The Eyes Have It

Aww, look at that happy little eyeball!



In the last few years, while I have been struggling with my situation, and my depression... one of the saddest thing was to look into my own eyes. The loneliness was so clear in my eyes. They were dull and lifeless and tinged with hurt. It made it hard to even look at myself sometimes.

Now here is a photo that I shot yesterday. Yes I was showing off my new tattoo :P But I am accidentally showing off something else as well. My pure fucking unadulterated HAPPINESS. This is a picture of a person in love, complete and utter L-O-V-E.

Ain't it beautiful...? You know it is ;)

True Romance

I had barely turned 21 when I met Dean, the guy of my dreams.

The meeting place was unlikely for a true romance: a cheesy nightclub in Juarez Mexico. But the conversation was fun, the chemistry was serious, and a bold kiss at the end of the night sealed the deal.

He called me early the next morning (a very un-'dudebro' like move... I always liked my men to be men, so this was very good indeed) It was on. And it didn't take long before we were madly in love.



a pic of us on our honeymoon at Disneyland, 1994, omg we were babies!

I don't know how to explain the way we connected so fast, but we did. Our bond was really deep. We got married at the courthouse, just the 2 of us, and no one even knew about it for awhile because we were keeping it to ourselves.

Were we very happy together. But we were also very young. And dumb. Immature even. Inevitably it led to fights of the dumbest kind. Fights over nonsense. We said and did things that hurt each other.

And then we split up. I always regretted it.

We didn't stay in touch. Both of us ended up moving around and traveling the country for a lot of years. And the years added up. The odds that we would ever find each other again seemed pretty slim. I never met anyone else who could possibly be my other half the way he was.

17 years passed by. We both went through a lot. But I never forgot him.



reunited and it feeeeels so goooood... I'm dating my ex-husband and loving it!

And then, 2011: due to the great powers of the almighty internets, Dean tracked me down! Holy moley what a shocker. I'm honestly surprised that I didn't have a heart attack on the spot (I'm old-ish you know!!) We decided to get together... to talk, and to lay the bad parts of our history to rest.

To make a long story short, it was really obbbbbvious once we laid eyes on each other again that all of those old feelings had never gone away for either of us. The first day we hung out, we spent 11 hours in a bar (barflys!)... just talking about anything and about everything. That was one of the most amazing days ever. I knew that I had never stopped loving this guy!

And now? We are back together and even happier than we were before. How often does THAT happen? One in a million odds.



these suckers are not ever coming off, por vida, baby!

Since we are not remarried (yet, that's down the road a bit), we decided to get these kickass tats of each others' initials on our ring fingers. I think the significance of that is pretty obvs *wink*

It seems like no time has passed at all. We fell right back into our happy patterns. But this time, with the maturity and experience and respect that it takes to be in a grown-up, for-realies relationship with another person.

And with a definite appreciation of what we found again together after 17 years.



hd= high def... he still gives me butterflies...

Maybe sometimes the right people meet at the wrong time? Maybe what we have is so intense that we had to be really ready for it? Maybe it was destined for all these years to go by until we got to this magnificent, lucky place, and reconnected? We'll never know. But it happens, people! Take heart!

And Great Odin's Raven, am I ever happy that we have been granted this rare 2nd chance at first love. So far, it's even better the second time around...



I love you, baby <3

Dearly, departed

This past Saturday night, my much-adored dog Dearly died in my arms.

I haven't been able to write about it because I have been heartbroken... well, I am still crushed. But I want to leave a memorial here for my beautiful Dearly-dog. So I'll do my best. Forgive me if I'm still a bit um, overwrought...




Back in July when Dearly mysteriously went blind overnight, the vet warned me that there might be underlying problems that she couldn't really diagnose or reverse. One possibility for the blindness was a brain tumor or some sort of aneurysm (they can't diagnose those things by x-ray because of the skull, it would take an MRI which costs approx $1500-2000 and can't even be done locally)... and these things, even if they could identify them.... they couldn't have done anything about them. The best (and only) thing we could do was to take Dearly home and to try to keep her happy and help her manage with the blindness, and if she started becoming sick or distressed take her back to the vet. And thus we have been since July... Dearly actually adjusted to her loss of sight quickly, like a champ, and she'd been her sweet lovable self ever since.

