Holding True

There's this man. I loved him. I love him. I'm not really sure if it's past or present. But in my heart, it feels like it's still there.

I've never thought of love as being complete. You hear women say it all the time, I'm looking for the man that completes me. I'm not. I need to complete me. I'm looking for the man that compliments the woman that I am, that challenges me to grow, that will help me to be a better person. That's what I'm looking for.

This man, he's an amazing man. Talented, hardworking, loving, caring, and so funny! From the same home state as me. But he grew up north of where I did. We share the same religion, passion for music, and love of life. But our dreams and hopes for the future, lead the two of us, on two very different roads.

He recently started a blog. And I'm not sure what to think of it. I know how he feels. I know how I feel. But does that make something like this logical? I'm not sure...

Yesterday morning, I watched this video, read this tweet, and read this blog post. It just made me think, I need to stick to my guns. He has a lot to prove to me. A lot to apologize for. And he needs to work on gaining my trust again. I didn't do anything wrong. And I'm not compromising who I am, because he suddenly woke up.

It's crazy. He was the person I went to for everything! We'd hangout at school. He'd bring me a peanut butter sandwich between classes. I would have class from 6AM-10PM. We'd talk about life. Things we wanted. How many kids we wanted. What we'd name them. Where we'd live. The fact that I want to stay home with my kids. And he always felt like he needed to be able to support a family on his own.

When things were really bad, I went to him. There were many nights, that he helped me out. Just listening. Helping me to work through one of the worst things that could ever happen to a young girl. Something that I had buried deep down inside. Never told anyone. To this day, the only 2 people I've told, are him and my counselor. And as a young adult, it came bubbling to the surface. He helped me through it. Encouraged me to get help. And to work on putting it behind me.

He was also the one I ran to when I lost my uncle. I cried. I held on to him like he was the sole reason I was alive. He reassured me. Held me tight let me cry. And arranged for me to get home for the services. In mere hours, I was on a cross country flight home.

This man, held my hand before surgery. Before a surgery that I didn't tell my parents about until 4 or 5 years later! He was there. Took care of me. Literally helped me do everything I needed to do for weeks after. Besides my mom and grandma, I don't think anyone else has ever washed my dirty clothes. But he did. And bought me groceries. Tried to cook. Carried me to and from my house to his truck. Drove 90 minutes my doctor's appointments and back again. He was there for me.

He knows more about me than any other single person on this planet. Everything! My deepest and darkest secrets. The horrible stuff that I endured as a kid. The loneliness I felt growing up. My insecurities. All of my accomplishments. My likes. My dreams. What makes my blood boil over. How to get me to fall asleep. He knows it all.

I never felt safer, more loved, or more comfortable than I did around him. His hugs, they were like a warm blanket, that wrapped around my soul. He made me toes curl with a single grin. And my heart race every time he sang. No place felt more safe, than tightly wrapped in his arms. Listening to his heart beat.

He was the one. We joked many, many times about getting married. At 19, I almost did. In "Sin City." We were working a gig. And as poor as they get. We had just realized, we could get some help with our tuition, if we got married. It would cost less than $100. We seriously considered it. But ended our night with a mini wedding cake instead. When he got the big job in Florida, he asked me to marry him again. For real this time. Ginormous diamond ring included. Down on one knee. Tears in his eyes. Arms held out. Because he loved me. And he wanted us to have a life together...

We talked about. About marriage, life, work, careers, moves, homes, and babies. But I knew he needed to chase after his dreams. He wanted to be a musician. And he had every right to do it. He worked hard for this job. I didn't want him to give it up for me. To one day regret not taking the job. And blaming it one me. I knew he had to go. And I knew that I needed to stay here. To work. To go to school. To accomplish all those things my parents wanted me to do.

So I stayed. He left. We tried to make it work. And it was going OK. Until he moved out of the country. And our lives really took different paths. Jealousy set in. Accusations started. The fighting began. The horrible fighting. I couldn't stand to hear his voice, much less see his face. Every single time we saw each other, it turned into WWIII. No lie!

And last summer, it was like the volcano erupted. Just everything the two of us had been holding in, came out. 6AM, in the middle of my front yard. I'd worked 4 days straight. Just drove into my driveway. And he had just gotten back from a tour. I knew in an instant, he had changed...

