In Pain

I'm feeling like shit (emotionally), my back hurts (for real) and the day didn't get off to a good start since yesterday.

Thankfully, I decided to take my car for repair work on the A/C later in the month, 'cuz my plans would have been shot to hell anyways. Both options I had for a lift (Mom & Eze) had to leave their cars (Eze's car won't turn on, and Mom noticed her car making a weird noise).

The day looks bleak, gray .... just like the future. Bleak. Gray.
I need a shot of adrenaline, maybe some alcohol, maybe a good talk. I dunno. Or maybe I just need to shut up and go back into myself like I've been expected to, like I've tried doing all this time.

I loooooove my perfume

Wish you had smell-a-vision. Then you'd be able to smell this...

I know, it's classified as "WTF" if it's coming from me, tooting Puff Daddy's horn for designing such a delicious fragrance (or tooting P. Diddy's horn at all). It was unintentional and the associations to the perfume made the purchase so much easier (and impulsive).














A few months ago I started reading the Sandman comic series by Neil Gaiman, and about time, given the whole lot I had heard before about the comic. I loved it, and I immediately connected with Delirium.

Thing is, one day I'm walking around a mall, and I picked up a small paper card sprayed with this perfume that I pretty much liked. I stowed the paper away, and took it home, used it as a bookmark for Brief Lives. The perfume permeated the whole book, accompanied me in the Delirium-ridden story, got into my nostrils and my senses until the smell of it was forever associated with Dream and Delirium.

This past weekend, Mom insisted on taking me shopping, and I budged. There were more than a few things I was wanting/needing. I decided to go snooping around Macy's perfume department, and I really don't understand how I recalled the name of the perfume so clearly. What I didn't remember so well was why I was remembering a perfume named Unforgiven.

As soon as I whiffed at it again, the decision was made, I had to have it. This perfume IS Delirium, this perfume IS Dream. It wasn't until I was drawing out the credit card to pay for it that I noticed what the signature on the back stood for.

Puff-fucking-Daddy, aka Sean John. Jeez!

But then again, he's got a better nose for fragrances BY FAR than all the little Hollywood bitches designing stenches for the gullible masses.

Playlists - Intro and Part 1 of 9: A Cry From the Inside

Since the era of the mix-tape I’ve always been fascinated by playlists. I love making them, and I believe some insight can be gained to the way a person’s mind works by looking at his or her playlists. Since the invention of social websites and rings, I’ve encountered a few invitations to make up “The Soundtrack of Your Life” by determining which song fits this or that special event in your life. Later on, the web itself has spawned more than a few music-profile websites (see: Last.FM, Pandora Radio, eMusic) in which you make your own playlists by listening to the music you love, and in the process discover new things to like.

My listening habits have obviously changed from the time I taped songs off the radio (in an attempt to save a few bucks, ‘cuz it’s not easy for a 12-year-old to come by $15 to buy a cassette just for the one song she likes). In the process, my playlists have become more varied, motley if you will, and yet, I always come back to the basics, to the songs that were the soundtrack to my puberty, to my childhood even.

I want to share the playlists that have recently taken residence in my iPod (yeah, that creaking antiquity of an iPod Photo which no one has anymore). You might find some things as embarrassingly commonplace as a Thalía hit (because, come on, admit it! There was at least one time in your life in which you danced to Menudo in diaper-clad bliss. Or perhaps there was at least one marquesina party in which you enjoyed Richard Marx more than you’d care to admit….). Likewise there are things so obscure that they never left the household (like the enjoyable song blueprints my brother used to cook up with Fruity Loops).

My intention, however, is not to bedazzle anyone with my hipness or my musical knowledge. I know I possess neither of those things. But I do have an immense desire to finally share some of my feelings about the music I love without limiting myself to rigid formats, without having to wait for the inspiration to review the latest album by Björk (which I loved, by the way, but I rarely ever know how to express my reactions logically enough to call it a review).

So, without further ado, I introduce my Playlist series, in which I shall post almost every day one of my 9 playlists, including a heartfelt description and explanation of why I decided to put all that music together under one (very unapt) title.


A Cry From the Inside

This was actually one of the most whimsical playlists to make. It includes songs and pieces which to my ears sound as if they were truly heartfelt. It could be the quiver of a violin line, or the sound of a broken heart through a skillful voice, what places these pieces together is that they earnestly pluck the heartstrings.

Unfairly enough, this is the only playlist to feature Antony and the Johnsons. Such a beautiful voice should be given more chances to be heard. However, as with other artists and albums, I haven’t fully gotten to the groove of Mr. Johnson just yet.


"Why won't you listen to me more, you bitch!?"

