Friday, April 30, 2004

Drains and Dreams and Borderlines

Yesterday started out uneventful but full of energy and light. I wrote, I read, I had the shelves that my ex bought me five months ago put up.

One of my primitos called to set up a summer family outing to Six Flags which sounds like fun if complicated to set up.

Then the stress started. La fea's oral infection started spreading and she was off to the hospital. I had the MapucheRican and students. The local public hospital was actually efficient in draining infected liquid out of her.

My fourth grade student has serious reading comprehension issues. The next few days I will spend working with her on word problems in anticipation of the state wide test next week.

The dreams were dreams of my mentor's wife well I guess now widow.

I am reading Gloria Anzaldua's Borderlands, La Frontera. I read it in college but now it's interesting to me. I think I felt some distance from it because it was a "Chicano" book but reading it now I realize I was angry at the fact that my borders have been erased on one level and made stronger on another. What I am currently fascinated by is how in the chapter "la herencia de Coatlicue" and how Anzaldua writes about the addictions and identity confusion of us straddling two borders. It's as if she were readings parts of my mental health diagnosis. Makes me think I'm not as crazy as the medical establishment has painted me. What I do, my reaction to things is normal under the fucked up colonial circumstances I have been born into. Many would read this as a cop put no? But Borderline Personality Disorder? What a fitting sickness to bestow upon a woman whose borders have been denied her on one level and made painfully clear on another.

Today I will spend a few hours being the pink haired pta freak then I will meet M ( I need a fucking nickname for him!!) for lunch. He promises to smell sweaty and sunny since he will be doing yardwork. We may never eat.




Thursday, April 29, 2004

Empanadillas Would be More Accurate But Hey

What Is Your Battle Cry?

Prowling through the mini-mall parking lot, carrying a meaty axe, cometh Mala! And she gives a mighty scream:

"I'm going to make tacos with your corpse!!"

Find out!
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Settling In



We're not doing those marathon getting to know you sessions any more. We still have seen each other 6 out of the seven days in the week but the urgency is gone and a calm has settled. I think it happened after we slept together. He invited me into his space. I rummaged through his books (one of the first things he did also when he first entered into my space). He writes notes to himself in the back of books. I do the same thing looked at his pictures. I saw where he writes and where we first met(the computer). He has plants and colored post-it notes everywhere.

Then I felt a familiar shadow. She was in the ms books in his bookshelf. She was in the prescription drug insert by his bed. She was in the pages of his novel in progress. She has ms so he reads about it and studies it and walks for it and she has become the protagonist of his novel and this nearly killed me. Because suddenly a wave of insecurity washed over me and all the delight that had been afforded to me felt threatened. She could come back and take him away.

Overreaction? Absolutely. Call it Borderline Personality Disorder brain, something I hadn't felt in a really long time. I smoked a cig, cried, walked and got over it. I explained it to him and he didn't run away.

It's not as if he is perfect anyway. I am convinced that he has an eating disorder. How else would you describe someone who eats only 3 strawberries, half a banana, a glass of milk and a protein bar in one day. He works out everyday. His current skinny self is constantly in battle with his former fat self. Fat is a theme in his novel. I don't know if this is something I want to deal with but I do want to deal with him. I want to deal with him and I walking in the bookstore comparing what we have read and discussing writing. It's so pretentious but I love it. It's what I've dreamed of. I want to drink wine with him in little cafes till past midnight like we did last night and then make out in the car. I want us to sit together on my sofa with each other but not talking to each other, each of us reading or writing our own thing. I guess I'll just have to add books on male body image and eating disorders to my list (suggestions anyone?). I'm happy though.

Finally the ex has gotten the picture that I really don't want to see him anymore. I will admit to being ambivalent about the whole thing mostly because of the potential for sex. But now with M. ( I need a nickname for him) there is no need for him on that level. I told him I was seeing someone and he understood.

My colombiano made a brief appearance on one of my sites which was nice. I think that M and I could have a relationship of that depth but hopefully without the fucked up ending of me bleeding away a baby on his bed before he moves to the other side of the country.

And it looks as if another piece of mine will be published about my fat interestingly enough.

Tutoring the older students I work with is becoming difficult. One doesn't want to concentrate. It got to the point yestreday that I sent him home because he was acting up so much not to mention the fact that he got onto my computer and began im'ing his friends. The older girl I tutor seems to have trouble with reading comprehension. The little ones are easiest. Yesterday both separately decided to write poems on roses so I sat with them and a vase of roses my sister got for her birthday and we touched, smelled and even tasted the roses. It was beautiful learning.

