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[06-30-17 @ 2:21pm]
This journal has moved to agape_mama
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For Everyone [06-16-05 @ 2:51pm]

I've been posting more at my site...

So I just wanted to share this post with all the females on my list.

Check it out at


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[02-21-05 @ 1:37pm]
If you woke up and I was in bed with you, what would be your first thought?

(Now post this in your LJ and find out what mine would be)
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smells like toe jam [02-09-05 @ 9:02pm]
My labtop is semi-working. How I have to charge it, is another story, and really why bore you with my love of duck tape and a well placed bobby pin.

It smells like feet, but in a good way, like I don't mind smelling the smell of when you take off your sneaker, and than your sock, and your left with this smell, not bad, but not good, just weird, and the fact that you kinda find the smell interesting leaves you wondering if your sane, just like the smell of gasoline, quite intriguing.

I'm sitting here with my i-pod, the princess is her name. She used to be a 20gb, she now has 3 gb left. I'm telling you, I was one of those people who really needed an i-pod.

These days seem to be flying by, not even at a time where I can grasp hold of what happened, it just seems to float by. Minutes turning into hours, into days, into weeks, into months, into years... into the moment I'm laying on my death bed, finally being able to define love and all of it's substance.

Moments. That sense of abandoness, where your sensory guard is at full hault, and your overcome with a need to do it. Although when you look back at whatever you "felt" you needed to do, your left with a gap, this wide hole somewhere in your mind with no answers, just questions. In my case, I'm always left with questions, never wanting to know the answer. Floating on I tell ya... floating on.

Unstability. Uninsured. Uninterested. Following dissatisfaction.

I smoke weed to let these thoughts flow. Let all of it just fly out. Before all the thoughts leave me to die. Because my thoughts can kill. Fly or Die.

I woke up this morning, high from last night. Happy to see my mom's face. Happy to see her laugh at herself. Happy to see her, happy to know she's here with me. "Ericka your apt. smells like weed and incense". I laughed, because really, why should it smell like anything else.

Smell. Smell ties you back to a certain something. I would say the french saying for a certain something, but I don't type french, and if I did, it would be as bad as my spanish. Why bore you with my antics of trying?

Downy Fabric Softener reminds me of wild sex and the Hernandez brothers. Curve for men reminds me of my first Dominican, and the heartache he caused in my young impressionable teenage years. And how now, the smell of weed, reminds me of a time in my life, where everything around, even my thoughts began to formed into concrete things, rather than drying concrete, and that would be a point in my life where someone would come to the concrete, take a stick and write their name in it and whatever year it happens to be.

The analogy of my mind being concrete was quite a good one and I hope some of you caught on to how someone can leave "marks" in your mind. Eh, I'm explaining my writing.

Spectacular is right in front of you.
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[10-31-04 @ 11:05pm]
Isn't life odd?

With every breathe you take, each and every movement of your chest going in and out, you change. It may not be a change you see, but it's a change that occurs, that is unevitable. Little by little it creeps in, with a take no prisoner attitude.

Every night for the past month, I haven't slept. I haven't said anything. But I know. People at work have pointed it out, all I say is, it's because of school and work. Yes only slightly, but not to the point that at 4 am I feel the need to crawl into a ball, open my window curtains and stare out the window.

It's been a year since my grandmother died. November 27th. I can remember that day so clearly. I had woken up, Ommy was showering, and my cell phone kept on ringing. But it was charging in the kitchen and I didn't feel like walking so far. Ommy got dressed and left to his grandmother's. It was thanksgiving and I was meeting up with Antoinette. Than I called her and she told me. I couldn't speak at first, the emotions so mixed, and there I was. I called my mother, she was hysterical. I remember shedding tears, but not for the death but how would I feel if my mom ever passed away.

I came home. I hadn't been in my apt. since Sept. I had moved in with Ommy. More like Ommy wouldn't let me move out. I left my apt. It was to much to take. I went back to my fake home, slipped the key into the door, crawled into his bed, and I remember hearing him talking to me, and I just started crying. I cried like I've never cried before. And he just held me, saying babe it's ok, she's in a better place.

