Sometimes life leaves me feeling like overcooked spaghetti, all wobbly and about to fall apart. On spaghetti days my brain spits out the idea that I'm sick since it's the only rational explanation for feeling like such utter crap and everything becomes extremely depressing. You know when you go to turn off your computer and the color drains out of the screen? That's sorta how it feels. It seems that this mushy pasta state is the result of fighting anxiety, sometimes my thought factory can't compute all the nastiness floating around so things shut down for a while until they can be properly reset. Lately there's been a lot of stress to deal with, I think of it like viruses that the little engineers in the thought factory don't know how to deal with, so the power goes out and they all sit around in the dark waiting for the IT guy (which would be something happy) to set things back to normal. This isn't a very easy thing to explain to people either, my brain is basically running on E so rather than being able to give a proper explanation for my mopy behavior I just end up mumbling that I'm tired. And that's actually the truth, I've found spaghetti days to be a state of physical and emotional exhaustion. More often than not I don't really have the energy to explain this, and my brain is so completely done with the world that the only thing to do seems to be sitting around and waiting for that metaphorical IT guy. It feels like I'm a magnet for bad vibes. Occasionally the thought engineers will get tired of waiting for the tech support and turn the system back on, because just maybe the viruses have magically gone away, and immediately about five thousand screaming popups invade every computer screen, they all slam their hands down on a big red button, and once again they find themselves waiting in the dark. I am seriously tired of feeling like I've been left in hot water for too long. That's gonna be it for now, gang. Sorry this one was so depressing. Until next time. Much Love, Gabby
With spring officially sprung the birds are singing, the sky is blue, and all of nature is at its best and brightest. Just kidding, this isn't a Cadbury advert. Down here in Florida springtime means rain. And not just little showers followed by rainbows and sunshine, oh no, this is rain on a biblical level. I don't know why I thought the change of seasons would give me a break from soul sucking darkness; winter in Florida is gloom, spring is gloom and doom. Today it was so bad that I took the dog and hid in my room until it'd stopped storming. Whenever there's a really bad thunder storm I tend to turn into Piglet in that one part in The Many Adventures Of Winnie The Pooh when "the rain rain rain came down down down" and totally freak out. I'm always afraid the house is gonna be blown to pieces or something. Spring is just such a disappointment, man; Every year I expect sunshine and fun times and I get a mini apocalypse. In dark times such as these people tend to go off in search of a little extra cheer, and so this evening myself, the siblings, and madre braved the weather and set off in search of snackety snacks. After some Taco Bell and donuts we all feel a little better. Nothing soothes the soul like some junk food. There's really not much else to report at the moment besides this ridiculous weather. I'm currently trying to make my way through the first Pendragon book, but I haven't really been able to get into it so it's slow going. I've honestly just been in zombie mode lately, spending hours on Pinterest, watching anime, doing basically anything but reading or writing. My brain seems to be taking a vacation at the moment. I shall do like the hipsters do and go on a search for inspiration. I'll try and find something to clear the cobwebs out of my head. That's gonna be it for now, gang. Until next time. Much Love, Gabby
Last night at 3 AM the air was thick with the scent of Old Spice and hairspray and an aura of panic hung over all those awake at the ungodly hour. My brother and I were just trying to watch some anime, we were blissfully unaware that while we watched Inuyasha battle demons a real life monster lurked in the shadows just waiting for a chance to pounce. When my brother told me he had a string or something on his foot I instantly tensed, when he started hopping around frantically I knew, there was a roach in the room. Being the brave warrior that I am I fled to the other side of the room, commanded my brother to throw the door open, and ran like Sonic The Hedgehog to the kitchen. "But, Gabby, it's just a bug!" you say. Nah, gang, if that's your reaction you don't know about the monsters down here in the south. These things are devil spawn, man. If they go for somebody you better get your butt in gear and hightail it outta there. My brother kept trying to get my assistance in the hunt, which I naturally refused to give, so we ended up having a whisper shout fight in the kitchen until I could bolt to my room. He later poked his head in to inform me that he had vanquished the enemy and also that he hated me. The worst bit is not that I will have to deal with the grudge I have no doubt my brother won't let go of for a few days or even years, no, it's the fact that I had to go retrieve my laptop I had left at the scene of the crime. I have no idea if that nasty little creature crawled on this thing, hopefully the cleaning I gave it will keep any deadly germs from sticking around. I learned something from all this, dear readers, I learned that when push comes to shove I can run like, well not the Flash, but perhaps Kid Flash? That's gonna be it for now, guys. Until next time. Much Love, Gabby
