OI Chicks Are HOT

September 8, 2012

I’ve been on Facebook a lot lately. heh. Very unlike me, then again I’m hyped so this is how I am when I’m hyped. I message everyone. One good thing happened while I was on Facebook, the other not so good.

I’ll talk about the latter first. So a friend of mine from high school is about to get married. We haven’t talked in nearly two years, beside occasional Facebook hellos. I’m really happy for him and his fiance. The girl is so cute! And they look soooo happy together. He’s also a musician and we both went to the same college for sound engineering/music production, only he started two years after I did. In fact, he started the program because of me (mainly because I told him he’d like it).

Anyway, this guy and I started flirting for a while back in ’06-’08 and even ’09. I didn’t even realize I’d been flirting until MUCH later. One time, when I was hanging out in his apartment playing his synths, he wanted to have sex with me but I rejected him, not because I didn’t want to. God, I really wanted to. He has the prettiest big blue eyes, curled eyelashes, curly hair, glasses and thick lips. He sometimes wore a goatee. I just felt it was IMPOSSIBLE for anyone to be attracted to me. I somehow thought it was a sick joke of his. I don’t feel as shy now as I was then, but I still am very insecure.

For me, it’s as if it’s impossible for anyone to find me attractive–so tiny, so angry and in a wheelchair, nah. Maybe that’s why I reach out so much for approval of men? Yet, no matter how much approval I get, I seem to want more. And when I get more, I still feel the void.

I really liked M. back then. We went to local shows together (most of which he performed in), he bought me drinks and dinner, he’d visit me at my parents house, bringing his entire synthesizer collection with him etc.. I realize now, he must’ve been really into me. At his shows, I used to get so jealous when he made out with this one bass player–a really short, cute gothic chick (she was drunk as hell though though, an even bigger drunk than me).

I kicked myself in the ass for sabotaging any kind of “romantic” relationship I could have had with him. I began to idolize him. He is quite possibly the most gorgeous guy I’ve been “involved with” more or less, but it wasn’t that. And oh god his heavenly hands! Long fingers, long strong hands–long pianist hands.

We clicked. He’s intelligent and funny, a bit geeky and really sweet. We are musicians, so we had that in common too. And though he’s a little on the “crazy” side, he wasn’t “mental” (as in he didn’t seem to have a severe mental disorder like most other guys I’d be involved with) and the best part, he wasn’t addicted to anything hardcore. Funy enough, he now works as an instructor in the same performing arts center we did the audio engineering program in.

Why did I reject him then? Why did I find it impossible to believe that he “liked” me? Why did I not care enough about myself to believe anyone could like me? I did the same damn thing with Jaque Cousteau, only Jaque was an insecure, immature punk (literraly, he had a mohawk when I met him). Ughhh. He was also a musician, the Cousteau guy. It’s just.. It’s just that seeing M’s pictures with his fiance on FB yesterday brought back some of those feelings. I guess I’m jealous. I don’t know. I know comparing myself to peers from the past (and present) isn’t good for my mental health.

It will pass.

Oh right, what’s the good news? The good news is I’m in this Facebook group for women with OI–“OI Chicks Are Hot”. OI is Osteogenesis Imperfecta aka Brittle Bone disease.

The group consists of all these “hot” OI chicks talking about… anything. It’s a private group, so I don’t care if you try to find it. Anyway, I think I still have that deep seeded insecurity about myself, BUT I’m more aware of how to control it now–or how to restructure my cognition–and hopefully I’ll learn to stop sabotaging myself so much. I still don’t trust any man, anyone for that matter (including myself) but I’m slowly learning to be more open. I hope. And groups like these are definitely a good thing for building up that self love.

In the group, I found some pretty amazing women. Here’s one of them (and yes, I think she’s hella hot):

Nadia Roberts interview in a contest to win a wheelchair <—- Click it, damn you!

She’s also been through a lot, much like I have.

Here’s an excerpt from the interview:

I began life in St. Petersburg, Russia and was born with Osteogenisis Imperfecta, (OI). I was bounced around hospitals and orphanages for the first 9 years of my life, and eventually given up for adoption was a challenging way to start life, including several surgeries under severe conditions such as no anesthesia…

mouse Love

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I was invited to join a game of tag by Sailor and Angel. I thought I’d answer Angel’s questions.

