I’ve written something months ago for the Hell of it, but, haven’t found the proper means of getting it to the masses except “try to contact one of those independent newspapers”. You work for a woman out in Hollywood and a prominent Philly magazine, but, that is the best you can give me? Atleast it was something. Atleas

And without further adieu (and hopefully that nobody rips off my story…I give you, “Dear Frankie”


 

“Dear Frankie”

“I have to write him five letters?” Mrs. Donna Vargas, a professional looking  middle-aged Hispanic woman, eagerly nodded her head as I sat across from her in a cramped, sterile-smelling Center City office. She was dressed business casually, a long sleeve blue sweater paired with a neatly-tailored black skirt. This was accentuated by heels, though, her pantyhose weren’t exactly tip-top anymore and beginning to exhibit a run on the front of the one leg. Those things were always an eye sore.  “Yes. I feel you’ve been in a rut lately, Samantha. We all move at our own pace within the process of grief, but, I think for your benefit…it is a great idea.  You have been battling a double-edged sword, here. Obsessing about him isn’t healthy, but, neglecting your entire psyche on the matter isn’t what Frankie would want from you either.” I was now offended. How did she know what he wanted? She had never even met him! She was just some expensive counselor my stepmom hired to instill some more control in my life; it wasn’t enough to train me to be sixteen going on six. And now…now she was letting some bitch with a diploma on her wall dictate my emotions. It was almost like being an avatar on The Sims; they only go in the direction you manipulate them to. Soon they are just conditioned to act that way every time. I know all about resisting this type of control; I am the daughter of a midwife and a propieter of a healing arts center. I was friggin raised in New Hope!  My God parents are both men, my house have solar panels, and no drink of water that has ever passed my lips hasn’t ever not endured a Brita filter. I try to always to go against the grain of what most of these city children are raised with here in Philly. Why did Louise have to be from the Northeast; I couldn’t get my stone  sanctuary in Chestnut Hill a bird’s eye from a co-op? Instead, I’m forced to rummage through a crummy meat case at Acme praying for organic ground turkey for my burritos that night while Weaver’s Way silently cries my name. I moved a curly auburn lock from my face as I spoke again; I had been meaning to get it cut. “What if I’m not ready to write them?” Mrs. Vargas adjusted her reading glasses as she fiddled with a pen and clipboard “Then that is the pace at which we will move.” “I have no pace. I don’t even know if I’ll write these at all.” “Then we are wasting our time.” At least she saw it. These psychologists never knew what they were talking about; a bunch of walking contradictions. The only thing that separates them from the rest of society is credentials. “I suppose we are.” She then wrote a few notes before dismissing me. As I left that high-rise to head back to the El tunnel, I had gotten my satisfaction. Now if only Bettie York would get with the program.

Who is Frankie? Well, was if are speaking technically here. He was my boyfriend, my best friend, my Physics tutor, my Yoga partner, my art house cinema buddy. We had been together exactly 7 months and 12 days before he died. He stupidly and drunkenly meandered onto a one way road coming home from a party. Not to be punny like Horatio Cain, but, he was dead before he even knew what hit him. The human body can only endure so much damage when it’s hit by a huge truck. While I felt Mrs. Vargas was trying so hard to infiltrate my head and make some kind of major breakthrough so Stepmonster  Bettie would be happy, she wasn’t exactly wrong about everything. I went from eating, breathing, and sleeping Francis Garret DiNuzzio to him being somebody that I used to know within 2 months. There was now a pit of guilt being dug in my stomach which I was also a little unhappy with to begin with. My core workouts have been neglected as well. How am I supposed to do my mat work when I sleep in a shoe box? Back to my case in point, I couldn’t just forget about Frankie either. As much as I felt it would help me further my life at the moment. And now, I had to highlight the stages of grief to please others. This was not a feat to be enthusiastically accomplished and it would be continuously pondered as so even as the train reached away from the subterranean back into Frankford. Still so as I took that 18 minute bus ride to my block, a cluster of 1950′s rowhomes with front lawns; a bunch of cookie cutters in a row. My front door was unlocked so I just went right it in and sat in the kitchen. I had better things to worry about right now. I had a paper due for Black History Month. I must give Philadelphia Public Schools a lot of credit for putting emphasis on the more radical and neglected sides of past fact. I do miss Buckingham at times, though. There are Friends schools here, but, Bettie apparently puts  the neighborhood institutions so high up on a pedestal that everything else was screwed. Tony York wasn’t going to pass up a free, quality education now, was he? I hate Bettie. She just tells everyone what to do and everything’s too risky, too dangerous, and not good enough. I actually have had a curfew for the first time this past year. The former Mrs. York may have lost her special place in Daddy’s heart, but, she’ll always win over mine. And my mother Anita was going to continue to so in 3,2,1…. Bettie emerged from the downstairs with a laundry basket of freshly folded towels. She was a year shy of forty and a tiny thing, though, she appeared larger as she already was dressing like a mom when I met her for the first time; high-waisted jeans and longsleeved shirts with tiny useless pockets in old lady patterns. I sometimes don’t understand what my father sees in her, but, I do realize she makes him grounded and happy like he once was with my mom, so, I suppose that’s all that matters. If only she had the same effect on me. “How was the therapist’s office?” “I’m so over it. Why do I still have to see her?” Bettie heavily laid the basket by staircase, retrieving a dirty rag from the banister to be washed in the next load. “Look, I know what the deal is with my place in your life, but, is to help you. I’ve grown to love you and your father to the extent I cannot help it. I only want what’s best. That practice is so great. When I went through post-partum with Tyler…” Did I neglect to mention my stepbrother from another spawn? He’s a full-time kindergartener and a part-time good kid. Being an only child was the life! “I know. I heard you the first sixty times before I even agreed to these appointments. She’s making me write these shitty letters to Frankie like it’ll magically make everything write again.” “Well, sweetheart, you don’t know anything until you actually give it a go. I never thought I would recover after your brother was born, but, here I am. Living! I don’t even to take all those meds anymore.” She was pushing my buttons and as usual I was going to slam hers right back. She knew the deal. I was going to address her however I wanted. “I didn’t get all psychotic and wig out on everybody trying to smother my baby. I lost my soulmate there’s a difference.” She surprisingly always kept her cool with me. She never got angry, but, instead was always hurt. I always seemed to be able to stick a hot iron into her emotional center. Bettie began to wipe tears as Tyler came downstairs to check out the commotion. “What’s going on, Mommy?” Bettie turned to him without addressing him, uttering venomously at me. “Go to your room, Samantha.” “I’m doing a project.” “Finish then go upstairs. I don’t wanna see you until we eat dinner.”