The MapucheRican got a perfect score on her next math test on the 2/5/and 10 times tables so I think we overcame that hurdle. She's obsessed with all the little bugs that have begun to crawl on the concrete and fly in the sky. She wants to catch some today. Also she wants a hamster. I really don't want to have to clean hmaster shit and piss but she really really wants one. I had a few hamsters when I was a kid so I guess we're getting a hamster.



All is right with the world

Monday, April 26, 2004

Her First Failure

The MapucheRican came home today with her first failing grade and in math no less. Just when it seemed that she had escaped my family's curse of number illiteracy , she gets a 68 on a test. My first gut reaction is confusion and yes I will admit disappointment. Of course I don't tell the MapucheRican these things. I sit down with her and we go over the exam together.

Did you know that the NYC Department of Ed. is expecting 6 year olds to begin learning times tables. I don't remember learning those until third grade. I quickly stop feeling like a bad parent for passing on a math deficient gene and we sing her 5 times tables.

She wanted to sleep on the floor today. The bedroom floor that is covered in sweaters that I haven't bothered to pack up and bring down to storage yet. At least I'll have the bed to myself.

Exhausted

Last night was the 5th night in a row that him and I met to get to know more of each other. He came under the pretense of having some Dominican cake that I brought home from the confirmation party. He didn't even taste it. He uploaded the pictures from my sister's birthday bash onto my computer then we sat and read the Sunday New York Times. I can't tell you how incredibly sexy it was for hear him say ," Pass me the Book Review." When he left I said I would walk him to the car. I didn't return for three hours. We sat in the car and talked some more about his fat issues, relationships and sex.

As much as I am enjoying our getting to know each other, I am exhausted and am looking forward to a break and maybe more than 4 hours of sleep.

Sunday, April 25, 2004

Projection

I like him enough to spend four nights in a row with him. We spend alot of our time in the car smoking, singing loudly to Latino rock songs he thinks I shouldn't know. Every once in a while he'll take a bad digital pic of me. We talk alot. He talks alot about when he was fat. Now he is small and slim, with veiny hands. It seems as if he lives mainly on protein bars and bottles of water, evidenced by a monument of empty water bottles in the backseat of his car.

I have seen only a picture of face when he was fat. He still looks cute to me and I tell him so. Some of the pictures we took last night at a club disturbed him. He said his fat self was coming back. Then on the way home after I put my achey fishnetted feet up on the dash, he leaned over and grabbed my calve. He said I needed to tone. Exercise. The other day he said something about my arms being flabby. I told him how obnoxious that was and that I was happy with the way I was and that I would exercise on my own terms. He apologized.

When I spoke to my best girl today, she told me that he has fat issues. She said that he refered to a girl as a whale and how he couldn't understand how a fat person could be happy.

When we first started talking he sent me some pages of the novel he is writing. Fat is a theme.

I tried to tell him about sizism and how it especially effects women and he wasn't hearing it. Maybe he was worried that he looked fat.

Friday, April 23, 2004

Three Nights in a Row

He is coming over to bring me a bottle of wine, talk, kiss and smoke.
I am having such a wonderful time.

Last night we met after out classes and had middle eastern food. He kept dropping food on my feet and my legs. First a lemon peel, then a piece of lamb. Maybe it's like when the boy in first grade puts gum in your hair because he likes you.

Then we ended up driving to a park in queens underneath the 7 train. We smoked (we smoke alot together have you noticed?), talked, laughed, kissed, took more bad digital pictures, and held each other. It was one of the best dates I've had. he said I was pretty.

Tommorow we'll be going together to my sister's birthday party at a club in manhattan. That will make four nights in a row? Is this crazy?Is this overkill?

A friend told me that maybe it was a good sign that I was so comfortable and without butterflies swimming in my gastric juices. He said maybe we were all wrong about that feeling and that maybe this man is lacking in something that is bad for me anyway.

