Happy New Year!

Which ever your definition of happiness is, as elusive and ephemeral as she is.

Be kind to yourself. Try not to make a long list of formidable resolutions which simply add stress to our already hectic lives.

A new chapter, always gives us a new opportunity to redeem ourselves, and make a fresh start.

May this nascent year bring forth new windows of opportunities, love, health, and prosperity.

May the roses always thrive and bloom in your garden, as well as hope.

I will simply strive for contentment, and peace within my heart.

.

For Always III

So it came to be that the days passed. These turned into weeks, those into months which blurred into years, and these into decades spent in a frenzy of activity. So many commitments really left little time to dream, or truly live.

Becky was proclaimed cured after six months spent in rest and leisure in a state run mental facility. She was welcomed with open arms by her solicitous husband, and her community. Everyone was so ever glad; she was her old self again. Perhaps she was less ebullient, but nice and sweet all the same if one did not register the dull look of her eyes, or the prevailing aura of sadness about her.

She went back to work in a similar field, not the same job as before, but the routine was the same nonetheless. She spent her quiet time watching the Food Network, or The Home Shopping Network, for she loved to shop. Becky also developed an acquired taste for a fancy evening cocktail, she was ever careful to have this after her medicines, so as not to cause an adverse reaction.

Occasionally she had dreams of an erotic nature, a lover; his face not visible would come in her dreams and place tender kisses on her. She did not know why, she felt very uplifted after those occasional dreams. Although with time, these too dwindled in scarcity, and eventually ceased.

Cindy, her dear best friend had been there for her for most of their lives. They had grown, dreamed, laughed, cried and aged in unison. Now in their late sixties, their friendship was as strong as ever.

One Sunday afternoon, Cindy took Becky’s hand as she guided her into the foyer of an old house up for sale. Becky did not know why entering this old house, seemed to stir memories as if she had been here before. She excused herself and wandered about the old house by herself, while Cindy made small talk with the realtor.

All the years, the tears, the longing, and the unmentionable painful treatments she had endured were obliterated. He salved her wounded spirit with his mere proximity. Everything was alright now. She had finally come home, and they would be together – for always.

.

image: "The Coalesence" by Catherine Andrews

For Always II

Cindy stood up and grabbed hold of Becky’s arms and rattled her bandaged arms.

-“Listen to me, once and for all Becky. You will tell your shrink that you made the whole thing up, only because you craved your husband’s attention. Do you understand? Even if you have to fake being sane, you will do this – today! Not only is your life at stake here, but also your soul! Do you want to damn your soul to hell?”

- “Cindy, this is true love, we are nothing without true love, don't you understand? If God is a loving Being, then perhaps… perhaps our dammed souls may be granted amnesty someday. For this is irrevocably the union of two soul mates. My true love is damned to a lonely existence in that old house – he needs me, as I do him.”

.
- “If this is true love, Becky would he not want the best for you? For you to be happy and healthy, and to enjoy life? Think about that!”
.

- “Love can be selfish too. We want to own the object of our affection, we want to populate his or her thoughts, invade their body, heart and orchestrate his or her emotions. We want them to love no other more than us. What is your definition of happiness Cindy? Acquiring material possessions? Sure our bodies need clothing, shelter, food. Yet, we are not this...Cindy this is not our essence!” Becky said this as she placed her palms over her chest.
.

- “What could have led you to this Becky? I’ve known you since you were six years old, what could have brought you to this breakdown?” Cindy said as she shook her head.
.

- “Every step I’ve made, including marrying Martin has been for the sole purpose of reuniting my self with my soul mate. Otherwise, how would we have bought this old house, do you see what I mean? As to how this all started…you know Martin left me alone for stretches of time, during his frequent business trips. One evening when I took a nap, I felt this presence…as if I knew I was not alone.
.

Then it evolved to actually feeling a whisper-soft kiss on my lips, or a pressure on my thigh, or a dent on the mattress. At first I thought I was just imagining things. Then when I had no doubt, I was terrified; I did not dare move, and pretended to be asleep. Then other things happened. Like the stereo tunning on by itself to a beautiful love song. A song that touched my heart. It was as if he spoke through those songs. Then, he started visiting me in my dreams. I saw him there first, then I remembered his eyes; and I knew we had met before.

.
Then, it happened that the times I had sex with my husband, his face lost its focus. It blurred, and my love’s image took form, and I started making love - tender love to him. The dimension of our love making totally shifted, because I was not making love to my husband you see, I was fantasizing about the ghostly usurper. It was beyond a physical release...it was a joyful union of souls, a coalescence of spirits and of undiluted, pure love.

.

Love so strong can make one do strange things because it is a basic necessity to our being - to love, and be loved. It is similar in intensity to the love that drives nuns to renounce all material possessions and a life of their own, for their love for Christ. True love, is a powerful thing indeed.

Now, I can see him clearly, as I can see you. He sees me for who I truly am. I can’t hide anything from him. He is in my thoughts, soul, and dreams. He sees the best side of me, my real essence, and he adores me, imperfections and all. The pain of being apart is too immense Cindy... I’ve acted sane most of my life, I’ve conformed most of my life Cindy, I don’t want to anymore….if you love me Cindy, don’t you want me to be truly happy?”

.

- “ Mr. Taylor I am sorry to stress the importance of incrementing the dose of medication to your wife. She is still a highly probable suicide risk. With the higher dose, I am confident she will be more docile and manageable. The other option, for she does seem as she is in need of constant surveillance, would be to check her in in the state asylum for an indefinite period. I guarantee you that with proper treatment and rest there, she will be placated and controlled…for her well being that is, until she proves fit to be a member of society.”

.

image: Eros (Love) awakes Psyche (the Soul).

For Always

Her unchecked tears streamed down her pale cheeks, to irrigate the bouquet of pink roses she was embracing like a babe. Her best friend in the whole world Cindy, had brought these to cheer her up.

- “You have to wake up from this spell Becky, you can’t say the same thing over and over, and expect people to believe that you are well. If you don’t…listen to me…if you don’t, you will be heavily medicated and you will stay here indefinitely, or worst, be moved to a wacko institution. I love you Becky, look at you… my God!” Cindy said while she too broke down and cried.
.

Becky reached out a hand to lovingly caress the top of her dear friend’s head. She was so naïve, she thought. Cindy’s analytical mind could not accept that which was not proven or tangible.
.

- “Cindy, do you remember when I told you I used to play with my imaginary friends as a kid? You know little kids are more receptive because they are closer to remembering where they came from. The blind folds are not as tightly wrapped as when we are conditioned as to what to think, and to believe. We learn to conform, to try to fit in and to be liked. I simply can see that beyond which is visible to the naked eye. Maybe it is meant that I see him, because he wants me to. It’s that simple.”