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1) What is the one insect you absolutely can’t stand?

Cockroaches! I can’t stand roaches. I’m cockroach-a-phobic. I’ll tell you, one night when I was a kid, maybe nine or so, I felt something tickling my cheek. When I woke up, I saw two antennas wiggling over my eye. There was a HUGE roach on my face! I slapped that sucker off of me–a survival instinct I didn’t know I possessed. The ugly fucker flung out and started flying! Ugggh. To this day, I flinch if I feel something on my cheek or neck.

2) Which fictional world(s) do you wish were real?

I’m tempted to say “Middle Earth” from The Lord of the Rings, but I’m gonna go with one from a book I started reading a little over a year ago and had to put down when the stress of graduation loomed. It’s a planet called Winter and the most fascinating thing about it is that the humanoids living in it can choose and change their gender, so gender isn’t a big issue there. It’s from The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Leguin. It’s a very psychological sci-fi that Monkey Man L had recommended I read.

3) Who is your favorite President/Prime Minister/Monarch/Whoever Has Been in Charge of Your Country in history?

I don’t have one. I’m a bit of a cynic and a critic and a rebel. I do have a thing for FDR though. Besides, he battled polio and knows what it’s like being in a wheelchair. I also have a thing for Lincoln. And I like Jimmy Carter. I like that he didn’t run again to play the games.

4) If you were forced to be on a reality show, which one would you go on, and why?

I was actually asked to be on one in an email from YouTube, although I doubt its legitimacy. It was for a pilot on CBS about disabled “midgets,” no lie. haha. I obviously changed the wording, but that was the sum of the email. I didn’t reply, though for a second, I thought of asking more questions. Oh yeah, ummm, back when I was younger and actually watched MTV, I wanted to be on that show Road Rules, you know the one that came on after The Real World.

5) What is the one feature that your dream house must possess?

An Olympic-size pool! (or just any pool) And I’d definitely have to have an awesome office with lots of techie stuff for film editing and a theater room for film viewing. I think I want to live in a very urban area though. And I find I’m modest when it comes to certain things so I don’t dream of anything big really.

6) What is your guilty musical pleasure?

Gloria Trevi. She’s a former Mexican pop-rock icon from the late 1980s and early 1990s. Her music was controversial and politically charged. She had a four-year stint in prison after her ex-husband and music producer/manager was arrested on charges of currupting minors (mainly the molestation of several young girls). I don’t know what Trevi was formally charged with but her charges were dropped for lack of evidence in involvement. There’s some Spanish gossipy news National Enquirer-style for ya.

Anyway, this is a song from her early glory days. It’s about a wild, uncontrollable girl that is sent to see psychiatrist. In the song she basically tells the psychiatrist to fuck off: “I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy. I’m just desperate! Don’t tell me anymore idiotic lies; I just wanna live my own life… I won’t listen… And I won’t pay your bill… And quit looking! Quit looking! Quit looking at my legs! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! I’m not crazy, I’m just desperate” and so on.

I mean it’s got synths!

Without further adieu, here’s the amazing Gloria Trevi performing “Dr. Psiquiatra”. Yes, my guilty musical pleasure (you got it out of me Angel!) and I’m out in the open about it now ok. OK!? I love this song… no, I love a lot of Trevi’s songs, and I’m no longer ashamed to admit it dammit!

I also find it hilarious that the crowd is so disparate!

7) What do you think is the most disgusting food?

Pork skins and pork intestines (we make them with rice in Colombia). After I became a vegetarian, I couldn’t stand the thought of eating them. But I think I’d rather eat that than roaches!

8) Do you smile with or without showing your teeth?

You can’t see my teeth when I smile, especially not after the second Bell’s Palsy hit. 😦

I don’t like to smile in photographs anymore. Ok. Ok. Maybe a faint smile. 😉

9) Do you believe that there are aliens in the universe?

If I remember correctly from class, there are roughly 100 billion stars in our galaxy. If one-third of them are Sun-like, and 1/100th of those house inhabitable planets, I don’t see why not. I mean that’s just in OUR galaxy. If we account for the rest, which is infinite, then yes, I definitely think that, if not within our own galaxy, then surely some other galaxy contains life–hell maybe even non-carbon based life!

10) Choose your own adventure books–yay or nay?

