Mouse tries to shoot Cupid

© MMM/PAZ 2014

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Maybe I didn’t say that right.

Yeah, it didn’t come out right. I think I meant to say, “FUCK YEAH CUPID!”

So I’m sorry Cupid. Sorry.

I just…uugh… old habits die hard. You know? Listen. Listen, I never hated you, really. I just grew up bitter about the whole thing, you know? Being “in love” is really weird. It’s weird like I’m having an out of body experience, like I’m having one of those dereealization moments continually. Yeah, those who have postraumatic stress know derealization well enough.

See, I never liked Valentine’s Day and, well, today is that so-called day. BLEEEUUUUGH. AT LEAST in Colombia, my birthplace, we call this day El Día del Amor y la Amistad (Day of Love and Friendship) and we celebrate it sometime in September… I think. That’s more fitting to my taste and beliefs and whatnot.

Anyway, shit I don’t mean to get off course. See, I’m not sure if you had anything to do with it or not Sir Cupid, but either way, this “falling in love” thing is actually happening. It happened with Monkey Man, but that was chaotic–falling in and out and in and out all while wanting to blow my brains out.

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I rejected it. THIS. BEING. “IN LOVE.”  I rejected it so much and nearly sabotaged any possibility of giving “love” a chance when it came around the corner last August.

I did.

But… I was in therapy! I AM in therapy. And shit does that help.

Fuck Valentines! Happy Day of Love and Friendship everyone.

And HAPPY FULL MOON! I love you. So so high, so full and yellow and bright…

Mouse Love

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Process of a Portrait

August 14, 2013

Hello!

Meeeeow. Or squeeel or whatever noise melancholicallymanic mouses make. Most of the PLDs (Pretty Little Demons) are out on vacation so they can’t make much noise, at least not where I van hear.

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So… As per my recent blogging habit, I’m actually going to be writing another post as I listen to Amy Winehouse while I actually share a post written started several months ago. It’s a drawing of—oh, AMY!

Why do I love Amy’s words, voice, vibrance of soul? Why do I find her so dear? Well, I think we could share a thing or two about our past troubles. Her voice spoke for me when I was mute, much like many of my favorite artists, especially female artists. Hold on to that note, that pencil, that piano love. It is what art does. It speaks. Or spits.

I did this one back in March or… April-ish I believe.

Sorry that the last pic is a bit blurry.

Mouse love!

I Dreams In Colors

July 28, 2013

Hello?

Hello… hello …hellooooooooooooo.

I’m still here. Yessuh.

Is anyone still here?

Hello?

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I promise I haven’t been in a coma and I’m not dead yet (neither is Dotty FYI). Where have I been? What have I been doing?

Well, obviously I’m not blogging. It’s been so long since I’ve blogged that I forgot my password a few weeks ago! (Yes I still log in to read some of your blogs occasionally). Anyway, I PANICKED! When does P not panic you may ask… Well, fuck, I didn’t NOT panic the day I logged in and couldn’t remember my password–had to go through the cumbersome ordeal of resetting my password and all.

Fortunately enough, I have a bank account now and I used the bank account password as my new WP password.

Fuck, where was I going?

Oh yeah, it’s 3am and the weekend. I’ve spent a lot of my time working lately, not just AT WORK, but even at home. Call me busy bee, or busy P or whatnot.

So, on my time off, I’ve been drawing again instead of blogging. These last couple of weeks I’ve been slacking off on the daily sketches. I was lying here, trying to get myself to bed, just puffing up my pillows, when I decided to doodle Little Luna from memory.

Maybe I’ll post some of the sketches I did last month and the one before and the one before that. I’ve just got too much to say and not enough time. Some not-so-nice things and some very, very nice things.

I’ve got a new “art” blog going, though I haven’t been updating on that one either. And I’m working on my website. Still in therapy, still swimming (even though I had to stop for a month).

I guess you could say I’m fairing well, mostly.

Night night.

Mouse love

Luna Sketch

“I dreams in color”
pen and ink © paz 2013

In Memory of a Man…

March 23, 2013

… A mental Monkey Man.

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Chances are that what I don’t get blogged today, I won’t blog tomorrow, so here I go before another day passes.

Yesterday was the “anniversary” of the day I got the call that Monkey Man was found dead. I don’t even know if I should call it “anniversary”. Something about the connotation of that is upsetting me. So anyway, I’ll just say, a year ago yesterday, I got the news that Monkey Man was no longer with us.

Those of you that followed me back then know the story.  I will not repeat it, nor do I want to. Yesterday, I spent most of the therapy session talking about it. And slowly but surely I realize that I am moving past this. The pain will never be completely gone, but I am ok with that now. I am working at managing my life and actually FEEL ALIVE today.

Brunet Young and I discussed so much and I felt relieved. I told her how sometimes I feel “happy” that he’s gone and feel like a “bad” person for that. We later found that maybe “happy” wasn’t the right word. No, not at all.

