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Month

May 2015

Ways of getting around being homesick

Has anyone ever been homesick? I remember when I was about 18 years old, I had went to California to visit my brother for a month. Holy shit, by week 3, I was so homesick and actually missed my parents. Before you say, “well, you’re a baby, you’re supposed to miss them,” – no. I was 18 years old. I’m supposed to be happy to be away and the first two weeks were great but I really got home sick for my parents, their food, surrounding, comfortableness of home. Thankfully, my brother took me out so I wasn’t obsessing over how much I missed home. I didn’t get that feeling until I moved to another state least year. By that time, I was 27 years old. The first few weeks were, again, great because I had moved with my new hubby but then he left. He had to go underway and I was alone. I had never been all alone for such a long period of time in my entire life. I had dormed in college but I always had a room mate. I learned very quickly, I needed to adjust and keep myself occupied.

Below are some activities that I have done to help me cope with being homesick. Enjoy!

1. NETFLIX! I’ll talk about the fucking gym later on. We all know Netflix is good for the body and soul, too! Get into a show that is going to keep you busy and entertained. I decided on the Gilmore Girls because it has so many seasons, Army Wives, Sons of Anarchy, Pretty Little Liars. Shows with over 3 seasons will be your best friend – especially if you’re away at college… that is, when you finally take the nozzle of the beer you’ve been funneling out of your mouth!09e
courtesy of knowyourmeme.com

note: RESIST watching the seasons in a weekend time. You will burn through your shows, be depressed when they end, and be at square one again.

2. Get a hobby. I hate when people say that to me. I feel like the girls I know don’t really have many hobbies. Please spare me, hiking, gym, running as hobbies – shoot yourselves. I’m addressing this to the “normal” cupcake eating, occasional jogging to show off your new leggings, “I’ll start this diet Monday” girls. I actually found my hobby (if you can call it that) and that is cosplaying. Once I get into a project, THAT IS IT. I devote a lot of time to the character I am creating. What makes this particular hobby fun and time consuming is the way I make the costumes. I normally do a “rough draft” as practice to see if I can work with the first thing I made or if I need to tweak it or start from scratch by using another method. Cosplaying is a lot of work and can drain some money. I just started this hobby so I am not savvy on buying cheap but good material yet.
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courtesy of memegenerator.com

3. Plants. This might sound crazy but it took me years to enjoy the presence of plants. We have a little jalepno plant in our apartment that is about 2 years old now. I want to actually grow my own veggies, herbs, and fruits one day. You can start off with one plant (no cactus, put some effort into this) and do some research on how to care for it. You’ll be surprised how much you can learn about plants…
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courtesy of memecenter..com

Keep building your own little garden (if the weather you live in permits). This will give you a daily routine. When my husband is away, I would wake up, take our puppy out to pee, come back in, make coffee, brush my teeth, water the plant, check how it’s doing, and count down the calendar. It will not only give your place life but it will also give you a sense of accomplishment of being able to keep something other than yourself alive.

4. Already have a plant in process? Try a pet (if you can afford or are allowed to have one in your facility). Believe me, these little fur babies WILL keep you busy all day long. You’ll be even busier if you get a puppy! Please refer to my previous post about adopting a puppy. I fucking love my Potato… anyway!  These guys will keep you so busy you won’t have time to be homesick unless you have never taken care of animal by yourself. In that case, you may have a total meltdown from the pressure of having to keep a living, breathing, walking creature alive and if you fail, no one will love you because who would love a puppy killer?…………………………………….

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Moving on =D

Please be certain you have the time, patience, money, and love to care for an animal. Just because you have love for them, doesn’t mean you have the rest of the qualities to care for one.

5. Gym. If all the other tips fail or begin to prove signs that you’re repressing emotions, give this a shot. This was also part of my routine but I am in no means in shape.
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courtesy of pixshark.com

I strictly used the gym to fill up time and keep me occupied. I basically went to pass the time but when I was in there, whether I was running, lifting, or anything else, my mind was focused on what I was doing. I don’t need to lose concentration and get hurt for the security cameras to record and later make fun of me. Nothing is on my mind except what I am doing at that moment and, of course, my breathing.

6. Get a job or join a club. I hate group activities, which is why I put this last.
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courtesy of memecenter.com

If you have a job that keeps you busy, you should be okay. If you don’t have a job and you’re a social butterfly, try joining a club or volunteer your time (for those who can’t afford paying a monthly fee for a club due to no job!). Again, this will keep your mind focused and really force you to be independent.

