so I was named for my mom’s sister Patty. My aunt Patty was also the rebel and the baby in the family. My mom named me after her because I had another aunt who wanted me to have her name and my mom hated being pressured about it. So she was pregnant and feeling petty and named me after my aunt Patty. Growing up I was intimidated by her because she was the beauty bombshell and I was this awkward and shy kid growing up. Maybe she’s who I channeled when I pose in my pictures, lol. Anyways, like me she’s also divorced and has three boys of her own. We also both go by Patty rather than our formal name cause Idk Patricia feels like it belongs to some old stuffy Irish nun. Anyways, unlike me, my Aunt Patty is a fabulous cook while I can hardly make rice. Her ceviche will make you cry not only because it’s spicy but because it’s super delicious. As far as the etymology of the name which is such a boring thing to investigate, here’s a link to it:https://www.etymonline.com/word/Patricia
my aunt Patty in the late 80s vs middle age me in 2023
that time I cut my bangs cause I was anxious about seeing my crush…lol…thank God for my beanie
My heart betrayed me last night it was on the same page that I need to put any hope of love on hold Until I’m free of my marital ties- Until I’m no longer suffering of any residual trauma from my last failed romantic relationship but in one night, my heart betrayed my mind And it felt euphoria and everything that comes with meeting the potential of love And while my mind tries to reign in my feelings My heart says “sorry, we’re already in too deep”
cuando me preguntan acerca de mi primer amor siempre pensaré en el aquel muchacho alto con los ojos marrones profundos fue el primero que me trato con respecto y como una princesa Nuestro cuento de amor fue casi como una película de disney fue algo mágico y bello pero algo tan bonito no puede sobrevivir en este mundo cruel lleno de realidades que se tienen que enfrentar aunque nos amábamos con una pasión hecho de fuego no fue suficiente y nuestra llama de amor se apago y nos fuimos por caminos diferentes el hizo su vida y yo la mía pero aunque han pasado más de 25 años cuando me pregunten que fue mi primer amor siempre pensaré en el
When I think of a good leader, I think of the good bosses I’ve been lucky to have. In my opinion, a good leader treats their workers with respect, is compassionate while also holding their subordinates accountable for their errors. A good leader also challenges and encourages their subordinates to evolve and improve. An example of a good leader is my gen-z boss at Kroger who’s always been kind and respectful to me and who has gone out of his way to accommodate to my scheduling needs when my life got crazy. He also gave and my other coworker a $100 gift card for Christmas. At 23, he’s more mature and way better than some of the bosses I’ve had who were way older. It makes me want to always work hard at Kroger. An example of shitty leader is Joe Biden. IMO, my genz boss would make a far better president than Joe Biden.
my drunk face at bad bunny dance party in January 2023
a drunk driver hits an ambulance- and there is outcry, an uproar over the craziness of it all we all judge and hate the drunk driver without compassion without looking in the mirror, without acknowledging how most of us have made alcohol a staple, a must need for celebration- a must have for everyone no matter what social class you’re in
cuando las lágrimas quieren salir busco mi cuaderno y empiezo a escribir dejo que mi pequeña bestia de creatividad llena la pagina con todo lo que sofoco y suprimo llena la pagina con el desmadre y las pendejadas que ocupan espacio en mi mente y escribo, escribo, escribo hasta que encuentro claridad hasta qué puedo respirar
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
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’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.
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
In an ideal and magical universe, the one thing I would do differently if I had magical powers is turn into a potato. A potato that becomes a beautiful and most delicious plate of french fries bringing happiness and joy to some random person when they taste me. To become a potato would mean I wouldn’t have to be human and constantly exist which gets extremely exhausting and annoying at times. To become a potato means that for most of my life I would be surrounded by other potatoes, just chilling with absolutely no drama. It would be a swell life, I think.
I want to be part of someone’s french fry addiction
However, I don’t live in an ideal and magical universe so I guess what I could do differently is to become more organized in my life. I have struggled with the curse of disorganized thoughts and a disorganized life since I can remember. I’ve tried and tried and have somewhat succeeded in some areas of my life in becoming more organized. For example, I have a routine that I try my best not to interrupt. It’s important to maintain this routine so I remain semblance of sanity for the most part. It’s hard because I’m pretty sure I have undiagnosed ADHD that’s followed me since I was a kid. That’s also why I struggled with disorganized thoughts which the silver lining in is that I get very creative when I’m in the thick of it. However, it’s also fucked with my sleep schedule which means I rely on sleepytime tea and meds to be able to go to sleep. Having disorganized thoughts also means I get overwhelmed and overstimulated at times in my environment if it’s chaotic. It turns my cortisol levels all the way up and I have to find a way to cope ASAP. It’s my flight or fight response turned on and I usually choose flight. Like for example, during my PMDD period (worst time when I have disorganized thoughts), I’m moody AF and if I get triggered by someone or something, while I may want to hurl insults or punch that person, most of the time I pause, assess, and go for a drive or a walk. Most of the time it’s a drive though because that seems to be the faster way I calm down.
me in car trying to calm down
This post is a perfect example of my struggle with organization. I went from talking about wanting to be a potato to talking about disorganization to my PMDD. This fucking struggle is too real. Anyways, to answer this question, I could make more lists of shit I need to get done, schedule my breakdowns more often when I can (haha), make more time to meditate and relax (Idk how this will happened, I can’t even remember ever taking a nap in Kindergarten). It’s starting to feel like a hopeless situation but Idk maybe I’ll find the answer in a book. Who knows? Crazier things have happened. Also, I’m open to suggestions.
it’s me and my racing thoughts against reality on some days
Life on the BPD 