Within a couple hours I was finished my paper and accompanying poster on the life of Barack Obama. He is not a Muslim, people! Before I could ascend the stairs, a dinner of Cajun Chicken Caesar salad was served and my father , an average height man with an athletic build and light features, had also arrived home from the center telling stories of a fussy massage client.  “I don’t understand how I could be too soft when it’s a deep tissue massage. The girl had to be a sadist or something. Time for him to be the pushover. “Tone?” “Yes, dear.” “Me and Sammy had an incident today. I won’t get into it, but, we did exchange words. She doesn’t even wanna see Dr. Vargas anymore.” He looked at me sternly.  “Samantha Violet, is that true?” “She has no clue  involving Frankie and Bettie over here is crowning her the DSM Messiah. Do you really think writing a dead kid love notes  is going to make my life any easier?” “I’m going to leave this up to Bettie. She’s paying for the sessions.” She finished arranging the table for the meal we had began to eat, grabbing Tyler a juicebox before seating herself. “You are not wasting my time. It was hard for me to get you an appointment. You were on a waiting list. As usual, Samantha’s gonna do whatever she thinks is necessary and good for everybody; even if they don’t like it. All I ask of you is one last appointment and I also want you to actually gain something. You’re doing those letters. What exactly did she ask of you anyway?” “I have to do them work to through the five stages of grief.” “What’s so hard about that?” “Who the Hell is she to turn my life into these black and white platforms?” “Don’t be such a Negative Nancy. It might actually be fun. You like to write.” “You’re a nutcase. Of course I like to write; I’m in the poetry club. These aren’t quatrains,though. This is real life shit that I am not ready to deal with and all of you people are just pushing me right off into the abyss.” “We’re not saying you have to do it all right now. Just make a conscious effort to get it done. If not for us, yourself.” “I guess. What if I don’t?” “I haven’t decided yet, but, you won’t like it.” “Fine. Can I be excused?” Bettie nodded, taking my empty plate to the dishwasher. What am I getting myself into?

The first alleged stage of grief is denial. It honestly sounds more like Narcotics Anonymous than getting over the death of a loved one with that shtick. Though, the deeper I search within, the more I hold it true. I clung so hard to Frankie’s memory I didn’t want him gone. Now, he was a phantom. I don’t believe in ghosts. And following one more meeting with my psychologist, I was going to come head-to-head with everything I had sucked down over the past sixty days. That next week dragged out anticipating that one last session, but, it came nonetheless. To make sure Bettie saw I was making some sort of effort, I pledged to do at least one a month. My first one was to be penned now. It was Friday and I was off from school for a teacher’s meeting so I was already home by noon. Tyler wouldn’t be home until around three. My dad was at the center until 5 o’ clock. As for Bettie, she had some kind of book club meeting. They were reading some mediocre newer romance garbage she was getting all into every single night. Anything to keep her occupied from bitchin to me? Yes, please. I can take getting my ear talked off about Prince Charming Next Door’s favorite sexual positions  any day. Even if it is a creepy, whole-hearted, serious  attempt at bonding with me. You’re not one of my girlfriends! I went up to my room and took out my stationary set;  nice ,vintage-inspired prints from the Paperia on Germantown Avenue patterned with golds and deep reds. I had gotten it for some pen pal program earlier in the year and also to write to my Grandma Kosofsky. She retired to some senior community in Santa Monica.  Old Sue wasn’t going to stop getting any older …unless she croaked of course. Then, I would just have more sappy confessions for my deceased family members. I’m not trying to have that now. I took out a fresh ballpoint pen along with some of the paper and an envelope. It’s not like I can mail it, but, it’s going to bother my OCD if the set is uneven. I even bought another box to balance that there was more envelopes than paper. It was time to get cracking.

It took almost twenty minutes to articulate myself without sounding stupid. I don’t even understand why I care at this moment what Frankie thinks of my letter…maybe it’s because I always valued his views of life and especially of myself. He could be a major dork with his various ,random trading card games and inability to dress remotely fashionably even for Hipsterdom, but, he had a very kind heart and a warm spirit that always drew me right in. I can be nice, but, I ultimately feel he brought a gentler Samantha to the surface through example. You can still be real without forsaking the definition of humanity. On that sheet of parchment read:

February 8, 2013

Dear Frankie,

     I guess this is some sort of denial part II. Are you dead? Yeah. Am I fully okay with that yet? Not at all. I’ve been trying to scrape you out of my skull since my brain can’t process it anymore. My heart won’t allow it, though. You’ll always be there somewhere, no matter how minute. See, I made it through the first step! I’m in recovery now!!! LOL. I’m thankfully not a junkie, but, perhaps I am certainly smoking some kind of crack when it comes to life. I still really want to forget you’re gone. Therein lies the problem and I can’t even ask you for answers. Do you think God will give any? I do go to a Welcoming Congregation so you never truly know. Frig! :(

                          Loving you always,

                                    Sammy

I immediately sealed it inside the envelope and stuck it in my desk  drawer. There something almost hauntingly empowering about it all. Maybe I really do have a lot to reevaluate.