I cried in front of her for the first time. There are just too many emotions to describe or begin to recognize when someone you love dies this way–by their own hands. And there is A LOT OF ANGER! I for one have dealt with anger management problems all of my life (common in peopole with BPD). She suggested maybe, in a way, I’m relieved, definitely not “happy” about it. And that’s ok. It doesn’t mean I’m, a “bad” person.

Why else would so many of the depressing blog posts on here be about him?

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One thing I did this week was draw this portrait in memory him. A.F., his stepsister gave me this picture she took of us sometime in 2006-2007. It was what she calls the “happy summer”. Strangely enough, I was very depressed then, but Monkey Man was glowing and everyone said it was on account of me being there.

The relationship I had with him was so intense, so wonderful, so terrifying, so loving yet so abusive at times. I learned a lot from that relationship.

But I did love him and I know he loved me.

Correction, I do love him. I know he’d be proud of how well things are going for me these days. I found a text he had sent me on my phone about two months ago, it reads:

“It’s ok my love. U r one of the most powerful people i know. I wish i had the strength u have”

R.I.P T.H.L

Art brings me comfort.

portrait of me and Monkey Man

Pen and Ink © paz
When we were younger, fatter, in a sense healthier (at least he was) and stoned. circa 2006.

Amanda Has Words

March 12, 2013

© paz 2013

© paz 2013

And cameras.

I just completed a pen-and-ink portrait of a fellow blogger and friend, Amanda. Here blog, Amanda Has Words, is full of her awesome little poems. Please check ’em out.

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I’ve drawn more these last three months. Like most things I get into, I hadn’t sketched for years, had put the pencil down. But I’m back at it again and I’ve decided (let’s hope I don’t change my mind) that I will try making portraits on of my goals as a freelancer.

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I have therapy tomorrow and one thing Brunet Young and I discussed were my “abandonment” issues. I know I’ll have to finally resolve some shit from my childhood to move on from this. It seems to me sometimes, that everything that heals me also hurts me.

One thing that’s frustrating me is that my Nemo T-Rex Duck arm has been hella hurtin’. I mean HELLA. And that’s the arm I write/draw with! Damn you Osteogenesis Imperfecta!

If you guys remember (not that I’d expect you to), I fractured my arm February of last year, 2012. Well, apparently, the fracture didn’t heal properly and there is a part of the core that is still disconnect. So essentially, my arm is still a bit broken. Sigh. This is what I mean by the though, “Everything that heals me hurts me”. Why can’t I make art without something hindering me? First it was my music and hearing loss. Now this?

I know I sound upset, and I am, but I’m quite excited about my new illustration goals.

Thanks for the support Amanda!

addendum: if you visit her blog, make sure to ask her about her photography

Billie Billie Billie Blue

January 24, 2013

Remember when I wrote “I fuckin’ love Nina Simone”? Course you don’t, so I’ll remind you here.

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You know who else I love? Billie Holiday. Yep, lady B. I love her wit, her style, her beauty, her voice and soul. I’ve started sketching again, along with all my other little crafts. Brunet Young calls them part of my “coping skills”.

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I started this one on New years Eve. It’s a portrait. I usually don’t do portrait and honestly hadn’t done one in years–not a detailed one at least. But part of my inspiration came from Lunch Sketch here on words press. Check him out HERE, he’s incredibly talented.

My sketch, finished yesterday (I’d put it down after starting it on New Years and picked it back up day before last) is here!

I messed up on her face a bit, particularly her lips, and got lazy towards the end. Note the lazily done flowers.

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Billie Holiday, pencil/graphite(c) 2013

Billie Holiday, pencil/graphite
(c) paz 2012

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addendum: I have wonderful news I will share in my next post! Actually I have lots of news–great, not so great, in between and more. I’ve been out for so long it seems. But I’m glad to be back today.

Biometrics Are IN!

November 27, 2012

BOOYAH!

They are in!

My fuckin’ FABULOUS finger prints are in! My hand prints, finger prints and a picture of my geeky face in a blue long-sleeve, corduroy, polo-style shirt have been submitted into the gubernatorial vortex.

WHEW! It. Is. Done.

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I haven’t been updating much on the immigration situation because my focus was on getting stable enough to function and get all the paperwork in. In case you’re new and are just now reading, I am an immigrant, an undocumented immigrant to say the very least. I’ve lived in Texas since I was five years old, roughly twenty-two years, but who’s counting right? *cough*

Back in June, President Obama made a sly move to get a head start in the 2012 elections–he signed an executive order for DACA (deferred action for childhood arrivals) meaning that, a) undocumented aka “illegal” immigrants who came to the U.S. prior to the age of sixteen would be deferred/protected by law from deportation proceedings and, b) they would, by discretionary case, receive a work permit so they (I) can work legally in the United States.

