Oh all right, it's true, I'm only 5'11''. And I don't hate men, not really, damn instincts. But synchronicity has just been keeping me in touch with my inner She Wolf lately... here are some of the sites it's been leading me to...
That Girl Emily ... Emily's husband cheated on her with her best friend. This made way for 14 days of fury poured down by a scorned woman.
Muslim Hedonist ....actually one of the blogs Rachel reads. Us Mexican gals have it hard with the completely idiotic Macho men we have to deal with (some guy had the nerve to "mamacita" me, while I was with my two year old today!) but I take of my hat to Muslim women.
But of course, I'm not one to make you all get pissed off and not help you to deal with it... so I give you Make Him Pay , which just happens to be full of lovely tips for venting.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Delayed Response...or The End of Term Breakdown
Ah, smell the cool fresh breeze, for you are free children of the UABC's Faculty of Human Sciences...
Yeah right. All of us demi gods, anal to oral in 2.3 seconds types, we're collectively having our end of term breakdown. I think I already ate twice my own body weight in chocolate. And basically, to food types round the globe, I'm the new black hole in the solar system. If it comes anywhere near my event horizon, it's gone. I don't care if you licked it first as a safeguard, I'll eat it anyways. Yep, comfort eating is not cool, boys and girls.
Emotions though, they're the complete oposite. Everything I didn't have the time to face during the term, the stuff that either got used as fuel or buried in the back of the closet with unpleasant memories of losing to boys, or not living up to myself. And now I'm not quite so busy, they all want to be dealt with. I tried ignoring them and of course they all decided to stage a Broadway musical entitled: "Silvia's Fucking Weird Dream: The Kind That Leaves you Defeated and Melancoly"
To start off with, my subconcious reminds me of my inability to park anywhere near my target destination. I'm probably too polite to take up those spaces. ...nothing to do with the fact that parking makes me uncomfortable, and paranoid, so I have to have a HUGE space to do it in. I dreamt I was searching for my mum, and parked what I thought was a few blocks away.
After walking more than a few blocks away i decided to turn back to the car, only to bump into the rockstar and some of his friends. Here comes the defeating and melancoly bit I hear you say. You're dead right. I limit myself to a swift hello and try and keep my distance. Truth be told, these last few months I've only been getting agrier at him and our whole stupid breakup, with or without his help. I've been using my feelings as rocket fuel at university. Yes, perplexing I know, but I work well when im pissed off and under pressure. In any case, in my dream he wants to talk to me despite my retreat and ends up chasing me up a spiral staircase made of old fashioned baby strollers.
The baby topic is going to stay in the back of the closet. I don't think I want more children, but I need to think it out, and as I can't afford another baby right now, I'm not even going to bother stressing about it... despite what my unconcious might think.
The higher I go the thinner and more wobbly the staircase becomes, but I keep going, to escape whatever he has to say to me. I know it can only be bad news, I haven't heard it yet and already I'm crying, the tears clouding my vision. And then suddenly through the haze I'm beffudled and staring at real clouds. I've triped and as the tip of my shoe looses touch with the staircase, I realize I'm going to die, a horrid stain on the ground. I keep falling, the realization of death slowing everything down to torturous slowmotion.
I feel his hand grasping mine and I try to hold on to gravity. Some things are worse than death, and death in a dream is hardly as bad. My resistance is futile however, and time goes back to normal with a jolt as he pulls me over the edge, into a dark room and into a bed. He starts to undress me, softly. I give in without saying a word, hoping he won't either, and I get my wish.
When we finish I lie there with my eyes closed, but awake, just sensing how comfortable everything is, the bed, the sheets, the soft pillows, and the feel of warm skin on skin. I wonder what to say to him as his hands slide up my neck. "Thank you", "I'm sorry" and "I hate you" all come to mind, but I never get a chance. Once I realize it's not a loving carress it's too late, his hands are already clamped around my neck, his eyes bearing into me with complete non chalance. Should have picked gravity, should have picked the stain on the ground, should have at least picked "I hate you". Betrayed not once, but twice now, by the same man. I'd be embarrased if i I weren't so busy being angry. He says something, but fortunately the lack of oxygen is already taking its toll and i can't make it out over the blood pumping, crying out for release in my head. Everything fades into darknes.
