Paris
Its nice to finally be home. Still, Paris was beautiful, majestic, romantic and ...quite expensive. lol Here are some initial shots. There are a lot more where these came from and most certainly I'd like to set aside some time to play with these on photoshop.
Our first night was really cold but we braved it and walked over to see The Eiffel Tower. Real tourist trap with all those folks on the street trying to sell you miniature versions of this truly awesome structure.
You can spot it from quite a distance. Passing by the Louvre at night (the night pictures of which I'm rather disappointed with) we decided to follow all the glittering lights to reach it. It was good not to have to keep taking our hands out of our pockets to try and follow the map all the way there. The glittering lights attracted us like moths to a flame. Few things have brought tears to my eyes from such joy.
The Sacre Coeur was one of our favorite places. Appart from it being one of the many locations featured in one of my favorite contemporary French films (Amelie), its quite wonderous.
We paid 5 euros for the opportunity to walk the stairs up to the top of the tower. My heart felt like exploding inside my chest. lol
That thing is so steep, so tight, so dimly lit, but the view of the city was rewarding, particularly since we never got to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower. The Sacre Coeur is the second highest point in the city. Sorry, no photos just yet. It was a foggy night and the only plausible one could use some p-chopping.
We were so tired afterward that we had to stop and rest somewhere. We chose Le Saint Jean for coffee, right across the street from the station Abbesses. Having quit quite sometime ago I actually found all of the smoke rather irritating. The french smoke too damn much.
Viviana is Muslim so the opportunity to visit both the Mosquee de Paris and the Institut de 
Monde Arabe was both important and eye-opening.
The Mosque is currently undergoing construction of a new interior garden (just to the right of where Viviana is walking in the picture). I'm sure when its done, it will be awesome. We couldn't stay very long since this was on our last day, but it was nice to go anyway.
The museum was even better, imo. The place is a marvel of architecture. The outside facade on the south end is like nothing I've ever seen. Its entirely made up of metallic panels that look like irises which are electronically powered to open and close based on photosensitivity.
Even on a Sunday, this place was packed with visitors.
The Moulin Rouge was a hell of a lot smaller than movie suggests it is. I guess I would have known that if I were more interested in being knowledgeable about it.
We woke up early on Sunday and transfered between 3 train lines to make our way to the famed Pere Lachaise. I took quite a few pictures there as well, but as promised, I found the one so desired by my sister-in-law and Paul. Had to lean over the barricade to get a clear shot but I give you, Jim Morrison:
Note to Paul: Dude, its no wonder your parents never got you the picture. Mr. Morrison's grave is pretty deep in there, located toward the southwest section of the park.
We didn't have a map of the place so after finding Georges Seurat, a favorite french pointilist painter of the late 19th century, we decided to turn back and take pictures of the actual map. I had to follow the camera to find the other graves which included, Mr. Morrison, Eugene Delacroix (painter), Marcel Proust (novelist), Chopin (composer), and very the most beloved resident of the cemertary, Mr. Oscar Wilde who's grave was more than 10 feet tall, about 8 feet wide and covered in pink lipstick. No seriously, there are hundreds of kisses on this thing. Theres even a plaque that strongly stresses the possiblity of criminal prosecution if caught desicrating the stone. Pffft. I'd say there are at least 200-300 people who simply just didn't give a fuck about that. Interestingly enough the angel featured at the top was missing its ...nutsack which also had caked-hotpink lipstick on it. I had to walk a few feet away to laugh cause you know...its disrespectful and all. People are crazy.
I think we saved the best big monument for last with the Notre Dame.
We listened to part of the Sunday mass while strolling the place. I think its rather disrespectful that the place is surrounded with tourists snapping pictures while the congregation is trying to concentrate on what the priest is saying. Then again, I've seen the same exact thing go on before here in New York at St. Patrick's church. Meh.
I have tons more pictures of this place. I have to load them all at somepoint. Once again we decided to brave it and walk up the spiral staircase to the top. 422 steps to the top.
I might have quit smoking 4 months ago but I think I had to stop at the top for 10 minutes to hack out the rest of the black out of my lungs. Geeeeeeeeeez.
The image on the right is of a statue sitting in the garden outside the back end of the church. We sat there after our visit with the church and had ourselves some delicious crepes.
All I can say is j'aime frommage. lol Wookie got to satisfy her sweettooth with a chocolate crepe.
