She awoke to the feeling of someone’s breathing on her shoulder. She was used to sleeping alone, so in the midst of that sleep-awakening transition, when she was coming to the realization, that yes, this was another day, and she started, as usual, to curse the light that woke her from her peace… There it was. A hot, soft and rhythmic breath, right on her shoulder. She hadn’t opened her eyes just yet… she left that for when it was absolutely necessary, for she knew, once she opened her eyes, her sleep was over, and reality came crashing into her.
But there she was, lying comfortably in what she felt was her bed, the hotness of a foreign person’s breath on her shoulder, and her eyes closed. She started to wonder what she was doing there… or, more appropriately, what was that breathing person doing there.
She began to wonder if she was dreaming, but her dreams always were surreal, and this seemed almost normal, at least to anyone but her. She was alone, had been since she had moved away from the city (and country) she called home, and had come here to work, and to try and be independent.
Just then, that foreign breathing person, without missing a beat on his (hers? Its?) breathing, began moving a hand on her body. Her eyes, turned away from the person (she couldn’t handle another person’s hot breath on her face while she slept) opened in shock. She was nude… and this other person’s hand (since it felt like a hand, it must have been a person) was softly and lazily moving on her stomach.
She dared not move, in fear of waking up whoever was beside her in the bed. But now, her eyes open, she started to realize she didn’t mind that hand on her stomach. She began to look around the room, which she realized now, wasn’t hers. And the breathing kept its steady and calm rhythm. Whoever this person was seemed he or she was deeply sleeping.
The room’s walls were an amazing shade of green, dark enough to not be cute, but clear enough not to darken the room. There was writing in one of the walls, but she couldn’t make out the words. Under the writing, a lounge chair, and on it, a guitar. Besides the chair, a bookshelf, books and magazines all over it, looking just the right mix of messy and clean she was so used to in her own belongings.
The person stirred, his or hers breathing changed, and she shut her eyes quickly, pretending to be asleep. The hand froze in its movement, sadly, she thought.
The person yawned against her shoulder, and cuddled towards her body. It turned out to be a he, as she felt his stubble on her skin. She still didn’t dare to move, and she wrecked her brain to figure out who he was, and while she already could figure out pretty much what had happened, from the fact that she was naked, she wondered if it, if she had been any good.
It came slowly to her foggy brain.
First, a smile, and it seemed it had happened eons ago. Then, the eyes that joined that wicked smile, as he looked up from his own book to see her reading too, much like he was, supported by an old tree, sitting in the grass.
Then, the fun, as they played the age old “I’m not really looking at you” game, moving down their eyes to their books as the other looked up. She smiled, looking at her book, but then, as her turn came, and he was looking down, she stuck her tongue out at him, playfully. He was surprised, since she looked so serious before, almost stern. He used to say to people he had fell for her tongue, and later, he found out that after all, her tongue was a very skilled one.
After days of this, sitting below the trees and pretending to read, she made the first move, she took a pen out of her bag and wrote something on a piece of paper, which she then crumpled and dropped on his lap before leaving.
It said, simply, “Boo”.
He took the paper and used it as a bookmark, and turned around to see her leaving the park. She told him later how hard it had been for her to not look back.
The next day, she found a present under her tree, a little box with a ghost on the top, and she knew it was from him, though he made no move as she sat down and opened it, he just kept reading Jurassic Park, his book of the week.
She found inside a box of tissues, cause she cried as she read her last book, The color purple.
And she found a flower, which she smelled, and put on her hair. And a sketch of her, reading under the tree.
No wonder he spent two weeks reading that magazine, she thought and laughed.
He thought she was laughing at the drawing, and frowned, but as he looked up again, she bowed her head softly to him, and he understood her thank you.
The next day, he was waiting for her under her tree, he had thrown a blanket on the grass, and he patted the floor next to him when he saw her quizzical look. She sat, and he turned to kiss her as he injected the sedative into her thigh with an astounding precision.
She remembered it all.
She opened her eyes again to find herself handcuffed to the bed, naked, as her Master had already awakened and was running his finger around her breast, exciting her.
He kissed her, his stubble tickling her face, and she smiled again.
She remembered she had to buy a new set of weights for his clamps, since tonight was her turn.