I mean I'm not even going to put on makeup right now or change into nicer bra and panties. Shit I didn't even shave






Thursday, April 22, 2004

Delightful

I woke up still feeling drunk. I don't know if it was the cuba libres I drank too fast or if I was drunk with possibility. We met last night. Neither one of us could wait till tonight. He looks just like his picture. Hes small, maybe too short? I'll get over it. He's thin. He looks and talks like a writer.
I didn't even put makeup on or change out of my old protest t-shirt and I was ok with that. I did however put a nicer bra on. I didn't feel pressure that usually comes with these first meetings. I felt so at ease, like I could be me.
We drove around to nowhere for a while. Talking, listening to music, singing really loud, taking bad digital pictures and smoking. He has this beautiful way of letting the cigarillo hang from his lips. He commented on hating seeing the sticker of his country next to the sticker of a United States flag. Sigh. He said I was delightful, something the prince of bushwick would say.
We ended up at a bar a block away from where we started, a block away from my house. It was so loud and so not us, the music, crappy mainstream hip hop but we were happy to be together. And we just leaned in closer to talk about writing and politics and the politics of writing and identity politics and identity politics in writing and eventually kiss.
Ay what a wonderful kisser.
We stood outside my apartment building for a while holding each other and kissing the way junior high schoolers do.
We will see each other tonight again since we will both be at school. He said middle eastern food. Who cares.
I'm tired but so happy, excited, glowing in the yummy newness of it all.

Wednesday, April 21, 2004

DOE Inc. Wants to Fuck With 3rd Graders Some More

Apparently high stakes testing for third graders that began yesterday with the English exam isn't enough. The CEO of the Department of Ed. , Mayor Bloomburg,
is going to make some third graders retake the fucking thing (because one day of threatening to take away your academic future isn't enough for a child.)

According to NY1 "seven of the 50 questions on the standardized test were exactly the same as last year's exam, and three or four other items used reading passages identical to last year with only slight changes to the questions.

This could mean any students who took last year's test as practice will now have to retake this year's exam. "

Many feel (including yours truly) that the mayor is doing this as a way to massively leave behind students to boost the fourth grade test scores.

I applaud the fact that some parents kept their children home on the day of the test. Sadly though because a citywide boycott wasn't organized , this had little real impact.

If shit keeps the way it's going I will pull my child out of the public school system and homeschool her or unschool her the way I did for kindergarten..and I would encourage others to do the same. Or better we would set up true community run schools.



OutKast Finally Gets Called Out On Their Grammy Insult
I knew it was fucked up as soon as I saw it but the world was preoccupied with Ms. Jackson's right tit to notice save a few observant awake few. Today the Village Voice publishes about Native hip-hoppers and their reaction and place in the hip hop world. I thought it was super interesting

Check it out

Tuesday, April 20, 2004

Cyber Whoring

Blame it on boredom. Call it a procrastination tool. Say it is the desparate act of a single woman but I've been tromping around online with my recent reestablished high speed connection. Pity since the weather has finally taken a turn for the better. Spring, where the fuck were you?

Most of the people I have "chatted" with have been boring, unintelligent men.
There have been exceptions. Like a latino novelist with whom I am enjoying some deep and funny exchanges.
Then there was the chat request I received from an online personals site that git me all excited until I saw that it was a good friend of mine and (ex?)lover of my best friend That was just humbling and funny.

I'm also having fun with my digital camera. See?

Monday, April 19, 2004

Lust vs. Loyalty

Now that it has been spoken about and put to rest I can write about it. I know that the tow people involved will read this. I love them both and they should know that too. They also know that I am an exhibitionist and that publicly airing my panties sucias is good for me.

Letter to my best friend:

My attraction towards him feels dirty. I wish I could kill it but he's smart, sexy, shy, creative and now he's everywhere. Especially since you made him your lover.

We were all very drunk that night. We listened to music in the Village and made faces and comments to each other about how good he looked sitting all quiet across from us. He had to know. We were acting like foolish school girls. Maybe we set ourselves up for what was going to happen. He had to choose. I don't think any of us wanted a threesome. None of that was feeling that generous. We were all selfish.

You were needy. Your boyfriend of eight years had just left you to marry his younger cousin in another country after you helped nurse him to health after he had cancer. Maybe that's why I hid my mix of sadness, disappointment, and jealousy when you took too long in the bathroom and he also disappeared from our small table. When you came back you told me that you had kissed him. Or did he kiss you?

Maybe it would bother me less if you were the aggressor. That way I would know that he didn't choose you over me. That he was just waiting to see which one of us would make the first move and that one would win. Win, ha. Yes we were competing for him even though we wouldn't admit it to each other.

You kissed each other. You won.