Artists prominently featured in this playlist are:


Deftones – Chino Moreno’s voice, though not exactly artful in the classical sense, has always managed to give me the shivers. So it has come to be that the music by his band is not only one of my favorites, but it also brings not-so-distant memories flooding back, feelings of misplaced hopefulness included.



Superaquello – This band, contrary to Antony, is repeated over and over throughout most playlists. It’s my favorite local band, and with good reason too. Eduardo and Patricia (the lead singers) can swing your mood around into “Play Time”, just as well as they can reach into your throat to squeeze those tears out. If you add to that mix the incredible talent of their fellow bandmates (Francis, Jorge and Pablo), you get an all around Cry-and-Dance Machine.


The Cranberries – My high school sweetheart introduced me to this band back in 1994. The Cranberries made up a huge chunk of the soundtrack to those memorable years. The transition into college included a compulsive obsession to look like Dolores O’Riordan, and songs like “Empty” and “Disappointed” accompanied resentful tears when I started a custom of fighting with Dad. Even later on, the album Bury the Hatchet was the background music to one of the most scarring moments in my life. Dolores’s voice is a fixed feature in my life.

Other artists worth mentioning in this playlist are Damien Rice, whose heartbreak anthem, “Cheers Darlin”, I adopted off the one that now sleeps by my side; Marianne Faithfull, with the crooner “Who Will Take My Dreams Away”, which was shared between two excellent movies I loved: The City of Lost Children and La Fille Sur Le Pont; Múm, which you will notice is a recurrent artist among my playlists; and likewise, Tori Amos.




Download A Cry From the Inside.doc

This was supposed to be different

I had this entry written out in my mind some 15 minutes ago, but now it's gone. I was in the passenger's seat of Eze's car fifteen minutes ago. I think I need a small electronic tablet, something to record my thoughts as they happen. If I let it go, I m ight never get it back again. Fickle fickle fickle inspiration.

It was all about how Eze and i see and do things differently in life. He's usually the keen observer, while I remember things more like a collage, or "like a trailer of glimpses and brief moments, spliced with images burned onto the wooden cortex of my mind." (see? that bit I did remeber! yay!) There was much more to say though,but it all seems moot point now. Another article/essay that never came to be. Bad too, because it's been a long while since I've written regularly.

It's the job, really. I like working for the company I work for, but the irregular hours and the stres over the learning process leave me with very little energy to sit down to write in the evenings. If you add the spent energy necessary to keep a clean house with a new puppy (with full run of the house during the daytime), you'll understand why I've been mostly absent from my writing hobby. Not so with my beading hobby, but that is only due to yesterday evening, which I spent at a friend's house. There was a beading demo from a representative for a company that sells Swarovski jewelry. I didn't buy anything (the kits were a bit on the pricey side for my standards) but I put together a couple of pieces, which inspired me to make a piece of my own today.


Caprica did something this morning that totally blew my mind, I've never seen a dog doing anything like it. She started pawing the water out of her bowl onto the floor, and after she had made a small pool of water at the kitchen's entrance, she started running around the dining table and back to the puddle... and as she got to the wet area she'd let herself slide. She apprently likes the waterworks more than she's let on before :D Totally nuts!

Little Notes #7: This must be my day!

#1, Found this on eBay, and although I'm not gonna bid on it (what for, really?), it was yet another nostalgia trip to renew my memory of this tin lunchbox.


Specially of the matching thermos, which never sealed completely and would always let some of the juice out onto my napkins, utensils, other thermos or even worse, onto my sandwich.



#2, I just learned that Guillermo del Toro is producing a film adaptation of one of my favorite comics: Death: The High Cost of Living, and he wants creator Neil Gaiman to direct! Awesome move! And I'm SO looking forward to it, it's scary. They could also fuck it up so many ways :-(












All hail the Endless!

Just like a newborn

Being mom to a new puppy that still doesn't know how to go potty on the papers and who hasn't learned bite inhibition is somewhat stressful. More so when she also wakes me up every single day at 6 AM, regardless of whether it's Monday or Sunday. I'm guessing it must be a bit like being mom to a newborn, with the biggest difference being that my plight will be over in two-years' time, whereas a kid's mom will have to deal with her human pup for a minimum of 18 years.

Nonetheless, I'm happy with Caprica. She's a handful, and I'm expecting that, as she grows, this set of problems will give way to new ones.

Her mange is finally clearing up, but the vet found she's also got a case of skin fungus. I now have to apply a spray lotion that apparently feels as foul as it smells, 'cuz she squirms like crazy every time I treat her (twice daily). But I trust she will be fine, she's growing pretty fast (or maybe I'm imagining it, but she definitely looks healthier than the day I picked her up).