This wasn't the same man. He had hatred in his eyes. It was like his soul was empty. Missing something. The life, it wasn't shining through his eyes anymore. That, was the last time we talked. The very last time.

Because we have the same friends, work similar gigs, and well, have to see each other from time to time, we've become civil. Not that it's been easy. He did get punched out in a rehearsal. And was asked to leave. Not by me. But by our boss, and my friend. It was shocking. But real life. Slowly, we've begun to heal. We e-mail each other from time to time. But we haven't really talked.

A very close friend of ours, she wants us to talk. She sees both sides. She travels with him and her husband. She's one of my best friends. She really wants us to sit and talk about it. To work through this. We were the "Happy Little Couple." Everyone just expected that one day, we'd make it official. I'm not so sure anymore. But I would like my old friend back. Especially since, we still have to sing together. In less than a month, we're singing for a friend's wedding. Then a show 2 weeks after that.

But listening to the end of this video, reading this tweet, and reading Kandee's letter, it makes me think, I don't ever want to compromise my beliefs, values, and morals. I'm 27 years old. Successful. On my own. No man, and I mean NO MAN, owns me. I'm a person. Not a piece of property. And I deserve and expect to be treated with respect.

It's funny. So many men, they just want sex. That's it. Plain and simple. Being a female performer, I see this a lot. Guys think they're all that and a sack of potatoes. Throwing around cash. Acting like fools. Thinking that will get my attention. Funny how it doesn't. What you see on stage, that's a character. I get paid to be that person. When I leave the stage, I wash off the makeup, throw on a pair of sweats, and comb through my hair. The HUGE and oh so fancy hotel suites, well, I go back alone. To read, study for my classes, and to go to sleep. I'm really not that exciting.

He got that. He understood. I think he actually preferred me in sweats, no makeup, and my out of control hair. He never pressured me into anything. Just realized that I was me. And I had my own time table for things. Beliefs in life. For love.

The ring I wear on my left hand. It's more than a piece of jewelry. It means something to me. I don't care if I'm 27 or not. Or if people think I'm an "Old Maid." That doesn't matter to me. It's a ring I bought for myself. A promise I made to myself. Because one day, I'm going to find the right man for me. That loves, honors, and respects me, for the person I am. Maybe it will be him again. I don't know...

I guess, only time will tell. But I do know, I have to stay true to the woman that I am. I'm special. I'm the only person that is like me. No one else even comes close. Because God has made us all unique. Maybe I'm not right for this man. But there is someone out there. Someone that God made just for me. I just need to be patient. And I can never lose myself in other people. It hurts too much. And through these 3 very different women, I got the message. Loud and clear. I need to be true to me. Because in the end, it's just not worth it to lose yourself in a man. ♥

A Change in the Air

This morning, I woke up to a chilly house. The first chilly morning since last Spring. It's more than welcomed here. Because 100+ temperatures are more common than not.

I just love when the seasons start to change. We're far from being in the clear. The summer heat is still going strong during the day. But I have a feeling, I'm going to need to start covering up with some of my favorite blankets. Snuggling up with my books on the couch. And enjoying a few warm drinks at night.

My windows are open. The air is crisp and cool. Definitely a difference from the last few months. Clean and crisp. Like the air has a bite to it. Time to start bundling up. Pulling out more of my scarves. Layering my clothes. And enjoying the weather.♥

Mi Cucu

Oh, this song! It brings back so many memories. So many! Have you ever heard "Mi Cucu?" Well, when I was about 3 years old, my Nanie used to blast this on the radio. But the english version, "Don't Mess with My Tutu." And we'd go wild. Singing and dancing. I think my Tatie thought we were going nuts. And it was my song until I was at least 12 or 13 years old. That's when I stopped going to sleep at their house.

Fast forward a few years. I think I was 19 years old. And I started singing with a Nortena band. Just when we didn't have Mariachi gigs. It was a favor to one of my professors/friends, Memo. Well, this song came on during a break at our first gig. The first gig I was at. And I knew all the words. Hello! I'd been listening to it for years!