I'm kind of tired now but I think I'll end it with a strangely familiar sight even though I was standing in a very old and unfamiliar place. I may be a bit of a fan myself, but I fancy myself slightly more creative than those who have deliberately imitated you. Who does this remind you of? (wink)
Stay tuned for more pics from Paris....featuring The Louvre, Le Musee D'Orsay, The Arc de Triomphe, Le Basilique de St Denis and more....
What now?
Hope. The great inspirer, the even greater deceiver.
I'm embittered right now, incase you can't already tell.
I resent its illusions...its addictive capabilities. Give me cold-hard facts. Give me plain truth, blunt honesty, upfront and right away.
I don't want mind tricks, no boost of imagination, no reasons to keep praying. If it were a person, I'd slap Hope in its face just to give me enough time to whip out a semi-automatic and give it some real punishment right in-between its eyes and all over its bloody corpse. But that wouldn't rid me of the bitch. She's snivelling and always finds her way back into my miserable life.
*sigh
But what good would it do me to hate on something I can't even properly grasp for isn't Hope in us all? I could try and place blame on it for all that I have lost and am still losing but then I'd be missing the point completely.
The point is, without Hope, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have made it this far. Its carried me all the way. Kicking and screaming and amid threats involving imaginary firearms, it remains with me steadfast through life. Without it I wouldn't have all the good things I do have. For everything I lose that I have
hoped not to, I've hoped for something and gotten more than I asked for.
I could sit here and outline what set me to write this entry, but my energy only goes but so far. I'll save what I have left for later. In the meantime, a small message for Hope:
I both love you and hate you...but here we are. So what now?
Dear Wookie-loo,
I got an email from a fellow myspacer named Reed the other day.He knows I like to write too and sent me a link to some website for a novel-writing competition. See, November is "National Novel Writing Month," or ...something and this is a means by which I would gain an opportunity to engage in this most rare endeavor (I can't help but wonder...me, author of a short novel?)The competition is known as NaNoWriNo and its dedicated to storing and publishing (on the internet) a novel written by you. You are challenged to write a 50,000-word novel in 30 days!
You can't start any sooner than midnight, November 1st and can't continue past midnight, November 30th. The prize? Well, satisfaction of course! The satisifaction of knowing that you did something most people will never do in their lives, write a novel.
Supposedly, it started in 1999 with 21 participants. Last year, that number was upwards of 42,000. Just under 6,000 of those folks actually made it. See how long a journey that is?
I think I really want to do this. In fact, I signed up shortly after Reed sent me the email.
But the question remains...What do I write about? What do I do, Wookie-loo!?
-
Michi-san
Just feeling confused...
I should be happy about it. On the surface I was. Well, he thinks I am.
I'm not.
Is it wrong to feel robbed of your right to be enraged instead of vindicated that all of those years of mistreating finally brought about a heart-felt apology?
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My brother and I get along so much better now. All it took was finally making the decision to STOP living under the same roof. He was definitely the biggest reason why I packed my bags and my Leeloo cat and got the hell outdo Dodge. =/
Two years ago, I moved out of the family home. I finally had enough of the mental and emotional abuse. I know close friends who would say that I waited too long, but it was only then that I had decided I couldn't deal with him anymore, his nasty words and the frequent violence that came with it. Generally speaking, I was done with all of the most important men in my life (I suppose its not coincidental that even Carlos was out of my life as well, only 4 months later).
My father knew what was going on but its like he was in denial all these years. At least I'd like to I think so. I can't begin to imagine how he rationalized that we'd all be able to continue under the same roof. That we could eventually sell the apartment and put a downpayment on a house we could all live in together. Perhaps it was our promise to mom that no matter what, we'd keep it together. It was inconceivable to
me that they didn't understand something like that could never be.
Its not even that the problems started with moms passing either. They just came to a head.
(sigh)
...My brother was
mean to me....so very
mean.I think he'll still deny it today even though things are better but I don't just think....I
know he hated me for years.
He was the only bully I ever had and believe me, I would have preferred to be mistreated by some blockhead at school. At least I wouldn't have had the added torture of loving them.
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In my twenty-five years, I never once thought he would do it.
This past Sunday, he took me out to breakfast. Nothing special. Just me and him at a diner on a Sunday morning. He talked about things I don't much care to think about which have to do with family business. I never cared for family business because decisions are usually made without me anyway. But I listened and nodded and sipped my coffee. I've grown accustomed to his level of MY participation. Perhaps I'll buck up and grab the reigns one day, but I'm not even financially powerful enough to do so. This is also nothing new in a Hispanic family.