I cut myself with a ceramic tile. CURSES!!!!

It's a tiny thing... but it hurts.

On other matters... My little to-be-born cousin... Is no more to be born, she got lost in the way. Sad, angry...Both.

And what was I doing around ceramic tiles, you ask? The upper part of my house is being remodeled, so my house is a disaster area.

In other news... being nice pays... in chocolate. Yum.

That's about it, I guess... OH! When people talk to little kids who stare at other people, specially teens and young adult by saying that they like them... it pisses me off. Very Much.

There you go.

Wait a Minute, Wait a Minute!!!

We forgot mouth to anus with chickens!!!.

This was said by a texas legislator, while passing some weird law about sodomy. Now, what I would give to know how he knew about the mouth to anus with chickens, cause this was back in the 70's, he couldn't blame it on the internet.

Anyway... did you know it's illegal to sell dildoes in Texas? They have to be sold as " Educational devices" you know, to help demonstrate safe sex by putting condoms on them. Vibrators are massagers, but, and here's the kicker, buttplugs can be sold freely.

I think that says something about the state, don't you?

In other news, it still is somewhat rainy in my city, yay! And my future's not looking so weird now that I have a father for my kids (if I turn 30 and I'm not married or anything, I'll call a friend up and I'll have a kid with him) and a plan for the end of the world... Now, the end of the world will be brought upon by myself, with a little help from my friends, but that's another thing, I already have a plan for it.
Whoever said planning didn't help face situations, I will pee on your bed... while you're lying on it.
Toodle-oo... I have to go work.

Rain...

My too sunny city is finally rewarding us with a fall that looks like a fall (It's not fall, we don't have fall, and I'm trying to also not think about the climate mess and what it means, so shut up, logic) and I love it.
First, I need a dream arquitect to tear down he wall in my room and give me a big window right beside my bed, so I can fall asleep and wake up to the sounds of the rain, thunder and lighting. Last night, as I was lying in bed, lighting struck, and you could see the light through my window... God, I love rain.
I love the little drops that fall on my face as I go around my house closing windows... I love to listen to these little drops falling on trees and earth, making such a beautiful music. I love the chilly wind when I go out, and how it all looks a bit foggy, but still, the greens are greener, and the browns are stronger, only man-made things look out of place.
I remember when I was coming down the Santa Ana (a hill) and as soon as we started coming down, this huge storm began. I loved every minute of it, even though we were completely drenched (and I do mean completely) and coming down a hill competing with a water stream is not the greatest thing,but it was amazing, feeling the water just slide in your skin.
At some point in my life, don't know when, I'm gonna have to find someone that even though might not enjoy rain as much as I do, will be open enough to realize how much such a simple thing means to me and share it with me.
Till then, I'm gonna miss whoever that is, and think of this song when I do.

To see you when I wake up is a gift I didn't think could be real
To know that you feel the same as I do is a three-fold, utopian dream
You do something to me that I can't explain
So would I be out of line if I said, I miss you
I see your picture, I smell your skin on the empty pillow next to mine
You have only been gone ten days, but already I'm wasting away
I know I'll see you again whether far or soon
But I need you to know that I care and I miss you

To my rain sharing person... And to Brandon Boyd... Cause after listening to this... God, that guy is amazing.

Rebellion!!!!

So, school is closed indefinitely, isn't that cute?