.

- “Cut the bull shit Becky, look at all you have going for you! You have a wonderful husband, a beautiful home….oh by the way, this weekend they are moving everything out. By the time you leave here, you will be set up in your new place.”
.

With this said, a new wave of heartfelt tears welled from Becky’s eyes.

.

- “Listen to me Becky, you have to stop this charade…please…please do it for me. Just drop it once and for all so your psychiatrist can let you go home.”
.

Becky laughed heartily.

.

- “What does my doctor know anyway? You know the ancient Greeks used to treat a mere bump on the head by fully exposing the skull by peeling the scalp back and checking for fracture lines? If none was visible they cracked one open, for they thought this would irrigate the cranium of blood or pus. This doctor can only describe scientifically what passion or love is, based on brain chemicals. Don’t you think that is science and esoteric teaching married, there would be a higher level of knowledge?”
.

- “Becky, you are driving me nuts! You have a husband who adores you! Why are you saying this crazy shit? I mean…these absurdities?
.
- “Honey, I know where home is, you don’t understand. Life has absolutely no meaning without him. I belong to him, heart and soul. If you were to ask me what my purpose in this life is, I will tell you with certainty; it is to reunite myself with him. He is my soul mate......

.

Besides, do you know who my husband is Cindy? He is not the man you know. He is an autocratic, self-centered, egotistical asshole. He misunderstood when we married, that when asked if he’d take this woman to be your loving “wife”…he heard "maid" instead. And we've lost respect. Recently, I dropped my car keys he was standing next to me, he did not move a muscle, a finger to pick up the keys for me. That is the kind of man he is, not the nice guy façade he wears for the world to see.”

.
- “Becky, are the problems with Martin, the reason why you slashed your wrists? If it’s that bad, you can just leave him, get a divorce and start anew Hun.” Pleaded Cindy.

.

- “No Cindy...come here, let me whisper in your ear. You see, this is the only way for me to be with my love for eternity. Granted, in another plane, not the Ritz, but what counts is our everlasting love…don’t you see? If I move out of the house I won’t see him anymore, or if I were to die in a normal way, either. He is destined to haunt this house you see, that is why I had to part from my physical form there…in that very house.” Becky whispered excitedly to Cindy.
.

- “How can you be in love with a ghost?” asked Cindy incredulously, shocked by the rationale of her best friend, as well as the redolent unwashed breath, utterly offensive from such proximity.



to be continued...

.

Painting "Forever Always" by Octavio Ocampo

The Best Meal

I am taking it extra easy this morning, as I did yesterday. I cannot have the luxury of calling in sick again. I must be disciplined and forge ahead, even if I look, and feel like crap. So I am at the office, reading the L.A times, drinking hot tea, and writing to you, since tonight after my night gig, I will simply go home and sleep.

It is so true that all that is needed when one has the flu is rest. Yesterday I had to leave the office early as I was feeling ill, and I lay all day on the couch watching “Real Life” on MTV (no batteries on remote). I did catch enough sporadic rest to feel half way better today.

What caught my attention on msn was article on new 7 wonders of the world. Included on that list is Machu Picchu, the lost Inca city, set upon mountains 8,000 feet above sea level. Check the picture above; now note the profile resembling a man of the dominating mountain. Legend has it that extra terrestrials aided the Incas in the construction of these temples. All stone work in so tightly compacted together, without adhesives, that not even one pin can be inserted in between those.

What I can vouch for is the surreal feeling of being atop that city. The view is majestic, and I recall standing overlooking the vast green valley below and tears welling up in my eyes. These were for the loss of such an enterprising and ancient civilization, virtually wiped out and reduced to ashes due to avarice and deceit.

The Inca’s were warriors and stressed disciple and hard work, no one was allowed to be lazy and everyone contributed to the empire. Perhaps that is what made me so sad. Now the descendants of such a noble civilization, are lost with few job opportunities, lots get lost in the seductive oblivion induced by drugs, these cheaply available. There is a high rate of suicide among teens, who don’t perceive a bright future ahead. The elderly instead of being venerated and taken care of have to decide between food or medicine, or heat in the frigid, coastal winters.

On a bright note, I recall “the best meal” I had of my entire life. This was upon arriving at the city of Cuzco post my trek to Machu Picchu. I felt renewed energy surging through me, as I had stood at the temple of the sun for quite some time, and it is said at this point of the earth, one can tap into energy fields. I stopped at a local Pollo a la Brasa place which offers broiled chicken. This was the best tasting meal of my life, and it was simply sublime.

Violence

While driving this morning, I heard on NPR of the assassination of former Pakistani Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto. Even though I was not familiar in-depth with her politics, I knew superficially from her having been elected one of the most influential women of 2007, and what came up on her on the L.A Times, from time to time.
Regardless of her influential status, she was simply a strong willed woman; a woman perceived as a threat, who died victim of violence on her person.

Even though I did not know her; I still felt tears well up for what she represented. Another woman victim of circumstances and perceived an easy target for violence.

Violence towards women - those perceived as the weaker sex - thrives and is promoted through film, music videos which exploit women’s sexuality for sales while feeding the base instincts of malleable young minds.

It happens on the border of Juarez and Texas, where hundreds of young women have been found violated and assassinated, without any of the perpetrators of such heinous acts caught as of yet.

It happens on the border of Tijuana and California, where young girls use their bodies as commodities to be traded for $60. This is what a co-worker bragged about; that it was worth the drive there, as the girls were very young and gorgeous, and would no anything for $60. I was disgusted by this.

The list of abuse could be elongated, and take several pages to sustain this statement.
I can summarize from the rapes of children in warring countries, as those in Darfur, to the peddling of young children as sex toys to foreign pedophiles in other third world nations, to the verbal and physical abuse of abusive men on their spouses and daughters.

Strength need not originate solely from brute, physical force. There is also strength of character, conviction, willingness to sacrifice for loved ones, and last but not least, the strength to carry forth and endure the pain to bring forth and nurture a new life.

Sometimes I lose hope for mankind; then perhaps it is as it's meant to be. Man is fucking up this world on a grand scale, and perhaps we are in a rollercoaster ride to self-destruction.

A Good Day

A good day is any day I can coax a smile from someone. The lady I spoke with yesterday, frankly had been abrupt and rude to me previously; yet, considering the high-stress level during dinner rush hour, it is understandable.

.

Tonight, I snuck up behind her when she was eating her dinner, and asked her if she was perhaps catholic. She smiled, and answered that she was. Then I quickly dropped a gift bag on her table, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and I ran back to my station. In it was the book on grieving, and one of positive thoughts, as well as an Ocampo piece which I truly love (see the above image). It is very special if one is a true believer of the Virgin of Guadalupe.