Then for a few days last week she didn't seem to want to eat as much as usual. But she was still her regular happy self, seemed ok in every other way, so I got some different dog food (thinking maybe she just didn't like the other) and kept an eye on her... and she actually seemed to feel a little better. Then this past Saturday night she suddenly started acting sick again, and vomited once. After that she became really lethargic, she almost seemed like she was drugged... could barely stand, seemed drowsy. I laid her down on her pillow and her nose and lips were icy-cold. I covered her up in blankets and me and my cousin took turns holding her for awhile... she warmed up a bit but she never regained alertness, she was just limp in our arms, and very quiet.

A few hours later, she was back on her pillow and I was on the floor beside her petting her when she suddenly stood up and staggered onto my lap. I wrapped my arms around her body meaning to hold her when she made a little coughing sound and went limp in my arms. At that exact moment I felt her heart stop beating against my hand, which was cradling her under her chest, she was still standing in my lap but she was... gone. Her head went heavy onto my chest and her breath sighed once and she was gone in my arms. Just like that.

The horrible feeling that opened up in my chest at that moment just won't seem to go away. I know her prognosis wasn't too great 6 months ago but I still for some reason cannot believe she is gone. Ever since I rescued her from a cemetery death-trap years ago, Dearly has been my literal shadow... trailing closely by my side every single time I moved, and I am not exaggerating. So her absence, and the silence when I walk (I can't get used to not hearing that tickticktick of her nails against the floor)... it's just overwhelming me still.

She was really special to me and I hope her spirit is somehow still trailing me even now... because I just can't bear to think she's gone. Goodnight, Dearly-dog... I love you very much mama. I know I'll see you again someday.

RIP Dearly D. Parted

BFF

So I went out with my girl Dollface last night, and we had such a great time... ohhhh, I love how much we laugh when we go out! It's killer. The bar's karaoke alone last night had us in stitches, it was beyond great... we kept convincing people to go up and sing hilariously mismatched songs (watching tough boyz singing Hit Me Baby One More Time and Purple Rain was soooo funny, woot!) and we had so much fun.

And today I was thinking about how lucky I am to have met this awesome chick.



It's been a long time since I have felt like a had a really close girlfriend, and Dollface is definitely it. I felt good friendship chemistry from the very first time I met her, literally. She's got a great vibe and I knew she was someone I wanted to hang out with.

And since then, I've been so grateful for having her. She really is my BFF.

She never, ever gives up on me. Even when I am having really bad problems with my depression, she is patient and she is there long after everyone else takes their toys & goes home. I've had to break plans with her so many times- because of cars problems, or pet problems, or health problems- and she never complains or even has an attitude about it. She is so understanding. She never forgets about me and she never blows me off. I like that we can talk about anything. I think I understand her, and I'm sure she understands me. She's also got a great laugh and totally brings out the comedienne in me cause I like to make her laugh! And that's always a good thing. I am such a total goofball when I hang out with her.

I've just been thinking bout how glad I am to have her in my life.
Thanks for being my besty, Doll!!

Oh... and here's a bonus shot of new hair from last night :P

Haley

One year ago today, a human monster beat the life out of my beautiful little sister Haley for no reason at all. Ever since, all I can think about is to wonder....... why.




Why would anyone hurt her.

She'd regularly pull over on the way home from drive-thru restaurants to give her own dinner to homeless people she saw along the way. She worked for a while as a social worker because she wanted a job where she could help people less fortunate. And often she used her own money to help them out when no other options were available. She worked in elderly & child daycare centers for the same reason. Ditto for her substitute teaching.

Haley was probably one of the most generous humans I have ever known. She was always a give-the-shirt-off-her-back kinda girl. Material stuff meant nothing to her. What she really loved was to make friends and collect smiles from the people she helped out. If you think that sounds corny well, it does. But that doesn't mean it wasn't true. You could ask anyone who knew Haley and they would tell you the same. Haley was a goodhearted person who just liked to please other people, and to help them out.

She even helped her murderer out. He was a stranger to her and he told her he was hungry. So she helped him get food. For that kindness, she paid with her life. Had he asked for more help, I have no doubt Haley would have done what she could to help him. Instead he laid in wait for her at her place, in the dead of night, waited with gloves and duct tape and an evil heart, attacked her, bound her, terrorized her, killed her, robbed her. All for a car which he just abandoned and a computer that wasn't even worth a hundred bucks.

