I don't pray, but if I did

I might ask to feel a little more than
less-than
to be a little closer to
whole.

He doesn't like to see me like this. He wants to hear that I am in actual pain, that there is something organic and tangible we can treat, we can medicate.




The Pit, the Abyss, the Void has found me again.

I've done too well for too long. It's only right.

These feelings too, will pass.



They well up inside me, waves crashing on the jagged rocks of my self-esteem.

Worthlessnes: crash.

Despair: crash.

Self-loathing: crash.



Or something like that. I don't know if I'm making sense.



People are sheep and the Void is inevitable but they bleat on blindly as if the world makes sense, as if it's anything but cruel and meaningless but we who are different, who are damaged and broken and slightly off know better.



YOU WILL NEVER BE HAPPY, it tells me.

YOU WILL NEVER FIT IN.

YOU WILL NEVER BE FREE OF ME.



Shut

the fuck

up.

Badly wanting what I can't have.

I need shoes, but none of these are available in my size and preferred color. (sigh) Not to mention I wish they were all just $50 each...

Bebe Liza in Leopard Patent

Bebe Scarlett Printed Scarf Sandal

Charles David Encounter in Red

Jessica Simpson Taneala in Chili or Zebra

I don't meant to lean on you as much as I do,

but it seems that whenever I need a friend
you're always there.

Thank you.
A million times, thank you.

Thank you, so much. Just for being there for me. It was a really crappy day, and you made it so much better.

shields up

It's been days now, and still I'm so tight, especially at my temples, jaw and shoulder blades. So forgive me if you find me with my brow furrowed, jaw clenched, shoulders tense: I'm not bracing for a fight, my body just thinks it is. It takes conscious effort to reset myself. Luz too says she is hurt, and healing.

I don't want to be stressed. I don't want to be sad or angry or anything other than what I was right before that meeting that morning. But it seems that until I find some kind of closure, I will remain on the defensive. I wish I knew what to do, what to look or ask for.

I have laughed and cried and cussed and slept since then,

I tell myself it's okay.
Obviously it's not.

In quiet moments I find I am riddled with self-doubt, like so much emotional Swiss cheese. I stepped out into the warm air tonight and saw an airplane's lights twinkling above the crescent moon.

~"can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars/
I could really use a wish right now"~

funk

I awoke enraged, and pray to the universe
in my way
for succor:
"Quiet,
please -
for this raging mind."

Anger is exhausting.
Especially the senseless kind.

The continuing adventures of Farah in SmartPhoneLand

Two weeks ago, Patrick asked if I'd gotten the text he'd sent me around noon. "No," I replied. We compared phones. He'd sent it, but it never arrived.

The following day I picked up a phone call, which apparently had been the caller's third consecutive attempt to reach me. As far as my phone was concerned, it was the first.

Since then I've been using the hubby's old RAZR V3 while waiting for my phone plan to end. Patrick's had an HTC HD2 for a couple of months now, and I've had smartphone envy for about as long.

Yesterday I was excited because we got me a Samsung Behold II. I didn't have any requirements at the time, though Patrick tried to help me narrow things down, enumerating factors that had helped him decide: screen resolution, size, build quality, etc. I just wanted a smartphone, and I wanted an Android so I could have the newfangled Swype texting capability. I'm sure you've seen the commercials - the one about the world's fastest text message?

Anyway, someone had messed with two of the demo phones at the T-Mobile store, and they were busy, so we just bought the Behold and left. When I got home tried texting. It was such a mess. I'd gotten used to T9, and wasn't ready for a QWERTY touchscreen. Even the T9 keypad was difficult for me, since I'm used to larger, tangible keys. Also, I'm not used to typing with two thumbs. I tried one-finger typing since that's easiest for me, but the calibration seems to be adjusted for two thumbs: keys on the left side of the screen register taps slightly to the right. There doesn't seem to be a way to calibrate it. Or i could be wrong and the phone just needs to be calibrated, but I've already tried resetting the phone and it hasn't helped.

And the Swype feature I wanted? Not available on my phone. Apparently, it's limited to just the newer models of three phones: the HTC HD2, myTouch 3G, and the Motorola Cliq.

We revisited the T-Mobile store again today hoping to exchange it for a myTouch 3G, but after learning that the myTouch 3G Slide is coming out on Wednesday I reluctantly agreed to wait till then. The Slide features, among other things:

the new Android 2.1 software;

Faves Gallery, which is kind of like the social feature of the Cliq, but narrowed down to only all the (email, text, twitter, IM, social networking) updates of your 20 nearest and dearest;

Genius button which allows you to talk to your phone and for it to talk back. I'm not kidding! We're talking commands, calls, texts, emails, even web searches.