I remember him going into future plans about purchasing a house and what's best for my niece.
Its good to think about her. She's what its all about anyway. I can dig that. I even shared a Newsweek article with him and insisted that she must get into fingerpainting and soon... preferably in the backyard of this "future home."
Oh yes, and there needs to be the planting of a cherry blossom tree. I'm crazy about those and I think the little sprite would like it too.
I frequently ask for random things just for the sake of doing so.
At the end of the conversation, the only certain development that really mattered to me was realizing that I was not going to be able to afford to fly to the Dominican Republic with my brother and father in November. That sucks because my grandmother is going to be 97 this year and although I didn't tell him so, I'm
very proud of that.
As he paid the check, he admitted that there
was in fact a motive to him taking me outside my house for breakfast. He wanted to go to the cemetery.
Honestly, I haven't been there since
Mother's day.
Somehow it was
my turn to buy the flowers again. I didn't mind because
this time, I got a gorgeous and very healthy bouquet of white daisies. The florist even gave me a free butterfly adornment to go with it.
NOICE!
We parked in her section. Not too many people here today but then again, this Sunday was no holiday. =/ We turned the corner at the cherry blossom tree that marks her row and to our surprise we saw quite a lot of foliage growing in front of her stone. The plant is now close to three feet in height and has a trunk about an inch and a half thick. I couldn't believe it. This is what finally became of those wild flower seeds I planted more than
six years ago! Sure flowers bloomed here and there, leaves would grow and a tiny plant seemed to come and go, but this thing is much bigger now.
My father and I would even discuss mom having some supposed involvement in the behavior of this plant because practically every year its prettiest flowers would bloom in front of the stone of her neighbor, "Mrs. Brunning" who never gets any visitors. My dad would say that mom, felt bad for her and liked to share because mom gets flowers from one of us every couple of weeks.
Anyhow, we were consumed for a time with ideas about pruning her small tree and wiring it so that the branches could grow high and instead of long. I mostly spent our time there playing with the branches. It was a good place to hide my face for most of it. My brother seemed to gain courage from the lovely display and began speaking.
Rob: Michelle, the reason I brought you here today was well for one, you haven't been here in quite a while and I think its good to visit everyonce in a while. Its why she wanted to be buried here and not in DR. But I also wanted to bring you here because I've been thinking. I've been thinking a lot...about what I'd like to say. At first I planned to take my time writing a letter because I can collect my thoughts better and...Me: Please don't write me anymore letters. I never liked them. They only give you the appearance of cowardice and they don't make me feel any better.Rob: I didn't know that. Ok. Then this is a good idea. I'm here to say.....I'm sorry.....about...everything. Everything I've ever said and done to you to hurt you...I found that if I couldn't stare at the plant, staring at other grieving relatives in the distance was a way to
hide. My eyes were welled up in tears, but at least I could control any outbursts of emotion if I could just avoid looking directly at him. I managed.
We spent the next 40 minutes or so standing there with him speaking mostly and apologizing for things I didn't even know he remembered... me listening and habitually trying to complete his sentences. I really need to stop doing that especially when I'm nervous. I'm always trying to anticipate what someone is thinking or saying and that's a
very bad habit. Perhaps I was doing this with Robert because deep down I should have said a lot more.
I
do feel robbed. Robbed of the opportunity to scream to the heavens how much I resent being made to feel so small all the time, so helpless, so disgusting and ugly. Oh yes, my brother had a way with words. A true verbal assassin....not because he had a literary gift, but because he knew what word said just in what way could inflict what kind of blow and how deep. And I, not even now that I am older and smarter, could fire back. I just accepted his apology and put myself away again.
I want to be appreciative and be able to say that I'm the bigger person who can just let it go, but its still there. That nasty knot in my throat ...that secret fist that just wants to shatter his face. He's at his most vulnerable now and now my oddly enough my "fist" feels even weaker, like its too late to strike back. He finally got the picture. Its NOT fair that he's allowed to make up for 25 years of SHIT in 40 minutes of "I'm sorrys." But how else is he to make up for it?
I still want my vindication...
....and deep in places in the back of my mind, I still want to hurt him back.
I'm confused.
Follow the little fish (Part 3)
This is my fishie-face just a 3-4 days after her birth.
Here's my little star during her first couple of weeks. All she did was sleep and eat.
What a great life.
After just a few weeks, she's already gearing up for the olympics. See why I call her my fishie?