The human race is a collection of curious creatures, like dragons in a fairy tale we tend to hoard things we find valuable, these things tend not to be as valuable as silver or gold though; they can be photographs, snow globes, books, a blanket, etc. Another curiosity is how the amount of value we put in material items tends to depend on the giver and not the gift. For instance last Christmas I had an uncle I hardly speak to give me some very expensive perfume, it's been sitting in the box it came in on the bottom of my bookshelf since December and I've yet to use it once; my parents got me a notebook with a quote by Walt Disney on the cover and I have treasured it dearly. Today my mother broke a plate she's had for ages and ages, it was from the golden days when the economy was good and trips were taken and gifts given often, when I was helping her pick up the pieces and she was talking about how sad she was that it'd broken something she said stood out to me. She had a long day at work so it was in a very tired voice she said, "Your father gave that to me". I had gone years without any idea of where this plate had come from, I'd thought she'd picked it up herself to spruce up the house...It's funny how something as simple as a plate with a rooster on it can represent a person's love and a multitude of happy memories. We've moved many times over the years and each time this or that trinket of my mother's would go missing, it's a terrible thing to think of all these things that could stir up happy memories being lost in a hurricane of bubble wrap and cardboard. I myself have loads of things that broadcast flashbacks of way back when on a big screen in my brain, but here's the thing about memories, gang, even the happy ones become sad when you realize you'll never have days like those again. Places change, people lose touch, loved ones pass away...I think of it like this, for every sunny day there's some clouds later on down the line, the clouds have silver linings but they're clouds nonetheless. I understand that if we were happy all the time the good times probably wouldn't feel as good, you need a storm before you get a rainbow and all of that jazz, but the depression that accompanies looking back is one such downpour I could do without. Okay, I'm sure that the entire human race doesn't feel quite so blue when taking a stroll down memory lane but I am an over thinker and can only give can only tell you what I see when glancing behind me. That's gonna be it for now, gang. Until next time. Much Love, Gabby
The creative process is weird, today I found myself hunched over my notebook and somehow my scrunchie ended up wrapped around one of my toes instead of on my wrist or in my hair. When the muse hits I scribble furiously, I can't draw but I like to play with different kinds of handwriting and attempt little things like stars. There are a lot of ugly little stars scattered throughout the pages of my notebook, they're easy to draw and a good filler when the words I've written look lonely against the white paper. When actual proper pencil and paper writing goes down I become rather oblivious to the world around me, I let my hair slide its way out of whatever sloppy style I've tied it up in, I miss meals, forget about chores, etc. A lot of artistic types claim that everything pauses when the muse hits them, I don't find that the case though. It's not really that time stops or even slows down for me, it's that I ignore it passing. Creativity turns me into a recluse, I coop myself up in my room, hiding from anything noisy and distracting. Hours later when I choose to rejoin the human race I find that a movie marathon has gone on without me or everyone has gone to bed. I don't like it when that happens, I need to work on being less of a hermit crab but tragically my muse is an antisocial creature and likes to do things on its own terms. The recluse thing is seriously something I need to work on, I tend to lose my sense of zen when out and about, I'm quiet by nature and easily overwhelmed, it's becoming rather problematic. I find that my mind over processes things, so when there's a lot to take in the gears in my thought factory start smoking and the imaginary engineers press the alarm and abandon their posts and go running off like chickens with their heads cut off. I guess I should explain the thought factory thing, huh? I don't when I started doing this but somehow that phrase about gears turning made me think up a factory in my head with a bunch of little mes in hard hats and coveralls working on loud steampunkish machines. So when I have a hard time processing something I try to explain to people how the Gabbys in the thought factory have pressed the mayday button and sirens are going off and the lights are flashing red. They never really get it so I usually just say I have a headache. Now that I'm thinking about it a ridiculous amount of detail has gone into the thought factory. There's all these different divisions, like the ones who handle processing school related information (those guys suck at their jobs), and the ones who deal with cooking (they sit in the corner crying most of the time), and each division has a supervisor which is a little me dressed up in a lab coat and glasses. The only area without a lab coat me is the creative department, that's lorded over by a personification of my muse. Wow, I didn't actually now how overly thought out this was until I wrote it all down. I'm a strange person, gang. That's gonna be it for now. Until next time. Much Love, Gabby