This lady who had been curt with me and stressed out, magically changed the rest of the evening - she was soliciouts and friendly. My intention was not to forge a friendship nor incur favors, it was rather to spread a little sunshine in her corner of the world. It takes so little on one's part to make the difference. Though I can't say I have changed my ways. Tonight has been the second time customers have complained about "my attitude" to the manager. I swear I don't talk back, rather it's my eyes which are eloquent....can I help it?

Well, no matter; I do believe I have a knack with dealing with people. Whether a client spends $20 or $200K, I treat them all the same. I love to kid around, and establish light banter, this doesn't hurt my tips either. But it's really not solely for the money. I believe everyone needs a little appreciation, as much as we need water and nutrients to thrive, and sleep to recuperate. Even if just appreciating someone's haircut, or new clothes. It is an acknowledgement, and it will be appreciated.

Curiously, I read somewhere that most comedians have had difficult childhoods. That brings to mind a painting I saw of a crying clown behind the boisterous laughter. Which side is more real?






.
Painting by Octavio Ocampo "Los Dones de La Virgen"
Can't be seen in detail here, but the face is composed of a Pope, a friar, Juan Diego, and roses.

View

It is better to give, than to receive.

.

Just wish Santa, that you did not just give me a nascent cold, as well as a coffee mug.The flu just kinda sucks, and I wish there was a return policy for those unwanted gifts.

.

Not all gifts need be of the material sort. This evening I had the opportunity to chat with a lady I had never had a chance to talk to before, besides of a passing greeting. The conversation was about how sad she felt since her mom passed away a year ago, about this time. She said, she could not help herself from crying, particularly at this time of year, she said this as her eyes turned red.

.

I said in effect that this time of year is hard on a lot of people, especially those alone. Then I tried this on her. I told her that her mom was not gone, the body decays, yet the soul does not perish. We do our suffering here, on earth. She should focus on the good memories and talk to her mom, and wait for a sign that she is near. Her semblance brightened a fraction and she said "really!" As if holding to that concept made sense and eased the pain somewhat. I know just the perfect book for her on grieving, which I will take for her tomorrow.

.

My intention was not to convert her to my way of thinking; I simply exposed my view and let it be evaluated and simmered by the parties involved. For instance, today. I invited all my siblings and extended family, some which did not talk to each other for a long time. I offered a fabulous meal, and I must say that everyone was polite to each other in neutral territory. What evolved from that, I do not know, as I had to leave in the afternoon for my night job.

.

The ambiance I must say was positive and even loving as I kissed and hugged everyone goodbye and I gave each a gift bag. Even since earlier, I felt the vibe to be particularly positive. No one comes to my place, except occasionally the Jehovah Witnesses' who ring the bell early on any given Sunday morning. For effect, I usually emulate the tone of Linda Blair when she was possessed, to make it known, I am not opening the door, nor giving them the time of day..... (kidding........kind of).

.

Today, this place was filled with children, laughter, and goodwill.

I had bamboo shades covering my living room window. These are perfect for a hermit's enclave. They made the room dark and shuttered from the outside. Today, I took those down, and instead put up cream tone satin drapes, and opened those. This made the living room cheery and bright, and displayed the gorgeous day, in its full glory.

.
It was indeed a blessed and glorious day.

Merry Christmas!

Or simply enjoy this day to the fullest! Regardless....I will function with 3 hours sleep.....zzzzzzzzzzzz

I bought the tiniest Christmas tree, as well as a nativity ceramic, with the word "PEACE" as backdrop.

That is what I wish for this holiday season, peace on earth, and in our hearts as well.

Stress Anyone?

So, the only thing I’ve bought so far in one frozen turkey…that’s it.

I meant to go shopping this morning, yet, when I awoke and looked at the clock it was already 11:00 am. I barely had time to shower at 100 mph, and get to my study group. I guess I was just physically too exhausted.

.
I am sorry I’ve been too exhausted to write on the blog as well. I’ve felt kind of bad about it since Peter sent me an e-mail saying he is an avid reader, and to wish me happy holidays.

Awww…so sweet of you (muahh), I will do a sexy dance just for you Christmas Day.

You see, my practical side tells not Santa nor is anyone else going to give me my extended trip abroad next year, so here I am…earning it.

What to say regarding my temporary gig at a restaurant? It is a lesson to say the least. I’ve been demoted from diva status, where my boss knows to steer away from me on occasion, to a place that is similar to the Twilight Zone.

This is a lesson in practice in the Karmic wheel of life. The other day, a woman came with her date, and she provoked me, yet all I did was give her a sarcastic smile, with a glimpse of my true character in my unflinching stare.
There was nothing remarkable about her, except I could deduct that her condescending attitude really did give her an ugly bend. While I don’t think I am petty or intentionally cruel, I am aware that I am paying with accrued interest, the times I’ve been a royal bitch.

Not all is bad; I am running on my feet 8 hours a day, and this is really making a difference. When I look in the mirror, I am pleasantly surprised that I am getting in shape. Besides, looking at food all day, kind of reduces the appetite.

I observe the people I work with, and those that come in. I will comment on that at a later date.
So have to plan my elaborate meal and cook it tomorrow night, with absolutely no time to shop. Who needs sleep?

Undecided

So I just got back from my esoteric study group, a little undecided. I thought it would be a nice gesture to take a few vegetarian pizzas, and present each member of the group with a token of appreciation on my part.

I took two tubes with Octavio Ocampo's lithographs, and I anounced they were welcome to take one they liked the best. I happen to have most of his prints, except those which are sold too steeply.

Everyone thought these were great, and several people started taking not one, but three, four, and more as they could not make up their minds.

I was appalled that in a place where we learn about cause and effect and doing the right thing, this was totally disregarded. I debated if to shut up an leave, as I started to pack the thrown prints scattered on the floor. Then I changed my mind, I walked up to four people and politely asked them to choose on of the bunch they were embracing, since I sold these. "Oh, I didn't know." was the reply.

What I am undecided about is if I was wrong to try to hold on to material things (which retail from $40 to $100 depending on dimensions), which is stock from my failed retail business, or if I was correct in grabing back the surplus prints from inconsiderate people. Most are very polite, and genuingly pleased by my gesture.

I am still undecided, though I do know one thing. " One should not offer flowers to pigs."

.

"Nativity" by Octavio Ocampo

Merry Holidays

While toy manufacturers are pulling their hair out due to the massive toy recalls and ban on certain China made toys, some local assemblers blur the line of ethics by labeling a toy made in USA, while omitting part of its components are actually made in China. This leads me to reminisce about my all time favorite toy.