So I sang along and danced with one of the guys from the band. Have I mentioned? I love me a good cumbia too! We had a good time. And by the next gig, I was singing this onstage. Soon, my friend Sanchoncito seen me singing this song. And he told the Mariachi. Well, it became "La Chiquitita's song." No lie! We'd walk into the Convention Center to play, and another Mariachi (our friends) would start playing it!

"Mi Cucu" just took on a life of it's own. Something like "Who Let the Dogs Out" did with the Mariachi from my hometown. Yes, the same thing! So I sang and I danced. No matter where we played. Mexico, here, on the road. Wherever! And that is probably the first song I ever learned how to flirt with the audience with. I will say, that teal traje really came in handy. The one that I could barely sit down in. Perfect for a good Cumbia.

Well, these days, I stick to dancing to this song. Although, a few weeks ago, we did break it out. I sang it at a gig. Berto and I danced with each other, then with some of the people at the party we were playing at. I still love it. It makes me smile every single time I hear it. And who doesn't like a little Cumbia action? Especially with a good dance partner. ♥

Crazy Dreams

Lately, I've been having the craziest dreams. It has absolutely nothing to do with me being sick. It start weeks ago! And they've just got crazier since.

Early this morning, I had a nutty dream. It was mix between an 1800's carnival/parade and my days in cheerleading. I know! Starring none other than the "Cowboy" and I. What is going on?

It started with me in an airport. A large one. Like the one in Atlanta, maybe Orlando, heck NYC? I don't really know where I was. But I was there. With all the girls and the 1 guy that I cheered with in high school. But we were older. Like in our mid 20s. And I wasn't that quiet, shy, and awkward kid anymore. That in of itself, cracked me up!

But we were there. Dressed nicely, makeup done nice, hair in check. With all of our expensive luggage. Um, I've never traveled like that in real life! Anyway, when it's my turn to go through security and all that jazz, I tell them that my uncle died. And I can't leave right away. What uncle? I have no clue!

My coach has already gone through, so there is no yelling from her. And I'm directed to another desk. Where I have to buy a ticket to leave the airport. Not to worry. All my money is going to be returned when I come back to the airport and fly out. Again, I have no idea!

Well, who is waiting for me when I walk out the door? Mr. "Cowboy." The man is haunting my dreams! He kisses me. And we leave together. Like it was planned or something. We end up on some old "Main Street." Like we're in a small town. A lazy, old, small town. Everything is the same from back in the day. And we're getting ready to be in a parade. Oh, we also walked by my uncle's house. He lived on "Main Street," and he was still very much alive!

"Cowboy" and I head into an old building. Inside, there is my college Physics professor. Dressed up in an 1800's suit! Talking with that same heavy German accent. It was so weird! We were putting together a routine. Like a circus act. And we were supposed to be the best there ever was!

The other 8 or so people in this act, I knew them. Various friends of mine, from throughout the years. But "Cowboy" and I were performing together. We also had some "Big" secret. So we got our routine down, and got dressed. I swear, maybe 10 minutes had gone by.

Then the 10 of us were told that we were going to have to take a group of people on a tour of the town first. We were all dressed up! I had on this leotard, bodysuit, corset thing on. I swear, like a circus act from 1880. And before I knew it, we were walking through this HUGE cathedral. Showing these people. It was a Holy Day of obligation. There were so many people in the church. And I was so embarrassed having to wear this get up.

The priest, he was our priest from our church, Papa Rene! He just laughed and said he was ready for the parade. Soon the parade was on, and "Cowboy" is throwing me up in the air. Like we did in cheerleading. But with circus-y type things too. It was so weird! But everyone was cheering. I seen my parents. And his family. It was so real!

When we get done with the parade, we run off. Just the 2 of us. Dressed like this! And we make it to the court house. Where we get married. No one else has a clue. Everyone is still at the parade.

Before I know it, we're walking back into the modern day airport. Holding hands. Happily married. Big wedding rings and all. But by this time, "Cowboy" is in jeans and a dark button down shirt. I'm wearing a black shift dress, with red peep toe shoes. Talk about detail!