For those who don't know (and there's a lot, seeing as how most college students here seem not to read the paper) Transports (the deparment that's in charge of all the buses for the student routes, inside and outside the city) is being held by students, asking, ironically for more buses and for new busses.
Now, the transport department is adyacent to my School, Sciences (Math, Physics, Chemistry, Computing, Human Sciences and, mine, Biology), so, as the rector said, it's our fault that they're there, cause despite the fact that they're armed and pissed, we're supposed to get them out of there, apparently, we're supposed to be trained as navy seals or something, along with our careers.
It's all a big mess, with political implications, and they vacated the sciences school, cause they were gonna ask the guys to come out (I can just imagine the scene: "Guys, will you please come out?" "No" "Ok, bye now"). And the guys expanded their action radius, the entered other schoold to get their busses too.
So now, the whole college is closed.
Here's where it gets funny, I'm working in a lab at my college, and we're starting some experimental work on a project we're supposed to take to a congress in may next year. It was all invented by my slavist tutor, but, hey, it's gonna appear on our resumés too, so we said ok.
She said, not in so many word that we were to be like the mail (rain, thunder, snow, or rabid dogs couldn't stop us), but, and here's the kicker, she won't even go to the lab 90% of the times she asks us to be there. She has a sort of assistant, who she's training to take her position, and she's the one that goes everyday and stays with us the long hours, helping us with our work.
Since school is closed, and there's no classes, no activities whatsoever, and even no guards, the whole college is like a big ghost town. The only way in is walking, and the lab where I work is not exactly close to any exit, you have to walk some to get to it, from any point (it's pretty safe to say it's in the middle of nowhere). Yesterday, when the suspension of classes started, a friend of mine and I went to the lab, cause we had some work to finish, and we didn't want to lose a week's worth of work. It's pretty scary to walk around, two girls, in the middle of nowhere, with armed guys close to you.
So, I say to my friend, that she should call the tutor's assistant, to find out what can we do about next week and such. She calls, the assistant's sleeping, so she decides to call our tutor (Why didn't I call, you ask? I wasn't home, and didn't have enough money on my cellphone... she did). Now, I don't know what she said to our tutor, but the slave driver, of course, suggested we should go, no matter what. Then, she called me. With an über bitch tone (her über bitch tone os low and paced.. but she leaves no doubt that she's right, you're wrong, and how dare you), she tells me that people from her lab have always been able to get into school, that she gets permits, and talks to people and such. So I tell her that there's no guards to talk to to let you in, and that not even with permits you could get in, and she launches again to say that people from her lab, yadda yadda yadda.
Finally, she tell me "Forget the lab, then, forget your thesis, forget everything" and then she softened up a bit (teeny tiny bit) by saying that yes, if the rector says it's not safe we shouldn't go in (despite the fact that she thought is was perfectly ok that we went inside alone, and walking), but I could tell from her voice that she was pissed at me for even suggesting it. Now, if she were to tell me that we would all go, and go in walking, in a group, with her, being the head of the lab right alongside of us, I'd have said "tell me the time woman, and I'll be there and work my ass off". but of course, that's not gonna happen.
So now, after all, I'm a bit scared that her "forget your thesis, forget everything" was serious... But at this point, it's not that I don't care, it's that I'm not gonna expose myself to get raped of killed, just cause she doesn't think there's any danger for me, but she won't expose herself to it.
If anything bad comes out of this, I'll stand, most likely alone, and face it, cause all the other girls might probably be too afraid to lose all their work.
Something funny, I ran into one girl in all the way towards the lab... and it turns out I know her... I hope I'm not turning into my dad, who's that guy I know besides that weird old man dressed in white and with a funny hat.
Oh, and the center of my city is turning to be even more of a hardcore experience as time passes by.
Anyway, I'm ranted out now.
But, as I said... I could get used to doing that.

So, Por amor, huh?

En serio quieres jugar esa carta? O es que ya no te queda otra? O será (y casi no me atrevo a decirlo) que te diste cuenta al fin que no funciona separar familias y gritar "lobo" (o diablo en este caso)?.
El amor se podia respirar en la infame cadena donde con pitazos botaste a un gentio (vamos a ser medio justos y decir que aproximadamente la mitad no se merecia que los botaran) para dejar una empresa como tu titere.
Se sentia mucho amor en Puente Llaguno... Imagino que se agarraban de la mano y entonaban canciones de amor al projimo mientras le disparaban a una marcha pacifica.
Mucho amor hay cuando a un empleado del gobierno lo amenazan para que no vote por quien le apetezca, y para que sirvan de vallas con sonrisas falsas.
Sera que ahora las nuevas expresiones de cariño son traidor, golpista e imperialista?
Se siente mucho el amor cuando un "pueblo" al que le arrojas billetes baila para ti. No crees que seria mas amor si no tuvieras que fletar buses y pagar por que te aplaudan?
El amor une, no fracciona. El amor no se pelea por un color. El amor no es un resentido social con infulas de poder. El amor es limpio, no de puñaladas por la espalda y denuncias vanas mientras la gente se muere de hambre en la calle.
Amor no son fusiles rusos, el amor combate con otras armas.
El amor acepta diferencias para buscar un bien comun.
Casi podia palparse el amor cuando recorrias los barrios montado en un camión, y separado de la gente por una muralla humana, como si fueran leprosos y fueran a contagiarte.
Por favor... No te llenes la boca de amor, que no te queda.