I waited almost a whole month for the second installment: anger. I did it while nobody was home once again. I wanted no eyes prying into these actualities. And even if Tyler would be most understanding, what does a six year old even know about bereavement? To him, death is some silly animated four-legged creating lying on its back with its tongue all out and eyes comically void of life followed a bouquet of flowers clasped in the midst of rigor mortis. He’ll be back again the next episode. There is no processing the event or even a time to question it. No pain or suffering. Sadness, maybe…but, it doesn’t last very long. You can’t kill off a cartoon character, though, Very Special Episodes broke those barriers ages ago. He’s way too into slapstick, contrived good versus evil kid shows to even take the time to realize what knowledge can be held. He’s a smart kid, don’t get me wrong. I just wish he holds onto his childhood ignorance a bit longer in some ways. I’m way too selfish sometimes. But, I’m a big girl and I can handle this. I kind of questioned whether this got me in deeper with man upstairs, but, I would think He of all people would understand. The dude had hundreds of years of wrathfulness just because he could. He may need my therapist more than I do.

March 3, 2013

Dear Frankie,

     This all frigging sucks! Why did you have to leave me? Did you get drunk and get hit by a car on purpose because I was mad at you for texting your ex? I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I’m a crazy, hormonal girl that loved you. Actually, I love you. Or maybe, this was all in your cards? Astrology is no joke, though, I didn’t see it in your birthchart when we made them together. Though, I did notice your readings were more vague and less mystical than mine. Maybe if your parents didn’t have you on June 14th, you’d still be here. Though, when it comes down to it, you shouldn’t of been walking alone in the dark in the middle of South Jersey. I shouldn’t of stayed home that night. Why did I cancel my plans because I was being a baby? I wouldn’t of let you go alone, especially not without a car. You weren’t thinking at all!!! A choice you veered blindly into got you killed! You had to leave me. You left me all alone with nothing, but, an urn and a lifetime of confusion. It’s an enigma that never ends. I hope it’s what you wanted…no I’m sorry. I don’t mean that. Eff that God guy, though. He’s on my list.  =/

                         Loving you always,

                                  Sammy

Ironically, I went to go squash out my anger with Netflix and cheap wine. Cora, who will always be my best friend and has been since 3rd grade, always knows how to cheer me up. It wasn’t his fault, but, I still wasn’t in any danger remotely close to Frankie. Le’ sigh…

Easter came and went which was really surreal. I was looking forward to this whole Italian traditional shindig with church and dinner the DiNuzzio’s. Instead, I only really stopped in and stared at Frankie’s urn while we tried to socialize without breaking down. It’s their first major holiday without their son. Patty and Carlo have two other sons, but, it was still lonely and solemn. Nicholas and Eric have families of their own and wouldn’t be over until later. The rest of my night in the York household was okay. My mom and her new boyfriend Benson Lowther even came over. He’s still a bachelor with no kids. I can tell her clock is still a-ticking, though. I also couldn’t help, but, think about “Regular Show” everytime his name was mentioned. I wonder how it must feel to be compared to a talking gumball machine that runs a park. While, my relationship with Anita Kosofsky will always be solid and her beau seemed okay, I actually have been getting along with Bettie better. I helped her with baked crab macaroni earlier and even talked her into using hemp milk. She is actually sitting with me as I conclude this sophmore note  into a trilogy.Though, I would never share with no other than divine eyes.  Bargaining is a way of life for many of us. We shmooze and beg into any situation that is ideal for us. We’re always looking for that happy ending. I didn’t get mine, but, it also said we get what we need; not necessarily what is desired.

April 1, 2013

Dear Frankie (and God, yes you.),

    Is there anyway we can make a deal. Like all three of us sit down at Blackbird and share a pizza? I personally will take back any kind of harm that I’ve caused to Frankie. I’ll be kinder to my step-family. I’ll stop being so pretentious and stuck up about being raised by free spirits with disposable income. I’ll even take failures over cheating and am really sorry stealing that bag of cheese curls from Wawa when I was 10. Write back soon? Love you, Frank!

   The Baby Widow,

       Sammy

Bettie gets me another bowl of macaroni and cheese. I used to think it was gross, but, she got me into putting ketchup on it so I requested that as well. She hands me the food and sits back at the table as I seal yet another envelope to be hidden away until I decide what the goal is with them. “Is it hot enough, Sam?” I take a bite of a few cheesy noodles littered with claw meat. “Perfect.” “How was school today?” “Fine. We started working on our final projects for art. You know… That 10 piece collection I have to do representing myself.” “I’m sure it’ll turn out great. Do you have any ideas for it yet?” “I’m probably gonna do 4 water colors, 4 oils, and 2 sculptures. I really was thinking of doing half of it as a tribute to Frankie, though. He is part of my life.” Bettie smiled. “Whatever you want. You go, Sammygirl. Plus, you know Carlo, Patty, and them all would love it.” That made my day.

Depression is a misunderstood concept medically and socially. We can’t be depressed because of this or that. We should be happy! People also tend to confuse the situational emotion and the medical condition,  which sometimes even coexist. I’ve never suffered with that or self-injury, but, I do know Bettie escaped from the depths of Hell. She tried to kill Tyler. Come on now! There is a sense of helplessness and fear without Frankie. It’s late and everybody’s in bed so maybe I am further isolating myself. It’s hard to see it that sometimes.

April 12, 2013

Dear Frankie,

    This is the fourth letter I’ve dedicated in your name. How do I wish I could directly speak it you again. It sickens and blackens my soul that it is only in memorium. I’ve stopped denying your passing and am allowing myself to feel every little bit of sentitment in it’s wake. Things just are terrible at times. You weren’t always the most helpful at times, but, you did always know how to calm me down. Can I get a sign?

