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Church of the Blessed Nur
You're all doomed. Please leave your gold in the collection plates.
I have always loved those odd sayings people quote and offer like pearls of wisdom from a bubblegum machine. Never a better place to catch those than in the South and here in Texas especially. I have to admit a fondness for that whole throw the baby out with the bathwater one... purely for the mental image of course. Definite giggle material...

Now I know that I am the king of mixed mataphors myself. My attempts to work such figures of speech into my own conversations usually tend to be as convoluted as a Dairy Queen Blizzard. That said, I guess I should step out of my glass house and cast the first stone.

There is this guy at work. Old Texas sort.. the wrinkled kind. Anytime things are amiss or someone is stressing, he ALWAYS pipes in with, and I quote, "Sometimes you're the fish and sometimes.. you're the worm."

I've never heard this used before... by anyone.

My guess is that its rather close to another saying.. Sometimes you're the windshield..sometimes your the bug. Ew.

Still, he loves using this phrase to encourage others and works it in wherever he can. Work being the idiot asylum that it is, opportunities are plentiful.

The thing that bothers me is how disheartening it really is. How hopelessness and unavoidability is all the phrasing conveys.

In the end both the fish and the worm are eaten and dead. One dies quickly.. without warning. The other? Sure..dies with a full stomach but usually face down in a bucket gasping for air under an unforgiving sun.

Gosh, I feel uplifted.

Current Music: Thursday - Understanding in a Car Crash

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I am proud to be a first generation American. I am of Cuban descent. The first in my family to be born in the United States.

Much of my english is self-taught through reading books.


I have long had a love / hate partnership with the english language.. a literary detente of sorts. It has served me well at times.. often enough through the written word. Yet it has failed me often enough as well. Usually those failures come with the spoken word. I try to express myself in either manner as best I can, even at the risk of overstating a point. Still, I get by in my own clumsy way.

Many many years ago, words helped save my life, such as it was. I began my personal journal at that time. That journal was instrumental in allowing me to remain in touch with the various emotions that can bubble under the surface without my knowing. That single act of literary self awareness was key in my success kicking my drug habit so many years past.

The written word has always helped me express or come to terms with the painful losses in my life. My mother's death. The loss of my son. My divorce. They have allowed me to evince the painful places my soul sometimes has found itself residing in. By placing the inner upon the outer, I could finally come to terms with my own losses.

I've always felt that I could rely on the written word to say those things that I cannot say well or express piecemeal. Whether its for me or for someone else... for this journal or my more private one.. a posted comment or a personalized email... the ability to write out the things I cannot say or cannot see has always been a comfort for me.

So, what do I do when I have several matters weighing on my mind... some things to consider... some things to cherish... and I can't find the words?

No crises or anything.

Just some introspective remembrances, hopeful aspirations, and amused wishful thinking.

Life's rich pageant and things that just need saying.


Current Music: Crowded House - As Sure As I Am

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Well.. looks like I finally retired my old beat up girl. The Chevy Nova has now taken its rightful place in the driveway as placeholder and criminal scarecrow. She served me well through all sorts of abuse... hardly deserving to be called spanish for 'no go'. At least I still have the old girl for driving the dogs places..

Picked up my Lincoln Continental this morning and settled my ass into its plush leather interior. With gret anticipation, I turned the key and there it was... a message for me and me alone flashed across the dashboard screen.


Fighting my inner Hasselhoff, I resisted the urge to fluff my curly hair, to find me a too small black leather jacket, as well as the urge to make small talk with my car.

I wonder if I can reprogram the greetings message it gives me. The car just screams to have a new greeting. Change to what? What else....


Current Music: Staind - Right Here

3 Sermons from the Masses. --- Contribute to the Collection Plate
I'm trying to make a decision.

Not a momentous earth shattering decision.. but a decision nonetheless. I figure a lot of other livejournal people had had a similar quandary posed themselves and wonder what their opinions might be. For that matter, my inner drama queen is prolly making more of this than it warrants.

Long ago, I started this journal as a hideaway of sorts. To write to myself and the occasional stranger who stumbles this way. Sometimes I speak more overtly on what is troubling me and other times I talk around what is on my mind. I've never shared its address or even its existence with "real life" people for lack of a better term. Calling them 3 Dimensional Beings just seemed too pretentious...