There you go, if you have made it this far, thank you for reading and thank you for understanding my sarcasm. Being homesick sucks and I still get it time to time but I do all of these things that keep me from going fucking insane.

Coming to Meghan Trainor’s defense!

Yesterday I read an article that was basically bashing Meghan Trainor’s All About That Bass song. I was able to also read another article that inspired the first one I read. I decided to write them in separate posts so I don’t confuse anyone. In this post, I am referring to FBomb.org article. Both are attacking the song and how girls are only validated through men’s appeal and that Meghan isn’t a positive role model. Are you fucking serious? Okay, you’re entitled to your opinions… let me give you a taste of mine.

In the article, Antonia Bentel writes, “However, I also identify as a feminist and am inclined to listen to these songs with critical ears, ready to pick up on any all-too-common sexist remarks.” Let me stop you there. I don’t identify as a feminist. I identify myself as a 28 year old Latina and I am inclined to listen to every song from a not-so-sensitive area. I’m not ready to pick up on any all-too-common sexist remarks because I enjoy having an open mind and  *gasp* sense of humor! So, you’re implying that you’re looking for something to rip apart. Next item, Antonia proclaims that one of her “favorite feminist musician” is Nicki Minaj and one of her favorite songs is “Superbass”. She went on to say that she would,”proudly rap for anyone who so much as mentions the song.” One of Nicki’s lines are “He ain’t even gotta try to put the mack on/He just gotta gimme that look/When he gimme that look/Then the panties coming off.”  So, it’s not okay for women to judge their beauty by men standards but you do support women not even needing a man to charm her, he just has to give off a look and she can jump in bed with him? Hey, I’m only doing what you said you supposedly do: listening with critical ears. That’s right, girl! Proudly repeat those words that mean you’ll jump in the sack with a guy just by giving you a look! And I understand Nicki identifies herself as a rapper, not a female rapper but she doesn’t get my respect…

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realtalkny.com

…Because she uses her sexuality to get fame… almost as if she needs male validation to earn fans through her beauty and body… Catch my drift?

Moving along, yes, in All About That Bass, Meghan does say, “boys like a little more booty to hold at night.” Girls in high school, in my opinion, have the worst time when it comes to body image. They think they are too skinny, too fat, flat boobs, too busty, wide hips etc. High school girls are not concerned with feminism yet. Most of these young girls are obsessed with their image because of boys. Get the fuck over it, feminists. Yes, high school girls may make you shake your heads but a lot of high schools do not go into real depth about feminism until college… therefore, these young girls mainly do validate their prettiness through the attention of boys. Oh yeah, and one more thing, THEY ARE GOING THROUGH PUBERTY!!! The opposite sex (or same sex if you’re in that category) only think about hormones and sex. These girls are going through one of their toughest times when it comes to body image. Most of them won’t be able to understand they don’t need men’s approval to realize their own self worth. Girls who are pear shaped find comfort in knowing, “boys like a little more booty to hold at night.” It is sad to think young girls have this on their minds but you know what? When I was 15 years old, I appreciated my busty chest because boys noticed me. Give Meghan a break, she is giving young girls a song to make them feel better about their curves.

On to my next point, I think you forgot a few lines just to be biased and prove your point. Antonia writes that Meghan “sang that she’s “bringing booty back…go tell them skinny b*tches that.” By singing these two lines, she degrades women who are naturally thin and petite.” That verse goes as follows:

“I’m bringing booty back/Go ahead & tell them skinny bitches that/Nah, I’m just playin’/I know you think you’re fat/But I’m here to tell you/Every inch of you is perfect from the bottom to the top.”

The way I see it is Meghan is calling thinner girls “skinny bitches” but immediately says that she is joking. Also, she could either be speaking to the thinner girls or the curvier girls with “I know you think you’re fat.” I have met many women thinner than myself and heavier than myself but I will tell them the same, “every inch of you is perfect.” But I guess you know Meghan was shaming the thinner girls, right? Do you really and honestly think any woman in the music industry would ever attack another woman about their body shape? Next time, write the whole line, not just what appeals for your point.

