Zemblanity

Serendipity, according to Wikipedia, is "making fortuitous discoveries while looking for something unrelated". An example would be Christopher Columbus seeking a new route to India, and inadvertently discovering America. Zemblanity is the opposite of Serendipity. I find it very curious that this is now a defunct word. So much so, that it is an invalid word for Scrabble. I have no examples other than my story.

Last winter, I was heading to see my mechanic about an oil leak. It was just after sunset, when there is barely any sunlight left, and the streetlights have not gotten to their full brightness. I'm driving along a section of fairly dark road, and I suddenly see an oh-so-brief glimpse of a man either dark-skinned or wearing dark clothing in front of me, with his hand was outstretched in a "STOP!" motion. I seem to remember seeing a flash of turquoise. I then remember hearing a huge "thud" on my car and I remember being pulled over, screaming.

I get out of the car, crying and screaming, "What happened!". I see a woman behind my car, visibly stunned, who indicates she is the man's mother-in-law. Another woman who had been driving behind me had pulled over and asked if I was okay. She said she hadn't seen the man either, and almost hit him after he'd flipped over my car. She gave me a hug and went where the man lay. I sat in my car and waited for the police to come to my car. The questioning is somewhat of a blur. I remember only telling them the brief details that I remember.. I try not to guess anything, because dispite my shock, I know how these things can come back to haunt you.

I am stunned and don't remember anything during that time period except that I did not have my car for about a month, my performance at work became unsatisfactory, oh, and the man died the following day. He was 61, and his wife and mother-in-law were picking him up after work. He was on the south side of the street and crossed to meet them on the north side, and had J-walked in front of me from my left. An investigating officer spoke to me a couple of weeks after, explaining in detail all of the forensics that had been done on my car and the road. I was driving under the speed limit, braked, and tried to steer out of the way. In essence, I was told, there was nothing I could have done to avoid the accident, I did everything I could to avoid it, and had he lived, he would have been cited.

How do I feel? Disgusted. Talking to the officer helps ease my conscience. I then get angry. How could that man do this to his family, taking such a risk?  Why didn't his wife pick him up on the other side of the street? Having lost my sister back in July, nothing could come close to being so tragic. I don't feel guilty. I feel that God has His plan, and this man's time was up. For whatever reason, God chose me to deliver him. I can't question it, and I don't have the energy to get angry at God. I'm still dealing with my sister being gone. I make an emotional "bookmark" of this and continue on...

Medusa

Medusa was a beautiful priestess in Athena's temple. She and Poseidon " Lord of the Sea" lay together in Athena's temple and out of rage, Athena turned Medusa's beautiful tresses into serpents, and her face so terrible to behold that she would turn anyone who looked at her into stone. Medusa has since become womens's icon for rage. I have entertained the thought for many years of getting a Medusa tramp stamp.

I read my friend's blog today and it broke my heart. Her grandfather passed away, and she'd had a dream about his passing and thought of one of his favorite songs just hours before she had found out the terrible news. I can't help but think it was him telling her he had left. I was very saddened because in reading about his life, I wish I'd known him. I would loved to have listened to him talking about his travels, his adventures, his loves, his losses. I guess I'm just very sentimental, or maybe I was channeling her loss. I just have not been able to get rid of this lump in my throat.

On Facebook today, someone I've not talked to or seen in 20 years gave me a Friend Request. Of course I accepted! Mike is someone I met 20 years ago on a plane from San Diego to El Paso when I was returning from visiting Missy on January 3, 1990. Mike and I had been checking each other out since the plane departed San Diego, and when it stopped in Phoenix, I moved and sat by him...not him come sit by ME; I was the "aggressor". We talked continuously until we reached El Paso, but we did not say goodbye there. We continued to talk over the next few months, and he went to Alamogordo to see me about six months later. Yes, we had a hot weekend. We wanted more, but there were issues, like he was in San Diego--oh, yeah, and I was engaged. So he calls me as soon as I accept his friend request, and we spent about three hours talking and reminiscing. He tells me he's been looking for me for years, especially the past five--and I was the love of his life. Woah...

So ANYway...

I just read someone's blog bitchin' and bellyachin' (as Liberals do) about Arizona's SB1070 Bill. He called upon the Tea Party to intercede because they "stand against intrusion by government against the rights of individuals". Does this guy not know what the Tea Party back in 1773 was a revolt dealing with TAXES?? Therefore, would common sense not tell Idiot that the New American Tea Party has to do with taxes? Infact, the Tea Party Movement is a "coalition of citizens and organizations concerned with the recent trend of fiscal recklessness in government". Additionally, the Tea Party is all about the Constitution and vehemently against the Governments refusal to adhere to it. Illegals receiving financial aid of any kind and NOT being deported is clearly non-adherence to the Constitution. I think he means the ACLU. God knows those pieces of Liberal shit stand up for anything. Remember when they defended NAMBLA?? Google that one. It infuriates me to see someone make blanket statements and not back them up. Liberals use the same lines that are fed to them by that Pelosi C.U.N.extT.uesday and her puppet, B.H.O. Rarely do they use statistics or facts. Rarely do they take the time to truly educate themselves about the issues. SB1070 is clearly unread and misunderstood.