Anyway, yeah.. never shared it with non-strangers. One exception, I suppose... but she was many many miles away and also 2 dimensional. ( If you ever stumble back this way, Gig, don't scowl.. you knew being on television did that to you! )

Still.. have revealed this to no real life close friends, girlfriends, anyone. Not that I say anything overly scandalous or anything.. but you know, sometimes it's nice knowing I have a refuge if I chose to. A place where I do not need to worry about burdening loved ones if I feel the need to vent or explore certain thoughts in writing as I often do in my own personal journal. I always figured anyone who knew knew me would be likely to read into what I sometimes jot down more than is necessary.

Here's my conundrum.. I have a friend. A good and dear friend. A friend that brings forth an openess in me that even anonymity doesn't bring out. A friend who seems, for whatever reason, to enjoy my stupid little stories, dry wit, and ramblings. A friend that I have grown to trust to a degree that I had forgotten I could.

So, the question remains on if I will do something I never did for family, friends, or lovers and share this little thing I do here or hope to do more of here with someone I feel safe and comfortable opening up to.

Heh, then again, this really is a great place to gripe about said friend! Er... um...

Current Music: Big & Rich - Live this Life

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I kinda noticed something tonight at the store.

At night, when an unknown attractive woman smiles at you,  it's a much brighter smile than during the day.

Must be the fluorescents....

Current Music: Bob Marley - Waiting in Vain

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Was randomly scouring other people's writings and saw something interesting.

1. Grab the nearest book.

2. Open the book to page 123.

3. Find the fifth full sentence.

4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.

5. Don't search around for the coolest book you can find. Use what's actually nearest to you.

That actually seemed different from the usual fare and so I excitedly reached for the book nearest at hand.

Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet.

Sweet! Sure it falls under the coolest book to find category, I suppose, but it was closest. I had recently shared a rather fitting passage with someone, hence the nearness.

So, I quickly flipped through the pages seeking page 123! And the book ended at page 105. Sigh....

You know.. as I write this.. it's settled. I won't be daunted. Flexibility. Improvise. Will just break the number up... Instead of page 123... reverse it.. Page 32, 1st full passage:

"Then a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow, And he answered:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked."

Screw you, Kahlil Gibran.

Current Music: Joy Williams - Hide

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Oh yeah... Star Wars came out today.

You know, in case you've been in a coma or something.  Or are blind and deaf.  In which case, you're reading this on one of those nifty braille displaying machines.  So, for you, one of those words you just KNOW has to be a fun braille read... Nanocephalous.

The hype has been insane for this third movie in a trilogy that people just love to trash.  Maybe not giant godzilla sipper on your taco bell root beer hype... but hype nonetheless.

I do have a Star Wars story of sorts though.

When I was little.. no clue as to my age as I barely remember this, just know it was in my adorably ugly days of the curly hair fro and buckteeth... my mother took me to meet Darth Vader.  Yeah, apparently Darth had little better to do with his free time that hang out at the local mall's department store in those days.  I didn't care why... I mean come on, Darth F'ing Vader!  Yup, I ventured forth to meet this tall dark embodiment of evil. 

You see, it was my destiny.  I was a tiny Luke Skywalker, in those days.  But with much less whining.

I think he had a cold that day because he didn't say anything.  Breathed a lot, but no talking.  Guess James Earl Jones was extra.

It was very surreal... like an evil Santa Claus.  We stood in line between ropes.. waiting for our turn to.. I dunno.. shake his hand or something.  I didn't ask why or what.  It was Darth F'ing Vader, man.

I still have the pictures my mother took of this meeting.  Once developed, she teased me for them, but it's a toss up as to my thoughts at the time.  All of them I have my arms crossed staring up and up at him in either defiance or defensive terror.  Take your pick.

I expected him to be surrounded by stormtroopers.  Not a one in sight.

I expected a droid or an imperial officer.  Nope. 

Maybe even the plans to the Death Star.  No luck, but I DID get Darth Vader to personally sign three Empire Strikes Back coloring books!

Which I colored quite quickly... I mean really.. who makes most of the pages of a coloring book depict scenes from the white snowy world of Hoth and pictures of white armor clad stormtroopers??? 

Current Music: Shakira - La Tortura

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Hardly a Delorean, but apparently my car and I have developed some odd talent for affecting time.