        Loving you always,

     Sammy

I think I’m just going to stay up and work on my project. It just seems proper.

A lot has happened lately. School is almost over, I get to showcase my project the first week of June, and I just feel a weight lifted off my shoulders. I feel this experience has allowed to grow and change so much. I’m more appreciative, especially. Today is also the day that I accepted. The fifth and final step.  I’ve decided to get my dad to drive me to Pennypack Park to burn the letters to send them off to Frankie wherever he may be. It was one of the last places we hung out and didn’t fight.  Not only did we share an abnormally warm Winter’s Day, but, I also gave him my virginity under the stars. To have that back….if only for a little while.

It is now a balmy Summer night and after much anticipation, I am standing in the park with my old man. We parked our Acura and decided to enjoy nature for a bit before starting the bonfire.  We are now throwing them in one by one and I am now at the last. Transcribed:

May 20, 2013

Dear Frankie,

Thank you for everything. See you in like 60 years, if not sooner.

Loving you always

Sammy

My dad puts his arm around me as the final tinders singe and go back into the sky to be reabsorbed. “How you feelin, kiddo?” “Complete”. He smiles. So do I. Because for the first time since December, I actually do.


 

Maybe, I’ll finally get discovered….or this will sit here unnoticed since I realized  only prominent bloggers get noticed on here. I can only hope I impacted one single being.

Say It Aint So

 

Nothing’s been going lately except for hanging out and random outings for the most part. Also feeling a type of way about that no cable or internet life for the time being in my family’s house. Atleast, I have a hot spot on my Blackberry. That is only the surface of my life at moment, which is not even nicked, though.

Well, I currently have been unemployed since February except for a sporadic babysitting gig that took off in April and 5 days of temp work. My income varies anywhere from $35-$100 each time, but, can be as little as once a month. Atleast, it’s something in a mix of no calls to begin with, no further interviews, and a rescinded offer because I tested positive for THC despite not smoking regularly. Brian’s step-sister also made me false promises about a position at her job. I was told to go in July 5th & I’ll be hired…then it was I could go sometime at the end of June. They looked at me and said come back in August when they’re hiring like it wasn’t even a done deal to begin with.

The personal assistant job didn’t last two weeks because of odd things coming up and my ex-boss’ overall demeanor changing where I felt he was getting too personal about my life…and Brian basically got fired (no position, but, still in his union and has to go through the processes he was doing in January again) for a failed screen as well in March. Did I mention my education still has no progress because of finances that haven’t come through yet? :/

Despite this we managed to keep our place…until mid-May when all Hell broke lose and all but 1 of our roommates turned on us when were trying to help them and keep them safe. They insisted they didn’t throw us out, but, their actions spoke otherwise….especially when Brian’s car was vandalized when it had been sitting there broken down since the end of April near the house unscaved until atleast last month. I’m glad they couldn’t  pay bills on time and got almost $400 robbed during a barbecue more recently. Especially, when the way I choose to look and dress is criticized behind my back, get a movie turned off on me when I’m clearly watching TV. or somebody secretly snorts dope when their daughter’s away but tells her things about us. I judge nothing people do with their own bodies unless they’re causing problems for other people in the process. That idiot went on meth binges when he needed to save and stole from his own nephew who pays most of his bills anyway. Dude couldn’t even fucking sign papers for my health insurance and Access card because it would inconvenience him somehow when that is 1)my address that I paid rent for and & 2)he didn’t support me…and I’m now kinda stuck in the process of reapplying since I had to do 2 new applications. I’m thankful for the good times and having our own little space for nearly 6 months, but, it would ultimately become a setback that created worse problems for us…or atleast exacerbated them.

While not right away, Brian losing his job started making him depressed to where he would stay in bed all day. Sometimes even until midnight or later. He never really let me in, but, late-May and early-June really brought things to light. He wound up admitting to IV heroin use while in the hospital for unrelated issues (worsening untreated stomach ulcers between being uninsured and not wanting to deal with recovery time), but, insisted it was five years ago to the triage nurse. In our relationship, he insisted he never touched it and only stuck to pharms when he was in active addiction (before we met). It sparked my curiosity and that itself would be indulged in ways I never predicted,

While getting those issues taken care of outside of the ER the next day since he was still in pain but it wasn’t emergency, it turned in to him wanting to go away for “mental health issues and detoxing from (prescribed) Suboxone because he doesn’t feel like a man making me pay for it.”  I was definitely taken aback and saw it as a setback with getting back on our feet (he started brickingpointing work so we had more income and were looking into rooms again), but, dealt with it. Flash forward to June 5th…and it was really him hiding a secret opiate relapse from me that stemmed from him losing his job (buying and taking pills without me knowing) and then our roommates’ words & actions driving him further into the ground (figuratively and literally) where he was suicidal and started shooting up five days before he went away. It made me think back on things. When he lost my phone…he was all fucked up. He used and took money from me (with my knowledge), but, lied about why. The people he was spending time with when I was baby sitting over 10 miles away for days at a time.

He’s been home since June 20th and before that time I just tried to occupy myself. Mainly with just sitting around all day watching SVU when the marathons are on and going out here and there. I’m glad things are better in some aspects (he’s happy again and we’re working towards making money again), but, there have been some things that were getting to me a little. The first being is that he is always tired. He will fall asleep while we’re out,. While we’re having sex. When we’re on the phone. I understand that it’s the methadone, plus, the fact that he is sometimes up all half the day between group and IOP,but, there is times where it gets annoying. Especially, when he cancels plans over it; inadvertently or not. Our plans were getting monotonous. He also contradicts himself in ways that get frustrating.