Today was a crappy day.

Agoraphobia is sounding like a grand idea more and more each day.

I'd be a kickass agoraphobic, if I'm not beginning to be one already.

Now, shoo.

I Had a Dream.

Sadly, it wasn't as loable as Martin Luther King's.

It started with me erasing a line on a window, I was on the outside of a buiding, and from the inside, people yelled at me to stop, but noboy did anything about it. All of the sudden, a bull appears, and comes to attack me, so I defenct myself by actually getting a cape and fighting it. I actually got a sword inside him (how ironic, I'm against bullfighting), but the thing wouldn't die, so I had to run inside the building. Turns out, the only way out was blocked by the bull. I had to take a "secret" exit, which went through all the floors of the building (the building, all of the sudden became an apartment building) and I started going down. I hung out with some friends in a hammock ( that was cool) and then holding one of my friend's purse while she went to the bathroom (and there were a lot of other friends of mine in that bathroom). I always have to flee wherever I am at some point, till I get to the room of two brothers, there I stayed for a while, cause they liked me, and I was safe. Of course, their mom and sister couldn't know I was there. At some point, I sat down and watched TV with one of the brothers, we watched a war program, which was animated and cute somehow, then another show, where all of the sudden we starred, and he was leaving in a blue car, as he was, I called out to him, he stopped and we kissed. They had a wall with lots of ornaments, and candles burning, the wax ran all the way to the floor. Finally, at some point after all that, I took a shower, and as I was getting ready to get dressed and leave, the guy's little sister got in my way to the exit asn I was hiding in a room, with nothing but a towel on.

That's the end of it.

6 Degrees of separation

Though I've never actually played the infamous game, I found out yesterday just how small and incestous my faculty is. Talking with three friends, I got this:
1. My tutor (who is old, bitchy and a slave driver, and if I begin talking about her we'll be here all day) also tutored the teacher who's now tutoring 2 of my friends.
2. The third friend's tutor, a male professor, is the husband of the teacher who's tutoring my friend, and of course, as friendly as one can possibly be with my teacher (that is, friendly enough to conveniently using her to their advantage whenever possible).
And Kevin Bacon, you ask?
One of the friends I was talking to and myself were watching Footloose yesterday, when we had our little convo, and who starred in Footloose? None other than Kevin Bacon.
Don't you just love knowledge?

This conversation started with my msn nick. To elaborate, my msn nick has the word "Koyaanisqatsi" in it. It's a hopi (north-american natives) term, it means life out of balance, and it's also a movie, which I haven't seen but someone close to me did and told me he "wanted to see me seeing that movie", whatever that means. Anyway, and turn now cause this is about to get geeky, bio-geeky that is; it just so happens that my friend, who asked me about the meaning of my nick, also works in Microbiology (I'm in Virology, to be exact, but it's also microbiology tecnically) and there's a medium, used to identify bacteria that's called TSI, which is Triple Sugar Iron-agar. So he, who's a little off, that's why I like him so, asked me what the hopi had to do with Microbiology. I told him that aliens had come and given the Hopi Microbiology, like they came and gave the egiptians the technology to build the piramids. He complained that as usual, north americans were always doing things first. From there on, it just went downhill, as he modified a Pocahontas saying and went on to tell me that all is "a fraternal sinergism that's eternal" (modified from spanish, of course). The big breakthrough of the night came when he realized that to have said that, Pocahontas had to be Hopi. We consulted with our personal Disney expert, who didn't remember a reference to Pocahontas clan's name in the movie, which was good enough for us to deem her a Hopi.
Count the brain cells you lost reading this, then tell me the number.

