my favorite animal is a cat. I love them because they’re confident AF and mysterious. they’re also gorgeous creatures. I’ve also had cats as pets in childhood and for a short while a few years ago (that turned out to be a disaster-that’s another blog post-lol). Anyways, one of my most favorite cats was Mr.Jingles, this huge gray and fluffy cat one of the most recent exes had. For the back story, me and this ex were super chaotic and toxic. I think I went there for two reasons, one was to spend time with his cat and the other, well-that’s a story for another time. Anyways, Mr. Jingles had a big personality and always greeted me when I went over there. Also, my ex had him spoiled, and so Mr. Jingles slept in the bed with us also. He was so playful all of the time. He was a big boi, but that didn’t stop him from climbing everywhere. He could also be very sweet at times. I’ve recently been in touch with this ex(another long story, we’re friends now), and he told me that Mr. Jingles met his untimely demise when some dogs got to it. My heart broke in half because I was so fond of this cat. I hope he’s somewhere in cat heaven with all the good ones, including my cats, fluffy and slinky malinky.
They laid him on my breast and told me, “Meet your baby boy” and I was in shock the alien on top of me is mine? this wasn’t supposed to be part of my adolescence I’m only seventeen and some days I barely remember to brush my teeth and now I have this great responsibility and his beady and angry eyes questions as to why his comfort was disturb-he already hates the world and I think , same, kid, same
WordPress, twitter Instagram, facebook (ew) tik tok (cringe) and email(when necessary) and occasionally tumblr it’s how I share my art, my beauty, my vulnerability with the world
I go between contacts and glasses to fit my different personas- in my contacts I’m a pretty woman with makeup and a dress I become the kind of woman men are nervous to be around or get intimidated by In glasses I don’t care to capture the male gaze or even mine it’s when I work that second job or I’m at home it’s when I allow myself to just exist not caring about the pressure to be attractive or allow my social conditioning to take over and tell me since I’m this crazy, I need to be pretty, sexy, charming to validate my existence Lately I prefer my glasses, lately I want the freedom to just be
I remember being super excited and happy going on this bus ride because going to Oxapampa has been a dream of mine for quite some time. Oxapampa is the town my dad was born in and raised. When my dad talked about it, it always seemed picturesque and like something out of a fairy tale. I was also excited to meet my dad’s relatives (aunts and uncles) who helped raise him and the cousins who he played with. His relatives also seem to be larger than life characters who were genuine and good people according to my dad’s description of them.
my feet and legs on the most comfortable bus trip I’ve ever made
when I think about my most memorable road trip, I think of my 10 hour bus ride I made from Lima to Oxapampa when I went to Peru last spring. It was memorable in a good way. The company we booked the trip with was wonderful and me and my son were mostly comfortable. So the trip to Oxapampa meant going up into a high altitude of 5951 ft above sea level from the 528 ft above sea level altitude in Lima. We were advised to consume coca leaves before going to prevent motion sickness so we went to the pharmacy and they gave us coca leave in pill form.
the pills we took to prevent motion sickness
Our seats themselves were super comfortable and we could recline into an almost bed so we slept super comfortable. They also had screens where we could watch American movies dubbed in Spanish. One reason we were super comfortable was because we were on the upper deck of the bus which had more space for seats. Of course, we paid more for this V.I.P seating but damn , it was well worth it. Unfortunately and fortunately, it didn’t have WIFI so I just listened to my downloaded spotify playlist. There was a lot of Conan Gray and Taylor Swift I played on my way there. We went at night so we slept most of the way there but I did manage to capture some short videos of what I saw outside the video. We went through a lot of provinces and small towns. Here’s a short video of going through Pasco. This was shortly before we arrived.
going through Pasco…
I also want to mention that going on this bus ride was also kind of exhilarating because some of the roads are treacherous and narrow and sometimes we were going on terrain that was high. That meant if the driver lost control of the vehicle, we were SOL. Haha. It’s a good thing that a lot of drivers in Peru start driving between the ages of 12 and 14. There’s probably more I will write about this trip. So when we arrived, my great Aunt picked us up and we stayed at her air b&b on her property. Where we stayed had this rustic and magical vibe. I’ll probably write more about this trip that was life changing and healing in so many ways but for now, I’ll just answer the prompt for bloganuary about memorable roadtrips.