March 31st, 2004. Omar called me. He asked if I was sitting. 9:08 am and he tells me Ommy died. I remember feeling shattered. I mean Omar started crying and I couldn't breathe. I felt all the walls closing in. I felt like killing myself.

Damn I'm crying.

I can't seem to shake that day, that month, let alone all the things that happened this year. I feel so sad as each day passes, thinking about all the times I royaly screwed up. I remember so many details of this year. So many things are stuck in my head. So many things I feel like I can't breathe with. Everything seems to be getting harder. I don't dare to call Omar with this. Omar's been having dreams with Ommy, he asked me Thursday if I've been sleeping, and I told him no. He didn't need to ask, he knew why.

I honestly feel like I need to be left alone for awhile.

Lately I feel like all the walls are closing in. So many fucking changes, so much shit against me, rather than with me.

It's so hard to explain you know. It's just so hard. How many things effect your life... how many things tear you down... how many things make u weaker rather than make you stronger... how there's foundation missing in my life, no steady platform to stand up on.

My dad died on my birthday. This Wednesday. My aunt died November 5th, my other aunt the 2nd week of November. I don't like this month.

But for some reason I have to deal with it. Every fucking year.
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LIVE! [10-18-04 @ 10:31pm]
I'm questioning my journalistic skills everytime I come to make another entry.

On the bus ride from school, sitting there with a GMAT application, which by the way, I am so far from ever taking the GMAT [2 yrs and one kid have been calculated into this, into how far I actually am from taking it], and it puzzled me. It made me feel like I was a Senior at the local high school, filling out the SAT exam paper, which by the way, I feel asleep during the whole SAT and managed to get a 990. I guess filling out your name is worth a lot of points.

Life is such a box of chocolates and if your like me, you bite into all of them, just so you get the one you want. Than you discard the box, because your eating the only good flavor in the box, which to me is chocolate in chocolate.

Right. So there I was on that lonely bus ride, around my fellow MetroCard abusers, pondering the next year. I'm going to be a mom. Who said that? My mom's going to be a grandmother. Mrs. Elizabeth loves saying Grandma now as if it's like calling her P-Diddy. It's just that fabulous to her. Odd.

If I can have someone call me mom. I was thinking more like "E". In high school I was in my friend's house and they all called the mom "Rosa". See. It works! You can respect your mom and not call her mom, I think I like this concept.

Regardless how this tale unfolds, which it seems to be unfolding at the slowest rate, like when you were little and you literally counted the days to Christmas on a calendar, I can't believe I'll be a Mom.

Sigh. Odd this year. Odd. I mean like when you throw a penny in the air and you call odds, there's always that 50/50 chance your going to land it... Guess what? I hit Odds! I'M RICH BITCH!

I'm waiting for my chocolate chip cookies to bake. I ate half the dough and realized a solid cookie wouldn't be so bad right now.

I'm Mastering in Journalism. My mom's new question "What will that do?"

It will have me doing this. This exact thing I'm doing at this moment, cursing at the labtop, writing my thoughts, struggling with the future of Arthritis and Carpul Tunnel, creeping in...

But instead I'll be getting paid.

The penny is in the air...
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WE LOVE FOOD [08-19-04 @ 3:39pm]

At around 10 am this morning, at work... I smelled gas. Strange?

Than what do you know... 2 pm. We're having a BBQ in front of my job's building. Talk about ghettooooooooo! They fed us, these underpaid slaves, and they made me happy. And I am happy because I am fed! On to the pics...

That guy handling the grill is one of my new boss's. He made me 4 hot dogs! ROCK ON!

All the underpaid workers eating there little hearts desires! [I work for T-Mobile if anyone wants to know!]

That's the president of the company in the blue shirt! See that guy with the black shirt on and those khaki pants...


There ankle cut. How gross, your a man, stick to straight leg!

14 commentsleave a comment+memoriesedit

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