  1. Say I cannot go places without you until we work on trust issues.
  2. Define already talked about places as undermining your recovery if you do go and you don’t want to be around “little kids” who party and define me as being against you. Wut…
  3. Say you will go when further in process.
  4. Switch up your stance on still consuming alcohol constantly even if you were never an alcoholic.
  5. Say you are sticking to a program until it is less demanding and also to appease your PO.
  6. Inhale nitrous from whipped cream can.

The last part I got caught off guard by…and found a little amusing. Nigga didn’t even save any for me. XD Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to lead Brian in the wrong direction or anything…it just doesn’t worry me what he does as long as he stays away from what ails him which is recreational opioids, That may piss off some people, especially his parents, but, Brian’s life and choices aren’t black & white or clear-cut. Nothing in life is. He doesn’t have to live a quiet, boring existence like all of you…where you scoff at my mom and dad for still going HAM in middle age, I believe everything life, with the exceptions of where there is no way around saying it is inherently negative, should be enjoyed and relished in moderation. Not your thing? Move along and mind your own business and life path. Overindulge on the regular? Face the music eventually or it may not end well. That applies to anything you can think of it. And it works.

I’m really trying to keep it off my mind, but, as usual I must vent about my fertility issues. a
combined year and a half of trying with attempts being atleast 6 month consecutively and still no babe. I put it off just in case I was really over-reacting and scaring myself into something with no actual proof, but, I feel now is the time that enough is enough, I made an appointment with the Mazzoni Center and will be going on the 23rd after rescheduling it do to not having cash for the sliding scale fees or even transportation one way. I’m kind of afraid, to be honest. But, at the same time my mind needs to be at ease. Especially with all these girls I know with unplanned pregnancies who weren’t avoiding anything at all or doing anything special. Depending on the extent of what they can offer me and the costs, I may also look in to Drexel’s Women’s Care Center. They specialize in un- and under-insured gynecology and family-planning; fertility problems included. I love doing my thing now, but, that part of me that desires motherhood will continue to feel incomplete; empty even.

Moving away from these ponderings…things are looking up in some ways. Brian and I have made a little money lately other than the sitter gig. He wound up selling his car since the insurance was up, the tags were expired, and he couldn’t regularly fill it up anyway. It was $450, but, he would of only gotten $900-$1k if it was properly running anyway. I already mentioned the busted mirrors. He also was able to take money out of his vacation fund, flipped a Verizon Galaxy 4 that he found while coming home from the clinic, and is making a hustle off of loosies. It works and you gotta do what you gotta do. Once things get straightened out with our other sources, we’ll be peachy keen. We may do things unorthodox, but, we get along. I also am waiting to do a phone interview with a company called Pet360. We’ll see how that goes. And in the midst of that…he also proposed to not only mark  a new chapter to our saga, but, because my first ring wasn’t exactly proper. Love the new one, though:

It’s CZ’s and silver-plated white gold, but, it’s all mine. I’ve never been a materialistic person. Don’t get me wrong, I like having nice things. I even own a pair of $170 Doc Martens, but, they were a Christmas gift. I’m definitely lean in the direction of modesty. I don’t wear AirMax’s., like huge houses in trendy neighborhoods, or do fancy dates. I’ve always had a soft spot for working/middle class enclaves. Getting my second point across…unless you really need that 1,500 sq ft…I really think it’s a fucking waste. Actually, the last half of 2012…I lived in under 400 and was comfortable; happy. I’d do it all again if I could take pieces of the present back with me and the progressions my life has made. I am beginning to see things truly unfolded as they were meant to be, though. Even if life fell apart and took me on whirlwinds to get here. All I want to do is set things into motion and get married. Nothing more. Even if that means something as simple and minimally life-altering as making a weekend trip to DC next month.

Until next time…

<3 M

 

2014 (And beyond & between)

The Holidays went fairly well. Rather great, actually. Brian and I have worked through which I hope to be the worse of our relationship and are happily living together again, as well. if it isn’t, it is said that a perfect marriage   (We are planning on getting our marriage license next month for both personal and financial reasons)is two imperfect people who refuse to give up on each other. Truer words never spoken.

I actually am surprised at how many of my goals I am meeting right now, now that I think about it I am currently renting an entire basement of a Pennsport rowhome for $300/month including utilities. Me and Brian got matching tattoos as well on December 13th (19 months). They aren’t our anniversary yet, but, do signify our relationship in terms of luck, fate, chance, and of course “13″(1+3).

Image

I love it so much! A local tattoo parlor in our area Eddie’s Chinatown has $13 tats every Friday the 13th and it being our day & everything prior…it just felt perfect.  Moving along I haven’t gone back to school yet or am pregnant yet (That I know of, anyway. Before we moved back in together last month, we only had sex about 12 times since October 1st. Fingers crossed and hoping for babydust! <3), but, do have a plan in mind of the first. Harvard offers professional certificates that can be completed in 3 years or less, cost on average $2k overall, and require no formal application process. Once I am financially stable again having been laid off from Macy’s on January 4th, a failed position at a pizza shop up the Gayborhood, numerous interviews & resumes that went nowhere, and now a new position that hasn’t really taken off yet that I am actually happy about, I am definitely signing up!

I still plan to study English (43 credits!) and ECE. Just when I don’t owe the Department of Education (and some random collection agency) $13k. Wish I could of enrolled in community college sooner and I wouldn’t have this problem (I had to pay back tuition to release my transcripts to restart school & not owe my loans and that wasn’t possible without help ,basically living off every dime I have. Still kinda am. And so is my help.) Hopefully, I will settle the score with them soon enough. C’est la vie. That just reminded me I need to research photography and yoga classes. Maybe even burlesque/pole dancing….I have passion for so much and very little resources to do it. Atleast creativity is free, talent is innate,  and my internet is paid for. Otherwise, writing would be kind of difficult right now.