I currently cannot work “legally”. It is a difficult situation to be in as I mentioned in my posts “P Is in SHOCK! UTTER FUCKIN’ SHOCK!” and “P Is in SHOCK! UTTER FUCKIN’ SHOCK! …. But then remembers…”

Most of my friends and acquaintances who are in the same boat either work as waiters, house keepers (like my mother did), janitors (like my father did), construction or farm worker etc.–all jobs I cannot do in a wheelchair. My only options, out of desperation, were to try and freelance. But being mental and having severe anxiety on top of transportation issues makes freelancing extremely difficult. Besides, I needed more discipline.

Since I graduated college in May of 2011, my freelance jobs have added to nearly nothing. I tried websites like e-lance and all this other shit I can’t remember. I spend hours on those sites, touching up my resumé, putting up samples of my work, only to find that at the end of the process, I was always asked for a Social Security number which I obviously do not have.

It became another brick added to the weight of the depression that eventually knocked me down in May. But then, alas, June came with the news of Obama’s signature. I’m not an Obamacrat, I’ll tell you straight up. I’m with the rebel alliance and Jedi nights, not the empire. Besides, Obama had promised several activist groups (some of which I was part of) that he would sign this YEARS ago, but as a true politician, he did not until this election year.

Anywho, I’m not goin’ into my political or social ideals in detail since that is not the focus of my blog. I established at least that from the beginningWhat I do want to share is MY STORY.

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In mid-October I received such wonderful birthday presents!

I got some stretchy pants from my mama, a poem from Angel; I got to see Fiona Apple LIVE with my bro who bought the tickets last-minute; I got a beautiful painting of Mermaid P mailed to moi from Le Sailor–LOOK HERE and I got the DACA application completed and mailed out. That to me was a wonderful gift. They all were.

In April, just before my suck-ass and shameful death attempt, when I thought I couldn’t fall further into depression, I got hooked up with a “job” and felt excitement followed by failure crushing me with the culmination of the second day of work, the day I got fired. I was only an intern, hence the legalities not being clear up and therefore they were not strict in mu application. That’s why I wasn’t asked for my SSI number. Plus, Mansie practically got me that job, a job that only lasted two days.

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Sixty days after Obama’s June executive order, the DACA law went into effect. To cut my rambling a little short, I have had a long process applying for DACA since September, but I finally had my biometrics appointment today!

The biometrics proceeding is basically when USCIS, the Immigration and Citizenship Services department calls you in to take a photo of you, mark your fingerprints and so on, you know, Big Brother type shit . The dude who fingerprinted me was wearing blue latex gloves like he was about to give me an enema. I ranted on my MsMouse Facebook as follows (note the terrible grammar ’cause I was on a not-so-smartphone that kept auto-correcting me in my agitated state):

My rant for today: It’s so hard having to depend on my dad for SO much! I’m grateful that he’s here, but he’s extremely overbearing and has become more stubborn with age (he’s nearly 70). The biometrics appointment went well even though my dad and I got into an arguedment on the way to the US immigration dept office. It went super fast. Yaaaay!

But fuck anyone who thinks I, or anyone like me should be deported. Twenty two ducking years for this and I’ll still as a non-legal resident, only in immigrant with DACA and work permit. At least ill have that thought. And I can’t wait to finally have a job and a little more freedom! Wooohoo.Fuck you govt for playing with our lives! For controlling my live like a piece in a board game!End rant.

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And that is that! I’m on my way to being more of an adult. I feel as though my entire life I haven’t been given room to grow, to spread out and show my inner beauty. This is why I feel so child-like. It’s not a “bad” thing to be child-like, but what I mean is, I’ve always felt restricted like a child. I’ve felt things that should be entitled to me weren’t. I’m an angry little mouse on a tiny, albeit heavy, leash and the cheese is only a foot away. (Godamn I love cheese!)
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Hopefully in a month’s time, I’ll be receiving a social security number along with my work permit! Nope guys, no green card or “legal status” yet. I’ll still technically be an “illegal,” only an “illegal” who can work “legally” (I prefer undocumented).
And ain’t that an oxymoron? That’s politics for ya…
Here’s a little sketch I did on my not-so-smart-smartphone that my bro’s sweet girlfriend gave me before my surgery!
Anyone know of any good and cheap/free sketching apps for Andriod? This one isn’t too great. But I like that you can’t be precise; it makes me less perfectionistic  less critical and quicker. heheh. The scribble at the right surrounding the MsMouse is supposed to say “ILLEGAL”. Try and figure out which part of the tail is the letter G and/or A.
Mouse love

ILLEGAL MsMouse
2012 (c) paz
I am still undocumented aka “illegal”

Wings for Angel

October 10, 2012

TA DA!

Happy birthday Angel!

Yeah, these are ruffled wings for you. They’re supposed to be “dark” wings and a little abstract. I’m not sure I pulled it off how I wanted. I was listening to one of my favorite bands so I think the music influenced the result. Also, I’d just read one of your posts earlier today. I think I’m floating naked and farting out my signature while I present these wings to you!

xoxoxxx

******

p.s. Please excuse the messiness.