The person at the desk call me, Mrs. (and his real last name.) I really don't know what is going on. But we get tickets to Spain. We're going on our honeymoon. And when I turn back around, I have a big pregnant belly to show!

Can we say that this was a weird dream? I've seriously talked to this man twice in my life. For a total of 20 words? I've heard his last name twice. And this is like the 10th pregnancy dream I've had in 3 weeks. What's going on? Is my body trying to tell me something? Is my clock ticking away? Should I really call "Cowboy" back...or should I just forget that I have his number?

I was beyond freaked out when I woke up. I had sweat through all the sheets and blankets. My heart was racing. And it took me a while to figure out where I was. The dream felt so real though. I think that's what scared me so much!

Well, I should get up. I have to go back to the hospital today. Maybe it was just all that medication from yesterday. At least I'm hoping. Because I don't know how to interrupt dreams. But this one...it left me with so many questions. ♥

Miserable Day

It's sorta funny when I think about. The entire day was pretty bad. It started with me waking up at 2AM because of the shooting pain in my hands and arms. I couldn't sleep. They felt like cement. I couldn't move. And it hurt so bad. But what could I do? Nothing. I have no health insurance. I have no money. Welcome to America.

I spent the next 20 minutes trying to get out of bed. And another 15 minutes trying to open my front door. Where I sat in the silence of early morning. Praying to God. And hoping that the pain and fear would go away. I know something is wrong. This is not normal. I've worked in health care too long to let this fall at the wayside. And the feeling in my gut, that spoke louder than any other person could.

Sometime after 6AM, I called my Dad. I knew he would be up. He's always up early. Just to talk. Maybe talking about nothing at all, maybe that would take my mind off of things. No, it didn't help. The only thing I could get him to talk about was the donut he was eating. And sometime after 7AM, when my Mom woke up, I was still miserable. Add to all of this, the miserable cold I got from getting caught in the rain.

But my Mom and I had a good conversation. We talked about a lot of things. And she was in such a great mood. It helped to lighten my own mood. Not the same type of conversation that my Dad and I had early this morning. But I'm coming to realize, the only time he has any kind of a real conversation with me, is when they fight...

So I went on with my day. I managed to drive myself to the library. I needed to get on the computer for school related things. Never mind that I have a laptop at home. But I have no internet access. And I need a new power cord...

I got some stuff done. But I couldn't finish it in the 1 hour they give you. That's right. You get 1 hour, of computer time, at your local library. Not much I could get done with 2 numb hands. So I headed to work. In pain. I still couldn't feel my hands and arms. And it was becoming difficult to breathe. I Thanked God that J wasn't home. That's all I needed. Was to be lectured by him, because I was feeling so bad and needed to go to the hospital.

From 9:30AM-5:30PM I worked. I locked myself in my office, and I finished all the paperwork for the guys. They're leaving early in the morning. Headed to the next job. I started payroll. And I had a million and a half things to do. Let's not get started on the fact that I couldn't feel my hands. And I've been panicked about that ALL DAY LONG!

I missed my session. And I got the usual call to my cellphone. Which I ignored. Guaranteed Dr. D. was at my front door knocking away. But I had to get through work. And honestly, I was in no mood to deal with all my crap today. I had already called to cancel. Guaranteed, he didn't believe me. So I call my parents when I get home.

I should have known when they didn't answer, that something was up. Because I can always reach them between 5-7PM. ALWAYS! Because they're usually eating dinner, or just finishing dinner, or having dessert. They're like that. On a schedule. But nothing. Not after the 3rd time I called on Dad's cellphone. Not on Mom's phone. Not another 5 times on Dad's. I knew something was up...

Oh ya, the crap really hit the fan tonight. I don't know what started it. Nor do I care. But honestly, I swear to God. If my husband ever told me the things my Dad has, I'd beat the man senseless. I'm not trying to be mean here. But there are certain things, that you should never hear about your parents. EVER! I don't care how mad the other is.

But that is what happened when my Dad called me at almost 6:30PM. I don't know how to put it. But it's time. It's time for them to walk away. There's nothing left there. No respect, no trust, and I'm doubting any love...

