Get Me Off This Island!!

My life, like everyone else's, takes twists and turns that are almost never expected. Unpredictable and whacked are good ways to describe how I've dealt with such turns lately. If only I could flip past a few chapters to get to the fun stuff I would. Alas, I'm constantly flipping through backwards to make sense of the present. It's not a blame game, necessarily, more than a simple act of reminiscing. Well, maybe it's more an act of egotism. But that's what blogging seems to be anyway. Most of my past can be easily laughed about, and I'd like to leave this earth leaving laughs in the hearts of all my family and friends.

Unfortunately, my thoughts for my bliggity may be a bit morbid today. A friend of mine made me think of physical ailments. Another friend of mine gave me a laundry list of her particular ailments. And still another friend, who claims she can read palms, was creepily accurate about the number of "almost deaths" I've had in my life. Seeing as how this is my 32nd birthday, and birthdays seem to not have much more meaning anymore other than an excuse to get piss drunk and complain about how old I am, my mind has been wandering about this subject of passing. And yes it is completely lame to dwell on such things, seeing as how I hopefully have only lived half of my earthly years.

So many thoughts are bouncing like bingo balls in my noggin. I'll try to organize them, but they tend to escape as randomly as real bingo balls do from a rolling cage.

B1 -- Is there any way to know when my time is up? As I mentioned earlier, I thought I was gonna die a couple of times. I didn't see any white tunnels of light, nor was I greeted by anyone from the "other side." Hmm, Little Rock's finest must be aware of at least one of my "almost deaths." Anyone who is reading this and knows me can guess what this is. Let's just say that lying in bed not being able to really breathe is scary enough. However, scarier is knowing that at the time, I didn't even really care. No, it was not a suicide attempt, though some may argue this point. It was just a lack of the ability to mentally process action and reaction properly. And to think, I once thought that was fun. Nowadays, when I wake up in the morning, I have no reason not to smile.

O70 -- Have I been happy with my lonely self? Despite the lack of a "life partner", I have sooooo many good people around me constantly telling me that I am worthy of a "special someone." I tell myself on a daily basis that I don't need that someone to validate my happiness, but it does make me wonder if there is anyone out there for me. I can't help who my heart flutters for, but it never seems to flutter for the right ones. Disappointment is a constant for me in this area. I have absolutely no problems meeting people, making friends, busting the guts of random individuals wherever I am, or getting a phone number. I can have fun wherever I am. Would I be happier with a significant other? My therapist says I'm afraid of actually finding someone. I'm not so sure I need it, because I'm quite happy with myself just as I am ... wow, that was a crock of bullshit I just fed myself and almost enjoyed eating. Woo, sounds like another subject for another day. Pfft, I will carry on.

I25 -- Have I been a good person? Authorities may argue with my answer, but I know that no one else would. I may have dropped a pizza or two at a restaurant that shall remain nameless and scraped them up off the floor and served them anyway. I may have taken a good 10 years to finish college. I may have partaken in what my therapist would call a slurry of irrational decisions and "risky" behaviour. I may have made my Mama cry more times than any one daughter should. I may have not been the poster girl for a "model citizen". But so what? I am what I am, and my peeps love me. Wow, the bullshit continues. I'm good at bullshitting myself.

N42 -- What do I want my funeral to be like? I hope everyone I love will be able to just party! Tell stories about me, and laugh their asses off. I don't want any damn flowers, just a bunch of empty bottles and cans and plenty of good music. I don't want to be in a box. Turn me into ashes and plant a tree with me in the soil. Then fill the urn with Guiness and pour it out for me! That sounds like heaven to me, not to mention a helluva send off!

G58 -- So what happens next? Oye, belief systems are a pain in the ass. I was raised Roman Catholic, but I'm not 100% sold on the traditional idea of heaven. I don't wanna get all deep and philosophical, but I also don't wanna be stuck in some place with everyone else floating around being the same soul I was when I left the earth. I wanna chill out and change. I wanna keep weaving in and out of the fabric of the collective subconscious. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to end up coming back as a cow or some shit. I just hope my soul isn't some some idea that has been cooked up in my own mind to be okay with my place in the world.

*Sighs* Maybe nobody really cares anyway. I'm such an emo bitch sometimes. Happy Birthday to me, and Cheers to the world for one more year off my ticker! Oh, I've got it! I should just not really worry about it! BINGO!!!!!!

So my album recommendation today is "This Island" by LeTigre. Thanks, Jules. It is incredibly fun and danceable! Get it, play it, and dance your asses off as if it were the day of my funeral.

Welcome to the Freakshow!

"Hello, my name is Enigyo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die. "

Oh, The Princess Bride! I love that movie. Seriously though, my name is not Mr. Montoya, but I am known by many nicknames. So many so, that I choose not to list them all ... Hmm, what the hell. It's a good first shot at this thing I call My Bliggity. So, welcome to the freakshow, friends and visitors! Here are some of my nicknames, and their origins. I'll progress chronologically.

• J.B. -- The grade school curse. There were like 5 Jennifers in my grade growing up. I despise being called Jenny, and Jen and Jennifer were snatched up by the "more popular" chicks. I spat in the face of class distinctions drawn out before the age of 7 and rather than use the Karate that everyone seemed to think I knew, J.B. was ok with me. At least it made me feel tough ... heehee.