Random thought about feminists

I don’t consider myself a feminist. Why? Because I make way too many, “Woman, get in the kitchen and make me some food,” jokes to my mom, aunt, and friends. I make so many woman jokes that when I’m around my sister in law, I have to watch what I say unless those around us want to hear an argument. My sister in law will be the first to jump up and defend women’s right – and that is perfectly fine! I have also met another “feminist” and she really left a sour taste in my mouth because of how she treats some women. She claims to be a feminist but then bashes other women, who she feels, doesn’t live up to her standards. Being married really has taught me I am more traditional than I thought I was. I enjoy cleaning up after my husband Christian, cooking for him every day, picking up groceries, doing laundry. In fact, I rather be in charge of all the chores in our household. I would never want my husband to ever pick up a dirty sock to wash unless I asked him to. Part of the reason is because he won’t do these house hold tasks correctly… the way I picture him doing it… in my mind. I actually take great pride in catering to his every need. The household – “the kitchen” – is my domain. Now, if any feminists want to attack me and say I’m setting women back to the 1940’s, congratulations, you have just lost your feminist card. Feminists are supposed to support other women and fight for other women to do as they please. Well, I am extremely pleased and proud to channel my inner 1940’s housewife.

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courtesy of pininterest.com

Before you uptight and judgmental people begin criticizing me, “Well, you don’t work,” let me inform you that before we moved to a new state, I was working full time and still enjoyed keeping my role as the woman of the house.

My husband has never pressured me to stay home and do housework, I simply choose to take care of our home. He is always willing to lend a helping hand but – get ready to attack me, America – I don’t believe housework is a man’s job. However, what may work for us may not work for others. I prefer to take care of every and any task that involves our home. Christian works hard, gets deployed, so when he is on stand down, I like him to come home and relax and enjoy his time down while I bring him a sandwich and his drink. I like putting his needs before mine because my needs can get met the months I am alone. Again, this is the system we have because we’re both happy with this. I don’t want to come off that he is lazy because there are times I do have him help me. I’ll ask him to sweep, give Potato (our puppy) a bath, take her on walks, clear the table and set up for dinner, bring me all his dirty laundry so I’m not fishing for what is clean or dirty. He does do things at home to help me out but I genuinely enjoy doing most of the housework. I do have a lot of say in the relationship just as much as he does, it’s a good balance. I love playing my “woman” role while he plays his “man” role. With that said, I really do need to get in the kitchen and start lunch 😀

P.S. A woman that knows her way around the kitchen and laundry will never get caught for a murder. She’ll know how to clean up the blood and she can poison you! Too far? Ahh, I’m just kidding!

Seriously, though.

=)

How His Cheating Led to My Marriage

As girls, we are taught that we must marry the right man: successful, handsome, and… that’s pretty much it. Come to think of it, who is making these standards up?! Well, before my husband, I almost married the wrong guy who fit the criteria: successful, handsome, and… that’s pretty much it. We’ll call him Manic. I was just a wee, 17 year old, love sick, school girl (for real, I went to a catholic high school) and Manic was 19. This relationship was a five year, beautiful, masochistic/sadistic, passionate, and educational form of hell. From the very beginning, there were warning signs with very bright lights but as a teenager I confused them for fireworks. As beautiful and sadistic as it was, it really was educational because if it wasn’t for that half a decade relationship, I would have never married the love of my life.

Back in 2004, Myspace was our generation’s Facebook and on one lazy summer day I received a message from a dashing drummer. We had actually known a few of the same people and lived in the same city. Once we met, it was love at first sight. He was already attending the college I had planned on, he wanted to become a Fire Fighter, he was musically talented on the drums, he was close with his family, and was good looking. All in all, he was great on paper. As every new relationship, everything was cupcakes and rainbows. Summer was very kind to us that year; we rarely stayed indoors. We lived very close to New York so we always hopped the train and traveled there just to hang out. No real plans, just, “Hey, let’s go to the city!” Along with going to NY, we would go to festivals and pig out on food, run errands with each other’s families, went to a lot of concerts, went to clubs (when I finally hit 18), and even took a trip to California. Whenever we did spend time indoors it was all about Spongebob and other silly cartoons while we constantly ate burgers, fries, and burritos. When we weren’t munching on junk food, I’d watch him play drums and eventually he began teaching me how to play. We did have a lot of fun because he was easy to talk to about family issues. He was very open about how he grew up, trouble between his parents, sibling rivalries, extended family drama. He was perfect in my eyes: from his home made gifts to his impeccable taste in music.