When we stumbled outside into the late winter late night it became obvious that you were going home with him and I was going home alone. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. I'm not used to not getting the man. I'm used to getting hurt by them later but not being said no to upfront.
But I said nothing.

You've known him from childhood. I know him through you. I felt you had more of a claim over him. Anyway it's not as if he ever showed any interest in me beyond our conversations about politics, music and literature.

You seemed happy. You were getting sex, companionship. You were going out. You needed all those things so I swallowed my own bitterness. I didn't like going out with you when I knew he would be there too. I didn't want to talk with him fearing my own impulsivity near men I am passionately attracted to. I didn't want to disrespect you.

But then it got complicated. It always gets complicated when you fuck your friends. Someone enjoys it too much. Another moves on. If the sex isn't stopped before it gets too heavy the friendship is threatened. So I offered and dispensed advice the way best friends do, with love and selflessness.

Now you say you will not sleep with him anymore. I am beginning to tell you how I find him attractive again, I'm not as nervous being around him but I will not go after him. It sucks but it feels like I would be disrespectful you by sleeping with him. You told me it would be fine. But it isn't. It won't be. Not for a while anyway.

When you say you're going to stop sleeping with a lover , it takes a bit to get it all out of your system.
You may go back a few times. You may never really stop. Usually one in the pair needs to find a replacement. I need for that to happen. I need a degree of separation. And again I don't even think he wants me like that. So all this worrying may be wasteful.

You apologized. I forgave you.
We can move on to our next conquests.
Let's just make sure he's not someone we both know.












Saturday, April 17, 2004

A Day and Then Some

It began with my new look

Then I returned to my old protest/rally scene. As I walked down from the subway platform I bumped into a college prof. I had back when I was in Maine and Chile and her beautiful daughter. The Latino activist scene really is so small and everyone knows each other. She is a brilliant Rican PHD and it made my day to hear how happy and settled she felt.

Once at the rally site, as I said my hellos and realized that no matter how much time has passed the scene remains the same. I was quickly pulled in as a security captain. It was like to good old days. I also realized how out of practice I was as I felt my lges getting tired as we marched and as my voice gave up as I chanted. But it felt wonderful, being among all this rightous people including the mothers who lost their children to racial violence and police brutality and the widow of my mentor. I felt so privilaged to be connected to these people, including so called "gang" members who really represent a huge marginalized part of our already marginalized community.

I didn't miss the nasty pigs and them trying to intimidate the young people especially by taking pictures of them.

Then on the subway ride home I ran into my stepsister whom I haven't seen in years. She screamed with delight when she saw me as if I was a long lost friend when in my opinion we always had someone of an advisarial relationship. I was happy however to learn that things at my father's house are the same, with everyone yelling all the time.

I am finishing off a bottle of Chilean red I began with my mother and titis. Tommorow promises to be a calm day at the playground with the MapucheRican. After today, I need a predictable familiar day.

Friday, April 16, 2004

Paper Trial

I finally finished reorganizing my paper files. I threw out piles of shit and came to the realization that I still will have to buy a new filing cabinet. I can always get rid of my daughter’s bed no?

Not So Random Note To Self

No matter how much a lover says so, he really doesn't really want to read your writing, especially when it's about him or another lover.

Thursday, April 15, 2004

Cycles

I have been watching her cycle since our children began school. Her son is in the first grade, like my own daughter. They are in different classes. We met like many of the parents meet, at 2:20 pm , waiting for our children. We ended up at parent association meetings together and at local trainings to work in the school as volunteers. We even ran against each other once for a position within the parent's association.
I liked her because she was loud and didn't care. She was open. She sold me Avon. She was a single mother like me. She struggled with money and fought against the system weekly to get what she needed to provide for her son. One day she was even arrested her inside a local welfare office when she wouldn't keave until she was spoken to. The police didn't take her to jail. They took her to the psych ward of the local public hospital.

People talked about her behind her back. They said she talked too much. They said her son was a problem child. No one asked why. No one really listened to what she was talking so much about.

One day I found her outside of school crying. She said her live in boyfriend had threatened her and wouldn't leave the apartment. She wanted him out before her 6 year old came home from school. We had less than an hour. I urged her to call the police on her cell phone. She did and together we waited. It took the police almost 20 minutes to arrive. While we waited I watched her hide behind cars and tremble with fear everytime she thought he was coming out of the apartment. As I comforted her I learned that he was homeless when she met him and she took him in. He, like her ex-husband, is an alcoholic. By the time the police came he had slipped out. The next day at dismissal she had a black eye.

