Grip on Reality

When I first started this blog, the title of the blog "Getting a grip on reality" was just a title. Now, some time later, it seems to be my goal in life.

To get a grip on reality.

Do you know how hard it is? How difficult and exhausting it is to get a grip on my reality?

What's the reality? For some it's not achieving their goals, others, not finding the "right one". For me, realizing that my reality last year, is not the one that I'm faced with today.

If memory serves me correct, I was a pretty good kid. Growing up, I caused no waves, I tried to ruffle no feathers, I lived a life that can be described in the cheesiest of quotes.

Now, at (mumbling age) I dream of an elevator that is stuck, I can't get out nor does anyone hear me call to them. I see myself in the dream and get really pissed that the me in the elevator is not doing anything to help herself. I wake up upset and angry. That's no way to wake up at 6:45am. No way at all.

I know the dream is very telling. I definetly know why I'm having the dream, but my question is. When is reality going to get a grip of me? Maybe it already has.

Can the Universe throw me a crumb?

Monday, February 7, 2011

Kings Of Leon - Sex On Fire

I'm in love with this song....

and the singer a little bit....

Lay where you're laying, don't make a sound
I know they're watching, they're watching
All the commotion, the kiddie like play
Has people talking, talking

You, your sex is on fire

The dark of the alley, the breaking of day
The head while I'm driving, I'm driving
Soft lips are open, knuckles are pale
Feels like you're dying, you're dying

You, your sex is on fire
Consumed with what's to transpire

Hot as a fever, rattling bones
I could just taste it, taste it
If it's not forever, if it's just tonight
Oh, it's still the greatest, the greatest, the greatest

You, your sex is on fire
And you, your sex is on fire
Consumed with what's to transpire

And you, your sex is on fire
Consumed with what's to transpire

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Scratch and sniff

Image-taken from my back yard

Whenever I see or talk to certain people I can get these amazing feelings where I just want to hug them and kiss them repeatedly. I don’t because who really wants to be randomly hugged and kissed? Well, me, but I can’t say that’s normal.

I think I’m an avid people watcher. Shows like “Lie to me” make me happy. Of course for someone like me, those shows only feed my need to analyze people in the most invasive way. Well, not that invasive.

I remember being a lot younger and having everyone hug and kiss all the time. I suppose that being from South America makes this part of the norm. When I came to live here my norm had to change. I still aim to kiss your cheek before I would ever aim to shake your hand, but there are so many who just look so caught off guard. The contact with someone’s cheek and the feel of their body heat near yours is just amazing. You can feel chemistry much quicker this way. I know I’ve been released from a hug only to feel like I just wanted to leave the room, other times like I could hug that person forever.

Don’t you love when someone smells so good you just want to sniff them a while longer?

Scents can evoke feelings too. That is why it is so hard to find that scent that is yours and it lets others feel a connection with you. I happen to love Fresh – Pink Jasmine as my everyday scent. I noticed that when I wore the vanilla bean scent from the scrub people commented on how they wanted to take a bite out of me. That was crazy. The Pink Jasmine is soft and fresh. I like it. I own plenty of perfumes, and some are just so delicious that I sniff them on my way to the bedroom at night. There are plenty of studies about perfumes and their effects. I can only go by trial and error. If I’d sniff me, then I’m good. Now, if a random stranger stops you and says, you smell delicious! I think that’s a bonus (not that this ever happens to me).

I read in an article that if you find a mixture of lavender and pumpkin you get a scent that men love, and that turns them on. I’m not sure I want to smell like a pie and a flower. I do love pumpkin pie though. Would that make a guy want to bite into you and sniff you?
Would I want to sniff you?

Thursday, January 27, 2011

2011 - The Entry

I love music, it truly gets me through the roughest of times.

Happy New Year.

Why do we consider ourselves to be larger than we really are? I don't mean size wise, but importance wise.

We truly believe that our acts and words can bring people to their knees. I don't mean we act on it, but deep down we see the demise of whomever we are having trouble with. Act as if it doesn't matter. We can't go all Nikita on them because the law does not allow us to show our aggressive side as much as we would like to show it.
I feel that for the last couple of months I’ve been holding in everything that has been bugging me. Result? Pretty bad dr. visits. The solution, detachment.

It takes a while, but I think I’m starting to go pro. Still, once in a while little things hurt like a b**ch.

Sometimes there is no point in starting fires that you will eventually need to put out. Because basically, you are the one that cares about how you feel, the rest of the world is just waiting for you to react.

I would like to throw a challenge out there…..

Are you ready?....

Don’t wait so long. Don’t cry about it. Go with your gut or you’ll end up hurting more because you knew, deep down you knew the whole time it was worthless.

I guess I can always write best after the smoke clears and the pain is less.
I hate confrontation, especially if I know it will be hard for me to hold back. Get me when I’m PMSing and I feel sorry for you. Get at me when I’m PMSing, with a vacuum in one hand, laundry in the other, bitching about getting no help.....and I would suggest you run. You’d think someone who knew me well would figure it out.

When Marco Polo was about to die, the priest asked him if the stories he told were all true. His answer: “I did not tell half of what I saw”. My daughter found this out today and I think it’s a pretty cool statement to leave.

What’s going through your mind?