Now, about my new job! Well, I kinda had two new jobs, but, let me tell you about the one that failed first. I worked for two days at takeout/delivery pizza shop, dubbed “Gay Pizza” because of our location and cult status in the neighborhood for having good food. There is also this sign in our lobby.

pic

I liked it there and was even getting used to the food service schtick. Then there came that time when I got $25 for working about 3:40-8:15 when minimum wage is $7.25 in Pennsylvania and I didn’t get tips until after my 60-day probationary period. I also was expected to buy my own bike for deliveries. Whatever silly shit I did or whatever peeve they had for me not to call me back in, I’m almost glad. I now am a personal assistant to an educator and fitness instructor in Bryn Mawr making $12/hour plus travel and bonuses. I also get to work virtually at times (Definitely glad for that having the beginnings of a bad cold as of 4 AM). My boss Jon is pretty cool so far. Brian’s a little weary because it’s in Jon’s home, but, I get no bad vibes and can handle myself. If things were to go sour, I got mace and I got an address. I sincerely doubt they will.

What have I been doing in general? Reading, music-induldgence, partying, and going out a bit. Doing shopping for our house and new car. It sucks being broke aside for necessities and random extra money from-time-to-time. I’ve been pawning jewelry, for Gods’ sake! Thank God for friends and family, too. Without them I’d be hungry and sober. Bahahaha. Brian didn’t start his apprenticeship until January 20th and doesn’t get paid until February 5th since training apparently wasn’t paid. It’s kinda bullshit, but, I gotta take the bitter with the sweet and maintain when he’s making about $18/hour. Everything will be a bit easier when our stamps come back on next month and our first pays start coming in. Until then, I am just rich enough (hopefully) with everything I am currently blessed with.

Later, WordPressers. Much love and peace.

P.S. Those living in the Northeastern part of the US, loving this snow yet? I honestly fucking love snow! It’s beautiful and just leaves me in awe year after year

 

 

 

 

So…I’m back. I realized Xanga is now kinda weird. My site still exists, but, I can’t even pay to see it…um, what? I thought they kept the site because I was still on there in August, but, it’s whatever. I have my archives, but, don’t think I’ll be posting them. I really did like the concept of starting over.

Where is my life going?

It was kind of a shit-show, but, my Brianz has been home over a month. I kind of almost destroyed our relationship through my actions and not dealing with demons when all I wanted to do is have us work out & me be strong. This road even involved me possibly going to AA. I suppose I’m only human, though, and we are working through it. We’ll be together a year and a half on November 13th.

I’ve just been surrounding myself with positivity and progress since August with some snags, but, that’s to be expected, I am most proud of myself for finally finding stable employment. I have been employed by Macy’s in Plymouth Meeting for about 2 1/2 months now. It is seasonal, but, I have a very strong feeling I will permanent  come February. I absolutely love it there, though! Though I wake up before sunrise and commute over an hour by bus, it’s just such a great place to work. I really just look forward to coming in every shift. Plus, I feel fancy as fuck with a keycard to the front door. Never had that privilege before anywhere. Now what has my freetime consisted of…

I’ve just been going out here & there. Mostly with Brian & Shannon.  New people I’ve met through her, as well. Bars. Festivals. Museums. Parks. I couldn’t be happier about it, especially after cutting out somebody I knew for a few years that was supposed to be my friend. She was just a thirsty bitch who got me into trouble and hits on my man. Has since they met and I never realized the extent until recently. I’ve also just been writing, gaming, and watching TV. I re-discovered TCM during Halloween when a bunch of me & Brian’s favorite B-movies showed. I recommend everybody watch Roger Corman’s A Bucket of Blood. You won’t regret it.  Actually….do It nao!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xAgZvV0Yi9A

One last thing I want to establish in this post is goals for myself. They’re short & long-term, but, going to accomplished (hopefully), nonetheless. I do want to start a family, but, these are most realistic for now. Especially since I suspect I may have fertility issues. My cycle is anywhere from 32-45 days & I’m not even sure if I ovulate.

  1. Renting a room when Brian starts working again on the 11th. He is starting an apprenticeship with Local 19.
  2. Getting married when we have our own place without roommates.
  3. Starting school again.
  4. Moving to East Oak Lane, eventually.
  5. Getting my first tattoos.

anniversary date

claddagh

That is really all to be said for now. I am currently just relaxing and checking out the new “Dracula” series OnDemand. Got work 6:30-10:30 tomorrow-Wednesday with my days off being Thursday & Saturday. Later, WordPress.

“When I was 23 years old, my husband died.”

Thankfully not. But, I am two years away from that age, getting married in December, and the fact that I was narrating the start of my own dream last night/this morning was enough to frighten me a little. Especially, because I’ve only dreamt of the dead/dying when the person already was gone. 

If you remember me from Xanga or even if you don’t search for the tags involving “dreams”. They are almost always strange and complicated. I’ve also always have been a natural lucid dreamer. All of my senses are active. I feel pain when it occurs. I also sometimes break the 4th wall because of the constant awareness that I’m asleep. I can control situations, but, sometimes relinquish that to see what plays out. What conspires is almost always quite odd and often violent. It can also be very otherworldly and has inspired my writing because the dialogue and plot line are always very rich and interesting.

Now begins last night’s episode. Seriously, this shit could be a show called “Tales from the REM Side”. At the start, those was my very first words. I am having a flashback and talking to a new female friend. I believe her name was Sioban.The flashback was a mall surveillance video of Brian getting shot to death by a robber in a music store he owned. (My fiance is actually a professional musician and has drum-teched for Kevin Miller of Fuel.) I am obviously very shaken by this even, though, it is a few months later and my new female friend sees I am a grieving widow. We leave the mall (in a suburban-like setting, but, it could of been in the city). We’re just bull-shitting and decide to go out in South Philly. I don’t recall ever being there at this particular estaplishment, but, that is where it’s supposed to be located. As we are leaving the bar, we pass a girl I get a vibe from. Like holy. It freaks me out and express it to Sioban, but, she writes it off. I do have a lot on my mind. 