Today I had dinner with my little cousins and uncle at my Titi's house, we had Chinese food from my favorite takeout place and it was all very pleasant. Post chow down while my uncle was fixing my Titi's freezer and she was standing by chatting to him I found myself talking with the kiddos about reading. They went on and on about their schools reading point system, which had me more than a bit confused and then rather annoyed after they'd explained it to me. So my cousins are in middle school and have never had the love of reading my siblings and I do, generally it's something I believe to be do to extremely different parenting styles and the public school system sucking any joy from books; the system at their school isn't very helpful either, I can get having them write out things for reading comp and all that but they fact that they can only read books from their schools very limited library ticks me off to no end. I've often talked books with the younger of the cousins who is 11, I've planned numerous trips to the library over the years that have never panned out, I've loaned her books she never ended up even opening, it's seems everything has been tried...So today when she suggested I make her a list of books to check out over Spring break I was dancing on the inside, as soon as I got home I was scouring my bookshelves to find anything that might be of interest to her. And yes, I could just loan them to her but that child is famous for loosing things only for them to turn up in pieces six months later. Besides, a trip to the library never hurt anyone. Sadly despite her interest I'm not certain that once I hand over the list she'll ever read anything on it, as I said, this isn't my first attempt to get her into reading. It infuriates me how children these days can't stand to read because they're so burned out from school; reading is one of the great joys of life, it's an escape from this world and all its problems and that's something I think it's very important to have at that age. From middle school onward people are awful and life can be pretty grueling so being able to have a form of levity at ones fingertips that expands the mind instead of damaging it like some other things kids can pick up is something I am a great believer in. Another thing I talked with them about is not feeling bad for liking things because they think they're too old for them. When I was their age I read books about ponies and princesses and though I thoroughly enjoyed them I was very embarrassed by what people would think seeing me reading such things. A few years later when I started watching Avatar I was similarly ashamed. Recently however I realized that looking back it was perfectly reasonable to be reading certain books and watching certain shows when I did because 11 is a whole heck of a lot younger than I thought it was. That's basically what I told my cousins. Nowadays I still watch cartoons and read books about princesses and find myself caring a whole lot less what people think, just because I'm in my teens doesn't mean I have to watch CW shows and only read John Green novels, I don't want to look back and wished I'd gotten into something sooner and not cared if people thought I was stupid for liking it. My eyes were opened to a stunning truth, people don't really care that much about these things, and if they're ragging on you because you like lighthearted stuff you don't need that kinda crap in your life. Doing things like rereading Paddington Bear and watching House Of Mouse on Youtube with my brother on occasion make my happy meter fill up, and if that thing reaches E I stop running. The point I'm trying to make is that you should never feel you have to apologize for liking something that makes you happy, gang. As long as it's not anything bad you just keep doing your thing. That's gonna be it for now, guys. Until next time. Much Love, Gabby
In any religion you will constantly find people challenging your faith, "Well if your God is real then why does (insert problem here) happen?". I try not to let it get to me, I get angry and annoyed but I don't lose my faith because someone decided to pick a fight with me or any other Christian. But sometimes people aren't the only thing putting our faith to the test. You've probably noticed by now that I have a problem with anxiety, this has lead to lots of sleepless nights and unanswered questions; Why does God let me go on feeling so terrible all the time? Where is this incredible peace the bible talks about when I'm having a panic attack? It's an awful thing to admit but these questions cross my mind a lot. People have told me to give it to God more times than I can count, to pray, read my bible, etc. But it's tough stuff, man. While the bible has a bounty of help verses it doesn't say anything I can recall about anxiety except, "Don't be anxious about anything, instead pray about everything"... Cut to me dealing with a serious case of "Shouting At The Ceiling Syndrome" aka feeling like God's put me on call waiting. It's not that I don't believe in God, I do, I really really do, but sometimes I feel like he's just left me hanging, like with all the problems in this nasty world he's forgotten about me. I tried talking to people about these feelings