It saddens me. But if it will bring peace of mind to the 3 of us, it's time. It really is time. How many times can my Dad imagine things happening? How many times can he put HIS kids in front of my Mom? Hell, he tries to do that with me. I just don't let him. How many truly hurtful things can they say to each other?

That right there, that is the sole reason I run from relationships. I know it. No one has to tell me. I know this. For 27 years, I've heard the same fights. Seen the same things happen. And I usually sweep in, and fix things. But you know what? My own life is going up in flames. And I can't be there to fix them. I'm trying to save myself.

I happened to mention my brother. Oh, that really pissed my Dad off. But how many times can I tell him, he is a big part, of the current problems. How can a man, that is older than my Mom, live with them? Does my Dad really think it was going to be OK? My brother doesn't respect my Mom or me. That's why I've avoided going home. Yes, I used to go home a lot more often. For a week or 2 in the summer. But how can I now? Oh ya, in front of my Dad he acts like this saint of a son and brother. But he's not!

And the neighbors, my Dad doesn't want to know the real reasons why they won't talk to them. The neighbor across the street approached me about my brother. What was I supposed to do? Lie? I just didn't say anything. They showed me the papers they got. But whatever. "We're" not supposed to talk about it.

There are so many things going on. And when I mentioned to my Dad that perhaps my parents should see a counselor. Or maybe each of them talk to a friend. Forget it. He didn't like it. But how in the world, does he think, it's OK to throw all of this crap on top of me? I see a counselor and a psychologist. Just trying to deal with this. All of it! I'm not embarrassed to admit it. Sometimes, we just have to admit what's wrong. It's the only way we're ever going to fix it.

Can I tell you something? I've had a horrible day today. Just plain out horrible. I've never in my life had this kind of pain. Not even after my surgery. Never. Ever. And I've never struggled to breathe this much in my entire life! But I can't afford to go to the doctor. I don't even want to think about what it would cost to go to the ER. And I've never, ever in my life, felt like I've needed to go more that I do today.

And on top of that, I was supposed to go talk to Dr. S. tonight. There is no way I'm going now. I'm late. Seriously late. After my Dad and I got off the phone, I was way too emotional. And already 45 minutes late! Dr. S. was probably planning to just yell at me anyone. Because no one can understand that I seriously can't afford school anymore. I'm broke. And my job is just not cutting it anymore...

Do you know that my life is in absolute ruins at the moment? I feel like I'm in free fall. And nobody, not a single soul, could give a damn! That's my life. I can rely more on my friends than I can on my family. It's just fact. They're so wrapped up, in drama that they create for themselves, that I'm left flapping in the wind. It's always been this way!

And then my Dad has the nerve to tell me that he wishes he would just die. He wants to die right now. Are you freaking serious? He absolutely has no clue. None whatsoever. And here I am. His daughter. His youngest daughter. Over 3 hours away, I can't feel my 2 appendages, I'm struggling to breathe, and you tell me this. How on earth do you think, that is not going to bother me?

I swear to God, I can't win for trying. Not in anything in life. Not in trying to talk to my Dad. Not in music. Because he didn't want me to have a career in it. Never mind that I made more money playing birthday parties, than I ever did at the hospital. I enjoyed it. And I was at least able to afford school and food at the same time. It never mattered to anyone that I nearly killed myself trying to work and go to school. That at one point, I was malnourished. Because I was trying to pay for school. And I honestly couldn't afford food.

Never mind that I've had to walk away from the only thing that was keeping me afloat...my internship. Even with all the violence I had to endure, being held at gunpoint and all, that was all I had. An internship where I felt useful and productive. I'm scrapping what little money I have, just to pay for tuition. I know I'm going to have to do without books. I picked up an application for the National Guard yesterday. That's how desperate I am.

But nothing matters. It doesn't matter that I've been on the Dean's List since I started college. Or that I have a 4.0 GPA. None of that matters. Because people are too wrapped up in their own lives. All my Dad can ever see is, this child that is his daughter. And why in hell can't I graduate already. I feel like a failure in his eyes. I always have. No matter how hard I try.