Yay!

(Guess what gave me my wonderful idea.)

11) What is the funniest thing that has happened to you today?

Nothing interesting has happened today, but yesterday morning I went swimming at the gym and something very scary and somewhat funny happened with my tampon. Also, I met my brother’s girlfriend’s family. We were out in the backyard and they’d gone swimming but I didn’t know so I didn’t have a bathing suite on me. I just sate soaking my feet and got tore up by mosquitoes. I told my brother and he asked for bug spray. Well, my brother decided to spray down his girlfriend with bug spray (though I was the only one getting bit). The entire cloud of that venomous gas wafted my way and nearly killed me since I had nowhere to run and my wheelchair was out of reach. True story.

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As in the previous set, I’m going to have to opt out of tagging anyone (dealing with too much anxiety and jaw pain). But I am going to ask anyone who wants to answer a question:

Do you think it’s too late to contact that reporter lady from the Houston Chronicle? (See addendum of previous post)

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I was invited to a game of tag by Sailor and Angel. I thought I’d answer Sailor’s questions today.

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1. Do you think you could survive a zombie apocalypse and if so what would be your weapon of choice?

This is a difficult question Sailor. I had a long discussion with my brother about this not too long ago and here’s what I came up with: On one hand, I’m in a wheelchair, so I can’t run even if my life depended on it. I might get a few yards in but then my legs would break due to my brittle bones condition, I’d thus fall and the zombies would have me prey. I’m only three feet and two inches tall, so I can’t hold really big guns unless I strap them onto my wheelchair or rig it up with weapons. I could also be strapped to a person’s back, but that may slow them down making us both soon-to-be-dead-meat. Taking those things into consideration, I have a slim chance of survival.

BUT, then on the other hand, I’m so small that I might be able to slip into little, crammed areas where zombies won’t reach me (unless I run into a zombie that’s dwarf-size like me or a baby zombie). While the zombies are looking straight ahead, I could slip under them unless there are a few crawling. I’m also quick and agile, so I might be able to train with knifes and fight off the zombies that way. Also, if I’m caught in an attack near a pool or a lake or some large body of water, I can most definitely get away. My endurance in the water is incredible, so I’d be able to swim to a small island somewhere–granted I’d have to make it to the ocean first.

In short, I probably have a 30% chance of survival, which isn’t too great. I’d be one hell of a zombie though. I’d be killer with my surprise and sneak attacks.

Zombie P, pen and ink. The tail must’ve fallen off. © Paz/mmm

2. If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Cheese! I can eat different kinds of cheese, right?

3. Do you think Noah had woodpeckers on the ark? If he did, where did he keep them?

Realmente no se. Tendría que abrir mi Biblia.

4. If space flight was affordable, would you go, just because you could?

I’ve always been fascinated with the universe and I love astronomy, so I most definitely would.

5. Would you very kindly draw me a picture of a bird and post it on your blog so I can add to my collection?

I’d love to! But I just spent too much time on the zombie-mouse which ended up funky looking, and then I realized it’s getting late here and I haven’t ate dinner. So here’s a picture of a bird I drew when I was in Florida back in January. Please ignore the random kids floating around the bird; they’re just doodles from my sketchbook but it’s all for you! (I’ll conjure up another bird eventually)

Bird for Sailor Carrie. © Paz


6. Do you think unicorns exist?

Only on other planets.

7. Why doesn’t Tarzan have a beard? Were there razors in the jungle?

I thought Tarzan did have a beard. You got the Mouse very disappointed and confused Sailor. She’s banging at my skull now.

8. How old do you think you would be if you didn’t know how old you are?

Well, I’m the size of a five-year old, height-wise, but I’m definitely not a five-year old. So, I’ll go with ten, just ’cause I like even numbers and that’s the age my grandma kept saying she was when she had a stroke and started with the dementia.

9. Will you be joining me on my boat when I win the lottery? 

Hells yeah! I’d love to ride the MFF cruiser. But then you might loose me when I jump in to join the dolphins.

10. What makes you, you? 

There’s a house full of PLDs and a mouse living in my head.

11. Did you like my questions? Claro que si, mi querida marinera!

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I’m not going to tag anyone at the moment. But I will add that I made a Facebook page about two weeks ago. Feel free to check it out (or not).