Routines.

We humans have the ability to turn everything into a routine.. so much so, that even love (the answer to anything, everything, The Universe, despite others saying it's 42) has to adapt to it.
Everyone has their little routines, one of mine, which I find funny, is whenever using a fresh towel for my body, I dry my face with the left corner, so the tag of the towel is to my right, and on the lower side. Scary, isn't it? I don't consider myself compulsive, or maniac, in fact, routines bore me as soon as I'm aware of them, but that's just something I do.

Why is it that we need that? Is it for safety? Or is it cause we just don't realize these things? What are we thinking about when we're putting things or using things just the way we like them to be? In fact... Do you even notice these little quirky routines? Why do we submit ourselves to them? And if you involve other person in that equation... oy vey.

Take my aunt, she doesn't go out much, she has to take care of my grandpa, 5 dogs, some birds and my cousin (her niece). Imagine the weight of all those routines in her life: getting my grandpa breakfast, waiting for my uncle to drop my little cousin off, trying to teach her some routines, cause she's two, so she has none; feed the dogs, feed the birds, bake cakes (she does that for a living) give my grandpa his pills, put little cousin to sleep... Scary, isn't it? And she does it all. She's stuck in those routines, so, sometimes, even if you want to go out with her... how can you? She'd have to leave you lists.

Safety is the answer that pops into my mind when I wonder about routines, we need to be assured that no matter what, tomorrow we still have to take out the trash, make up our beds (I don't do it, my bed is always a mess, I like it that way, I think it's inviting), do the dishes, and then, only then, we can face the world.

Pick a date?

Really?

Should it be planned? Plans always give me the heebie jeebies, and make me feel I can (have to) run from them too.

Leaving it up to fate hasn't worked too well over the years.. but planning it?

Thrusday, october 12: Go to lab, go to his house, have lunch, make out, shower, oral, sex, cab, home, hide under the bed.

Doesn't sound very good.

Success!

The guilt gene has been passed on to me, and I used it, very nicely, on my dad.

That got me a nice family outing, laughs, foods, and most importantly of all: BOOKS! (cue in heavenly music).

I got the national geographic, the sequel to sexo sentido *drools*, and an arthur conan doyle book.

And I want the cardboard skeleton for Christmas, I want it sitting in the corner of my room.

Now, for the topic at hand, sex. I have made a breaktrough, I'm moving on from my pussy fixation to rediscover the joys of the dick, thus pausing my wondering if I was gay. For someone as inexperienced as I am, it's a cool feeling. BUT that does not mean at all that I don't think I'd like being with a girl.

Now I only wish I could get over the sillyness and go fuck someone (I've had someone in mind for a while, but issues, or any other kind of difficulties get on my way, and I let them). The bright side is, it's given me a whole lot of fantasies, the downside... I might have become fixated with my method...

Yes, Graperose... Why? Cause I'm used to blackrose, and this site apparently doesn't like it, and I'm eating grapes (green grapes, the only kind it should exist), so they're sitting in the desk beside me and were the first thing I looked at. Rose, my name, cause of my dead aunt, morbid, but I like it.

My mood, is pissed. And I'm about to whine about it.

My dad apparently is even more of a son of the 50's that he even lets on (son of the 50's: ignore the ugly, feelings are bad, and everything's peachy) and now, the one day we had as a family (saturday) is always busy for him. School, I get, everything else, I don't. We might seem like a cute family, we go out together, vacations together, even lunches whenever possible, together... and under that, we're never really together most of the time, mom watches tv or is out; I work, watch tv, read or I'm here; dad, tv, out, o computer.

My mom is a 50's mom.. actually, she's a timeless mom (and I think she's got a Jewish gene somewhere in her, cause the guilt she can lay on baffles me, she's one of the voices inside my head at all times, one of the most annoying ones sometimes too).

Me, I'm fucked up.. but a good fucked up most of the time, except at times like this.

I'm PMSing, so this might be the reason for the creative (insert laugh here) outburst, but there.

"You asked for me to enter, and then you made me crawl, and I can't keep holding on..."