During all the good, there was a side of him that he kept very well hidden. His ex-girlfriends began reaching out and warning me about him. They really were just telling me how he is a cheater, a liar, and he shouldn’t be trusted. Of course, being young, I ignored it and, of course, they were right. All these random girls started to pop up out of no where and I even had one girl reach out to me and confess they were having an affair while we were dating. Things really began to spiral downward when he finally reached his goal and became a fire fighter. Suddenly, it was as if he had to become this different person, someone who had to prove himself to his co-workers. After meeting his peers at work, I couldn’t tell him apart from the other fire fighters. They all spoke the same, they all acted the same, they all had the same smug attitude that I had grown to hate and resent. All the pride I once had when I would hold his hand in public was blurred out by embarrassment and shame. Even his co workers knew he was cheating and bringing around other girls so often some of them thought I was the side girl. With time, home made gifts turned into shallow “I’m sorry,” designer presents. It felt as though he would apologize his cheating with expensive items: purses, bags, jewelry, clothes, shoes. At one point I remember deciding, “If this is what he wants, I’ll want this too.” I literally sold my self respect to material things.

I hated how I was. The relationship was so toxic; we would shout at each other, ignored problems, I carried all the negativity with me everywhere we went. I would hate him going out with his friends or co workers because I KNEW he would pick up another girl or worse – sleep with another girl with encouragement with whoever he was partying with. The final blow came with him coming home from a family trip and telling me I was lazy and ending it on the same day of our 5th anniversary. I had learned later that month that the real reason was because he had met one of his sister’s friends and knocked her up. He ended up marrying her a couple of months later. He had never placed his hands on me but this was the last kick to the teeth – or rather to the heart. I had nothing else to do but to wallow in my heartache and despair. I had felt like my world was shattered, I had no future, I was nothing but a joke, a stand in for someone else. While I was trying to peel myself off my tear soaked, pink bedroom rug, someone else was thriving off my agony. I remembered the feeling clearly: someone had gutted me open, ripped out my insides and displayed me to the public as a joke for all to see while I tried to catch my breath that wouldn’t come. I didn’t understand. How could someone who said he wanted to spend the rest of their life with me put me through everything he did and then top it off with this? I wasn’t perfect but I didn’t deserve this.

I can remember thinking to myself, despite everything he put me through, I now have the freedom to do whatever I wanted for myself. I could either let this ruin me before I even started living or take advantage that I don’t have anything else to lose. Once I realized that I loved writing since I was a child, I declared my major in English. Why didn’t I realize that before? Why wasn’t I a priority to myself? I became involved in my schools newspaper. I began contributing until I became the sex/relationship columnist. People were actually reading it and were interested in what I had to say. I felt the layers of insecurity finally falling away. I was going to school full time, writing for my college newspaper, and wanted to do more. I decided I needed a job but not because of financial trouble but to become more independent. No one was going to say I was lazy ever again. I held on to this determination to prove not only to myself but to everyone that I am worth more than what he priced me as. I’m worth more than expensive store bought items.

I landed my first job as a part time teller at a credit union where I requested to become full time. I was now going to school full time, working full time, and still writing for the schools newspaper. After a few months, I became the new Editor in Chief of the school’s paper. With recommendations from my professor, who was also the adviser of the paper, I was honored with the title. I had built a strong team that went on to do amazing stories. I had the privilege of interviewing new and interesting people, I made my own friends, and I was making my own life. At this time, I had also entered my final year of college. I was entirely focused on me. Dealing with personal issues, I decided to write them out in the paper since I still held on to the sex/relationship column. I felt good about myself. I was giving myself the attention I deserved.

In 2012, all my hard work paid off. I finally got to wear my cap and gown and receive my college diploma. I had done it. I had planned out my college career by myself, worked full time, became EIC, kept my sex/relationship column, and graduated. I felt as if I had rock climbed my way up a jagged mountain and considering I had started from a labyrinth of a dark forest, the view from the top was breathtaking. I always had someone else controlling my life and leading the path without ever having a voice of my own. I took great pride knowing that I had sat down and wrote out my goals without anyone throwing me suggestions. I earned everything I received and I thought I was happy. Then I met him – Christian – the love of my life.

Despite everything I had been through, I took one look into Christian’s cat like eyes

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(seriously, he may have coloboma because his irises are tear shaped)

and I can remember falling instantly hard in love. He pursued me as a gentlemen and never crossed his boundaries and when it came down to having a relationship, I let the fear and baggage from four years ago hold me back. As much as I wanted to start a future with him, I couldn’t let go of everything I had gone through. I was terrified he was going to hurt me the way Manic did. After everything I had achieved, I was still allowing that relationship to control my happiness. I realized I was still giving him power over me and letting those emotions dictate my future relationships. Enough was enough. I was 25 year old and I needed to rip those chains off. I’m entitled to happiness.