I found a raggedy doll discarded on the street, when I was perhaps six years old. This doll was missing an arm, and her hair had been butchered, resulting in an uneven hair cut. I thoroughly washed her, and clothed her. I loved this doll, probably as much as the make believe friends, I used to hang around with.

Today, things seem so much different in comparison. Toy and personal electronic gadgets surpass the $200 mark, and that seems not even enough. One plate or modest portions is not enough either, therefore all- you-can-eat buffets thrive and proliferate. It breaks my heart to see little kids obese. Many a time, I’ve bitten my tongue when I see mothers pour coke into baby bottles, to feed this to their robust tots.

Perhaps parents will fight if necessary to obtain the latest crazy fad, as if to assuage guilt of both parents working long hours, in order to be able to consume even more. While unattended, perhaps some of their kids are adopted by other families, such as organized gangs.

Isn’t cool when one needs so little, that even a wretched malfunctioning toy is received with total joy? She found me! Perhaps I cared for her, because she was crippled, and unwanted.

The tale of my crippled doll is really a metaphor for the discarded people in our life, due to resentments. This seems so silly, particularly at this time of year. We bloat ourselves with the whole consumerism binge, while negating peace and goodwill to our brothers and sisters.

There used to be a time, I labored to create elaborate meals which my cousins still ask the recipe for (not telling). Things change, and I just didn’t want to anymore.

So I will put my money and effort where my mouth is, in order to unite my siblings who are distanced due to petty differences. I have not bought a single gift, a single decoration – nothing at all. I will have to do with limited time on my hands to pull this off in order to create a feast, to a certain level of satisfaction on my part.

.
I still think all this hype on consumerism sucks, particularly in time of war. When certain families are separated, or a family member is perhaps returned in a casket, there is no call for a modicum of austerity in observance of such a crisis on a united front.

Fun

Today's Message of the Day is:

"Life is short, Break the rules, Forgive quickly, Kiss slowly, Love truly, Laugh uncontrollably, And never regret anything that made you smile."

Author unknow. The above is courtesy of my sister Scarlett

Magic Man

While waiting for the snail paced line at the register of the super market to move along, I read my horoscope. It said something to the effect that my social life would be very active, yet I must be aware, for it is highly probable that in the bunch of people, I will meet: “the one that will walk with you the rest of your life.”

It’s hard to maneuver the car in pouring rain at night, since visibility is highly impaired. How to tell who will it be? Really - how? I feel like I am in the London train station, and an avalanche of people emerge from the arriving trains. All of them walk towards my direction. This I find unnerving, and frustrating. During my reverie a song intruded in my mind: "Magic Man" by Heart.
.
"cold late nights so long ago, when I was not so strong u know, dream man came to me...I could not run away it seemed, we'd seen each other in a dream, seemed like he knew me, he looked right through me..."come on home girl" he said with a smile, "you don't have to love me......but try to understand...try..try...try..to understand... I'm a magic man"......he got magic hands."
.
I have seen him with my peripheral vision. I always judge a man by this parameter. If I was lost in total darkness, in a dark tunnel and I could perceive a lamp post at the end, the light interrupted by the shadowed form of a man… I would run to him take his hand, and feel instantly safe and protected, be it in a seedy dark alley, or in hell itself. I have seen this shadow yet, I cannot put a face on it. Have cut and pasted faces from my past, yet, who will it be next?
.
A magic man would surely see through my firewall. Through the caustic bitchy shell, to see the real me. The real me who longs to meet a man stronger than her; yet occasionally a frightened little girl who also dwells in there too. A magic man who would be able to almost hypnotize me, dominate me (to the point I'd let him…ha!), he would hypnotize me to drop my inhibitions, as well as my panties.
.
He would only need to extend his hand, with the mutual understanding that once I took hold of his hand, I would fuse mind, body, and soul with him. We would not need a heater in the winter...the body heat we would generate together, would be enough to steam the windows. Is it an improbable fantasy? Perhaps. I don't drink lukewarm coffee, and prefer to drive to bakery to get one single fresh baked bollilo. If I cannot have it the way I want it...rather pass it.
.
How else to wearily trudge through the drudgery of life if not for the illusion of finding that which will elevates us to the sublime? Beyond our egos to love deeply, unconditionally, desperately, to the point of border-like adoration? I think he would be smart, intuitive, gentle yet strong. Meantime, I will indulge in fresh baked bread and hot coffee.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Wa0alIWRiQ

Nap Time

Here's Santa taking a nap post too many tamales and egg nog. He already commented via e-mail that I am not getting a gift, because I've been bad.

.

Suggested I deserved a spanking instead.

.

As if...

Paula

Paula is on the right, my sister Brigitte on the left, and my niece Vero.

Tuesday was the anniversary of the death of my eldest sister Paula. It’s funny, about a week ago I saw a movie with Nicole Kidman titled: “Margot at the Wedding.” In it, a brunette Kidman. I was surprised by how much this actress resembled my sister, although the former had large, light brown eyes.
Even the facial expressions seemed uncannily similar.

This morning I went with my mom to leave pink roses at her grave. While I was freezing my ass off in the light rain, I recalled how when they were about to close her casket, I insisted I cover her body with a plush Korean blanket. The one I had bought for her when she was in the hospital fighting cancer. She had complained that she was so cold there. Even when so close to death, and her body ravaged by the disease and the chemo - which ultimately progressed to her brain - she looked ethereally beautiful. She looked almost angelic and at peace, as if resigned to her fate; while knowing this was not the end for her.

.

Perhaps making her corpse comfortable with the plush blanket, is symbolic of my ancestors. The Inca's burial rituals included sending departing ones to the next life with food, and prized possessions. For me, it symbolized hope that it would ameliorate the coldness and darkness of the casket.

I know...silly me.

Disparities

Italy: The Manzo family
Weekly food expenditure: $214.36 Euros, or $260.11 Usd.

Germany: The Melander family

Weekly food expenditure: $375.39 Euros, or $500.07 Usd.

United States: The Revis family of North Carolina

Weekly food expenditure: $341.98

Egypt: The Ahmed family of Cairo

Weekly food expenditure: $387.85 Egyptian pounds, or $68.53

Ecuador: The Ayme Family

Weekly food expenditure: $31.55

Bhutan: The Nangy Family

Weekly food expenditure $224.93 ngultrum or $5.03

Chad: The Aboubakar Family

Weekly food expenditure: $685 CFA francs or $1.23

Astute Financial Planning

START NOW!! Retirement Planning

If you had purchased $1000.00 of Nortel stock one year ago, it would now be worth $49.00.

With Enron, you would have had $16.50 left of the original $1000.00.

With WorldCom, you would have had less than $5.00 left.

