Thursday, November 1, 2012

perpetual hurt bar

"I don't love you like you love me."

Some words no one wants to hear, at least not really. And not really while sitting at a dive, with a bartender named Mandy and grizzled, jowl-jawed construction workers off the clock scattered around you while you clench a tall can of PBR.
The concept of love and all the things it does and doesn't mean really showed themselves out this past year. Love is a choice, and while you can't always help who you love, you certainly can choose on how to follow up and act on it. If you're able to insert some rationality, that is. Build me up, break me down, build you up, break you down. It's going to take some cultivating, and while the honeymoon period won't last forever, if you love them and you're willing and able to try mentally/emotionally/physically, then you really are choosing love.

It just might not choose you back. Didn't choose me back. Somehow, call me functioning with a big helping of perpetual hurt.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

note to myself

Wow, it has been a really long time since I've written on here. Not sure if anyone even reads this anymore or goes back to peruse anything I've put down.

So I'll write to myself on here. Rio, don't forget you have some things that could stand to be put down on here. Your commentary and thoughts on some real good things that have had your mind runnin' thoughtful circles. You need to be writing more and more, because good Lord you're going to need all the practice you can get.

Evolve this blog, you're in the next phase of your life. Evolve your writing, you've already worked out the previous demons. Bigger fish to tackle now, like your happiness and productivity.

Go conquer some shit and report back to this little platform of your own. xo girl.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

You can try, but it's already been done.

If my memory was an elephant, it would be an African sub-Saharan elephant. Large and specific, unrelenting.

I remember the self-loathing, who was I? "You did this to yourself, only have yourself to blame." I remember the burning condemnation, it dripped out of your gaze, steadily and sure; Pops and I still aren't the same around each other. I remember the blame, my young back had never carried such a weight. I remember my constant habit of wearing sunglasses, I couldn't stand anyone looking at my eyes, lest they detect my grief for the parts of me left back on that patio. I remember my sister's llores, "I'm scared, tell me what's going on with you NOW."

If these walls could talk? Try if these walls could bleed. they bled my heart, my creativity, my clarity of mind all over it's natty-spotted carpet; my youth was dumped all over it, my ankles steeped in what was no longer there.

Victim, survivor, thriver. It's a three tier succession, founded in dark circumstances, and can take years in a life to succeed through. I climbed to the top early, with the help of someone Higher.

Try and touch me now, but know it's already been done.
          And I'm still here, standing.

Thank you, counselors that I had. Your whole purpose for existing and working to help those who endured a sexual/traumatic crime has released a healed individual back into the world.

-Jul. 14, 2011

Thursday, July 7, 2011

14year old nostalgia

He was all eyes. This deep, velvety green with flecks of brown in them; looking back, his eyes bring up memories of a forrest in Oregon I'd been to once.

My mom said he reminded her of a young Nicholas Cage in the movie 'Moonstruck'. Was this a good thing? Some blended looking Italian, maybe Greek looking boy? I couldn't be sure, but what I am sure of is that first kiss he gave me. Still pleasant nostalgia, the way every girl's first [kiss] should be.

It was a May afternoon, the renowned Phoenix heat hadn't quite set in yet. We spent some time wandering around an outdoor mall, hand in hand, eventually making our way back to his car. We leaned against the trunk of his secondhand Camry, talking, enjoying the breeze. Yet another thing Phoenix doesn't usually indulge it's residents in, a nice breeze. I remember the sun feeling nice against my skin, and when I looked at him, he had this fixed gaze on me.

"What, what is it?"

He leaned in, and I immediately snapped my eyes shut. I certainly wasn't going to be the creep with her eyes open if he was going to try and kiss me...Wait...Ah, lips. His lips. This is nice. No tongue, ok whew. Is this supposed to be this pleasant? A long minute later, he pulled back, smiled at me, and we got in his car.

Two weeks later, he admitted to making out with his ex Jenny-the-Asian-Girl, in the hall between classes. A vertiable 17 year old bastard.

Luckily, the memory of that first kiss (and boyfriend) isn't tainted by his youthful infidelity. Or the fact that he tried to break-up with me through an email. 14 year old me pretended she never got it, called him up, and broke up with him first verbally, myself being none the wiser. Savvy little teen I was, even then I knew how bootleg an email break-up would be.

Still though, man, that kiss.
-june 26, 2011

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Dating Horror Stories: Vol. 1

Us females have all been there, endured some situation of awkwardness/assholeness/inconsideration in terms of dating or trying to get to know the opposite sex. I recently endured the horror of all horrors and I’d like to use this as an advisory warning to all the lovely broads out there: beware of trying to talk to/date a guy that lives in a different city.

I met TT through a mutual friend while visiting Vegas in 2009 and had immediately thought well of how he carried himself and his sexy voice, while observing that he had mad hat steez. We hadn’t communicated much after meeting besides being requisite Facebook friends, but we began getting to know each other more starting last November. He had his own house, a solid job, 2 degrees,  knew his way around a conversation, was incredibly endearing, had some baggage (in the form of a beautiful daughter from a previous relationship, but a beautiful child is no baggage). . . he was at least worth investigating on a weekend jaunt.