I urged her to get a restraining order, to call the police, to call me just to talk. She did call the police and they arrested him. She faithfully visited him every day.

Today she was crying again. Social workers want her son to live with her mother. The boyfriend is out of jail and living with her and her 6 year old son.

I told her to call me.

I don't know what else to say. I don't know what else to do.

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

White Men in Power Have Fucked Up Senses of Humor

Mil Gracias to RedHeadDread for providing this. Baby Bush continues to prove that he couldn't give two shits about people dying. The sadest thing is that until peeps get off their ass and start doing something about this fool and and all he represents, the joke will continue to be on us.

Monday, April 12, 2004

Christ Check in Aisle 5

I was just at my local branch of a national chain drug store to pick up some ice tea (a staple in my house) and some labels since I am cleaning out and reorganizing my paper files. The man at the register is one who knows me and is very friendly to me. I always thought he was flirting with me.
"How was your Easter?" he asks, assuming that I am Christian.
"It was quiet. I spent it with family," I replied.
"You didn't go to church?"
"I'm not a church going type of girl,"I inform him.
"Why not?"
"I take issue with the institution of the church." I explain.
"I asked the question wrong then. Have you given yourself to Christ?" he then asks me.
I literally laugh in his face.
"No," I manage to blurt out.
"Oh we will have to talk then," he says as he hands me my plastic bag.
"There's nothing to talk about," I say with a smile and walk out into the pouring rain.

The moral of the story is that the man behind the register isn't flirting with you. He's trying to convert you!

These people are everywhere!!!!!

Sunday, April 11, 2004

Sexy Librarian

When I went out Thursday night to Williamsburg, my friend (who is hot mmmm but sadly off limits ) took pictures!!!

That's me in the pink shirt.

.


Saturday, April 10, 2004

Hoppy Easter

.

I have risen

I have risen way too fucking early for a Saturday with no karate class to take the MapucheRican too. But I was trying to be a good mami. I hard boiled the eggs she would need. I set out the dyes in glasses. She woke up and as I write this is dressing up her painted eggs. I will post pictures.

I want to make eggs with the faces of all my lovers. If I can get my printer to work I will do that. Then I will ceremoniously thrown them at each respective house. If I can no longer find them or of they have moved far away. I will throw them out the window.

I haven't decided if today I want to put some funky hot pink streaks in my hair. I don't think abuela will appreciate that tommorow at Easter Sunday dinner but oh well.

I have risen ....now can I go back to sleep?

Friday, April 09, 2004

Every Mother's Son- NYC Film Premiere

Dear Friends,
EVERY MOTHER'S SON will have its World Premiere at the Tribeca Film Festival. Our dear friend and fighter for justice, Richie Perez, who died this past March, is featured in this film. The filmmakers will dedicate these screenings to his life and work.

EVERY MOTHER'S SON by Tami Gold and Kelly Anderson
In the late 1990s, three victims of police brutality made headlines around the country: Amadou Diallo, the West African street vendor whose killing sparked intense public protest; Anthony Baez, killed in an illegal choke-hold, and Gary Busch, a Hasidic Jew shot outside his Brooklyn home. Every Mother¹s Son profiles three New York mothers who unexpectedly find themselves united to seek justice and transform their grief into an opportunity for profound social change.


Sunday - May 2, 2004 at 6PM
Tuesday ­ May 4, 2004 at 4:30PM
UA Battery Park Theatre Complex
102 North End Avenue

New York City (between Vesey & West Streets)

Saturday ­ May 8, 2004 at 6PM
The Tribeca Screening Room
54 Varick Street
New York City (below Canal Street)

To purchase tickets use code MOSON:
http://www.tribecafilmfestival.org/2004/filmguide
by phone: (866) 941-3378 or (212) 941-1515
Walk-Up Box Office: 20 Harrison Street
New York City (between Hudson Street & Greenwich Street)

National Broadcast on PBS's P.O.V. Series on August 17, 2004 at 10 p.m.
(Check Local Listings.)


Pleased As Punch

That's what he said about my essay. He stopped by the bar I was at, where he and I had been on our second date. This bar has more people of color in it, making it feel like the Williamsburg I used to know in high school. At first he didn't want to come in. He stood by the window, smoking a cigarette and called me out to him. He was offended by the nasty voicemail I left on his voicemail saying that I didn't believe that he was working late and that he should come and see me.