but they just send me right on back to the "Don't worry about anything" square. Easy for them to say, they don't constantly feel like their personal universe could collapse at any moment. It's like my feelings are Godzilla and I'm the populace of Tokyo. Okay, time for a slight change of topic and a tragic confession: One of the few things that would help me when having a panic attack would be playing Animal Crossing: New Leaf on my 3DS. I dunno what it was about that game, maybe it was that I pretty much controlled everything, maybe the fact that the villagers were all nice (minus this one snot named Amelia) and everything was just generally chilled out, I dunno, but it sure helped. And then late December it suddenly decided to stop charging and now it seems to have passed on. Back when I still had Christmas money I'd hope to take it to gamestop and get it fixed, apparently they don't fix things or sell batteries and it's way beyond my budget to send it off to Nintendo for them to fix. So my precious DS I worked for months at a miserable babysitting job for is sitting in a drawer in my bookshelf, gathering dust and being utterly useless. I know it sounds stupid but I miss my town, gang, I miss all my animal neighbors and being able to play until I felt better. I dunno how this jumped from God to video games but perhaps my subconscious is saying something like my spiritual DS is dead so I can't reach the place where I'm chilled out and in tune with God...I dunno, guys. That one sounds pretty out there even to me. Forgive the rambling sleep deprived loony. That's gonna be it for now, gang. Until next time. Much Love, Gabby
Note to self: Don't count your figurative chickens, don't even talk about them, otherwise they are doomed not to hatch. Apparently there are going to be thunder storms across the whole of the state this coming weekend, and you know what that means? No Dapper Day for me. Is it bad to say that while being a little bummed out I'm also kind of relieved that the trip is off? Don't get me wrong, I wanted to go to Disney, I really wanted to go to Disney, but is it bratty to say that I'd rather go on more of my own terms? That is without a tight schedule for meet ups, a boat ride I don't really like normally, and crowding the carousel with a bunch of other dapper people so no normally dressed people ruin any pictures that might be taken? The last bit honestly sound pretty jerky to me, it's Disney world, people save for months or even years to go there, they travel thousands of miles, they should be able to ride the carousel without a bunch of fancy people cutting them off. Maybe that's just a me thing, I don't know. The worst part about this is that today I had to tell my friend who had really got her hopes up about it that we weren't going. And that's something I don't think is fair since my sister was the one who told her we were going in the first place. But yeah, since this was to be the makeup for a kind of lack luster birthday due to my mother being sick and certain family members not caring enough to give me a happy birthday phone call (it's a thing with our family, I dunno how it started but if you don't get the phone call from someone it's a big deal) I honestly feel a little bit...happy that we get to do it some other time at a more chilled pace? I know I'm being totally selfish but if something is meant to be for someone's birthday I think it ought to be at least a little bit about what they want to do. Honestly all I want to do it get my birthday button from the place where they give them out on main street, do my thing in magic kingdom, and then hop over to EPCOT to check out some of the stuff in the Japan pavilion without anybody telling me to hurry up. Honestly I prayed about this trip when I was feeling anxious and told God that if he wanted us to go then he could give us the green light and if he didn't that was okay too. Does that sound completely stupid and shallow? Does this whole thing? I dunno, gang, this is just where I'm at right now and I'm sorry if it's stupid and first world problem-y but it's what I've got going on. That's gonna be it for now, guys. Until next time. Much Love, Gabby
Last night at 4 AM I wrote something in my notebook that I forgot about until this afternoon, I couldn't remember what it was but I was sure it was super duper deep...In my special Disney world leather notebook in very fancy writing it said, "My life is a big box of honey bunches of nopes". That's basically a perfect summary of how things have been going lately. You remember those brownies? Well if a sponge and gum had a chocolate flavored baby that would be them. They're still sitting on the stove bringing shame upon me. In the midst of my series of unfortunate events that I shan't bother going into detail about there shines a great proverbial light in the distance. The distance is exactly a week from today, the light is the fireworks of Disney world. I'm going next weekend with my sister and my oldest friend for Dapper Day, and I must confess gang, even that's got me nervous. If you're not familiar with it Dapper Day is an event that takes place in Magic Kingdom and Disneyland in March and then again at Hollywood Studios and Disneyland again in the fall at some point, during this time people come from all over decked out in their vintage Sunday best. Wigs are bought, months are spent looking for the perfect dress, and there's winged eyeliner as far as the eye can see. I've never been especially