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addendum: I hate Facebook! And I’m having terrible anxiety today. 😦 I remembered about a call I got two weeks ago from a reporter at the Houston Chronicle. It’s about the DREAM Act and deferred action. I told her I was down for an interview. But then my phone got funny and I wasn’t receiving texts for a week. I just got an old message she left me today. I don’t know what to do… I mean, the last interview was nerve wrecking. I wrote about it here: Interviews and Anxiety, a Retort.

I Was Tagged

January 17, 2012

I was tagged on Facebook the day after arriving in Florida. But because I’ve been avoiding Facebook and emails since my arrival, I didn’t really look at this until recently.

The caption reads: “Young woman circumvents physical and migratory obstacles.”

Tagged

Let me test my translation skills. A better translation would read: “Young woman circumvents obscenely high objects (anything above four feet) and runs a marathon around the crazy legal sytem and its illogical, inhumane immigration laws, and, despite finding herself unable to reach the finish line, continues to run.”

The article below reads: “A hispanic minor dies… shot caused by her cousin.”

Shit! Tragedy. That’s how the news works. One story is about a construction worker saving three dozen kittens from a pipe near his home; the next is about how a three ton pipeline fell, crushing three construction workers and a kitten.

I honestly still haven’t read the article. From what I saw, they added a year to my age. And they know nothing about my mental disorder, so I know I seem more optimistic than I currently am. I skimmed the bit of article that shows in this photo just to block out the name, but otherwise I haven’t. I really should revel more in my accomplishments instead of beating myself up over what I haven’t done or what I cannot do because of my predicament and insecurities. Right, and no “should” statements. Here, I’ll practice what I’ve learned from therapy. It would be good if I reveled more in my accomplishments. There.

So here it is. My moment of revelry–siting in Eloise’s room by myself, sharing this semi-anonymously over the internet. I too have a dream! I too want ice cream!

MLK's Dreamsicle

Dreamsicle

One day, I too will have my dreamsicle! And dammit, it will be tasty!

Until then, I’m going to write. I’m going to write with the furry that’s in me. Also, I’m going to try to finish writing what I had started about Florida tomorrow morning. Eloise (damn I should give my girl a proper introduction before mentioning her so many times) is gone for the night. She’s out with her boyfriend (I’m not fond of him), so I feel free to write until she gets back. I think I have until tomorrow. Shhh.

Otherwise, I cannot write at ease. Every time I get close to being caught blogging, I feel a jolt of anxiety, as if I were shamed, as if I were being caught smoking crack. Whenever I’m on here and she passes by me, I always quickly close the tab the way Kanye West would close a flashing porn site every time his girlfriend passed by.

Two weeks ago she asked me if I had a blog. It went something like this:

“Paula, do you have a blog?”

I stare at her blankly for a moment.

“Yes I do,” I eventually reply.

Then, I say nothing else. I look away and stare at her cat who’s incidentally staring at me as if to say, “You can ses it! You can! You can has too! Yes. Yes! Come on you. Spek!”

And as we sit in awkward silence for a few seconds, I’m fully aware that she’s seeking more information, yet I withhold. She’s waiting for me to tell her about it, but since I’m not yet comfortable with my close friends or relatives reading it, I stall a little longer.

“So are we still going to go to the farmer’s market?” I quickly change the subject hoping she will get the hint. She’s good at getting hints and backs off. We move on. Whew.

I still feel like she knows more though. Why else would she have asked? Was it because I told her I wanted to start a blog? Was it because I’ve been spending half of my time here reading other people’s blogs?

I feel like maybe she’s sneaked into my blog while I’ve left the room and my computer is just lying there open pleading to her, or maybe she quietly opens it while I’m in the bathroom showering or having more trouble with the shitty toilet design. I don’t think she would. I’m not going to defame anyone I care about on here, I hope. Then why am I so hesitant?

While I ponder my avoidance, I’ll leave you with this wonderful quote that I try to live by:

Now you listen to me. While I will admit to a certain cynicism, the fact is I am a naysayer and hatchetman in the fight against violence. I pride myself on taking a punch and I’ll gladly take another because I choose to live my life in the company of Gandhi and King. My concerns are global. I reject absolutely pride, aggression, and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love. I love you Sheriff Truman.

— Albert Rosenfield to Sheriff Truman, Twin Peaks