My brother is so freaking paranoid that I'm going to walk away with everything, that he had the nerve to put me down when I left last week. I almost told my Dad. ALMOST! I was so close to telling him just what my brother said. Because he always waits until no one is around. Grow a pair. Be a man, and say what is on your mind in front of our Dad. If you have the guts to tell me, tell him too! Are you honestly going to tell me crap about bringing home groceries? Because Lord help me, my parents bought me some food. Free willed. I never told them that they had too. Or that I needed it.

This while he stays in their home. It's been almost 7 months. He doesn't buy food. All summer that I've gone, he wasn't working. But he feels like he has the right to tell me something about my groceries? Oh, bull crap! Do you even know how to clean the bathroom you use? Can you offer to do the dishes after I cook? No. You eat, and you run to your girlfriend.

Do you know that soon after he moved in with them, he said something to me? Ya. Something very hurtful. Something that made me refuse to go to the store with my parents. Something that stuck in my head. That had me avoiding my parents' house. I wouldn't let them buy me a loaf of bread. I hardly went to visit them for a long time. Then when I would go, I would avoid being at the house. I'd go to the library during the day. And the office at night. Because of what he said. But our Dad never knew the truth...

Then sometime during the summer, I said to hell with him. If he gets to live there for free, and eat for free...who is he to tell me anything, when my parents buy me some groceries? So when my parents wanted to take a road trip, I was game for it. Or if they felt like buying me some groceries or a couple of shirts, I figured, it was THEIR BUSINESS. NOT HIS! It's not like I'm running off with THEIR money. Or only going to see them for food, trips, and shopping. I go to see them. BOTH of my parents. Because I think he forgets that MY MOM is just as important as OUR DAD! I still only eat 1 meal a day. And a little something when I take my medication. I still live off of very little money. But I do this on my own. Can he say the same?

But that is what I'm dealing with. I just pray to God that he helps my parents. They need all the prayers they can get. Whether it's time for them to part ways or not. Maybe they shouldn't have listened to their 5 year old daughter, 22 years ago. The daughter that begged them to get married...

And I also prayed to God, that if there is something serious wrong with me, just to take me. I can't handle this much longer. The pain. Both physical and emotional. I'm sitting here an empty shell. Unable to let anyone love me. I can't trust. And I'm starting to lose faith in this game we call life. I really have no faith in people. Not Mr. Blue Eyes who wants nothing more than to help me heal. And to love me. Not the Cowboy who makes me smile, with the sound of his voice. Not Sanchocito who I really thought I could let in. And most certainly not J. The man who would do anything for me. But I can't.

These are my friends. What they don't realize is the hurt and the pain I've lived through. My inability to trust anyone. Or to truly believe that someone can love you without, expecting something from you. Or hurting you. I'm so afraid of being hurt. But honestly, how much worse can it get? This horrible secret that I've had stuck inside me, since I was 7 years old, I could never ever tell my parents. I would never know how to begin...

Let's be real. They have enough going on. And maybe I was only sent to earth to try and make peace of their lives. I don't know. I sit and ask God every single day to give me strength. To help me along. But at this point, not only is the world fighting against me. My own body is turning on itself.

I don't know how much more I can take. I really wish Memo or O was here. I need someone to just listen to me. To reassure me that I'm going to make it until tomorrow. Because I'm really not sure. Everything hurts. My heart, my head, my soul. Physical pain. Emotion pain. Mental pain.

People see me. They really think I have it all together. How else would they trust me with their kids? What else would motivate people to ask me to be their kids' Godmother, or their Madrina for their wedding? I'm not sure. I want to be as strong as people think I am. I'm just not sure that I am. Or that I have the ability anymore.

I've always said there is a lot of fight inside of me. But when there is nothing left. And you're an empty shell, where do you dig for what you need to survive? I'm at that point. I want to call someone to talk to. But the only person that comes to mind, he has enough on his plate. A serious illness that has returned. And do I really want to burden him with all of this? Do I want him to see this disastrous side of my life? The side that makes me not believe in love or in people.

At this point, I know I'm in the world alone. I know that for a fact. After today, that was made blatantly clear. From a parent that felt his emotional needs were greater than my physical ones, to the loss in humanity as a whole. I wipe away the tears, I try to gather strength, and I pray to God that he gives me another day to live. No matter how hard you work, life is nothing more than a dog fight. ♥

Be Great

I've been thinking a lot lately. You know. About the direction my life is going. I want to do more for others. Being without my internship, it's like walking around missing my head, my heart, and one of my legs.