great at hair and makeup, gang, and though my friend who is a professional makeup artist is going to take care of all that for me my mind is not completely at ease, for you see there is still the matter of finding something to wear. I haven't really got anything appropriate for old school fanciness. I mean, I've got a dress but no shoes or anything, and the chances of finding a fairy godmother to take care of it in this day and age are slim to none. I'm sure we'll have a grand old time, it's Disney for goodness sakes, but I can't help but worry that I'll end up looking like a potato next to the rest of my group and my sister's friends that we're meeting there. I know this is the kind of shallow first world problem stuff that's extremely annoying to hear about but it's a dilemma in Gabby world. My sister assured me that all the people who go are nice and nobody'll rag on you for what you wear but I really don't want to feel like a ragamuffin amongst a bunch of people who look like they walked out of an Audrey Hepburn movie. I was planning on wearing my hair in pigtails with a '50s style dress I've had sitting in the back of my closet, if everyone else was going to look glamorous I could at least be the cutesy one, and then it didn't fit and I cursed the forces of the universe for once again working against my favor. Now it seems I'll be wearing this odd Chinese looking dress which is much more formfitting than I would like, that is to say it doesn't have the preferred twirlablity (I assure you I don't be walking around Disney in anything scandalous), and it doesn't really sleeves and I'm not very found of the way my arms look and I also tend to get cold. First world problems abound like woodland creatures in a princess movie. And now I must journey to the airport to be a part of my Titi's welcome home party. That's gonna be it for now, guys. Until next time. Much Love, Gabby
I have previously mentioned how my skills in the kitchen are lacking. I have also mentioned how in a Hispanic family that makes me a bit of a black sheep; a girl ought to be able to cook, it's practically a law of our culture. Today there was yet another incident in the kitchen and I have come away very much disenchanted with the culinary arts. Never mind the fact that I've been on lunch duty ever since my mother started her new job and been doing an okay job, never mind that neither of my older siblings have offered their services, forget the fact that I've gone a good bit of time without screwing anything up too badly, today I messed up the measurements while baking brownies and it is to be my eternal shame. I asked my sister to help me make them, but she opted to sit on the couch glued to her phone as if it were a life preserver and she were stranded at sea. When I told her she could lick the spoon once I put the brownies in the pan she came running like The Flash and then stopped to point out how runny the batter was (which it hadn't been when I left the kitchen to make the generous offer of a bowl full of leftover batter all for her) and then call our mother in to make a spectacle of my miscalculation. Of course she ignored the fact that I'd asked if she'd wanted to do it in the first place, I failed and that is something that is apparently enjoyable to revel in. My mother consoled me, told me they'd come out just like cake and that it wasn't that bad a failure... And then when my sister wouldn't stop ragging on me and I tried to fight back she informed me how she'd had a hard enough day at work and didn't need my drama. My drama! As if my sister weren't the one antagonizing me! Aren't older siblings supposed to be supportive? Or is that as fictional as Tadashi Hamada and the March sisters? The brownies are still in the oven, hopefully they turn out decent and don't taste like the humiliation I'm feeling right now. That's gonna be it for now, gang. Until next time. Much Love, Gabby
Happy March, gang! May it be a less dreary month than its predecessor. So, good people of the internet, I am very proud and more than slightly shocked to report that I read a grand total of 14 books last month! Okay, granted three were comic books and another four were manga but I'mma count 'em anyways. 14 books, guys! I will probably not be matching that anytime soon (if ever) so I'm taking this chance to revel in my victory. Some other things have happened during my absence. For instance during a trip to Walmart I heard a father telling his children, "Elsa isn't real! Thank God". Needless to say his daughter who couldn't have been older than eight was crushed, this news led to her brother proclaiming his hatred of Elsa and the sister proclaiming her hatred of him. That day in Walmart the dreams of a young child, a pillow display, and a brother/sister relationship were destroyed. I could write a book filled with the weird things I witness in Walmart. One time there was this lady with a purse shaped like a chicken... Anyways, the last of the books I finished was a fantasy called Jinx by Sage Blackwood ( which is seriously the pen name-yest of pen names) and I loved it. The setting, characters, and writing were all primo. The magic system was interesting, the protagonist wasn't out shined by the side characters (a problem I have with a lot of books), and the world in which the book was set had an overall eeriness about it that kept my eyes glued to the pages. I can't wait to read the sequel. That's gonna be it for now, guys. Until next time. Much Love, Gabby