the sign for my great aunt’s air b&bthis long entrance looked like something out of fairytale…like going into a magical forest
kid krow by Conan Gray-This album was on repeat in 2023 and it either hyped me up or destroyed me -it was wonderful
music and lyrics have always given me a sense of home- it’s how I’ve grown and evolved It’s how I learned to express my emotions when I couldn’t make sense of anything it fills my soul with love and creativity it makes me feel a sense of belonging in this world that looks down on dark and tortured souls it eases off my loneliness that sometimes makes me crumble and leaves me in shambles
If I had my gluttonous way and I wasn’t counting the sodium content in fucking everything I’d devour an entire bag of chili cheese fritos in between purchase orders and writing poems I’d stress eat the fuck out of them I’d even offer some to my friends everyone needs to taste this salty and crunchy treat everyone needs to get addicted to this devilish snack that had me buying 4 bags at the time when it was on sale me and Chili cheese fritos were the most epic poem, a match made in consumerist heaven until middle age and genetics brought on high blood pressure and my addiction to chili cheese fritos had to end abruptly so for now, I’ll write silly poems about how I can’t have the one thing I once was addicted to and still crave and hope that once I get my blood pressure under control I’ll be reunited with my comfort snack and we’ll be together again as I write, as I cry as I lay on the couch binge watching some depressing show on netflix
if I’m going to be a mess, might as well be a hot mess
does someone have a voodoo doll of me and stuck pins inside my head- inside my heart-because lately I’m finding it hard to breathe as my emotions consume and control me- and I feel like the biggest failure and imposter for allowing it to happen even though I still function well enough to mask the mountain of turmoil and grief that’s currently residing me
A crazy business idea I came up with this morning is making custom made piñatas. They’re not any old piñatas. They’re piñatas of things or people you absolutely hate. I would also have a private and safe room where you can beat the shit out of the piñata. I’m not sure if they’re anything like this out there in the world. I have seen a piñata of Trump online before so who knows. I imagine that people with anger issues and disposable income would maybe go for this idea. The safe room I’d provide to beat up the piñata would include music tailored to the client’s taste or my own personal rage playlist. I would also decorate the room according to the clients needs. I know that there are things like rage rooms out there, but, do any of them have custom made piñatas?
Jealousy is a normal emotion of the human condition and shame shouldn’t be associated with it everyone feels it I used to run away from it but now I sit with it ask what it needs Sometimes it’s me projecting an insecurity or sometimes it’s a legit feeling And that’s okay too- and jealousy doesn’t have to destroy anything as long as I know how to acknowledge it and don’t allow it to consume me
An item of my youth I was incredibly attached to was my doll Dandee. I actually had two of these dolls given to me as a young child. The first Dandee was given to me by my aunt shortly after me and my family immigrated to the states when I was 5. This was in 1986. What happened to the first Dandee? Well, it’s a sad story of trauma. When me and my family first moved to the states, we moved into the apartment next to my aunt C and her family. The living situation there was not ideal. Actually that’s the understatement of the year. Here’s a poem I wrote about her:
Anyways my aunt C owned the apartment we were renting so she was our landlord. She was also the one who was giving sponsorship for our green card. At the time we immigrated, we had done so four years earlier than we were supposed to so we lived undocumented for four years. So my Aunt C took advantage of the situation because A) with a call to immigration she could deport all of us back to Peru and B) she was our landlord so she also held control and power over where we lived. It was a terrible situation. Aunt C had a massive 3 year old son J. He was probably one of the most terrible toddlers I’ve ever encountered. Aunt C would not control him and when he would bully me, either hit me or take away my toys, Aunt C would say, “dejalo, es chiquito” which basically translates to “allow him to do whatever because he’s small”. It was hard for my mom to say anything to her or protect me because of the living situation we were in with Aunt C. The best she could do was take me somewhere else. Shortly after Dandee was given to me, he became my most favorite toy in the world. He was given to me by my favorite Aunt Luz. That toy went with me everywhere. However, one day, Dandee was taken away from me by my cousin J, and he wouldn’t give him back. My aunt didn’t do anything to remedy the situation. According to my mom, this broke my little 5 year old spirit and I was inconsolable and cried and cried for days. My papi was upset that my mom wouldn’t say anything to Aunt C. He hated to see me cry every day for that damn doll so even though they really couldn’t afford it (it was an expensive doll), papi went to the toy store and bought a brand new Dandee for me. I was a happy child again taking that doll everywhere with me. Playing with him and my imaginary friend Calincha. Anyways, a few months went by and I was at my aunt C’s house with my mom. I was playing with Dandee and my cousin J came up to me and started trying to take the doll away from me. The adults weren’t doing anything and I got angry. My five year old self could not take the bullying from J anymore and was not going to allow him to take my doll away from me so I punched him and he fell to the floor. I wasn’t punished for it and went back to playing with my doll. My mom tells me that her and my aunt C were surprised by what I did and had no idea until that point that I had a temper. I was always such an obedient and quiet child, it was shocking to them that I had it in me to fight back. Needless to say, my cousin J never messed with me after that day.