The next day, I am walking near an empty,weedy lot on South 7th Street (It’s a little sketchy in my neighborhood from 5th to 7th, Ritner to Morris; They’re a product of late-1980′s/early-90′s white flight.) and see the woman again. She is my around age…maybe 25, but, I’ve never seen her this much before in my life. Never even in my neighborhood. As I cross at the corner and she is still close walking towards the end of the lot. There was a dead cat in the lot which I felt bad for when I walked by. A Tabby. The cat had just crossed my path. Had I been mistaken? While I was going to cross, I turned to her as she was heading West towards 8th Street. “Who are you?” ” My name’s Kaitlyn.” “No…who are you? You just brought that alley cat back to life.” “I work for God.” And that sparked a friendship which soon led into the truth of the real battle between Heaven and Hell. 

Though, I wasn’t sure if Kaitlyn was an angel or just a very special woman on a mission from Jesus Christ, she indeed had a gift. She held the power of necromancy. She also can do many things that mortals can’t in terms of physics and reality, but, her ability to revive the deceased is what I am interested in. I want my husband back. We decided to have a drink at the same bar with Sioban the skeptic.Only the divine is all-knowing, but, she was aware of my pain without Brian. She didn’t bring up the subject, though, almost as she didn’t want to violate my free-will. I ask her if she will bring Brian back. She gives me a look and we head to a booth. They are green in color. She can, but, he cannot stay for more than a few days at a time, but, she can negotiate with God as needed. I also have to keep things quite as if she was bringing back everybody, it would disrupt the natural world and the order of life. There was also the issue of the demonic.Satan cannot escape from Hell, but, he can still cause chaos with associates. They are watching her and we need to be careful. I meet a male “angel” named Shawn. He along with Kaitlyn are here to protect us along with my IRL friends who interact with me normally throughout my dream. Having Brian back in this subconscious scenario is complete bliss. I feel complete again as I would if this was really all happening. My house with him. With our daughter (thought of but not concieved yet in actuality), feels like a home again. 

Then, something seems terribly wrong. Kaitlyn is busy with God, but, figures we are safe home alone. She leaves us. My dog suddenly comes up from the basement, afraid. There is a zombie. I take my dog while Brian takes our daughter and we lock the backdoor, staying in the yard. “What was that?” Brian looks up from our toddler. Young Chevelle, I presume. That is what I want to name our first daughter when we finally do get a BFP and it’s a she. We love the band, plus, it is Hebrew for “my God is a vow”. She hadn’t been quite walking yet, but, was getting there. I’m getting off track. He answers me, though. “When one dies in mortal sin, the soul is destroyed. That’s where zombies come from. A shell of meat and organs. A beast.” “You’re fucking kidding me…” “No. But the good thing is they can’t escape from Hell. Unless one of Satan’s demons, half human-half zombie, passes the virus on here on Earth. The DNA is still contaminated.” “Where did that thing come from then?” “That’s what scares the shit out of me.” “I thought you said nothing could escape.” ” Technically, unless they were to defeat God in which it would end in a draw, no. Lucifer was once the most powerful angel. What do you think happens when people sell their soul, Marissa?” I nod. The zombie is still trying to break through the door. Our windows have bars. Thankfully Kaitlyn comes to the rescue. She slices through his skull with a sword. While she says the key is merely destroying the brain, a weapon that is blessed will weaken them faster if the first attempt fails. There are still many questions to be answered, but, Kaitlyn decides it will happen in due time. Even Brian isn’t even sure what to make of it. The only thing is to keep our eyes peeled.

Another night out and we run into our old roommate Mike. He was always an asshole to Brian, but, seems to have a sudden fondness of us. I leave Brian to go to the other bar in the place and something is wrong. He’s bleeding and beginning to rot. Was this part of God’s conditions if he over-stayed? I immediately get Kaitlyn and ask her to talk to God. She panics. While Brian was given a new body, this is the zombie virus. His soul is at stake. How did it happen? She realizes teeth marks in his neck. “Somebody here isn’t who they say they are.” “Can you do anything?” “I’m technically not allowed to intervene…but fuck it, I’m sure the Big Guy can understand. We’ll have to baptize him.”  We got outside and she does the ritual. Brian seems fine and she cleans him up. Since it was caught early, it was still possible. Kaitlyn begins to tell a story. She’s had a suspicion for a while that a demon or a group of such creatures is going to try to start the zombie apocalypse, potentially causing enough chaos to break the gates of Hell once and for all. The main goal being is to destroy the Earth, God’s most precious creation. The only true barrier between the two worlds which could potentially lead to the fall of the Kingdom of Heaven if tampered with.

Mike suddenly reappears all concerned because Brian still has dry blood. Kaitlyn and Shawn go back into the bar. We want to go home. Though he appears under the influence of opiates and drunk off of Jack, Brian realizes otherwise since their encounter. Mike is the demon. Unarmed, Brian improvises. He still is half-divine. He tells me to grab on and that these creatures hate love just as much as they hate God. We’ll be okay. We scale up a light pole, but, Mike can follow. He bites into my right achilles tendon.

Then I woke up.

Am I crazy or am I crazy?

Well, after being busy and not getting a chance to go online in peace (I hate blogging with an audience), I have returned. I see Xanga is still around, but, have decided to make this a second home.I have yet to find a regular job and the babysitting thing kind of fell through. Blah…I did get work 6 days about 3 weeks ago. Got $300, but, spent $110 on Brian among other things. Down to about $35 counting money that is still owed to me. Working atleast a day or 2 this week Hoping something will come my way soon. How have I been? Chillen, going out here there, Shore time, and of course missing my fiance. Really starting to have a peeve with way his family treats him, especially his mother. Uninvited from my wedding, fer sure. Don’t need negative vibes. Especially when you spend money on your unemployed, bitchy 24-year-old daugther and not spare .50 cents for a birthday card. Nor can she even put money on her brother’s books, but, always goes out. I don’t even work consistently just spent $110 on him for phone minutes and the June 2013 issue of Modern Drummer.

