All posts filed under: Mi Vida Loca

Livin’ la vida soltera (single life)


I kissed a girl and I…

I finished watching The L Word over the holiday weekend. A fact that I shared with a friend earlier today. I almost didn’t tell anyone because an admission such as that one can potentially be accompanied by judgments and misconceptions. But really, who the hell cares who thinks what of it? Just last year or maybe the year before, my sister asked me if I was gay. I’m not quite sure what made her ask, and I didn’t question her, just simply answered no. I guess I figured that people were thinking it, and I appreciated that someone was brave enough to actually ask the question rather than just let it  hang there in their mind. I might, in their shoes, question it too. After all, an unmarried woman of my age with very few lasting relationships under her belt might make me wonder a little too, I guess. So I enjoyed the show, but after a while it became predictable. It seemed that the show was trying to make a point about no woman being 100% …


Just sitting on the corner of awesome and bomdiggity… [video]

Recently I asked a couple of close friends if they thought my blog posts were getting depressing. They didn’t say no, but they didn’t say yes. They said I probably needed to do a bit of therapeutic introspection. I thought they had a good point, but… So I thought, I need to change things up, and to do that I would have to… The conversation I was having with myself, that is. Part of taking responsibility for my own issues was realizing that I was allowing people in my life who did not deserve to be there. I would have to create boundaries and remember that when it comes to people…. and be mindful that… So, with all of that in mind, I decided to stop being so fucking polite… and…   because everyone should know that…     which resulted in… and switched things up on them… but more importantly, started to change how I’m feeling about me… So now I have a… because… and I’m happily… being a new and improved… ME!


5 things that should not be left unsaid

It was late summer/early fall of 2002. My younger sister had been in the hospital for weeks and the doctors were unable to tell us why. She’d given birth prematurely to my nephew, and had slipped further into whatever it was that was making her sick, making her eventual recovery require the relearning of things we take for granted, such as feeding herself. I was spending my days at work, my evenings with her at the rehabilitation center, and my weekends caring for my nephews, her sons: A 1 year old and a newborn. Her prognosis was unsure and we prepared for the worst, while hoping for the best. To say it was a difficult time would be an understatement, but somehow we all managed. I walked around in a daze; a combination of a mind full of worries and lack of any meaningful rest. I constantly felt like I was in one of those scenes in a movie in which the character is standing frozen in time, while everyone else is rushing around her. …


Life, interrupted: The day my mind went numb

In December of 2011 I wrote a post titled, Life, Interrupted. It was the first time I ever addressed my struggle with depression publicly. I never really hid it, but I’ve never really talked about it. Soon after, friends contacted me privately to share their own stories. and to thank me for sharing mine. But I felt sort of like a phony. I had shared a moment in such an abstract fashion, that it was just as easy to assume that I was just having a really bad day. I promised myself that I would write my story, the real story, soon. Soon turned into days, weeks, months, etc… I hesitated realizing that 15+ years had not changed that much about how depression is perceived, and I certainly didn’t want to be categorized. But this past week I chanced upon someone else’s story at Hyperbole and a Half, and thought that maybe perception hadn’t changed because we the sufferers were still in hiding. Maybe if I joined Allie and told my story others would begin …

EL Morro, Puerto Rico

Diggin’ mis raices: Two countries, two languages, and one lost girl

I was born in upstate New York,  in the city of Rochester to be exact. My parents moved back to Puerto Rico soon after my first birthday, and I  spent my early, formative years there. The culture and language of my country was just as much a part of who I was and was becoming, as was my family. I was a little Puerto Rican girl who only spoke a handful of words in English, loved Plaza Sesamo and Villa Alegre, and knew all of the lyrics to La Pandilla’s songs, especially El Alacran. In regards to having the Puerto Rican culture as a natural part of my life, I had an advantage over Puerto Ricans born and raised in the states, or so you would think. We moved to Chicago when I was eight, then to Utah a few years later that and somewhere along the way I lost much of what I started with: My knowledge of the language, the music, the culture and traditions.  I am not sure why it happened, perhaps because …


Be still my twitching eye

Admittedly, I am not always Little Ms. Sunshine. I rarely get angry or stressed to the point where I take it out on someone else in a negative way, but it happens. I try to confront situations as they happen or soon after, and remain calm in the face of chaos. But that’s not always possible, and so when I’m feeling hurt, disappointed, frustrated, or fearful, which are my equivalent of angry, I tend to internalize those feelings until they’re too much and they manifest in the form of an eye twitch. Yes, a never ending bout of random eye twitches that seem to happen only when I’m speaking to someone, making them wonder why all of a sudden I look like I’m trying to trap my eyeball in the socket.  It’s that time. There’s a lot going on in my life that I can’t seem to keep up with and my normally calm and peaceful demeanor is stretched and my eye is on its second week of twitching. In a somewhat related incident, my …