Not exactly watching for the Big Bad Wolf are we now?
I prefer to carry my niece when she's out like a light. We're just having a sunday dinner at a nearby Pizzeria Uno's with the family.
I love this picture because it was the first time she smiled long enough for me to snap a photo. The next day she was off to Fort Lauderdale with her mom for almost a month. It was a long month.
Follow the little fish (Part 2)
Obviously she had an awesome time down in the sunshine state.
Oh, how fast they grow. This was taken on our way to a restaurant for Father's day.
Daddys can be a pain in the butt sometimes...
...but otherwise we're like peas n' carrots. 
Follow the little fish (Part 1)
Laughter comes alot easier to a BIG 5 month old.
...it helps when your daddy is a comedian.
hmmmmmmmmm ...perhaps at 6 months, she's proven she can go to school.
Well, maybe not just yet.
my favorite little poem
geekizoidal journal fiend
I think I have an addiction.
Its called
journal-crazy.I
have to stop writing in so many places. I swear I have a journal for everything.
- I have 2 conversational journals with two different friends.
- I have my own which I've had since way b4 I went journal-crazy.
- I have one which I have to keep for my psychologist. (Its not so taboo to say you have one these days. I think most people are fucked up in some way anyway.)
- I have aMyspace blog, but I know lots of people read that so I save my funniest material (yuk yuk) and my happier moments for that.
- ...and lastly, theres my blurty.
Its alot for a girl to keep track of. I wish I could consolidate them all, but the conversational ones definitely can not be included. I think perhaps I will take the time to copy and paste from myspace here and type in the rest from my first journal. The "shrink log?" ....eh, I'll think about it. What have I really got to hide anyway? Its not like I see dead people....anymore. =?
Not to mention there are things, places and people that are happening in my life which I haven't included in any of it.
I think all of this has to do with some deep-seeded, yet unfulfilled desire to find a place I feel comfortable. That never seems to last long. Great....now I gotta transfer over information. Commit, girl. Just commit.
Normally I don't do this...
...but I'm going to include an entry from the conversational journal I keep with Wookie. Just felt like typing I guess.
On the 6 (fuck J-ho. Fuck her right in the ass). Anyways, I remember now sitting here that I had a dream last night. I dreamt that I was a train conductor. I called out all of the stops just as they are spposed to do although, I don't remember the name of any single stop.I'm going to stop telling you about my dream as I have just forgotten what I dreamt about. You see, I started this entry on June 1st but it is now June 19th and I've realized I never finished what I started.I'm sitting in Starbucks on 47th and 8th ave, on a Saturday night and I'm fairly certain its almost 10pm (insert stupid FOX staple statement HERE). Anyway, I've been trying to recall that dream for you for the past 5 minutes when this guy (who I'd like to call asshole but hey, he meant well) started talking to me. He asked me, "are you with Jesus?" in what I figured was a chinese accent (I'm probably wrong though). I replied back with "sorry, I can't right now, not interested.""Believe me, if you accepted Jesus in your heart...""You knowwww....I'm kind of in the middle of something here (yank headphones off neck and onto head).Not a very creative way to fend the guy off from trying to "save me" but effective nonetheless. He left.(a few minutes later...)Somebody offered me a mint. Ok. Not me. It was the lady behind me. I feel pretty stupid and so does he for breaking my concentration. He walked away.Ok. Back to the original reason why I'm writing in here at this moment...The A/C and some iced caramel macchiato was probably the best thing I've done all day. I was supposed to clean the house but my brain doesn't seem to be working. They say geniuses are usually very messy people but fat chance of me being one because the clutter only offered me the unfortunate inopportunity of laying practically in a catatonic state for a few hours. Then again, it doesn't take a genius to figure out something is not right with this picture.I left my house shortly before 8pm. Not sure where I was going. I just know I couldn't bare to stay home any longer. Do something. So I rode the train. I picked a stop. I switched trains. I didn't want to stare at the same people for very long. I picked another stop. I ended up at Best Buy on 23rd street and bought myself a pair of stereo headphones. You know, the bulky joints. I want to drown out the world w/ Clementine. Not really working. The thick, humid New York City air is seeping in and I'm getting increasingly uncomfortable.Got a call from Jesmy. She wanted to go to the movies...in the Bronx. I declined. I felt bad about doing so and my phone ettiqute didn't do much in the way of hiding my miserable attitude but by the time I'd get there (if I had decided