 Fast forward to this May, after many intimate conversations and getting to know each other, I hopped on a plane and took the 50minute flight from Phoenix to Vegas (No, I am not rich and can just drop money to plane tickets; I have free flight benefits through my old man). Was supposed to be a chill weekend, lounging, talking, vibing…

Tell me why 3 hours into my trip I am attacked by his ex-girlfriend and her friend. Reaction, WHAT? No no, it gets even better, while this was no regular physical assault (are they ever?) these broads rolled in with mace and a taser gun. Yes, take a minute to cringe, I was maced and tased. I.E. they are grown women and on some hoodrat shit.

Let me paint the picture, sitting in TT’s living room, with him, his girl cousin, her husband, and their baby, kicking back, all of a sudden hearing the loud exclamation of “WHO THE FUCK IS THIS HOE.” Ha, a cute looking female is always a hoe when another female creates a situation without knowing the full picture. I look up and see 2 females rushing into the living room (Fuck me and that garage door TT left open). Before I knew it, she had me and my Pocahontas locks in her hands, TT pushes her out the way and gets on top of me to shield me. She’s hitting him, she’s hitting me, screaming “MY HOUSE…IN MY HOUSE.” Let me re-mention the ex girl had a home girl with her, who busted out the taser gun, zapping my squirming, kicking legs because my lower half was still exposed and not covered by him either. Sneaker kicks to the shins and feet… this was the longest 15 minutes of my life. He wasn’t getting up off me, pleading with her to leave, she wasn’t letting go of my hair, then the home girl busts out with the mace and sprays him and I with it and they yell their way out the front door.

I lay up on the couch for a minute, eyes burning, mentally scrambling to process what the hell just happened. Her house? I thought they were exes? Since when is this shit okay? What the fuck kind of people are these? My peoples back home are nothing like this… Clearly there was more to what TT was ‘supposedly’ feeding me.

“My cousin and her husband are gonna come back and snatch you up… I need to go handle this. You gonna be okay?”

Homie, I got mace in my eyes, my skin is burning, I took hella Jordan kicks to the legs, I look like hell, and you definitely left some things out of that history with Hoodrat-Ex-Bangs-A Lot; give me a minute, would you?

The cousin and her husband scooped me up, I was well taken care by them for the next 24 hours, God bless them. In fact, they were the only remaining good thing about that whirlwind trip, not even TT salvaged any of it. Lowdown: TT and said ex had only been broken up 2 months, with a bounce back pattern even after, they had lived together, had been in physical altercations themselves (Oh cool, I was visiting a woman beater.), and essentially didn’t even really want me to come, but lied to me and let me come anyways to boost his floundering self-esteem. Naw naw, I know, you handled it by running to the ex and crying and apologizing that I was there.

Talk about humiliation and anger swirling. I’m a better judge of character than this, I’ve NEVER had the wool pulled over my ojos so smooth. His cousin comments, “I’m sorry Rio, I’m disgusted to say he’s my family. I thought maybe you had known more about all of this, all of him, and still decided to give him the chance…Guess you didn’t know enough.”

Lesson: Be very cautious of talking to male/female in another city. I had experience in this beforehand, but you never know what goes on since you’re not there. You can and are expendable since you do not live where they do.

Or I just caught some real bad luck, chalk it up to a life lesson, and say fuck a fool for abusing months of my benefit of the doubt. To his ex, Girl, you may have him, gladly. If you’re willing to beat the shit out of another girl for showing clear interest in him/for him, you clearly still love him. I pity you, feel bad for the craziness he’s so obviously created between you two and vice versa, and hope one day you don’t end up in the hospital. You didn’t have to mace me/tase me/fuck me up, had I known everything, I coulda respected the situation at the end of the day and not even bothered.

Forgive me and my tangent, my bruises are still healing and I will have scars now. Luckily, summertime is remedying everything and I can laugh at the craziness. Mace and a taser gun, REALLY?!


Monday, May 16, 2011


Grizzly Bear- Ready, Able

-There is a difference between the Taliban and Al Qaeda. As Americans, and as the media delivers it to us, we often get the two confused, or believe they are the one and same. And they are not. This article the Osama Effect explains it.

-I've seen these pop up just about everywhere, and I never paid 'em no mind. I took a 2nd look and realized I really like how HERSCHEL SUPPLY handles their's!

I Had A Dream

I had a dream last night that I had three babies. Not just one, which could be scary enough, but THREE. As in triplets. But they weren't newborns, they were these cool, year and a half, toddlin' around babies (as pictured above). I woke up and throughout the entire day pondered 'Why the hell am I dreaming about babies? This ain't no sign is it?' (LOL, or a sign of what's to come, we keep it safe around here!) . . . Finally got to a dream interpretation site and this is what it said.

To see a baby in your dream, signifies innocence, warmth and new beginnings.  Babies symbolize something in your own inner nature that is pure, vulnerable, helpless and/or uncorrupted. If you find a baby in your dream, then it suggests that you have acknowledged your hidden potential.

Well if this isn't pretty accurate! I can't claim to be no innocent, but new beginnings have been stirring and I feel great. There are other things around me that aren't what I want, or I'm without some physical items, but I've been feeling real damn great. Growing feels good, and luckily I'm young enough to be doing a lot of it, but old enough to know it's completely necessary to keep this rollin'.