Why. WHY.

Now I don't have a sister anymore. After our Mom's untimely death we were the only two females left in the immediate family, and that was always a source of strength in our relationship. Now there's only me. I don't have a sister anymore.

I still don't understand. I guess I never will.


Haley- I miss you. I think about you every single day. I see shit on tv that I know that only you would appreciate, and I know we'd laugh our asses off. I miss laughing with you. You & I combined used to bring roomfuls of people down in laughter, remember? We were good together, wicked good. I'll never forget our crazy shenanigans when we lived at Gramma's. Damn we had such adventures, damn we were so bad! Remember the snake in the cemetery?? We laughed so hard. I miss those days. I want you to do my hair again. I want to reminisce. I want to hang out and smoke and eat pizza together. I want to go to the movies with you. I want to sing that silly-silly 'Sisters' song with you like we used to. I want to sit up all night on the bed, talking. I want you back. I need you. I don't know how to live without you.



I love you, Little Sis. And I MISS YOU. Always...

RIP kitty princess

Yesterday I had to say goodbye to a beloved & loyal friend of 18 years, my beautiful kitty Nico. I had to make that totally hard and crappy decision to have her put to sleep. Her liver had shut down due to old age, she had stopped eating, and there was just nothing more that could be done for her other than to spare her any more pain. Still I absolutely hated to have to make that decision. I miss her. I keep forgetting and looking around the corner into her basket but her basket is empty. A little piece of my heart is gone for sure. I'm trying to deal, and trying to focus on what a great f**king cat she was, and all the good memories I have of her....

Like how I rescued her from a dangerous alley behind our house when I was only 17... like how she was a wild little thing but she came right up into my hands with perfect trust... like how she was such a fluffy, funny, lively, curious, fearless little kitten...




...and how she grew up into such a gorgeous cat:




Nico was a total character. Everyone that knew her found her adorable. She loved baskets, she was a wicker fiend. One of her nicknames was 'Basket Case'. Another one of her nicknames was SataNico. You can see an example of the reason for both nicknames in the following photo:




She was a photographer's dream- an awesome cat model. She had such total attitude, yet posed for so many funny photos! She was also a rebel, a real rebel. Well, most cats are rebels I know, but Nico was a rebel among rebels, a hardcore cat...




She was just so beautiful. Her green eyes were insane... she had what we would call the Godzilla Stare, and she could look right through you with that shit. Nico was always independent. She loved her humans- the privileged chosen- and often hopped up on a lap, pushing her head insistently into her target's hand until she got got petted (or she'd just pet herself with the hand, either way!), but she didn't have much use for other animals...




You'd usually find her off on her own somewhere, bathing in the sun or sleeping in something basket-y. She had a very elegant air about her, and a slinky-cat walk. The fur on the back of her legs puffed up and out halfway down like a little frilly, froofy white pair of pantaloons and she walked with her tail pointed straight up above the fur 'knickers'... people used to laugh whenever they saw her walking away, couldn't help it... so funny looking with her fuzzy 'pants', Hell another one of her nicknames was 'Pants' heh...




Nico was an exceptionally healthy kitty for 99.9% of her long and amazing life. Only in the last couple of years had she started to look more like an old kitty, and she started sleeping a lot more, and even- *gasp*- started tolerating a few of her fellow house pets. Sometimes she even let Mia lie close to her while she slept- maybe she just liked the chihuahua body heat easing the ache of her old bones, or maybe she was mellowing out. Nico got sick with a serious feline respiratory infection a few months ago- it was going around El Paso, all of my cats got it in fact- and they told me then that Nico wouldn't survive it. She almost didn't. But with a lot of work on her part, and ours, she pulled though and was more Nico than ever. The past few months with her were great, she even started sleeping on my bed again and hanging out more than usual. She'd to climb up into my lap and curl into a purring ball as I sat at my computer, sometimes pushing my hands away from the keyboard to get herself a good petting or a scratch or two.




Then, last week, I woke up one day to find that Nico's skin had a yellowish tint... and the vet confirmed that it was liver failure, probably just due to age. We decided to give her a fighting chance anyway, putting her on some antibiotics on the off chance that it was just an infection (though the vet prepared us by telling us she doubted it) She seemed to be doing ok at first but gradually I could see that all the fight had just gone out of her, and she was just exhausted. She couldn't eat and was very weak. I couldn't watch her suffer any longer and had to make the decision I had been dreading all along.