"She got the procedure yesterday," he informed me. It's good to be in the know.
I asked if he went with her. He looked at me like I was crazy.
"She didn't want me with her. I called to see how she was and she told me she was in pain and didn't want to talk to me."
I wouldn't want to talk to him either.
He says he's done with her. I rolled my eyes when he told me this. I've heard it all before. He said he was serious before kissing me hard on the mouth.
He's such a good kisser, it's enough to make me almost forget. Almost.

I coaxed him inside by offering to buy him a drink. He politely greeted my friends and sat with me for a bit. We danced a little and he lamented how he couldn't take me home because he had his period. He actually compared what he says is a callous on his dick from jerking off to having your period. Personally knowing the other type of women he sleeps with, I wondered if it was only a callous he had down there.

He quickly left after his drink, buying an empanada from a guy outside the bar. I love the fact that someone can get an empanada outside a bar in Williamsburg in the middle of the night. We kissed again and he asked about my essay. I told him where it was up because he wanted to read it. I warned him that it wasn't favorable, he said he wanted to read it anyway.

Later as I was dancing in the lounge(I was nicknamed the sexy librarian), he left a message on my voicemail. He said he googled my name and read the essay and that it was great. He said I was a great writer and that I had a great style. He said he didn't understand why I wouldn't want him to read it. He was pleased as punch. He actually said that. Who the hell says pleased as punch?

In my cab home I told the whole story to my driver, and then I gave him the link to my essay.

Wednesday, April 07, 2004

Shameless Self Promotion and Exhibitionism

My essay regarding the latest drama between the monarch of an enclave of Brooklyn and myself is up at HipMama.com

He is none to pleased about the title. I can imagine his reaction if he were to read the actual thing. None the less tomorow night I will be in his stomping grounds and hope to see him, if only for a drink.

Sunday, April 04, 2004

Summertime and the Livin Won't be Easy

Why does it cost around 1,500 dollars for the MapucheRican to join a summer camp program?

I went to an open house yesterday for a camp run by the local city college and wasn't impressed with their academics. Because the MapucheRican turns 7 in September, she's be with the 5 and 6 year olds going into first grade. They were unwavering on this. I emailed another nearby camp run by a private school to find out of they are going to place her in the same way. I want a camp experience that will mix academics with fun, like learning how to swim. In the end I may call Sista II Sista and find out how young they take them at their summer freedom school for girls of color. Si no well then
I will have to create my own camp program so that the MapucheRican is entertained, learns and has fun. I just worry about when I'll get time to write. What a selfish mami I am.

I don't even know why I want her to go to a summer day camp. I went and I hated it. Of course I went to a camp sponsored by the church but that's not why I hated it. All the other day campers were mean to me and I was bored off my ass.

It's barely breaking the 50 degree mark but I've got summer on my mind. Maybe I'll just go to Puerto Rico for the whole summer.

Friday, April 02, 2004

Craziest Week Ever

I have so much to write that I don't even know where to begin.

After the fiasco written about below, someone wants to publish what I wrote, which was pretty awesome. Of course the man in question didn't find it amusing especially when he learned of the title. Oh well, you know what they say about payback.

Then I got my federal IRS check and I'm feeling like I won the lotto. I'm paying bills, getting haircuts for me and the MapucheRican and going out on the town.

Then I get a lame ass explanation from my suburban fantasy ex. Turns out he was the victim of identity theft thanks to his ex-girlfriend and now he's getting sued and may lose his house and broke up with me because he has nothing to offer me. Maybe I watch too many novelas but I was expecting that he was cheating or something along those lines. Why do men that I fall for always choose women who are obviously more insane than me, over me?

Then my political mentor, Richie Perez passed away. I will be writing a lot about him in the coming days. I am dealing with the guilt of how I last saw him and the movement. The regret of that as well. I am resentful of the new leadership. I am sad.

I've seen the lawyer again but it did nothing for me. So that's a good sign. I also saw my Dominican ex and that was great.

My newswriting class was a waste last night and the other women of color and I are all networking and are going out after class next week so that we get something out of all this.

I am planning a press kit for my daughter's school since they called me during Richie's funeral for a press release.

So I am writing a lot, fucking a lot, thinking a lot and slowly tiptoeing back to being super mami mala...I just have to be careful not to crash and burn...again.