If you had purchased $1000 of Delta Air Lines stock you would have $49.00 left.

But, if you had purchased $1,000.00 worth of beer/wine one year ago, drank all the beer, then turned in the cans/bottles for the aluminium recycling REFUND, you would have had $214.00.

Based on the above, the best current investment advice is to drink heavily and recycle.

This financial advise, courtesy of my sister.

40 days

Saturday was the last day of my self-imposed 40 day, spiritual retreat. I heard somewhere that it takes 21 days to wean off a bad habit. Today, although I could have had anything I wanted to eat, I was very modest in my food choices. I just varied with half portion of fresh baked bollilo bread, and overall, maintained the same food intake.

Was it even worth all this self denial for 40 days? Of course there is an effect for every action taken. Not only did I lose seventeen pounds, but have had a change of attitude. I have employed the concept of putting myself in others’ shoes, and being aware of how I made them feel. Sort of like third person viewing the event, objectively.

I also started taking responsibility for myself, no more excuses. I am more aware than ever, I’ve been so full of myself. Sometimes I’ve been a royal bitch, without considering that if I made someone feel bad, that person too carried that anger towards another in his vicinity, it was a chain reaction.

I am deeply humbled, introspective, and observant of myself and of others. I will choose not cop out by adopting the victim role anymore. Whatever comes my way, I know there is a lesson hidden somewhere, a test of myself, and I will maneuver the slick road ahead with caution. Sure I will bitch about it, but I will face my contribution to such outcome. I will not dodge responsibility, and will take action necessary to remedy the situation, because then I am in control, not a self delusional victim.

I am far from good. I am merely human. First thing I did Sunday morning was masturbate, because darn it - it feels good!

Greener Pastures III

Patricia checked her face again on the bathroom mirror, and reapplied her lipstick. She was fidgeting because she had nothing but time on her hands. For the audition she was at, there were almost always the same aspiring actresses, as well as plenty of new comers. The adage that: “there will always be someone prettier, smarter, thinner, and richer,” was evidently pronounced in the entertainment industry. While she made small talk with the other aspiring actresses (vying for the same role), there was that underlying antagonism and evaluation of each other’s looks.
Patricia had run into some of them in the elevator of the same cosmetic surgeon in Beverly Hills. It was de rigeur maintenance program, part of the job to appear as young and beautiful as possible. If someone ever discovered a formula to retain youth by drinking young blood, there would be a lot of vampires in Hollywood.

While she brushed her hair, a beautiful girl emerged from the bathroom stalls. She was about 22 years old, and she looked like a living and breathing doll; she was almost angelic. She smiled sweetly to Patricia and said hello. Patricia said hello as well and they walked back together to the audition.
While waiting to be called in, they establish a light rapport. This girl was genuinely sweet and naïve. With excitement, she told her of her boyfriend who had promised to help her become a star. He was a movie producer, and he was planning to put her in some of his films, he’d promised.

When the audition was over for Patricia, she coincidently met again the stunning girl she had been talking to, at the entrance of the building. She had gone in just before her, and she waved goodbye to Patricia as she entered a black car waiting for her outside.

Patricia felt a moment of déjà vu. She was the same age as this girl when she had dated this same producer ten years ago. That is, until he dumped her for a new play toy, as there were always aspiring actresses eager to believe in his promises. She wondered if he was still married, and felt sad for that naïve girl, as well as for her own naiveté.

To clear her mind she took a brisk walk and ended in the corner of Hollywood Blvd. and Highland. She stopped on the red light while pondering which way to go. On her left were the Kodak Theatre, home of the Oscar ceremonies, and the Hollywood Hills. Under her feet, were the stars on Hollywood Blvd. On her right all the way down to Vermont Blvd., was her waitress job waiting for her, as well as a few other options.

There was the guy who hinted to be her benefactor, while he was obviously married by the ring on his left hand. There was Jay who was not a bad guy after all. There was the bill board ad she had seen on her walk here for vocational nurse training, or paralegal training.

Patricia stood at that intersection for a long time undecided which way to walk.

Greener Pastures II

Patricia looked at her watch. She had thirty minutes before her shift ended. She thought about going to the gym after that, and treat her sore feet to the Jacuzzi; then she changed her mind.
She was in a peculiar mood, and thought it had something to do with that guy who inadvertently stuck his tongue out and moved it side to side, while pondering what to drink. It was totally innocent on his part, yet that subtle dancing of his tongue had a physical effect on her. For a moment, time stood still, while she was transfixed on that appendage, so velvety smooth, wet, and inquisitive. She could not help herself (was she becoming a degenerate?) she imagined his tongue entwining with her own, or better yet, tracing the outline of the deepest recesses of her body.

“My lord, please give me strength. I am in so much in need of a good fuck, it’s not even funny; it is of vital importance; it’s almost a physical ache!” Patricia declared.
Yet she believed in Karma, and did not want to use easily available talent for that purpose.

Jay always made puppy eyes at her. He was cute, and good natured, yet she did not want to hurt him in the long run. She did not think it was smart to mix business with pleasure. They both worked at the same place, and he would eventually get possessive after a while – most men do. She had to keep her options open.

It wasn’t the fact that Jay is a cook that deterred her from accepting his invites; it was his conformable attitude.

It happened one day that she did accept a movie date from Jay, since she did want to see that particular movie. They sat in the last row of the movie theatre, and there were not many people during the matinee show. The arm rest placed back, allowed for them to get real close and comfortable. He was holding the pop corn bucket on his lap, and she playfully made a point of moving the bucket every time she grabbed more pop corn, for it to cause friction with his lap. When she had inkling that he was getting perturbed by this, she softly kissed the side of his neck. Eventually, she grabbed the popcorn bucket and placed it on an empty seat. Then she unzipped his jeans and fondled him teasingly. She was enjoying the double treat of the movie, and of making Jay squirm in his seat. She took matters into her own hands, and on impulse laid her body on the row of empty seats and flicked her tongue over, and around the engorged head of his penis.

Jay’s reaction was unexpected. Instead of sitting back and enjoying it, he pushed her away and whispered nervously: “Not here, we’ll get caught.” That was an awkward moment. Patricia sat upright again, and placed the arm rest down between them. He blew it.

She was so pissed about his reaction; she paid no further attention to the plot of the movie. Instead, she pondered that it was not Jay’s fault at all. He was simply conditioned by societal paradigms. Of course there should be order, but when fear suffocates the spirit, it corrodes the very soul.

She saw this frequently, so many rules and regulations posted on the kitchen, enough to decorate the entire wall. Even dictating when you were allowed to take a shit.
.
She saw it on some of her co-workers, aware of the camera surveying their every move. Afraid to lose a job that paid almost minimum wage for back braking labor. Always the fear prevailed which eventually dimmed the light of the spirit to merely a flicker - this tenuously kept alive.
Most people exist for their days off, while placing high value in mostly empty entertainment, again this utilized to subtly manipulate the masses.