Yesterday, we said goodbye to Nico, kitty princess and beloved kittycat, and she left the world a lady to the end. I miss her terribly. But I wouldn't trade it for the world, Hell no- this pain sucks but it was so worth the 18 years of love and friendship she gave to me. She had an attitude & a half- I used to say 'she's French', heheh, and she was named for the Velvet Underground's German chanteuese Nico, but it wasn't til years later that I learned that 'neko' is Japanese for 'cat', which was pretty cool too. She was a fussy eater but she loved french fries. Her personality always reminded me of that cat that PePe Le Pew always sexually harassed in his cartoons, heh. She was an awesome cat, funny and unique and loyal and beautiful. I never imagined a life without her.

Rest in peace, Miss Kitty. I love you, fuzzy girl.

love is more important than an ostrich

So I'll bet you all have wondered if I have any good mental ward stories, since I spent some time in there, right?? And duh, of course the answer is yes. And for some reason I was thinking about one today.

It happened like this. There was this guy in the ward that we called Wrong Way Peachfuzz. He was nicknamed after that character from the Rocky & Bullwinkle Show, who was like the worst sea captain ever- he always went the wrong way from the direction he was supposed to be going. And so this guy in our ward, our Wrong Way, he always went the opposite way of whichever way we were supposed to go for groups or clinics or rec time or whatever. And he'd also always go into other people's rooms thinking they were his room, even after they made a big sign in red Sharpie taped to the door of his room with his name on it. Wrong Way was just really, really mentally far gone. He was in another dimension and would weave in and out of his and into ours. He was a scruffy old OG, his wiry long hair poking out wildly from under his old skool gangsta bandana. The great thing about Wrong Way, though, was that he has so sweet and friendly and harmless that everyone- staff & patients alike- totally loved him. He was lovable in the kinda insane way that Charles Manson would be lovable if every element of evil and naughtiness and bad intention was suddenly mysteriously sucked out of his body and only the crazy was left.

Wrong Way lived in a fantasy world... shuffling around the ward (high levels of certain medications will give you the Psych Ward Shuffle, which is very different from the Curly Shuffle, but much closer to the Ozzy Ozbourne Stagger mixed with a touch of Romero Zombie Extra Shamble) ... telling us all stories of the million acres of land outside of El Paso that he owned, and about his ranch filled exotic creatures like donkeys and peacocks and cows and and crocodiles, and about all the movies that he had been in, and how the helicopter that his family owned that was going to land in the rec yard outside and pick him up so he could go have tea with Jay J. Armes. The dude also randomly burst into the funniest giggles every time he would talk. Oh man it would make all of us laugh too, you know how hysterical laughter can be infectious (especially if the giggler has a funny sounding laugh)?? So picture that, a group of us in the lounge of A PSYCH WARD, all grouped around Wrong Way and giggling in hysterics while the nurse on duty nervously eyed us and glanced around for the security techs. Ha ha.

Yeah, Wrong Way would say the most insane, random, yet bizarre things but occasionally, occasionally, he would say the most inadvertently WISE things sometimes. He was like our psych ward guru.

So one day, over breakfast (we ate like elementary school style, at long industrial tables with long industrial attached benches, which is oh-so-comfortable considering you are closely surrounded on every single side by some people who may have an episode at any given second) We are eating the lovely rubber bacon and cardboard toast with an atom of butter on it, and Wrong Way is proposing marriage to me. This wasn't too unusual, marriage proposals to the female patients and female staff and female visitors and female doctors, etc, were just another one of Wrong Way's things. And he's telling me how if I marry him, I can live on the ranch and that he has a mansion there, and that I can have as many animals as I want. He says that I can even have ostriches- ostriches! he was soo excited when he said that word, as if he was Charlie saying theeee golden tickettttt- on the ranch. He told me I should think about it.

Then he says- "If there is somebody else that you love, though, and you wanna marry them instead, that's ok, you should do that, because... you know... love is more important than an ostrich."

And I sat there, marveling at how some of the wisest shit you can ever hear can come from some of the craziest sources you'd never expect. Lesson learned. Keep your ears open.