to go afterall) it would be too late for the movies. Least thats what I told her.If I went over there, I know exactly what would have happened. I'd go over there and my insides would get the better of me. I mean I felt explosive. I'll cry. She sounded bored enough as is then to be dealing with someone breaking apart right before her eyes. I wasn't going to lay my misery upon her with Alexa sleeping in the next room. No. I'll see her and the baby tomorrow anyway. Plenty of time to change my face.After getting off of the phone I thought "I've got to get SOMEWHERE and fast!Wookie, I feel it creeping just below the surface...and I feel tempted to let the bastard out. I feel as though the monster from yesteryear sometimes lurks just under my skin. It comes when I'm alone and for sometime (come to think of it) I've subconsciously taken measures to avoid it. That means I am barely ever home. I've lost touch with my ability to enjoy my own company. Earlier, as I walked the streets listening to Clementine and thinking about what to do, I could hear a voice in my head...the one I thought I had gotten over. I don't even know if I ever really did get rid of it to say for sure.Can't even really tell you exactly what was said because its pretty awful stuff. Id' rather say "it" because I'm such a far cry from that normally. I know I'm good-natured, smart and funny (corny-funny, but funny nonetheless).I don't like that listening to those thoughts tempted me to go home. I thought of those Exacto knives I bought so many months ago. I thought about how clearly they'd cut. I thought about how warm that would feel. It doesn't feel all that bad you know... cutting my arms. Oh sure it hurts later when you clean them up but nothing anti-bacterial ointment couldn't soothe. I have some left at home....and alcohol pads...the only good thing about working at a hospital really.I might need to see a psychologist afterall. No psychiatrists though. I'm scared of the drugs. Lately though, I've been more concerned with those meds possibly making me fatter or lose the rest of my hair than anything else they could do to me.Is that strange? Side effects are very real you know.No. Psychologists are where its at. Yeah, I need to get to the bottom of this. I don't really have anything more to say. I'm kind of hungry right now and all I ate was breakfast. Its nearing midnight anyway and I should go home now. Try to sleep this off. Maybe I'll ask Jose Cuervo to tuck me into bed tonight. I don't have any drugs so I'll need to improvise.(its 2:55am)One scratch and I gave up. I'm kinda tired now. Won't be needing Jose either. I'm getting too old for this shit. *massages temples I need an aspirin.
Puuuuurrrrrescious little vinette
*rewinds memory bank to LAST NIGHT.
11:52pm.
I hit the lights and yell out to my cats, "Bed time you two...lets GO!"
Leeloo understands this very well and jumps into her spot where her green fleece awaits her to commence her habitual sucklage.
Its rather stuffy in my apartment. This past weekend was warmer than the meterologists had predicted and I had to keep the windows only cracked open seeing as how I was going to be away for most of the weekend and didn't trust my furry children. Opening the windows wasn't going to quite work in the way of completely refreshing my bedroom for another hour, at least.
*in the distance, a collar bell ringing wildy
She could be doing one of two things: Either she's found a piece of paper and is tossing and turning on the floor fighting this "deadly" foe or.....DAMNIT she's trying to unplug the television set AGAIN! Storming out of bed, I cause Leeloo to jolt and jump away, completely confused by my actions but nevertheless not more than 2 feet behind me (she's very nosey and she likes it when Daisy gets in trouble). I switch the lights on to the livingroom. I was right. My new orange little menace had all four paws securely wrapped around the white cord that powers my tv set and completely frozen, mid-bite.
"DAISY, NO!" To which the orange little sunshine replies with, BITE HARDER!
I snatch her up, and lightly pat her bum (remember we must becareful because she's still getting better from her incontinence problem) as I say "no! no! NO!" My orange sunshine turns around, takes one look at me and responds with "purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr."
Damn you! THAT will NOT work! IT.....WON'T....work....I say... (I proceed to hug her in defeat)
Leeloo, having realized that her master is indeed a soft piece of crap in her own right....AGAIN, decides to ignore us both and resume beloved sucklage session. I've managed to finally make myself comfortable again....leaving Daisy to her own devices in the carrier....unlocked.
(5 minutes later....)
Leeloo: *suckle suckle suckle....pause....looks around...
Daisy: (FLYING IN OUT OF NOW WHERE!!) *hulk SMASH!
Leeloo scampers off, while the little one....victorious for the third night in a row is then free to attack my toes to her hearts content.
*shakes head disapprovingly
Yeah, she's gonna make lots of trouble, that one.
