Epiphany

So after our three day staff retreat I spent a lot of time mowing over different realizations and epiphanies. I'm one tired jack ass for it too. I say jack ass because I really think I have quite the audacity to always figure things out in the present. Why over analyze later what you can beat into the ground now... really. In any event, with all my inner turmoil something occurred to me about my patterns with... drum roll... men.

I know big whoop, many women around the world figure out their patterns with the opposite sex all the time and they amount to a whole lot of nothing. Ultimately people are miserable seeking understanding and empathy in their misery. This creates happy for both participating individuals. I think the world (myself included) would like to perceive me as an optimist. I do believe that this is what it boils down to though. As pessimistic as it sounds, I actually think it's quite lovely. ANYWAY, something pretty interesting did occur to me and I thought I would post it.

So the other night I am at this Mexican restaurant with 4 friends. One of them from out of town. This restaurant I have pretty much been a regular at for a couple of months now. Every night at 9 the mariachi band comes out to play some really pretty ballads. One of the violin players/vocalist for the mariachi band I think is a little sweet on me. He is always smiling at me and seeking out eye contact when I enter. I do think he's kinda cute and I'm a fan of his talent, even so, I become the spazmo I always become and avoid that eye contact or get into fight of flight mode. (I know I'm a tragedy)

Jeremiah (my friend from out of town) was sitting next to me and asked me "What's up with that, go get it girl." and I pretty much flipped out. I mean I got stumbly, denying any kind of attraction on either end. blah, blah, blah. And then shrugged the whole thing off. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I'm scared of boys.

So I sat their trying to figure out what makes me panic with some dudes and not others. I mean I'm not a machine I have had fun times with quite a few cute guys. I was trying to figure out what separated my exes or my past hookups from the random guy that will smile at me.

I realized that the guys that are in the former category have across the board not shown sexual attraction in me when first meeting me. It's only after spending time with me, even a small amount of time, seeing the kind of person I am, do they express an interest. I mean I am attracted to them, I have never hooked up with a guy I didn't think was really cute. But I think my assumption is that if they don't want to tear my clothes off from the jump then they are safe. Which is some shit because this makes these men a little emotionally unsafe. Many times they are in want for what my heart can provide them and not what they can provide me.

My question is, does that mean that I'll never date a guy that sexually wants me. Whose interest in me isn't because I have won him over but because when he sees me, he SEES me, and immediately wants me. I wonder if I have been hooking up with guys who don't think I'm beautiful because I'm scared of how safe I would be with that. I mean I understand myself, I have been sexually assaulted at all four major life junctions, there is a reason for the fear. I guess now the question is, how do I get past it? I really do want to know what its like to feel someone be so attracted to me they can barely keep there hands off of me, but how does that tie in with the need to feel safe? Can there be both?

I'm a Parking Ticket

As I have been alluding to, it's been a difficult couple of weeks. I mean good God, the conflict both external and internal has been ridiculous. I've been trying to figure out a few things about myself. Sometimes I feel like a puppy that keeps bumping into the same glass doors because it doesn't know how to walk through the doggy door. I don't feel like I know the location of the doggie door at all most times, figuratively speaking, but I digress.

This week I had a staff retreat and I kept thinking about how I hit the doggie door. The eternal struggle being, how do I get myself to believe that I am fantastic so that I don't "need" other people to think I'm fantastic. Or as Rey used to put it so eloquently in college "I'm a parking ticket! Validate me! Validate me!"

I had two seperate people tell me that they really loved me this weekend. They said it with so much heart and genuineness. They both at separate times, unbeknownst to the other, told me that I had changed their lives. That their interaction with the world was changed by how I helped them grow. How they felt this change with different people and that this would ultimately lead to them being able to connect with the world in a deeper way. They emphatically declared that I was a gift. I sat their fully unable to articulate how I felt. ME. I had no knowledge on how to respond to that. Shamefully, to an extent, I have always hoped that people would look at me the way both of these wonderful people looked at me this weekend. The kind of gratitude they had was so gratifying and overwhelming. It's part of why the rescuer, rescues. Instead I almost felt like I had done something wrong. If they had this much knowledge of the hand I played in their process, then I felt like it must mean that I am a failure. Here they were giving me what is probably the most heartfelt thanks I have ever recieved and I am sitting there feeling guilt and shame.

As I processed the whole shebang and realized how cracked out my instincts were, I really got sick of the base reaction to all of it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not an emotional crackwhore over it. I just want to feel proud of myself without the want for other people to feel proud of me. I want to feel beautiful without someone else telling me that I am. I don't want to have to wait until someone notices me and my gifts before I feel gifted. I know this all comes in time, but what exactly is the process to get there. I'm ready. I'll do it.