Bruce Wayne's house

There's a huge house we always pass by on the way to visit friends. Not knowing the owners, we call it Bruce Wayne's house. From my vantage point along Independence the house seemed merely big, until one day I realized the little, distant cars parked there were actually SUVs, and the house itself is humongous. It's also for sale right now.



Patrick and I made a deal: if we win the Powerball jackpot, we're buying this house. I guessed it was maybe $1M to 2M, he pegged it at $5M. We were both wrong: it's $3,500,000 even.

It's really not my style - I've always favored Mediterranean houses with modern sensibilities. I like open floor plans, light-colored stucco and red tiled roofs. I don't really care for their darker, Tuscan country-style cousins.

I can still appreciate the owners' homey touches: it's clear throughout that their home reflects their style: warm, down-to-earth, and welcoming. It's not the overstaged design showcase that most homes in this price range tend to be. A family lives here, and from the look of it, quite comfortably indeed.

Feel free to buy it for me: it's a lovely place. I could probably get used to

"...a tennis court, 3 sports fields, a barn, a pool and a gazebo. The property has a privacy gate, circular drive, porte-cochere and separate study with a full bath connected to the garages. The home has 5 Liv. areas, granite counters, sub-zero, hand scraped hardwoods and many built-ins. Feels like living in the country!"

Okay, the barn, not so much. Ebby link below.

11900 Independence Parkway
Frisco, TX
75035

Orion

On nights when the sky is clear, and the stars bright
and Orion's belt clearly visible
-the one constellation I know, the one you taught me that night
under so many stars, long ago -

I think of you
and hope, wherever you are
you are happy.

Talking to Myself in Private

Have you ever been so bored you were not only talking to yourself, but psychoanalyzing both sides of you holding the conversation? The predicament I find myself in this week reminds me of the scene in "Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End" where Jack Sparrow is alone with an entire crew of himself (himselves? his selves?), none of whom would listen to Captain Jack.

I'm a little bit of a bitchy boss, and an unenthusiastic underling. Work is getting done regardless, I just wish it weren't so booooring.

The goal is to get my apartment from "OHMYGODWASTHEREANEARTHQUAKE?!" to merely "I'm so sorry I didn't call ahead; clearly you weren't expecting company."


My kitchen. Before:




















And after: I have counters?!

if i were truly honest, i would say that

i've been in hell these past two weeks

i am alone, unutterably alone, and faltering

denying my secret sorrow does not bring some obscure personal honor - it's killing me.

I still don't know if the temporary patch that relieves some of it is actually making things worse. Or is it harmless distraction? I dunno. I only know that something *must* change: things cannot go on like this.

I only wish I knew the right thing to do.

In a nutshell,

Cocoa hasn't been feeling well this past week. We had planned on bringing her to the vet Monday afternoon after work. But at 3 o'clock this morning she vomited blood, and we brought her to the emergency animal hospital.

Tests and x-rays revealed a life-threatening infection. If she went home, she would die. They had to operate. $2000 and several hours later she is stable, but they need to keep her for observation. They close at 8 a.m. tomorrow, so we need to transfer her to our regular vet in the morning.

Red shoe craves:

Bebe Liza Platform pump


$149 at bebe.com

Jessica Simpson Taneala




$89.99 at heels.com

Bebe Bailey


$119 at bebe.com

I have a new blog!

Will Sing For Shoes

my windfall philosophy

I always tell Patrick:

If we win the lottery we have two choices:
live rich, and have to work the rest of our lives or

quit our jobs, live normal, comfortable lives and
never have to work.

how come no one ever told me

that manugang means daughter- or son-in-law?

I've been using it to refer to my in-laws forever!

the correct word is biyenan.

Syet.

foundering again. Just one of those days, I guess. I need sleep. And a compass.

How to Not Cook

I've been having some powerful food cravings lately, which I think are the result of months of subsisting on ready-made food. But since said subsistence also ingrains a powerful need to make do with as little effort as possible, I've found ways to feed my cravings without actually cooking. Here are the results:

Elote

1 can Green Giant Mexicorn, or simply canned corn
fat-free cottage cheese
mayonnaise
ground cayenne pepper
salt
pepper

When I want Mexican-style street corn I drain a can of Mexicorn and add in the remaining ingredients listed above, to taste.

~*~*~*

Gooey Bites

1 Snickers bar
nutella spread

Cut a Snickers bar into four. Coat each piece with nutella spread. Die a sticky, chocolatey death.

~*~*~*

Fake Japanese

cooked rice
1 can tuna, drained
wasabi paste
lite soy sauce

Patrick actually came up with this. You heat the rice then mix in the tuna. In a separate bowl combine wasabi paste and soy sauce to taste. Add to tuna-rice mixture.

I know, I'm semi-homemade- and ghetto-fabulous.