Tonight I went out for coffee with Rich. We talked, but our conversations are just not as heartfelt (on my part) anymore. He asks questions, trying to seek something to talk about, and I am a little short and just say "yes" or "no, no, no". He thinks after telling me he won't ever marry me that things will stay the same: hugging, kisssing, sex. Right. I am deliberately showing him the difference now. I don't kiss him. I don't see him everyday. I tell him about Mike. I don't tell him about Clyde, but I do let him know that there are men that want me. I am certain that he will someday regret letting me go. I just hope he tells me someday so I can gloat internally. He will not be the first. Many have come back years later, telling me how much they missed me, how much they learned from me, how much they regretted letting me go. I can't help but think that in that sense, I have affected them in a Medusa sort of way.

Esperanza

Esperanza is my Catholic Confirmation name, which is Spanish for Hope, and that is something I am putting into this new medication -- and that God agrees with me on it.

I got in touch with my cousin, Chem, today. Yes, it's pronounced like it's spelled, not "kem" like some sci-fi killer doctor. We were discussing the family, and I told her how my Dad has an even stronger sense of loyalty to my Mom's side of the family after my sister's death. My cousins Cindy, Francisco, his wife, and my Tia Nicky (on my Mom's side) either flew in or drove 5-6 hours just to attend my sister's funeral. The whole time I was in Arlington I don't recall my Dad's phone ringing with HIS side asking about my sister as she lay in a coma, or checking on Dad after she'd died. Then again, I wasn't paying attention to much, but I am a little pissed about that. Okay, as my therapist would say, I'm hurt, but that I use anger as a defense. What's the difference? Hurt, pissed, these are feelings that I've mastered at suppressing or resolving on my own. Besides, I get motivated to act when I'm angry. Sadness is for wimps and doesn't accomplish anything but self-pity and crying. Somewhere in my subconscious is a boneyard full of gnarliness and mournful, angry spirits waiting to arise. I'll bookmark this and revisit later. For now, I'll supress it.

Didja get that, Chris?

FlorEspinoza

Florespinoza is derived from my Grandmothers' maiden names. Francisca Flores was my Maternal Grandmother's name. She died around 1940 of cervical cancer. My Paternal Grandmother, Mama Pepa, was Josefa Espinoza. I remember Mama Pepa at her kitchen table, sewing, when I was little. She made Papa Bear, Daniella's teddybear, a cute cordorouy suit. Rob was gracious enough to give him to me after Daniella left, and I have him in it, sitting on my desk. So when you put the two names together as FlorEspinoza, it translates to "thorny flower", which is how I feel sometimes. My mother likes the name.

Losing my balance and my mobility slowing down has been devastating to me. I was that confident, bitchy and girly-girl that women admired but were jealous of, wearing the high heels working my ghetto bootie with the side to side ass-movement, just like a runway walk. I liked wearing my low-cut blouses for slight jiggle effect (because they're firm, not flabby), or not-TOO-short skirts showing off my thick thighs and accentuating my bubble butt. I was always nicknamed "Sexy Raquel", but made sure never to venture to the sleazy side. I always had somewhere to go, and made a presentation of it, as I do have a great sense of style and flair. Boy, did I work it!

My passion, and perhaps my biggest loss, is dancing. I was getting pretty damn good at Salsa, and my ass is perfect for Merengue. I had developed my style of flutter-step for Cha-Cha, and loved doing my "disco" flairs with my arms and hands. The Salsa scene is like a caste society, especially at Cafe Sevilla. An excellent dancer may choose to dance with a lower-level dancer, but that lower-level cannot dance "up". I was gradually moving up, frequently dancing with one "upper-level" man I used to love watching. Then again, maybe he danced with me because I'd slept with him a couple of times, so he knew I had good rhythm. Regardless, dancing is my passion, and I refuse to believe I will never dance again. I'm just calling it a hiatus, and will take up Tango and perhaps Samba (a very difficult Brazillian dance) when I make my return debut.

I subscribed to my friend's blog, and another guy whose name escapes me. I feel like quite the novice having read them both. They are really great writers and have links and everything attached to their blogs. I feel like the Freshman on the Varsity football team. I can attach photos, but links? Songs? Videos? Fuggetaboutit.

I'm listening to the Tropical station on Music Choice TV right now. It's Fania All Stars, and I feel a stirring in my gut and pain in my heart. I'm holding back tears because the desire to move and dance is so intense. Me siento como una flor espinoza en este momento...