• Filipenis -- Grrrrr. This one makes me ever so angry! However, to be as complete with this list as possible, it needs to be included. I could make an entire blog about this one, and I probably will at some point, so I'll keep this short. Basically, this one little brat of a kid in second grade thought it was funny to call me this after he learned that I was Filipina. Personally, I think he was just being a little shit because he never could beat me at King of the Hill. And, of course, being beaten by a girl over and over and over again is quite a knock to a 7-year old southern male ego.
• Teddy Ruxpin -- Hmm, yet another fine memory of humiliation. I was the school mascot in 8th grade. And that wasn't so bad except we weren't anything really cool and tough like tigers or cougars or lions. No, we were the ever ferocious GOPHERS! WTF? Well, anyhoo, with my stature and the size of the gopher costume, I looked more like a teddy bear. So all the little kids would come a runnin' calling me Teddy Bear or Teddy Ruxpin ... hrrrmmph.

• Barkley -- The junior high basketball curse. Wow, I haven't been called this one in a long while. Back in the day, when my body was fit for shuffling squeaky high tops up and down a basketball court, I played AAU ball in Little Rock. One might have called my style short and feisty. I even had an arch enemy! She was a very tall and very beefy girl named Medina (yes, as in Funky Cold from our beloved Tone-Loc, I think I've just aged myself). Sorry to drown this blog entry with another Princess Bride reference, but trust me it fits. Medina was a lot like Andre the Giant ("Anybody want a peanut?") To make a long story short, I was the only one who could "punk her down" so to speak. Therefore, the referees and all the coaches began calling me Barkley, after the infamous Charles Barkley. I'm not too sure that nickname makes me proud?

• Agent 99 -- This one is pathetic. In 9th grade, I had a teacher Mrs. X who was married to another teacher Mr. X, who had this deal about midterm exams. I have chosen to keep the names anonymous, because they were scary. What I mean is, they appeared to be more like inbred siblings rather than husband and wife. Arkansas is a frightening place to grow up in sometimes. Anyhoo, if you made a 100% on her midterm, she claimed you deserved dinner in a nice restaurant her treat. Right, so I didn't get dinner, but I did get an embarrassing nickname and my exam taped to the door as an example. Apparently, I was the closest anyone had ever gotten to the free meal. Talk about instant outcast in all social circles. Doh!
  


• Eskimo -- Yes, this is yet another example of the ignorance that is Arkansas. But I can't really fault anyone for thinking I look like an Eskimo. And I don't blame the countless folks in Little Rock who may have never been exposed to anyone that doesn't fit the black or white categories (fellow others, raise your hands). I honestly blame the old TV show Northern Exposure. Of course there's a story with this one. So I'm walking down an empty hall in high school. Towards me is coming a very large black guy, which didn't phase me by the way for anyone who is wondering. Anyway, he thinks he's being funny I guess because he asks me, "Hey, where yo' igloo at?" Wow, the possibility of an igloo in Arkansas was obviously ridiculous, and I thought I'd retort back with something a little more geographically accurate. So I said to him, "Hey, where yo' watermelon at?" The look of shock almost made me fall down, but we were able to share a laugh in the hallway at the very least.

• Asian Wonder Bitch -- I'm Asian. I'm wonderful. And I'm a bitch! And I had a good friend in high school who was the Caucasian Wonder Bitch for similar reasons, only different ethnicity. Pixie Barf, fellow blogger (http://pixiebarf.blogspot.com/), can verify this one. She is a funny girl, check her out.

• Asian Persuasion -- Speaking of Pixie Barf, I played soccer with her in senior year of high school. Again, based on my stature, I was best fit for keeper (or goalie). During one fine game, we were playing against one of the more redneck towns in Arkansas (there are many). I was minding my goal, and my goal was my house! Nobody got past me without a fight. Well, this one disgruntled striker decided to call me F'ing Chink. Sure, like that was going to make me any less able to stop her strikes at goal. It actually almost got me thrown out of the game, because I had taken off my goalie gloves, thrown them to the ground, and was about to put a fist in her face when my better judgement calmed me down enough to chill on it. But I did go home that night and apply the words Asian Persuasion to my doo-rag (bandanna) that I wore at every game.

• Bee-atch -- Oh freshman year of college! Some days I remember, most are a blurr. My best friend was Asshole, and she called me Bee-atch. It stuck. It stuck so much, that just three weeks ago at her wedding I could not introduce myself as Jen. Nobody really knew who I was until I said, "Yes, I'm Bee-atch." Her mother even calls me Bee-atch to this day.
• The Mexican -- The only ones who ever called me this, and never to my face mind you, were Little Rock's finest. That's right! Arkansas bacon referred to me as The Mexican. I'd rather not expand on this one, as it may incriminate me. I take the fifth. I just wanna give a shout out to all the men and women in blue in the greater Little Rock area. Yes, I'm still alive! And yes, you may search my vehicle ...
• Big Worm -- My little brother graced me with this name around the same time I was dubbed The Mexican. Therefore, rather than take the fifth again on this one, watch the movie Friday. You will understand then.

Sweet Jeebus! I'm growing weary from the conjuring of so many memories right now. I had no idea how many nicknames I could rustle up. I also had no idea until I made this list that 99% of these names refer to my ethnicity in some sort of way. There's nothing like growing up Asian in Arkansas to make a kid aware. This isn't even half of them! I just can't go on right now. This is best left for another bliggity day. I guess my attempt at a fun nickname list turned into a an emotional purging for me. Meh, I'm over it now.

Oh, by the way, every bliggity title of mine is a reference to music I recommend that you look into. And I will give details at the end of every entry. Welcome the the Freakshow refers to this really really really hot breakbeat album by Krafty Kuts called Freakshow. Just get it, and bust a move to it!

Peace and may your soul be bright!