Now this next bit I'm not even going to explain. All I can say is I need more zen, and less power puff girls. Presumably I'm dead. This usually stops my dreams, or at least shifts them over into after life mode....I don't know if this can be called that... there's two amoebas floating about like amoebas do. One is a Silvia amoeba and the other is a Rockstar amoeba. I can tell because they even have little faces. The Silvia amoeba is making a hole in the Rockstar amoeba and pouring itself in like a malicious virus.
Back in the macrocosm, the Rockstar is now embodied by Tom Cruise. He's a wayward crazy drunk. It's maddening how he can just start to think clearly and suddenly my voice starts off in his head confusing and annoying at the same time. Dead but alive.
Again the dream changes. I'm off to meet some hunk named Eddie (actually he's a character from some American sitcom that I can't exactly place right now). Apparently we've been sleeping together and I'm madly in love with him. The only problem is that Eddie likes to sleep around, and needless to say, is not maddly in love with me in turn. Oh and that my mother and siblings have decided to tag along. I figure everything will be fine, I'll make some quick introductions, some even quicker excuses and Eddie and I will be alone.
Sure... I didn't count on him and my mom hitting it off. I'm too busy to intervene, what with having to get my brother and sister out of the vecinity without them seeing anything. I send them off to do some errands and head back to the room, intent on chewing Eddie's ear off, but through the glass doors that lead out to the yard I can see my son playing at the edge of a pool. Obviously that's too dangerous to overlook, so I go outside to check on him. I stand between the pool and a large patio where there's a masked ball going on. Eddie arrives at my side smiling as if nothing had happened and takes my hand. I decide to overlook the fact that he just cheated on me with my own mother and keep watching my son. He's pulling some pretty big fish out of the pool and I start to worry about what else could be in there.
Eddie pulls me out of my thoughts by turning me at the waist towards the masked ball. He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger to direct my gaze towards a gorgeous woman with an hourglass figure and a feathered bird mask. "See that woman?" I nod, he couldn't possibly mean anyone else. He lets go of me, chin and hand, as if to push me away and ads, "She's fabulous in bed." He doesn't even turn around to see my reaction, just keeps gazing on at the woman. The bile, jealousy, pain and hate rise up to my throat but I can't help but smile. He likes hurting me, and I have to admit I enjoy it ((at this my concious mind can only tap my unconcious on the head patronizingly. That guy would be so dead in real life)).
I run off towards the pool because my son has pulled a stingray his own size out of the water. I help him put it back and worry over his eyes and the alligator hunter. When I look up Eddie is standing there admiring me. "I love it when you throw jealous tantrums like that,"he grins. And who am I to make him think otherwise?
And that's pretty much it. No wonder I never get any rest.
Yeah right. All of us demi gods, anal to oral in 2.3 seconds types, we're collectively having our end of term breakdown. I think I already ate twice my own body weight in chocolate. And basically, to food types round the globe, I'm the new black hole in the solar system. If it comes anywhere near my event horizon, it's gone. I don't care if you licked it first as a safeguard, I'll eat it anyways. Yep, comfort eating is not cool, boys and girls.
Emotions though, they're the complete oposite. Everything I didn't have the time to face during the term, the stuff that either got used as fuel or buried in the back of the closet with unpleasant memories of losing to boys, or not living up to myself. And now I'm not quite so busy, they all want to be dealt with. I tried ignoring them and of course they all decided to stage a Broadway musical entitled: "Silvia's Fucking Weird Dream: The Kind That Leaves you Defeated and Melancoly"
To start off with, my subconcious reminds me of my inability to park anywhere near my target destination. I'm probably too polite to take up those spaces. ...nothing to do with the fact that parking makes me uncomfortable, and paranoid, so I have to have a HUGE space to do it in. I dreamt I was searching for my mum, and parked what I thought was a few blocks away.
After walking more than a few blocks away i decided to turn back to the car, only to bump into the rockstar and some of his friends. Here comes the defeating and melancoly bit I hear you say. You're dead right. I limit myself to a swift hello and try and keep my distance. Truth be told, these last few months I've only been getting agrier at him and our whole stupid breakup, with or without his help. I've been using my feelings as rocket fuel at university. Yes, perplexing I know, but I work well when im pissed off and under pressure. In any case, in my dream he wants to talk to me despite my retreat and ends up chasing me up a spiral staircase made of old fashioned baby strollers.