Something in her rebelled against this, she needed to get out of there soon. She felt as if being forced to reduce speed in grid lock traffic. Taking 45 minutes to cross a small stretch of freeway….until the debris of a traffic accident is cleared and you are given way to gallop at full speed, to soar in flight and spirit.

She had to keep focused on her goals; after all she didn’t come to Los Angeles to wait on tables forever. Still, it felt like forever, her dream elusive, just seeming so close and just beyond her grasp. She looked at her image reflected on the sunlight window, and she mused that she still looked good, although much better in the dim lighting of a bar.

Greener Pastures

The lunch rush had finally winded down, therefore Patricia could finally put her station in order, and take the time to talk with her customers. This is the part of waiting on tables that she enjoyed the most, the interaction with others. Sitting at the counter were Angela and Linda deep in their gossip fest. She was pretending to refill the condiments near them, as she was pulled into the conversation these two were having.

- “It’s such a horrific tragedy! Poor girl.” said Angela. She was so pretty and young, one can never tell nowadays who is sane or not. (Sighs). He was always so polite too, who could have foreseen this end?”
.
- “Maybe what he claimed is true. That he only killed her in a fit of rage, and planned to feed her corpse to his dogs.” Linda speculated.
.
- “No, not true. On his table they found a plate with remains of deep fried human flesh, and condiments to season the cooked flesh. In his refrigerator, they found one hand, one leg, and the skin off an arm, also on the frying skillet; there were chunks of sauteed human flesh as well as in the cupboard. In his trash they found cooked body parts of his girlfriend, or one should say ex-girlfriend.” Angela said this as she made the motion of crossing herself.
.
- “Oh my…that is crazy! And imagine; he was a poet. Now infamously known as the ‘Cannibal Poet.’ It’s said that is how he seduced women, through his poems. It’s speculated that he had killed before another girlfriend, whose body was also found mutilated. He is also credited with killing a prostitute in same fashion, when her cadaver was found near his home.”
.
- “This brings a new meaning to the impassioned plea: "I want to devour you." This poet interpreted his words literally. I shudder to think what young women have to face today in the dating world; I am telling you, they don’t make them like in our time anymore. Gentlemen are almost extinct! Why, do you think men will give up their seats for me on the bus? Young men too! Once, when I said something to one who was sitting fresh as a peach, while a pregnant lady was standing, he had the audacity to retort that he was tired too.” (Eyes rolling).
.
- “Well Angela, I have a horrific true story to share with you as well.

A lady I met mentioned that this actually happened to a friend of her family. That family had traveled to Ensenada with their little boy. In summary, the boy got lost somehow in Tijuana, just in matter of minutes. The parents were crazed searching for their boy. While imploring the US agents to help them, the father saw his boy being carried over the shoulder of a stranger.

This man was trying to cross with the boy asleep over his shoulder on foot, through the check point in Tijuana. So they ask the man to wake the little boy up. With the father of the boy as witness, they find the boy is not asleep. His torso had been slashed vertically, and all his vital organs had been extracted. Then the body cavity was packed with drugs. It was recent too, as the body was still pliant; rigor mortis had not set in yet. True story, happened about three years ago” said Linda.
.
- “Mine is too! The only difference is, the Cannibal Poet committed suicide in jail!”
.
- “More coffee ladies?” Intercepted Patricia, before they got into another argument these two women who vied to outdo each other.
.
- “No thank you Patty, I am watching my weight, and if I get more coffee, I must accompany that coffee cup with more pie. Don’t tempt me please. Wait! On second thought, please give me more coffee and bring more sugar substitutes. Oh, wait! On second thought, another side of apple pie…to go.” Angela ordered.

To be continued.


.
Based on the true story of Jose Luis Calva – The Cannibal Poet. Source: Hoy Los Angeles/America Latina, December 12, 2007.

PTA Meeting

-“Well what do you know, another woman president; times sure are changing.” Marta said.

- “Yes I saw the front page of La Opinion, although it’s hard to take at face value claims to wage war on poverty from someone who injects collagen to plump her lips, and obviously has had cosmetic surgery. Then again, you can’t blame her. Did you know that the Argentine government subsidizes cosmetic surgery for its citizens, with the claim that it is a tool to raise self esteem? Just anyone unhappy with his or her nose, ears, whatever… can get cheap cosmetic work done. They also happen to have highly specialized cosmetic surgeons in Buenos Aires.” Maria said.

.
- “You’re kidding! I’d like to have that covered by my health insurance (giggles). But a little overhauling shouldn’t detract from the efficiency of the candidate.”

.
- “Well imagine if Hillary went all out and had major cosmetic surgery to look say 35 again. How serious would she be taken then? And the feminist movement would have a field day. Just look at the other chick Michelle Bachelet. She’s no nonsense, and attained power based solely on merit, not on whom she was married to. Her dad was tortured by the Augusto Pinochet regime, and died consequently due to heart failure. Michelle herself and her own mother were tortured too, and then dispatched into exile. That my dear, makes for an efficient leader, without relying on collagen."

.
- “Regardless, if Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner claims to wage war on poverty, more power to her, collagen or not!” Marta said.

.
- “Words dance in the wind, while emitting saliva. Most politicians are simply talk. Alberto Fujimori simply won re-election by giving away sacks of rice to the poorest and least educated sectors, now he’s on trial for abuse of human rights.

His predecessor claimed to fight corruption and went on gargantuan spending binges. I heard that Toledo prior to leaving his post, had 18 wheelers loaded late at night at the presidential palace, probably taking toilets and chandeliers as well, while leaving the economy in the shit hole.

Just ask any taxi driver there what they do. Most are engineers, professors, you name it. Most have to moonlight to keep up with the rise of inflation.

The only way to be effective in waging a war on poverty, will be to implement the english language as a mandatory study since elementary grade. This coupled with a strong emphasis on technology development. One can easily bet on corporate greed, on a global scale. If the masses are not prepared for the future… God help us.”

.
- “Still, why be so negative Maria, I’m really glad to see a woman in power. Do you think she would be taken seriously if she grew a mustache and didn't dye her hair? " Marta inquired.

.

- "It's not that Marta, it's just that this smells like the formula for a future Evita style operetta. Besides, people will want to believe what they want to believe. Did you see that picture of the image of The Virgin of Guadalupe which is claimed to have appeared in Chocolate form?

Come on! This image is being venerated, and someone claimed that her daughter was cured due to this image, and another woman is quoted as saying: "This is good excuse to buy more chocolate." Not to mention the great publicity and business generated for the chocolate manufacturer in O.C." (rolls eyes).