Ever since my employers decided to move a whole bunch of us out north of Fort Worth, time has been a bit.. flexible. My drive to work has ranged from 35 minutes to two and a half hours.. Well, that was how long before I gave up, made an impulse stop at the Kimbell, and then went on home. Fine, maybe I abandoned going to work earlier than that, but 2.5 is my story and I am sticking to it.

Anyway, if I leave late through neglect or laziness..not scrambling late.. then I make work on time.

Yet, if I am scurrying around late and rushing to arrive on time, nope.. never. Stretch time out another 10 minutes.

Now, if I leave very early just because..not as an intent... then I arrove at work in under 10 minutes it seems.

Yet, if I leave early specifically to get there early.. you guessed it, fill out the hour and tag on another 10.

My degree of urgency also seems to have a magnetic effect on the number of cops along the route but that's another story.

It's like time is taunting me.

Which seems par for the course, seeing as I am currently being taunted by possibilities, distance, and timing.

Current Music: A Perfect Circle - Counting Bodies Like Sheep

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I return to this abandoned project... sweeping cobwebs from the doorways.. frowning at shattered light bulbs... and picking up broken pieces.

Which, oddly enough, relates to something I didn't want to bring to light anytime soon. So, it escapes into the first thing I type. Way to go, Nur.


I guess I'm back because I just need to write. Nothing special or profound. Just write.

In my mind's eye, I have always seen this little project as a late night closed down smokey pub with a small stage in the corner.  A stage barely big enough to stand on... with a single microphone.  The old kind.. the BIG ones with arching wires from the pre-TV days.  A single light glaring down.  Chairs on the table.. and if I am lucky a lone waitress counting her tips or someone with a broom pauses to listen to me hum softly to myself.. in the corner.. near the mike.  If not... still... for one small moment, I feel the light... and it really doesn't matter who, if anybody, is in the room with me.

I enjoyed this for the short time I kept up with it and always have wondered why I just stopped. I want to thank those, who will no doubt never see this so late in the game, who wrote me when I ceased coming by. Thank you for the amusing concern!

Life just took a weird turn. One of those Casino Royale mountain top road turns. You know, the blind ones that are supposed to be made with the top down in some exotic car while you're flirting with some sexy accented minx in the car next to you just before she sends you plummeting off the mountain side...

Still, it just got... complicated. Not that it's all simplicity and dreams of grey these days... it's just what it is. No doubt piddling.

Also got busy... and someone painted all the keys on my keyboard black. Which makes typing tough.

So, a year later and no more closer to the top of that proverbial mountain with the wise man living on top of it, I return. Hopefully to stay. I have plenty of inconsequential ramblings to be added to the heaps of rubbish in this room. 

And so I step past the bar and one particularly mean looking dust bunny to open the blinds... only to have the handle break off in my hand.

Current Music: Michael Buble' - You Don't Know Me

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Seems the Academy has gotten their collective heads out of their collective asses and finally got a nomination right.

I cannot begin to say how surprised and happy I was to hear that Keisha Castle-Hughes got a Best Actress nomination for her heart-wrenching performance in Whale Rider. Easily one of my favorite movies of the year... even if it was overlooked for original film score.

Still, a good sign that the academy actually got something right in nominating this talented young lady.

That and maybe I can get some vindication for sniffling while watching this movie....

If you haven't seen this movie or heard of it.. please check out the trailer here. Then hurry off to watch the DVD, dammit.

Current Music: Nick Cave w/ Kylie Minogue - Where the Wild Roses Grow

3 Sermons from the Masses. --- Contribute to the Collection Plate
Some things need saying. Some things wilt in the light of day. Some things are too damaging to ignore.

Some people just need to have their damn faces rubbed in the puddle of their own damn weaknesses.

Some people never learn.

I just pointed out something that couldn't be ignored anymore to someone very dear to me. Probably hurt her in the process.. something that tears at my own heart.

Sometimes, caring for someone means doing what is right and not what is easiest.

Some lies, I just cannot overlook anymore. Especially if the lie is someone else's self-delusion that hurts me with every day I try to ignore it.

Some things change no matter how much we want to turn back the clock.

Some things are too big for two people to go on ignoring.

No matter how much we cherished the way things were, some things are beyond our grasping dreams.

Some people never learn.

God damn some things.