Now for some things going in the media that may be old news, but, I want to discuss anyway. The first two involve the LGBT community.I cannot express how glad I am for much of the success that has come in taking down DOMA. This is a big thing in both civil liberties and marriage equality for same-sex couples. It would be nice if we could get the entire country on board now, but, atleast in states where there are such marriages and civil unions they are now treated the same as Mr & Mrs. Down the Street. As a former employee of HRC under the Fund For the Public Interest, this is the shit I’ve fought for.Now it is time to discuss the case of Coy Mathis. For those not familiar, she is a transgendered first-grader from Colorado. Her school lost a battle in keeping her out of the girls’ bathroom. I honestly think this was such a great teaching moment in diversity and acceptance, though, I also feel it also let out hatred and ignorance. It surprises me still that people still know very little about the transgender community. These people are men and women just like all of us; gender dysphoria is very real and they deserve to live as freely and happily as possible. They don’t think they’re anything. The physical merely doesn’t match what’s upstairs. Psychological and physical gender are definitely different realms altogether. To me, the human race was created in all varieties as a means from the divine to challenge us to love and think outside of the box. It is evident many of us don’t quite get it yet. Maybe one day.

Stepping away from that…the George Zimmerman verdict. Call me a racist or whatever you want, but, I 100% agree. Did Trayvon Martin deserve to die? Nobody necessarily does, but, a man stood his ground and it turned fatal. It happens. Martin, at his death, was not the smiling, innocent snapshot we saw on television. He was a thug or atleast portrayed himself as one on Facebook that was against the police & authority in general. Keep that in mind before you jump on me for my opinion. The fact that blacks are rioting is just crazy. It goes to show in this country some of us need to prioritize. To those who feel he should of gotten convicted of murder in the 2nd degree, take this as the opportunity to create peace in your communities. To set a better example for your peers. Violence isn’t going to solve violence, even in the case of self-defense. Nor is more prejudice than what is or is not perpetuated in the first place. And that is all I have to say for now.

Peace and love, fellow WordPressers.

Good,bye Xanga….hello, this?

So allow to me introduce myself, you may call me Marissa or Riss/Rissa for short. Though I am familiar with this blogging format, it is quite foreign to me in the same retrospect. You see, I’ve been blogging on our beloved “X” since 2005 and the wake of finding the shitty news, realized I wasn’t about to be about that life and stop blogging for good. Maybe I’ll stick around, maybe I won’t when July 15th comes, but, we’ll see. I heard some of my fellow Xanga whores migrated here so I figured,”Why not?”.  Like, I could have a Holga/Diana as my theme and that was pretty darn fucking stellar. :)

This is my current site by the way:

TheTrueDarkness

I’ve had it since I was 13 years old and am now 21. It’s followed me from 7th grade to looking forward to getting married this coming Fall/Winter. Every heartache, transition,  still kinda fucked-up situation, happy ending. I even used to write real fiction on there, update on local events on Philly, give random facts, and even merely just make friends. It was still a home to me even when it began to decline in the wake of MySpace and Facebook. There are times where I’ve gone a year without updating, but, I was right back and ready to tell the world what had transpired in my existence.

Now who am I?

Aspiring-preschool/childcare teacher, amateur photographer, and freelance writer (pretty awesome at it and have done it for fun for over a decade) living in Philadelphia. Currently looking for a regular job. I was going to college until Spring 2012, but, have dropped out for the time being due to a variety of reasons. I got waaaay deeper into the rave scene than I should have since my life wasn’t going so great at the time in addition to having doubts about myself and my future to begin with from both internal & external factors (pretty sure I’ve had self-esteem instability and a form of depression/anxiety since gradeschool), so I stopped. Getting sick like every week until March didn’t help either. I do plan to go back online to earn an associate’s in English once my finances are in order. My other hobbies & interests? Gaming, thrifting, alternative subcultures, yoga, activism, drinking (among other stuff), psychedelia, cooking, and urban exploration; just to name a few. I also used to model a little, but, my mental health issues threw that off track. I also have a huge keloid on my arm now from somebody accidentally backing into me forcefully with a broke mop handle that I’m kinda embarrassed about.

Anywho, I’ve had kinda a crazy path to here. Between being bullied for 12 years in school, my father being an alcoholic since I was about 9, and just a bunch of other bullshit which I’ll probably get to sometime or another, I’m surprised I’m still here. Anywho…after a bunch of relationships that failed (22 to be exact) I met this really awesome guy and my future-husband, Brian. Brian is a day away from being exactly 9 years older than me and we actually met on my birthday through friends; celebrated his together with 2nd base, long talks, and cuddling all night. <3 Through our many crazy-ups and downs (Brian is bipolar and has anger issues, but, is seriously a teddy bear when you give him a chance.), we got engaged on August 28th. Prior to that, we had already been living together since Memorial Day Weekend. And even before we got engaged…embarked on a journey to start a family. Crazy, right? Though I’ve always wanted to be a mother, this has even sparked a desire in me to give up going to mortuary school for those aforementioned, more family-friendly goals. They were interests before, but, the funeral service had always called my name. Back to my relationship with me and Brian, though, things are actually great for us except for a minor snag…

I won’t tell the whole story, but, he has been incarcerated since December 22nd. After going back and forth between county jails, he is getting out in October most likely. I do worry how we’ll make it with our financial situation, but, I’m sure we’ll make do. Shit, I’d move in a camper van with that motherfucker. That’s how much he’s stolen my heart. He’s seriously been my husband since our meeting and I can’t wait for it to be legally known.

That is me, but, who are you?