.

-"Well, it is good excuse to go see it and get some chocolate! What's it called?"

.

-"La Bodega Chocolate."

.

-"Thanks! Changing the subject, do you guys want to join me this weekend for a matinee to see "Alvin and the Chipmunks" with my kids too?” Marta enquired.

.
- “Not really, Marta. I heard today on NPR that part of its animation team was outsourced to south Asia, and this type of animation outsourcing seems projected to proliferate. It just bothered me a little bit. Like when I heard that Radio Flyer had to close its manufacturing plant in USA, and to stay competitive, they outsourced to China. Just kinda sucks.”

.
- “Will you chill out Maria? Sheesh!…Stop worrying about stuff or you will need cosmetic surgery, sooner than later.”

.
- “You’re right Marta. Hey want to smoke some pot before we hit the PTA meeting?” (smiles).

Silent Night III

It was Christmas Eve. It was a: “silent night, all was calm, all was bright.”

.
The tree lights lit up John’s living room on and off, alternating colors from neon blue, to red, to gold. Jose had helped him decorate with even a miniature plastic Christmas tree bought at the dollar store. There were wrapped gifts tended around the minuscule tree. Overall there was a cozy, magical feeling in the apartment, in comparison to the chilly winter night outside.

Jessica did not work that night. She had requested to work the lunch shift instead.
She brought from the restaurant a dozen tamales of assorted chicken, cheese, and sweet pineapple, one whole baked chicken with fries, and three large servings of hot, sweet champurrado to drink. The scent was a heady combination of cinnamon, blended with the succulent chicken, fresh salsa, and sweet pineapples. She set her gifts for John and Jose around the midget tree as well.

While listening to Christmas carols on the radio, they gorged on the feast set on the table, until Jose could eat no more.

- “John, how come you don’t have a girlfriend? Like why don’t you go to the senior center or something to meet a nice lady so that you don’t live alone?” asked Jose.

.

- “Oh no! I’m too set on my ways. Besides, you should see the designs those women have on me. I can virtually see them licking their chops - or in most cases their dentures - eager to sink their claws into me. You see Jose, when you get to be my age, you will see that there are more women then us, so we are in high demand indeed. Wish this had been so when I was a young man.” He chuckled.

.
- “Really Jose! you should mind your own business and not make John uncomfortable with your impertinent questions!” said Jessica, while looking around the living room. She could not pin point what it was that seemed different. She figured it must be the holiday decor.
.

- “Sorry John. Hey can we open the gifts now?” pleaded Jose.
.

- “O.K by me.” said John.
.

- “Cool! I’ll pass them around! Jose said eagerly.
.
For Jose, Jessica got sneakers, socks, two jeans, and a few warm sweat shirts (Jose seemed to be growing like a tree). For John, she got him a 2008 calendar, and a basket she decorated herself and filled with a bottle of wine which she had asked her co-worker to buy for her at Vons.

There were also crackers, almonds, Brie cheese, strawberry jam, and grounded coffee from Starbucks. She figured she had drunk a lot of his coffee during the frequent talks they had shared. John had become a really good friend, and mentor.
John on his part, gave Jose a game of chess, and told him he’d teach him to play. For Jessica, he got a set of lavender tone mittens, a scarf, and matching knitted hat.
.
They exchanged warm hugs along with the gifts, and were ready to start a game of chess when there was a knock on the door.

- “Excuse me, I am expecting company.” John said, while he went to open the door.
.

Imagine Jose’s and Jessica’s surprise when their dad Juan, stepped inside and called out to them with open arms. They ran to him and the three embraced and laughed, and cried simultaneously.
After a while, Juan disengaged himself from his emotional kids, and walked up to John and gave him a man’s hug, and whispered: " Thank you."

That detail did not escape Jessica, and then it clicked for her. She turned around and observed the wall where the old American flag with the circled 38 stars would have been, and it was there no more.

She went to hug John once more, and whispered: “Thank you John, you have no idea what this means to me….no idea at all….” She said this as she sobbed tears of immense gratitude and relief.

-“Thank you…I love you John.” She whispered.

Jessica slept in “heavenly peace that night.”

.
open link: http://www.carols.org.uk/si1ent_night.htm

Silent Night II

- “AGAIN? Aren’t you going to school again? It’s just a week before Christmas vacation starts!" Said Jose.

.

“I know what date it is, I just feel really tired today. Just leave before you’re late.”

.
“I can’t believe you. I should stay here too and play video games all day then.” Reasoned Jose.

.

Jessica rose from the bed with barely contained fury etched on her face, to physically shove Jose out the front door, throwing his back pack after him down the hallway.
.

- “If you EVER say that to me again Jose, I’m going to wipe the floor with you, do you understand me? I’m the one working a shitty job to make sure we eat, and have this apartment. ONLY ME! So get your ass out to school NOW!” Jessica yelled.

.

Jose was incredulous by the furious reaction of his older sister. He grabbed is back pack, and ran down the stairs. Just then, John her neighbor, opened his door.

- “Good morning Jessica, I know it’s not my place, but I could not help but overhear the discussion you had with Jose. Would you like to have some coffee and talk this morning?”

.

Jessica was shocked at her behavior and felt chagrined to have John witnessed this.

.
- “I’m sorry if I woke you up John, I…sure…let me get cleaned up, I will be there in five minutes.” She said.

Jessica surveyed John’s apartment while he brewed fresh coffee and made toast. She ventured to the walls where framed pictures of a young John in Navy uniform hung, also of him and his late wife, as a young couple.

There were two old-looking American flags protected by glass hanging on the walls too. One had a strange circular design; she counted 38 stars only. On the other flag, the alignment of the stars was horizontal, she counted on this one only 48 stars. She was engrossed with the design of a medal, when John called her to sit at the table for breakfast.

- “That’s a U.S Navy Medal of Honor; I received that after coming home from World War II. It's given to those in service who displayed extraordinary heroism. Now Jessica, will you please tell me what is happening that you are missing so much school?”

.
- “I am working five days a week, just after school. I come home so physically tired; I fall asleep and don’t have time to study. I don’t need to lie to you John. Please don’t say anything to anyone, but my dad had to leave unexpectedly. I work to feed ourselves. I don’t want to ask for aid, as it would mean social services involved.”

John looked at Jessica intently, his intelligent blue eyes slightly clouded by cataracts.

- “I grew up in the great depression era Jessica. Times were very hard, for many years. It was on a global scale. People went hungry, too many unemployed and barely getting by. Many depended on government for food. What I am trying to say is, there is no shame in asking for help. But you must be focused, and stay in school. Now let’s eat, and then tell me what happened to your father.”