Current Music: Ben Harper - Diamonds On the Inside

5 Sermons from the Masses. --- Contribute to the Collection Plate
Odd the memories that pop up from time to time...

The other day I linked to a 75th anniversary image for Popeye. When I was a wee Nur, I was a big fan of Popeye.. not sure why. Even back then, I thought the cartoons were crap.. but I'd watch anyway like a little Popeye cultist. I think it was the timing of when the cartoons would come on or something... I do remember being 7 or so when the Popeye movie came out with Robin Williams.

Anyway, a little perspective there... it's just odd that I haven't thought of a cartoon in decades that I enjoyed as a small child and yet, when I suddenly heard of the anniversary and all the green lit New York buildings, I am all "Woohoo!"

Odd Nur.

Ah yes, the evil babysitter... I think I was 4 maybe... Mrs. Howard.. an evil EVIL old lady who watched somewhere around a gazillion kids in the afternoon at her house. She must have been Hitlers's babysitter... I swear she was a Nazi.. enforced naptime and other strict guidelines. It was because of her that I became adept at faking sleep and watching the 3 O'clock Million Dollar Movies that she always watched during our forced naptime. Ah... the memories of Elvis Week.. Disaster Week... Godzilla Week... good times.

Except for the spinach force-feeding....

I'm not one to be squeamish about veggies.. I love brussel sprouts... asparagus... and other atypical vegetables. Not squeamish about the greens at all... but I just don't abide spinach. Nope. Uh uh. No way in Hell.

I remember her trying to force me to eat spinach... treating me like an infant by trying to force a spoon into my mouth. I was (holds up 4 fingers), dammit! It just wasn't her place... she was paid to watch me... sheesh.

It's really the first memory I have of actual rage.. on both our parts actually. I remember her making the mistake of trying to push some spinach, that I took great joy in spitting back out, from my cheek back into my mouth.... her face all red and contorted as she railed at me...

Now that I think about it, that may have been when I acquired my taste for human flesh....

Gah, just thinking about it makes me mad all over again... stupid old bag... ah well, just think Monster Week.... mmmm... Monster Week...

Current Music: Crowded House - Sister Madly

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Yeah yeah... as if he reads this... a boy can still dream, dammit...
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I'm blaming the fact that I've been sick and cranky all week... I'm such a whiney little bitch when I become sickboy ... but I am just speechless.

Not long ago, I was a bit miffed that I missed the opportunity to comment on the whole Michael Jackson brouhaha. Now I am here... rested and finally had a chance to watch and catch up on some news from earlier today, including the shameless circus of retards from the Jackson arraignment... and I am just appalled and speechless.

Innocent or guilty... false accusations or yet another criminal charge... fan or not... is there anybody is this whole goddamn country that remembers that this circus has sprung around charges of a most despicable nature?

I'd say I was disgusted by many of my own countrymen, but I've read about how many of those fools had flown from around the world from many nations to be there... sometimes I think this world deserves what it gets.

To hell with the damn charges... that whole display is reason enough to lock the whole sorry lot of them in a deep dark hole...

Here's hoping that loathsome display was just a fever induced hallucination or old fashioned delirium... I'm going back to bed.

Current Music: Estradasphere - Los Dias Sin Dias

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Here I am.. older.. wiser... more settled in my place in this world.

I never expected the bitter pull of addiction to rear its head yet again in my life. The helpless feeling as I find myself lost in thought and fidgeting with the accessories.... my mind returning to it. Wondering if I push that button one more time, will the next experience surpass the last? I find myself at work and thinking of it... experiences and visions that flash before my eyes...

I thought I was passed this. Surely a decade of resisting those urges and coping with life on my own would have proven to me that I had beaten my addiction and pulled my life together.

And then, I discovered TiVo.

Dear God, I watch crap I would have never taped or watched before. This past week has been a smorgasbord of commercial free programs and refreshingly short playoff games.

And for the record to the Tivo Gods... just because I said okay to recording The O.C. when faced with nothing on at that time that I hadn't already seen... does NOT mean you can automatically record every damn episode of Beverly Hills 90210 in reruns.


Current Music: Billie Holiday - The Very Thought Of You

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I was recently informed by someone that her "milkshake is better than mine".

I find that thought oddly comforting.

Current Music: Humming that freaking Milkshake song still... sigh..

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