Does anyone ever really get there? I mean do I have this ideal in my head of a reality that doesn't exist? It just seems other people around me don't find the need to hear it as much as I do. I mean I also feel totally socially akward, now that I have verbalized it, I realize people don't agree with me. Crazy what your brain perceives that other people don't see. Oh the ruminations and how draining they can be.

I am energized however, the weekend went well, my staff got what it needed and the time spent was useful. I'm grateful to J for providing the experience. It's amazing to watch how good your friends can be at what they do. It made me feel blessed to have the people in my life that I do.

Put Your Records On...

I'm loving this song right now, thought I would share the lyrics...


Three little birds, sat on my window.
And they told me I don't need to worry.
Summer came like cinnamon
So sweet,
Little girls double-dutch on the concrete.

Maybe sometimes, we got it wrong, but it's alright
The more things seem to change, the more they stay the same
Oh, don't you hesitate.

Girl, put your records on, tell me your favourite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,
Just go ahead, let your hair down.

You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow.

Blue as the sky, sombre and lonely,
Sipping tea in the bar by the road side,
(just relax, just relax)
Don't you let those other boys fool you,
Gotta love that afro hairdo.

Maybe sometimes, we feel afraid, but it's alright
The more you stay the same, the more they seem to change.
Don't you think it's strange?

Girl, put your records on, tell me your favourite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,
Just go ahead, let your hair down.

You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow.

Just more than I could take, pity for pity's sake
Some nights kept me awake, I thought that I was stronger
When you gonna realise, that you don't even have to try any longer.
Do what you want to.

Girl, put your records on, tell me your favourite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,
Just go ahead, let your hair down.

Girl, put your records on, tell me your favourite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,
Just go ahead, let your hair down.

Oh, You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow

That's Why Rich People Look So Different...

I must say that I am very amused that it took me forever to find an image of a hot stone massage that had a brunette and not a blonde. However friend, that is besides the point. I had the BEST experience today getting my first massage. It was the most intimate beautiful experience I have ever had with a perfect stranger. haha. My boss Marshall came into the office a couple months ago with a gift card for a massage at the Four Seasons. I was really grateful, but I must admit I had no idea how great this was going to be until I experienced it.

So let me start at the beginning. This week was shit. I mean big crappy doo, stink in a pile, steaming shit. hahahaha. It was really tragic how bad it all was. I think I had just gotten to a point where I was too full of emotions to ingest anymore and I shut off emotionally to a marginal extent. Around Wednesday I decided it would be vital to my survival to book a massage for Saturday and use my gift card. So I did.

I walked into the Four Seasons admittedly nervous. I didn't know protocol. I mean, I didn't grow up in the type of family that had that kind of splurge. The people were sooo nice and explained everything to me. First they gave me a glass of "Cucumber Lemon Water" and it was so scrumptious and refreshing. Then I filled out this survey to basically let them know where my physical and emotional health was at. Admittedly my first response was to snicker at some of the questions and think of smart alec responses to them. But I put smart ass Karla away and brought out open-mind Karla. As I scribbled ratings on the various blanks, my head filled with images of people telling me "you should take better care of yourself Karla." and then I realized that I was there for that very reason.

Each person is given there own personal locker. In this locker you find a plush bathrobe, a plush towel and some slippers. After a mildly akward conversation about the role of underwear in this whole endeavor and letting the attendant know I changed my mind and would rather have a woman for my first massage (yes I am a nerd), I get nakie and then put on the various free accessories. I went to the steam room and it was pretty comical. I mean there I am trying to balance a towel and a magazine in a STEAM room. Which basically ended up with me a hot sweaty mess with a newly crinkled magazine. I'm such a mess on feet really. Common sense is just not my forte, never does it occur to me that paper (in the form of a magazine) could drench in a steam room. But there I was struggling to read the conservatives attack on George Clooney in the new Vanity Fair in the middle of a ton of steam. When I realize what a tard I was I left the steam room and put my robe back on. I lounged in the designated ladies waiting area. Sipping more of the yummy cucumber lemon water and chewing on a few dried apricots.

So this lady Erica who keeps calling me "Ms. Monterroso", which was highly uncomfortable for me, keeps reminding me that the experience is strictly for me and I should let her know when something hurts, tickles, etc. I for some reason choose this very moment to get very nervous about how my body will react. I think, what if I fart? What if I cry? So I giggle (which is customary for me when I am nervous) and I say "I know this sounds silly, but I'm afraid of crying" and she tells me "Oh thats normal, lots of people either cry or hysterically laugh, its called emotional release. It's really the whole point to being here. So don't worry." Oh Jesus.