.

That afternoon, Jessica went to the library to study, and also use the internet. She mulled over what John had advised, and agreed that he was right. She had to stay in school if she wanted to pursue her dream. Then, an idea started to emerge.

She needed to get her dad back home to be able to stay in school. She would not graduate otherwise. She could not study, or even send applications to colleges with all this overload of responsibility and lack of time, sleep, energy, and money.

One thousand dollars would cover his trip back. He had not made it back since last time he tried, he failed, and incurred debt with his relatives.

.
The way it is, she reasoned, the concept of virginity is just a bunch of BS to keep women subservient.

She was in control of her body; she was no ignorant peasant. She just needed to be careful to take the necessary measures to avoid pregnancy.

Jessica mused that almost every woman, has had to make crucial decisions regarding her own body. Some with life long regrets, pain, risks, and sacrifices. The condition of her body, did not represent who she is as a whole, complex person. She was a woman now; she would make the best decision for her at this time, and take control of her destiny.

- “O.K Jess, I showed the guy your year book picture, and he agreed. New Year’s Eve there’s going to be a bash. I’ll pick you up and we can go together. Just one thing Jess, if you are lying and you’re not a virgin…don’t expect the 1K. This guy you don’t want to get angry…he might give you $200, and more than you bargained for.” Becky said, followed by raucous laughter.
.

- “I don’t need to lie. What’s so funny anyway?” Jessica asked.
.

- “There’s always glee when angels fall.”

To be continued.

Silent Night

What an indignation, Jessica thought. To be inspected from head to toes, like a mule before being purchased, or a mare to be bred. They even told her to pee in a cup, all this for a freaking job?

.
I guess this is what life is all about she mused, the fun, adult version. Although she had just turned seventeen a few months ago, she was saddled with very adult responsibilities. Foremost, to keep a roof over her head, and for her 12 year old brother Jose.
.

Her illustrious evening job entailed taking food orders, as well as the cash handling in a Mexican chain restaurant. She was on her feet 8 hours, with only a thirty minute reduced meal break.

.

She’d rather skip the beans, as seeing how the food handlers used their fingers to contain the refried beans in the foam container. Besides, the perpetual smell of the beans boiling, and the broiling carne asada, permeated her hair, clothes, and skin. She'd had enough of it. Yet, it was available cheap food, and she did not have to worry about cooking dinner. Jose just had to reheat the leftovers in the microwave for his dinner - and that was that - end of story.

She was no Supergirl. While struggling to stay awake in class, juggling full time work, and plagiarizing homework and notes from her best friend, she could not care less about cooking. Corn flakes were fine too; why get so technical about food which turned into crap anyway?

- “Hey, aren’t you going to school today? It’s already 7:30 am. WAKE UP!" Urged Jose.

- “Close the door, and mind your own business! Hey, eat your cereal and get going Jose, I’m too damn tired today, plus I didn’t study for a test, I’m sure I’m going to fail it. JUST GO!” Jessica said this while submerged under the covers.

- “Man, I feel sorry for the poor sucker that marries you with that temper.” Jose quickly shut the door, before a flying object reached its target.

Jessica stared at the ceiling for a long time. Wondering if this was they meant by depression. She did not feel like getting out of bed, or washing her teeth, or cleaning the apartment. “It’s all so overwhelming…my teenage years have been robbed by circumstances beyond my control. I am this close to dropping out of high school. I can’t keep missing tests, and expect to pass. Fuck it.”

Jessica stayed in bed for a few more hours feeling lethargic and unmotivated. Later, she got ready to leave to go to the market, and do some errands. She made a mental note to get tonight’s lotto ticket. Her phony identification came in handy many a time. As she was locking the front door, she encountered John, her ancient neighbor across the hall.

- “Hello Jessica, no school today?” he asked.

- “Oh, hi John, just that I wasn’t feeling too well today.”

- “I’ve been meaning to ask you, is anything the matter? I haven’t seen your dad in a long time it seems, and I knocked on the door the other evening, and Jose would not open the door. Is your father O.K?” John asked.

- “Sure, he’s been working overtime, double shifts you know.” She said while avoiding eye contact.

.
- “I see. Please know that if you need someone to talk to, or need help, I am here for you and your family as well.”

.

- “Thanks, we’re O.K.” she said.

Jessica put on a new coat of lipstick. Why bother she thought. The hair net really made her feel sexy. Especially when those stuck up girls came to eat, and flaunted their latest fashions, and their pirated Prada bags.

- “Hey Jessica, love the hair, sort of like the aunt Jemima retro look.” Said Becky, a girl who graduated two years prior from her same school.

- “Thanks for the compliment, what can I get for you Becky?” Jessica said tersely.

.
- “Hmmm, just two medium cokes, and two orders of carni asada plates.”

- “That will be $16.60 please.”

- “Sure, here, keep the change.” Becky said, as she plunked a twenty and a ten dollar bill.

- “Wow! Why the generosity Becky, did you win the lotto?”

- “I just work smart. No need to slave for minimum wage. Here’s my number. If you ever get tired of slaving over caldrons of beans, call me. I can set you up with the easy money.”

- “Really? What exactly does this entail?” Jessica inquired, mildly curious.

- “Simply that you can earn as much as you want, depending how far you are willing to go. Simply means not giving it for free, but being well compensated for your company. There’s even a guy I know who pays good money for some rough play. Are you still a virgin Jess?”

Jessica blushed profusely. While Becky and her girlfriend, laughed amusedly.

- “Well, my dear Jess, I know of a guy who will pay you $1,000 dollars for your virginity. He’s kind of weird, but hey it’s no big deal. Besides, it’s just like getting your ears pierced. Just a little sting, and that’s it. Think about it, and call me.” Becky winked as they made their way to find a table to sit at.

Jessica was dumfounded, her mouth still gaped open from what Becky had suggested. A thousand dollars! Holy shit! Jessica went about getting the order through, and filling the drinks, while thinking. No, that’s crazy. Not like she was saving herself for the love of her life. She simply did not want to emulate her cousin Lupita, who had a baby at 15, and curtailed her liberty, in exchange for diapers, formulas, and food stamps.

No way was that for her. Her art teacher always complimented her sketches. Told her she had innate abilities. Jessica imagined sketching gorgeous fashions, even working in Paris or Milan one day. Her reverie was rudely interrupted by her supervisor Hector.

- “HELLO! Stop your daydreaming and take those plates to the tables! He yelled.

- “Fuck you! Jessica mumbled to herself.

- “What was that? Well after you’re done serving, get the mop and mop the floor and the bathroom as well!”

- “Fuck your mother too, Satan’s fart.” She mumbled to herself.


To be continued…