I love Xanax

It makes me sleep. It makes it so I don't cry. It erases my memories of terror so that the next day, the flight I took seems just like a misty dream. So much better than the phobic alternative. I hate phobias. I love xanax.

J the half Mexican

I knew a girl. A girl who said, "Hi, my name is J, and I'm half Mexican". She would make enchilladas from grocery store cans. She had a real authentic recipe for guacamole which included using the extremely authentic ingredient of ChiChi's brand salsa. A year into knowing her, she revealed to her good group of friends (of which I was not a part) the origin of her half Mexican status. You see, her step-father is Mexican.

Now, in and of itself, this story is sad and misguided. But if you consider that this same person seemed to have no problems applying for scholarships and the like and ticking the 'Latin' box. Lets all think about that one.

Shit. Do you know how many scholarships I could have gotten if only I had realized sooner I was half black???


my step-niece demonstrating the benefits of 'duck and cover' or pretending to be an egg. i'm not sure.

Body and Mind

Ever feel you have the wrong body in the wrong mind? No I'm not talking transgenderism! What I mean to say is that I was not blessed with a tall lithe form. I wasn't blessed with a short lithe form. I wasn't blessed with being photogenic. I'm just a normal looking size 14 woman. Nothing remarkable in most any way. And I realize how much this has been detrimental in my life. It's not even about the size completely. You see those overweight women who are stunning because they are beautiful- so comfortable in their bodies, and so... attractive- regardless of size. That's just not me. I'm just 'normal'. There's nothing wrong with 'normal' but it doesn't open certain doors for you. In fact, those doors stay pretty much shut. The problem is I have the mind for those doors. Maybe it's better that I look the way I do. If not, I may have been a true wild child. I may be dead by now. Maybe this body was the best thing that ever happened to my mind. Just in order to preserve it.

would this be any better?

Breakfast

The most important meal of the day. Or so they say. I think lunch is the most important meal of the day, or at least the most nourishing. But wait. I was talking about breakfast. I go through breakfast cycles. Eating the exact same thing for months or years then suddenly changing to something else.

When I was young, my mom made me look at the sugar content on the information panel. If the number was over 13, I couldn't have it. That pretty much meant it was Chex, Rice Crispies, and Cheerios for me. But twice a year, on my birthday and for Channukah, I could get a 'junk cereal'. Mmmmm sugar. When I went to college, imagine my wonder at the 24 hour cereal bar. This is where my love affair with Lucky Charms began. If the food in the cafeteria was shit, you could always count on Lucky Charms. And Coke. No wonder I got my first cavities in college. But back to breakfast. I've always been a cereal and milk sort of girl. That mutated for a few years into mueselix and yogurt but really, it's just a variation on the same. I picked that up the semester I spent in Copenhagen.

I just got an IM from my friend this morning knocking my American breakfast of cereal and milk, half a grapefruit, and some orange juice. "Isn't that too healthy for an American breakfast?" she asked. Americans get knocked all the time. Movies like 'Supersize Me' don't always help. Hell, most of the time I agree. But living in a foreign country honestly makes you stand up for things you never thought you'd stand up for before. I guess it's one of those things- you feel alright knocking your own, but it's something else when other people do it. It's time to stand up for breakfast. I ask you, how does my breakfast compare to this typical English offering?


*shudder*



The Memoirs of a Messy Mind

Do I really need another place to keep track of my messy thoughts? Probably not. But this one can have pictures! Thank god for delivery and laptops. I may never leave home again. Except I have to work. And have a social life. And I actually like going outside to do stuff. Oh well. This will just fall under 'procrastination' I guess. Much better than doing laundry or cleaning or washing up. Good enough for me. So welcome to my messy mind. You poor fool.

More to follow eventually.