She loves playing with empty toilet paper rolls, she mistakes the potty pad for a plaything (or a sleeping area), she loves jumping and running circles around us whenever she's pumped for play, and she's already got a taste for sleeping in bed with us (otherwise she'll jump and whine until she gets a lift).

However, strangely enough, not a single bark yet, not really, not since ... weeks ago! I mean, this is the most silent dog I've ever known. Not quiet, just silent. Heh heh! She's gonna be a cutie!!! ^_^

Until you came into my life (finally!)

I got a call last Friday night, 2 puppies found near a school, abandoned, motherless, hungry, and impossibly tiny. My friend knew I was looking to adopt soon, so she thought I might be interested, and I was, but more than that, I was skeptical. Abandoned street puppies tend to have more than a few diseases, without mentioning skin and stomach parasites. More trouble than I thought I was willing to bargain for.

So I set out for Caguas on a Saturday afternoon to see what the puppy was like (the little boy was taken right away, only the female was left). I was expecting the worst, and I had my mind almost totally set on limiting myself to help take the puppy somewhere where she'd be well taken care of.

I wish I could say that I fell in love as soon as I set my eyes on her, but that was not the case. The creature was too small, too young, she still smelled strongly of mother milk and that was not a good sign. I was convinced this puppy was going to need bottle feedings every few hours and a lot of attention: things I cannot give because I have a full time job. The skin on her tail was heavily scabbed, and her fur was dull and dirty. All in all, she wasn't in so much a bad state as I expected, but she was far from top shape.

I set out for Humacao right away: I had heard of this place called El Faro de los Animales, a no-kill care center for abandoned animals. I had never gone there before, so all I knew was that it was in Humacao, and the approximate area it could be found.

To sum it up: I spent 2 hours driving, and I never found the place, much less a single local soul that new what I was talking about. I stopped at a few gas stations and supermarkets on the way, no one knew anything. I'm not very surprised.

Thing is, during those two hours, the puppy was such a great sport! She slept all the time I spent driving, and it was only whenever I stopped that she opened her eyes and lifted her head (as if saying "Are we there yet?"). The one time in which, as I started to step out of the car to go into yet another gas station, she energetically expressed her impatience with a series of barks and whines (all the while keeping to her small box and looking at me like "Heyyy! What's with the delay?! I'm hungry!") ... well, that's when my heart got hooked. After that, I didn't look for the place so hard anymore and started devising a plan to be able to care for her (at least for a little while).

So I took her to my mom's for a pit stop, left her there so I could go buy a few bare necessities for her care (including tick & flea shampoo, a small comb, puppy formula, etc), but we left her with a tiny plate with some mashed moist dog food. When I gt back, I was suprised to see she had eaten it all up. No bottle feedings for this lady!

Meet Caprica. She's still in her baby phase, just learning how to move and walk. Stubbornly silent, except for the occasional bout of barks sparked by things we haven't figured out yet (she has only barked once at home, I guess she got excited over the soundtrack to Battlestar Galactica too!). Misses the paper half of the time, but I'm confident she will get better at it, she's still just a baby, no bladder control yet. Her first visit to the vet revealed she's got intestinal parasites (normal in most puppies) and sarcoptic mange (not so normal, contagious even to humans, and potentially fatal if not treated). She spends most of the days in our tiny bathroom, but we let her out while we're in the house. We will eventually move her to the kitchen and laundry, as soon as I am sure she won't fit under the fridge or behind the washing machine.

She loves playing as most puppies do, and it is sometimes intimidating to know that I am somewhat expected to substitute a bouncy, energetic peer as her playmate. But Eze has been a gigantic help, and it's not so overwhelming with him around. He's fallen into the daddy role so well and so fast, it is scary (in a charming way, of course!). And I found myself for the first time foregoing my own meals and necessities in favor of helping out a tiny helpless creature. Unexpected from myself... and I feel changed. I guess that's a pale version of what mothers go through when they give birth.

I'll stick to dogs, though. Caprica will be more than a handful in a few weeks. ^_^ I'm looking forward to that!
(... I finally got the puppy from my heart! I'm SO happy!)

In Absentia

Eze's been away for 4 days now. It's not much, but it feels like eternity. You know it feels like eternity when you start getting used to being by your own in the evenings and mornings. But you're not so used that you forget that there is someone who usually comforts you when you wake up in the middle of a stormy night, ridden with nightmares about shape-shifting trees that murder people. It's the void in the pillow next to you that hurts the most... but you've gone numb.

Nonetheless, I've kept myself mostly busy:

On Saturday I went shopping with my mother: one of the most productive shopping sessions I've had in my life (and I hate shopping). In the evening, I tended to the usual in Frecuencias Alternas.

