He didn’t call even after a tornado.

There was a tornado that passed our town and touched down on the other side of the river. I was 3 hours away when it happened and luckily my roommate called me to tell me to stay where I was. It surprised me that my dad had yet to call me. Every morning and every night he check the weather online before he starts his day, or goes to sleep. For 6 years, he’s been a better weather radar than the local news, occasionally texting or calling to let me know a storm was on its way.

I still haven’t heard from him since July. And although my hurt may sound trivial compared to the pain people are feeling right now with homes and belongings completely gone, I can’t help how it creeps into my mind at work and stops me in mid sentence throughout the day. I’m pretty sure he knew about it and didn’t call me. Even if he didn’t know before, he knew about it after and still didn’t call me.

So one day, while shower thinking, I thought about the situation as if it was the other way around. If an earthquake were to hit home, I’d be calling as soon as I can. As a matter of fact, when a 5.4 earthquake hit right outside of Mexico City, I called home to ask if they knew if everyone was okay. My dad and uncle hadn’t heard about the earthquake yet. If that’s how I reacted about family I barely know, I would definitely be calling if it hit California.

It’s sad to think that I almost drove right into a storm, if it hadn’t been for my roommate’s call. He wouldn’t have had a clue, not out of not being aware, but out of pride. And unfortunately, my resentment grows.

Being alone…

Isn’t too bad when you have some things in your life to make it easier. Like a heat pack! My back and shoulders are constantly in knead of a massage. Bah! I know stupid. But a heat pack helps. I feel asleep with one on my shoulders last night and I feel absolutely amazing today. I massaged some kinks and knots and although only a professional could get them out, the attention I was finally paying to myself paid off. Hm, what next? A little self tlc goes a long way.

How To Be Alone

A friend just posted this on Facebook. I recently cut out someone from my life, Cigarette Lips. It took him a while to say the words, “I don’t feel the same for you as you do me,” even after asking him 4 times to say those words aloud. With his hesitation, and his hysterical begging to still talk to him afterwards, I realized he was full of shit. A part of me still wants him to admit how he feels, but he said what I asked him to instead. In the end, I’m left having to take those words and act on them. I know I’m terrible at getting over him since I definitely failed the first time around. But this video, this small reminder that I can at least be okay with being alone. I forget how valuable I am, just me, alone. My thoughts and work and actions and singing and dancing and all my ability and love. I have so much to offer, I forget to offer it to myself.

So although I can’t control who I end up falling in love with, I can remember to keep my love for myself burning strong. Because I should, I can, and I deserve it.

Pokemon lovers

So my roommates (my redheaded best friend Sally and her brother) make fun of my list of love interests by naming them after Pokemon. It’s gotten so bad that even a mention of someone I find attractive or interesting gets dubbed a name.The issue with this? I don’t even know Pokemon by name. So they get to keep tabs on this list and I struggle to follow. 

Pikachu: That one guy I always go back to no matter what. Problem? He’s 2,000 miles away. He also isn’t the best at expressing how he feels about me. We’ve known each other since we were 16, and ever since he’s maybe expressed to me he likes me a couple of times. Then a couple years ago called me crying, asking when we were ever going to be in the same place. I obviously couldn’t give him a direct answer. And he brought me to uncontrollable tears. I had never heard him talk that way, and I never thought I would. Ever. 

Just now, I got a text from him. Brother says, “Oh who’s that?” in his teasing voice. Redhead, “Pikachu?”

Yes, I say, knowing that there would be an onslaught of teasing to follow.

“Ohhhhhhh Pikachu?” Brother says, “So he’s still around?”

“Yeah, and I don’t know if that will ever go away.”

And of course, Sister, “SHE HASN’T RELEASED HIM!!”

“Oh my gosh.”

“OHHHHHHHH I see! So you haven’t used your thunderstone on him huh? Still isn’t Raichu?”

I swear, my roommates are nuts.

The stupid part about all this, I now refer to him as Pikachu because my roommates know right away who I’m talking about. Fuck my life.