The baby topic is going to stay in the back of the closet. I don't think I want more children, but I need to think it out, and as I can't afford another baby right now, I'm not even going to bother stressing about it... despite what my unconcious might think.
The higher I go the thinner and more wobbly the staircase becomes, but I keep going, to escape whatever he has to say to me. I know it can only be bad news, I haven't heard it yet and already I'm crying, the tears clouding my vision. And then suddenly through the haze I'm beffudled and staring at real clouds. I've triped and as the tip of my shoe looses touch with the staircase, I realize I'm going to die, a horrid stain on the ground. I keep falling, the realization of death slowing everything down to torturous slowmotion.
I feel his hand grasping mine and I try to hold on to gravity. Some things are worse than death, and death in a dream is hardly as bad. My resistance is futile however, and time goes back to normal with a jolt as he pulls me over the edge, into a dark room and into a bed. He starts to undress me, softly. I give in without saying a word, hoping he won't either, and I get my wish.
When we finish I lie there with my eyes closed, but awake, just sensing how comfortable everything is, the bed, the sheets, the soft pillows, and the feel of warm skin on skin. I wonder what to say to him as his hands slide up my neck. "Thank you", "I'm sorry" and "I hate you" all come to mind, but I never get a chance. Once I realize it's not a loving carress it's too late, his hands are already clamped around my neck, his eyes bearing into me with complete non chalance. Should have picked gravity, should have picked the stain on the ground, should have at least picked "I hate you". Betrayed not once, but twice now, by the same man. I'd be embarrased if i I weren't so busy being angry. He says something, but fortunately the lack of oxygen is already taking its toll and i can't make it out over the blood pumping, crying out for release in my head. Everything fades into darknes.
Now this next bit I'm not even going to explain. All I can say is I need more zen, and less power puff girls. Presumably I'm dead. This usually stops my dreams, or at least shifts them over into after life mode....I don't know if this can be called that... there's two amoebas floating about like amoebas do. One is a Silvia amoeba and the other is a Rockstar amoeba. I can tell because they even have little faces. The Silvia amoeba is making a hole in the Rockstar amoeba and pouring itself in like a malicious virus.
Back in the macrocosm, the Rockstar is now embodied by Tom Cruise. He's a wayward crazy drunk. It's maddening how he can just start to think clearly and suddenly my voice starts off in his head confusing and annoying at the same time. Dead but alive.
Again the dream changes. I'm off to meet some hunk named Eddie (actually he's a character from some American sitcom that I can't exactly place right now). Apparently we've been sleeping together and I'm madly in love with him. The only problem is that Eddie likes to sleep around, and needless to say, is not maddly in love with me in turn. Oh and that my mother and siblings have decided to tag along. I figure everything will be fine, I'll make some quick introductions, some even quicker excuses and Eddie and I will be alone.
Sure... I didn't count on him and my mom hitting it off. I'm too busy to intervene, what with having to get my brother and sister out of the vecinity without them seeing anything. I send them off to do some errands and head back to the room, intent on chewing Eddie's ear off, but through the glass doors that lead out to the yard I can see my son playing at the edge of a pool. Obviously that's too dangerous to overlook, so I go outside to check on him. I stand between the pool and a large patio where there's a masked ball going on. Eddie arrives at my side smiling as if nothing had happened and takes my hand. I decide to overlook the fact that he just cheated on me with my own mother and keep watching my son. He's pulling some pretty big fish out of the pool and I start to worry about what else could be in there.
Eddie pulls me out of my thoughts by turning me at the waist towards the masked ball. He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger to direct my gaze towards a gorgeous woman with an hourglass figure and a feathered bird mask. "See that woman?" I nod, he couldn't possibly mean anyone else. He lets go of me, chin and hand, as if to push me away and ads, "She's fabulous in bed." He doesn't even turn around to see my reaction, just keeps gazing on at the woman. The bile, jealousy, pain and hate rise up to my throat but I can't help but smile. He likes hurting me, and I have to admit I enjoy it ((at this my concious mind can only tap my unconcious on the head patronizingly. That guy would be so dead in real life)).
I run off towards the pool because my son has pulled a stingray his own size out of the water. I help him put it back and worry over his eyes and the alligator hunter. When I look up Eddie is standing there admiring me. "I love it when you throw jealous tantrums like that,"he grins. And who am I to make him think otherwise?