And as I was looking at things to do, I saw a great news story the other night. About our local Boys and Girls Club. It just got me thinking. I want to join the Boys and Girls Clubs of America. I want to be a positive person in someone else's life.

I was so lucky growing up. I was surrounded by family that was always there for me. My grandma lived next door. I could also count on my uncle and aunt. And my teachers were amazing! Giving me lots of extra time and attention. Helping me to grow to my potential. I had so many excellent mentors. Including Patrick. He was, has, and always will be one of the people I will always look up to.

I want to give back. I want to do something for my community. To have a positive influence on the youth of today. Because, I had people who cared about me. And since I left my internship, I've felt this huge void in my life. I want to be a positive influence on someone else's life again. ♥

1 in 8

Well, my mission for the day was to find textbooks. I didn't find what I needed. Looks like I'm going to go without books for the semester. I just can't imagine spending $300 on books that I will only use for 4 months. And for classes I would not be taking, if I had the money to continue with my internship. So there you go.

I was starving. Mostly because I didn't eat breakfast this morning. And I spent a little longer than I had planned to, looking for my books. I wanted to stop at Carnita's Queretaro or even Taco Cabana. But I have no money. Seriously, I have $4 something in my wallet. And what I have in the bank needs to go to school. Same song...different verse.

So I made the hour trip home. And made myself a sandwich. And most people would be pretty upset. But I was grateful to have bread, cheese, and some turkey. No lie! There have been times when I had no food. Nothing in the freezer, refrigerator, or pantry. And I was hungry. There were a few times when I went to the local soup kitchen. And I was very grateful for this.



I work(ed) for the DOH. And I saw many people barely making it. On food stamps, WIC, and still needing to go to the local Food Banks. These people would break my hearts. Especially the small children. But they got some help. I never could. Because I own "too much" property for a single person. At least in the government's opinion. Um, I have a house. And I'm single. But it doesn't mean that I don't struggle too.



I learned about "Food Insecurity" in school. Being that I study nutrition, public health, mental health, pre-med, and fitness you learn about these things. I still remember that day. My professor was talking about it like it was just common knowledge. This was in 2005. 1 in 8 people were "Food Insecure" for 3/4 of the month. Meaning, they can't afford food. And have no way of getting it. The really sad part is, now it's more like 1 in 6 Americans are in need of food. In 1 year, it rose from 1 in 8, to 1 in 6. In my state, it's 1 in 3.



Immediately, I thought to myself, that's me. It really was. And still is. My parents would kill me if they knew. But I'm 27 years old. In college. And work a part time job. My money goes to overpriced tuition and books. And some stuff for my health. It's just life. And it really saddens me. But guaranteed, if people saw me in real life, they'd never have a clue that I am "Food Insecure."



I love to cook! And to be able to share with my friends and family. But there have been nights when I have gone to bed hungry. Now, I'm just grateful when I open the cabinet and see a small box of pasta and a can of tomatoes. I'm not looking for sympathy. But to share some knowledge with you. I hope you took the time to click on those 4 links.



Don't judge people for what you see. You sincerely need to walk a day in their shoes. See what their life is really about. On the outside, I'm sure people think I have it all together. But when you see me, there is a lot more going on. Think about your 8 closest friends. Can you figure out which one is suffering silently? ♥

Much Needed Inspiration

I needed something to make me smile today. I've been having a rough couple of weeks. The last few days haven't been so kind either. So this morning, I decided to watch some YouTube videos.

And as always, Carly never disappoints! Her makeup looks are so amazing! And her voice is so calming. The perfect way to start my day. And now, I'm feeling a little inspired to actually do my makeup. Lately, taking a shower is about all I've wanted to do in terms of getting ready.

Makeup, hair, etc...I'm not really feeling it. Between the rain and the heat, I just don't want to deal with all the problems. My morning routine has been to shower, comb through my hair, and put it into a bun. I manage some moisturizer with SPF, and a simple t-shirt and jean look. You know, when you have no place to go, it's a little depressing.