On Sunday I received a visit by Alysha and Tattiana. We cooked ground meat for taquitos and I made a batch of polvorones. In the meanwhile we watched Andres López's Pelota de Letras (a Colombian comedian and his 3-hours-long stand-up routine, very funny, but exhausting!).

Monday and Tuesday have obviously been work-days, but I've managed to spend the evenings in something other than moping. I've already finished watching season 3 of Doctor Who (which was not as tragic as the ending of season 2, but just as enjoyable). I've also come across a few interesting contacts, namely Rasputina's manager (I contacted him regarding a rumored recital to be held here in Puerto Rico in November, and as he confirmed so kindly, I took the liberty of asking about the possibility of interviewing them over the phone for Frecuencias Alternas - he hasn't answered yet, but the exchange was interesting enough for me).


I also found out about a private animal shelter (No-Kill) in Humacao: El Faro de los Animales. They're a non-profit organization (with no funding by the government) that's dedicated to the care of homeless animals and the search of loving homes for them. They have a series of different programs to allow the public to participate and help as much as they can with this mission. I'm seriously considering spending at least 2 days a month in this place and help out with my time (every other saturday or some similar arrangement).

Oh ... yeah, and the reason for this last discovery: I'm looking for puppy. :-) I finally feel ready to adopt a little bundle of canine love. Let's see how soon it turns out to be.

In Shambles

Well ... I've just watched what usually counts as a season finale for Season 2 of the "new" Dr. Who series, and all I can say is ... I'm in shambles. I'm aware that I'm way behind schedule (I think they're past Season 3 now), but I've been watching it slowly in my own time ... so I got there now.

Earlier on in the evening I heard one of the most touching songs I know (again), and it touched me to the core (again!). I was planning on making an entry on it later on, but after watching this last episode ("Doomsday"), it's heartbreaking to see how much one fits the other ... tragic, really.



Do You Realize?
by The Flaming Lips


Do You Realize - that you have the most beautiful face
Do You Realize - we're floating in space -
Do You Realize - that happiness makes you cry
Do You Realize - that everyone you know someday will die

And instead of saying all of your goodbyes - let them know
You realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun doesn't go down
It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round

Do You Realize - Oh - Oh - Oh
Do You Realize - that everyone you know
Someday will die -

And instead of saying all of your goodbyes - let them know
You realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun doesn't go down
It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round

Do You Realize - that you have the most beautiful face
Do You Realize

A Hole in My Forehead

If I hear screams outside - and not your run-of-the-mill play-like scream, I'm talking about bloodcurdling, hair-rising screams - I'm the kind of person that will peek through the door's eye-piece or look out the window. Unless it's gunshots we're talking about, in which case I'll move to the innermost part of the apartment in a hurry (and it has happened more than once already). Same goes for numerous and insistent siren wails. Part of me does it because I want to be in the know (be it for the reason that it may: I like being a well-informed citizen ... or I'm just turning into an old, gossipy fart!). The "bigger" part of me does it because it gets a thrill - an adrenaline surge - out of other people's emergencies and crises. Same goes for when a hurricane is announced. The tornado-chaser in me wakes up and smiles a little bit.

Until now this part of me has had no bearing in my fortune. My curiosity has not gotten the best of me, not to the point in which any onlooker could be tempted to start talking about dead cats and such. But last night, in my dreams, it did.

I dreamt some regular Joe broke into my apartment with me in it. I tried to force him back outside, only to run into the grim figure of a dead neighbor. I had seen too much and the guys with the guns knew it. I knelt and I looked for the longest time into a brushed steel barrel (sort of flat-ish) and then it was over.

Next thing I know I'm looking at a mirror in a bathroom (not the mirror in my bathroom, but then again, dreams are fickle when it comes to spaces and appearances). What's wrong with all of this is: I'm alive but I have a gunshot wound in my forehead and there's blood streaming down my face and across my chest. Dry, caked blood. I'm supposed to be dead, but all I have to prove for it is a zit-sized hole ... a zit-size smoking, gaping hole. Not supposed to be there, was it?

Then again, when some people started visiting my home, I realized most of them were seeing something completely different to what I saw in the mirror. Something completely different from what I look like (I'm under the impression, perhaps out of a glimpse I got during the dream, that I was a girl with long, light-brown, wavy hair). I had reincarnated almost immediately, I realized, out of concern for what would happen to Eze.

I woke up with a start. It was scary enough to see me dead in a mirror. Dead-but-alive. Holding on to dear life, even if it meant invading someone else's body, out of concern for Eze. Thing is, I think I'm not afraid to die so much as I am afraid of missing out on the lives of my loved ones.