When I felt ready, I took the plunge and started a serious relationship with Christian. I took everything I had learned from that past poisonous relationship and applied it to my actions: be patient, look for the positives, show respect to earn it, never settle for less than what it deserved, and always move forward. Whenever Christian and I would argue, I always made sure I would compose myself before the confrontation because the last thing I wanted to do was to lash out. It would have been easy to brush some problems under the rug but I would address them and we’d work them out. Today, we still do the exact same things which made it easy to finally marry him. There was no question, no double guessing, or cold feet. He was the man I wanted to walk towards to spend the rest of my life with. I know he loves me and it feels amazing to finally be on the same page with someone and not have to question his feelings every few weeks.

I thank God nearly every day for blessing me with the life I have had and continue to have. I don’t regret Manic and everything we went through because it taught me how to be an adult, how to be in a real relationship, what I want in a man, what I won’t put up with, and how to have fun. Christian will sometimes say, “I wish we met in high school,” and I am so glad we didn’t because I wasn’t mature enough to be in a relationship and I would have lost him. I could never thank Manic enough for breaking my heart in so many tiny, irrecoverable pieces because if he had never let me go, I would have never met my husband, who generously gave up his heart to replace mine.

Latino Lives Matter, Too!

What really pissed me off and inspired me to write this post was this sign:

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PinInterest.com

“But we’re focused on the black ones right now,” Is there a sign that replaces the word “black” with “Latino”? Why not? We matter, too. Why aren’t there riots and protests happening for us? Why is the news only showing black lives being slain? Where were the riots for Antonio Zambrano-Montes? Aside from him throwing rocks, he still had his hands up and was killed by police. What his crime was is irrelevant. The point I am trying to make is that no protests were done. In the link to the article I provided, there is one part that reads, “Violence or discrimination against Latinos does not tend to resonate among most Americans because Latinos are generally not perceived as Americans but recent immigrants or foreigners…” Ouch. That really, really sucks. So, regardless if we are legal here, we are still just seen as foreigners.

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LatinoRebels.com

While I was in the middle of being offended by this, I read a comment on Facebook that read, “If you’re not black, you will never understand our struggle.” That literally drove me through the roof. The person who wrote it was black and I completely understood his argument. He was defending his race and I was behind his points… until he wrote that and he was saying it to a white person. Because he was white he never had a struggle with discrimination? You’re telling me he was never discriminated against?

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memegenerator.com

Some black people get outraged because they feel the moment they step into a white neighborhood, all eyes are on them. It is the same feeling some white people get when they step into a black neighborhood. Again, I’m going to throw down my race card. Many people can riot and protest but don’t you dare say, “You’re not black so you’ll never understand our struggle,” when you have the right to do so whereas most Hispanics who came here illegally, trying to improve their lives, can’t do the same. Don’t get me wrong, there are some Hispanics without papers who try to protest but they run the risk of being deported. Along with that, those who may want to protest to defend their loved ones who are illegal, can be targeted.

The whole double standard is fucked up. I started this post two days ago but needed to walk away because I was literally punching my keyboard. It pisses me off whenever any race says, “It’s easy to be you because you’re [insert race].” Every race has their struggles AND every race has their perks. If you’re black or Latino, guess what? There are colleges who offer scholarships just for being black or Latino. Those colleges thrive on diversities and encourage urban students to apply. In fact, those scholarships specifically ask for Latino and black. There are no scholarships that say WHITE SCHOLARSHIPS. On that point, why are there websites called, “MiGente” for Latinos and “BlackPeopleMeet.com”? Am I the only one who is offended by these? If there were sites called “MyWhitePeople” or “WhitePeopleMeet.com” I think they would end up on the news for offended minorities! Keep in mind, I’M LATINA. It’s not easy being any race because there is always someone else who is going to be a dick and blame someone else.

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UnspokenPictures.com

Latinos have a shitty card, too. We don’t have much of a voice to stand for basic human rights, especially if you’re not legal. You get dealt the shittiest stereotypes regardless how hard you work.

All I’m saying is every race has their fuck ups. Do you want to live up to stereotypes or do you want to rise above them? Before you start bashing other races, remember someone else has it worse. The black community wants to protest because they are treated poorly by cops. Imagine how much worse Latinos without papers get treated and they can’t complain. Sit down and watch the movie A Day Without a Mexican. I hope, despite whatever race you are, you can understand my frustration. You are worth being treated more than just a color and you are entitled to exercise your rights as human beings but don’t do them in destructive ways that encourages negative stereotypes. Don’t take your rights for granted because my family just got theirs last year.

In case you’ve missed it!

Here is the link of my previously published article on HelloGiggles about my Potato. You may not find it on my blog so here is the link 🙂

7 Truths I learned When I Adopted a Puppy

potato

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