So fast forward to 37 years later, that Dandee sits in my bookcase in my room next to the baby Yoda I bought for my youngest son a few years ago (that he didn’t want anyways cause it looked creepy). When I look at Dandee, I’m reminded of my fierce and fiery spirit at 5 years old that I’ve carried with me since then. When I told my sons the story of Dandee, my oldest son said, “Dandee carries your 5 year old warrior girl spirit” and that felt empowering to me. Dandee taught me a lesson in how to take my power back from a situation I thought I had no power or control in.
here is the link to the english version of this poem:
Ser poeta es una locura, una aflicción es un desmadre que hago cada vez que palabras de ira, de amor, de desgracia aparecen en mi página solo a una loca maldecida se le ocurre hacer poesía de sus aventuras y tragedias de su vida
when it comes down to it, my mission in life is simple, it’s to be a good person and a good mom. that means being able to sleep at night with a clear conscious at night and knowing that I have done my best that day. that means giving my children the best of me most of the time.
ask me how many fucks I had to give about UGA football…lol
we won the national championship and everyone is so happy and I feel nothing I graduated from UGA but never felt included so while I’ve pretended to care, I’ve always felt like an outcast in a town who cares more about football and idiotic art and bike lanes for woke and privilege white people than for their poor and marginalized communities
my granddaughters will love me even as they rolls their eyes at me- as I try to awkwardly relate to their slang and taste in music- they’ll be like “abue-that’s so special” and while I’ll know what they’re trying to say I’ll annoy them even more out of spite or to make them laugh my granddaughters will appreciate that I’m not like other grandmas
I wrote the poem above a year ago thinking about what kind of grandmother I’d be. One thing is for sure, I won’t be like my mom who goes above and beyond her role of mamacita and is the most wonderful grandmother to mine and my siblings kids. I’ll be different but in a fun way. If I’m blessed/cursed to live a very long life (which could happen because my grandparents on my maternal side have lived past their 90s), I want to be like my grandparents who had a very good quality of life until the end. I want to be as active as possible in my old age.
me with my grandmother in 2014
I also envision myself as a storyteller with my granddaughters gathered around me as I tell them about the olden days before the internet or when we had to take our pictures to the photo place to get them developed. I want to be as candid as possible with them about my misadventures in life and love so maybe they’ll learn from my mistakes and learn to have grace with themselves when they make mistakes. I want to be a safe space for my granddaughters when they have problems. I also want to be like my great-great-grandmother Mercedes who still smiled for the camera in her old age while holding her beer in her hand.
My great great grandmother Mercedes
It would also be kind of ironic if I did live to my 90s and beyond, considering how I’ve been romanticizing death since I was 15. However, at the end of the day, I do love being alive on most days and do try my best to be as healthy as possible to live a long live to annoy my loved ones, especially my granddaughters. I’m kind of excited to see what technological advances I’ll live to see. Like, will AI become part of our everyday existence? I mean, it already is part of mine with Alexa waking me up every day. Will men, gasp, finally do their part and take birth control pills instead of leaving it up to women to take responsibility? Will there be a magic pill for PMDD for future generations of women who can take it so they don’t go to crazy town every month? Will the internet read your algorithms so hardcore they erase any vestiges of anyone you have a falling out with from your phone/social media? I’m not sure if any of these questions will be answered, but it would be great if some of them were.
Life on the BPD 