And that's pretty much it. No wonder I never get any rest.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Bendita La Luz
I should put on a Barry White album for this post... I'm ridiculously head over heels for the Mexico City cutie. And just when I wanted to stay single, tsk. Not that I'm complaining of course (looks around for the Fates). So since last time he was in the city we've kept in touch, and he came back from Mexico City for about a month which was extremely enjoyable.
We're now officially "novios" (the English language urgently needs a literal translation to that, something better than boyfriend and girlfriend!), and so far so good... I made a list a couple of months back of all the things that I wanted from a potential partner, knowing that in theory I'm extremely picky, and that if I could stick to it in practice I'd stand a better chance of not tumbling down the rabbit hole of love after some egocentric roedent who's always late.
So guys, lend an ear, this is what women really want:
-Support, but not python style suffocation. No one likes dating their dad, trust me. You're not going to fix her life, and if she thinks you will she's better off staying home.
-Sensitivity, not helpless bunnies. Sure we like guys who are in touch with their femnine side, but if you cry over everything, act like a martyr or expect her to be your mummy, don't complain when she's got you by the short and curlies, or hopefully leaves you for someone with more emotional resources. Which, heaven forbid, doesn't mean we don't like bunnies. We just wouldn't date them, which explains why (too) nice guys always finish last.
-Dignity but not macho pride. No, it's not a good plan to go along with EVERYTHING we say. Listen, but don't obey like a well trained puppy. On the other hand, you're not the master of the Universe, and your girlfriend, lover, wife etc, is not your personal property to command. And as a side note, yes she has most likely been with other men, has friends and a life. You don't get the right to be jealous.
Etc, etc, etc (what? I'm not serving my sisters up on a silver plate for you guys, do your research). It's all about finding the balance in the Force. No, really.
I guess telling the Universe what your really want does work and the Mexico City Cutie seems to fit the bill. Damn singledom, how could I let that kind of chance pass me by?
On a sidetrack, I just got an email from my friend Tania, about tampons... apparently they contain asbestos (to prolong bleeding and up sales), dioxin (for bleaching, but it also happens to be carcinogenic) and rayon (for absorbency, but it also tends to stay in the body, absorbing dioxin and causing toxic shock syndrome which can be lethal). The FDA says it's all malicious rumours. More on this soon...
We're now officially "novios" (the English language urgently needs a literal translation to that, something better than boyfriend and girlfriend!), and so far so good... I made a list a couple of months back of all the things that I wanted from a potential partner, knowing that in theory I'm extremely picky, and that if I could stick to it in practice I'd stand a better chance of not tumbling down the rabbit hole of love after some egocentric roedent who's always late.
So guys, lend an ear, this is what women really want:
-Support, but not python style suffocation. No one likes dating their dad, trust me. You're not going to fix her life, and if she thinks you will she's better off staying home.
-Sensitivity, not helpless bunnies. Sure we like guys who are in touch with their femnine side, but if you cry over everything, act like a martyr or expect her to be your mummy, don't complain when she's got you by the short and curlies, or hopefully leaves you for someone with more emotional resources. Which, heaven forbid, doesn't mean we don't like bunnies. We just wouldn't date them, which explains why (too) nice guys always finish last.
-Dignity but not macho pride. No, it's not a good plan to go along with EVERYTHING we say. Listen, but don't obey like a well trained puppy. On the other hand, you're not the master of the Universe, and your girlfriend, lover, wife etc, is not your personal property to command. And as a side note, yes she has most likely been with other men, has friends and a life. You don't get the right to be jealous.
Etc, etc, etc (what? I'm not serving my sisters up on a silver plate for you guys, do your research). It's all about finding the balance in the Force. No, really.
I guess telling the Universe what your really want does work and the Mexico City Cutie seems to fit the bill. Damn singledom, how could I let that kind of chance pass me by?
On a sidetrack, I just got an email from my friend Tania, about tampons... apparently they contain asbestos (to prolong bleeding and up sales), dioxin (for bleaching, but it also happens to be carcinogenic) and rayon (for absorbency, but it also tends to stay in the body, absorbing dioxin and causing toxic shock syndrome which can be lethal). The FDA says it's all malicious rumours. More on this soon...
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