Also, sidenote: One time he sent me a gif in a text. This one, Pikachu crying. I had NEVER mention Pokemon to him, let alone his nickname. FMLx2 

Pretty sure my ex found my blog

I stopped posting regularly because I realized she had seen my blog. I’m pretty sure she was unaware that bloggers get stats and notifications about how many visitors and how many views per visitor their sites are getting. Two days after we broke up, I had two visitors with a total of 55 views, mostly all from one visitor. I think I had a good guess on who it was that found my blog so intriguing. I could never really be sure, but it’s never happened since, and in my blogs stats it still stands as the record holder for the most views. After that, here and there whenever I’d post about certain things the number would spike. But there was never being sure after that it was her.
Moral of this stupid short story: don’t worry about who reads your blog. If they don’t want to know what’s up, they can choose not to read.

Could he just admit it?

I want him to just say the words, “I don’t like you that way.” I think it’s gotten to that point. If he can’t say it, then he’s not over me. He’s also someone that’s terrible at lying. I’m so incredibly nervous to bring it up, but if I don’t I’ll go absolutely insane.
If he says it, then hopefully I can get the closure I need to get over it. Or I should just listen to Elizabeth Gilbert…

Stop wearing a wishbone where your backbone ought to be.>

The white man is very clever…

The white man is very clever. He came quietly and peaceably with his religion. We were amused at his foolishness and allowed him to stay. Now he has won our brothers, and our clan can no longer act like one. He has put a knife on the things that held us together and we have fallen apart.
― Chinua Achebe, Things Fall Apart

Realizing my “Daddy Issues”

My mom called me a couple days ago. I prepared myself to hear the usual updates on the father and his everlasting alcoholic condition. 

“I confronted him again about not talking to you. He said that you made it very clear you didn’t want to talk to him. So I asked, ‘Are you sure about that? Because from what I understood she wanted you to contact her when you were ready to stop lying.’ Then he said to me, ‘Well haven’t you thought maybe I’m not ready?'”

There was a droning pause between us. She knew that hit me hard in the gut.

“I told him he was selfish. I said, ‘Really? You’re willing to risk losing your daughter because you can’t stop lying?’ I told him that my opinion hasn’t changed, and it won’t until he makes it change. Then he got down on his knees and begged me, as if that was going to change anything.”

I always knew that the Latino Machismo attitude was very prevalent in my father’s personality, but never did I think it could get this bad. I almost convinced myself that he honestly didn’t understand my long email back in January, or my straight-forward texts messages. But he had. He understands them to the core and still refuses to do anything about it. He literally admitted he has been lying, and also stated that he isn’t ready to stop lying. 

My doubt in my decision to stop talking to him almost took over. I was so close to giving him a call to tell him how stupid he was and that I missed him.

Something I have learned from this that I never realized before: my “Daddy Issues” are a lot more serious than I had thought. In romantic relationships, I always end up coming back. I don’t stay true to my word and always hope the second time around, things have changed. They never do. My last girlfriend happened this same way, and this guy I’m now interested is going the same direction. I let him in again and I probably shouldn’t have. People don’t take me seriously, they think I’m too much of a softie and I’ll come running back. I usually do, but it’s not because I’m a “softie,” it’s because I always see the good in people.

That ability to see the good in people has been skewed to mean that I’m naive and too optimistic for my own good. Recently, the man I’m interested in now (and again) said that the first time around he saw “red flags.” I asked him what he meant by that, and he said I was naive and optimistic. This assumption that I’m naive drives me crazy, and makes me laugh at times. It usually comes from a lack of actually knowing my experiences, a lack of understanding how my Mother raised me to be, but most importantly (and more oftenly) the fact that my optimism scares the shit out of people that fear failure. It leaves me questioning who is the one in the situation that is truly naive. I’m not scared to fail, because that just proves one way things shouldn’t be. I’m scared of never trying, then laying on my deathbed cursing at the moon and the stars “Why didn’t I just try? What the hell did I have to lose but maybe some more heartbreak?” I can get over heartbreak, I have before. 

And I will again. 

Needing a massage

I blew almost an entire paycheck on buying massages for other people. It’s almost as good as getting a massage myself. Now I think it’s my turn. Someone asked me recently what I do for me. I think this will be it.

Cigarette lips and my intern

About 2 weeks ago she said she hadn’t hung out with him in over a month. Recently his name has come up in my stories about my day and I have a feeling that’s why she’s been making an effort to see him. He’s suddenly attractive to her. And he’s completely into the attention. It’s awkward on many levels. I’m friends with my intern, and of course, she’s my intern. So that puts me in a weird position–a place where I’m helpless and can only walk away. I guess that’s that.