But Carly, she has given me a shot of inspiration. I feel like putting in the extra time and energy. Besides, I need to head south. I'm on a mission to find my textbooks at the Used Bookstore. I refuse to buy them new. Because I shouldn't even be taking these classes. So I might go without books. But right now I need to go get ready for the day. ♥

MAC's Rodarte Collection

It shouldn't be much of a surprise that I like to watch YouTube videos. I watch cooking, beauty, and music videos. It's something that I quite enjoy doing. The YouTube videos always seem more interesting than TV to me.

But last week, I seen this video. And to be completely honest, it angered me...



It angered me, because Katherine does not seem well educated on the entire subject matter. And she is throwing out accusations about MAC, Rodarte, and the entire Juarez situation. So I commented. And she didn't approve my comments. I figured because I didn't agree with her opinions. And she most certainly didn't want to hear the "other" side of the story.



But then, Nat posted this video late last night. And I felt like she addressed the topic in a more tasteful manner. She didn't try and shove it down your throat. So I sent her a message. Because I felt like I could give her more of my side of the story. The side that frequently is overlooked and not discussed.

Why am I so passionate about this topic? Because I live and work in the Borderland. And I frequently go across the border for college and professional projects. Not to party. But to go and help the people in Juarez. Mostly the kids and the women.

There is so much violence going on. And people just don't care. We hear about it every single day on the news. Mass graves are found. Shootouts are happening. But the news rarely, if ever, leaves this area. On Friday, another mass grave was found. Over 30 bodies. There have been countless shootouts this past month. During one of those shootouts, bullets made their way to the US side of the border. Into a government building. But how many Americans hear about that?

I see myself as someone who is well educated on the topic. One year, we made life sized dolls. Each representing a woman who had been murdered, or was missing. And we put them up on our college campus. To signify the women who were affected by the violence. That was probably the first time people really began to see the violence as a serious issue.

So when I heard that MAC Cosmetics was teaming up with Rodarte, for a collection based on the violence in Juarez, I was happy. I figured the story would finally be told to a wide variety of people. I agree, the PR for the collection was handled poorly. But to sit here and tear down a company because they are trying to bring light to this topic, it's ridiculous!

I see MAC as trying to spread the word about the violence. I've known women and children who have been killed. I watch the news every sing night. And I see what the violence is doing to the Borderland. Not just Juarez. I applaud MAC for trying to bring this topic to light.

I work in the medical field. Many times, my life is endangered to save these women and children. I can't even began to tell you how many times I've been loaded into an ambulance, wearing a helmet and a bullet proof vest, to go pick up someone who is injured. Just a few months ago, 2 Americans were killed. Because they would provide aid to the children of Juarez. The man was a police office in the US. And the lady, she was expecting the couple's 2nd child.

The violence is maddening. But people's ignorance, it tears me apart more. People are always quick to judge. But they forget that there is a story to be told. That people live a life. That not everyone's life is the same. There are young women working in maquillas, making goods that we buy, in very poor conditions. The same age as the countless teenage girls who are on YouTube making videos about the new MAC collections.

I do admit, MAC failed miserably with this collection. They could have donated more money to the various groups that assist in Juarez. Their advertising posters were not well thought out. But the names of the various products, I see nothing wrong with it. Actually, I had printed off some PR stuff that I had come across. And I took it with me one day. The women were really excited about this. They felt like so many people would learn about their stories. And maybe, help would come.

None were offended by the names. We talked about it. Including mothers who had lost their children. But people jumped the gun here. I'm disappointed in the ignorance of people. Their complete inability to go out and do some research for themselves. This was a good thing. And now, so many people have helped to put a black cloud over it. Remember, knowledge is everything. Educate yourself on the topic before speaking out. Know about the topic before making judgements and trying to prosecute people. MAC was looking to do some good for a community that desperately needs it.♥

Winter White Bear

I recently found this pattern on Crochet Soiree. And I think this "Winter White" teddy bear is just too cute! I want to make a few of them. And they're definitely going on my Christmas Craft List. I just need to find the perfect yarn to make them. I can think of at least 10 little girls who would enjoy one of these little guys! ♥