I then lay face down breathing in this aromatherapy sheezy and proceed to remember what its like to feel my body. I mean really, really feel my body. Remember what places hurt and what places are tired. I am amazed at how I don't even consciously acknowledge the places where I hurt anymore. I just get used to it and I carry it. Can I tell you, a few times I start to tear and cry a little while she massages me. Not out of pain, but out of release. And then she takes a hot stone and places it on my heart and I literally start balling. I mean a deep cry. A sob trapped in years of "be strong Karla's" and "You can handle this" appeasements. I feel in my body the stories of the children and adults I have helped heal. I feel how tired I have been, how full of all of the emotional stress and pain of both my life experience and the experiences others have shared with me. I start saying things with what feels like little control of myconsciouss body. I say "I'm afraid of getting so full I can't help them." and "how can I be this tired?" and just as easily as I start she takes the stone away from my body and sets it on the top of my head, I quiet and regroup. Floored by what was beneath my surfaces. Relieved that I have room toreceivee and give more of myself to the world.

Ya'll now, I haven't been one to praise the chakras, chant the crystals or even light the incense. But today made me a believer in the connection between my body and my heart. Realizing now that when I abuse one, I abuse the other. They are sisters connected in a way that I have no rational explanation for. But I am grateful to the discovery. I sat there after the massage nurturing my heart feeling like a little girl who was playing grown up. I went to the steam room again, showered in a 5 nozzle palace of warm water and used all there assorted lotions and oils to get ready to leave.

I gotta say, I thought from the time I was a little girl that rich people had a certain polish to them. I realize now its the having the money to take care of yourself that gives them that sheen. haha. I mean to be serious, its amazing what paying attention to yourself does for you. I feel soooo much better and less tired then I have in so long. You know that feeling after a looong good deep cry? That is the kind of relief my body has felt all day. I'm a convert. Sign me up.

Focusing on the other pieces

I just posted an abbreviated version of this on my myspace bulletin. But this blog is something my kids don't read so, I'll elaborate a little. This is what I wrote there...

"So I've just gotten my umpteenth piece of feedback about focusing on parts of my life that aren't my career. I am starting to feel that my friends are afraid the words "Lonely Spinster" are going to be on my tombstone. lol.

I personally believe myself to be quite the perky, quirky, enjoyable gal. However, I do acknowledge that my focus can become pretty singular and work oriented. I'm not quite sure how to step out of that. I mean there is going to the gym three times a week, getting out of work on time and the like. But how do you focus on a social life. I am posting because I know some of you are particularly good at this. I am frankly asking for suggestions. How do you focus on pieces of your life that aren't your job, when you love what you do? It's easy to go back to it and fix things there. I know how. How do I focus on having fun? Any ideas?

prrrrr,

Karla"

I think I have done a lot better with the personal care stuff. I started making goals and then following through with them. Creating a space for things that are exclusively for me. But it still didn't show me how to have fun. lol. I know that sounds way more tragic then it really is. But don't cry for me Argentina. I am not moping around about it exactly. I'm just a little puzzled. Its been a waaaay difficult year. One full of sadness. The fact I haven't crawled into a little ball and cried is a big fuckin accomplishment. But how do I extend past this point.

Here is the deal, when I am with my good friends. I'm not talking about the legions of people who lean on me or ask me for advice, but my really good friends. I swear to you, I am a fucking blast. lol. I mean I can crack a joke like no other, I'm silly... I'm me. But I get around other people and a part of that shuts down. I just kinda listen in. Unless I'm talking about work. In which case, I am the alpha female. When I'm around other people if I'm not advising, I'm not really free. I don't know if this is a choice or if its just how I react. Now is this how other people perceive me? Probably not. I doubt many people have noticed at all. I think that's why I latch on to people who make me laugh. It gives me free license. But I guess I have to trust people in my gut on first impression to allow them to let me laugh. And my gut trusts so few. Argh and grrr on the walls.

Any ideas cyberspace?

Finding A Map

So I have this horrible sense of direction, I think in part, I was never shown the virtue of creating your own plan. Much less the virtue in asking for assistance in creating a plan. This weekend, I met a woman who totally gave me the greatest gift. She showed me how to create a space in my life for me. It was phenomenal. I felt so understood and validated. She sat there and she taught me how to treat myself in the same way I treat the program that I run. How as first generation immigrants who are service professionals, it is very natural to not know how to seperate ourselves from our work. She let me know how vital it is to take care of myself not just for my existance but for the strengthening of my abilities... in all aspects of life.

Home girl BROKE IT DOWN for me. I'm floored and thankful. The 40 things you see below is my first step. I am starting to plan out what I want for Karla. And not in that "its new years and I need to do for me for once" kinda way" But in the "I have a plan and its time to move to action for the sake of my survival" kinda way.

If you have any suggestions, please let me know. I am open to any input really. I look forward to wrapping my brain around all this and telling you more.

All my love,

Karla

The Signs

Ladies and gentlmen, God is good.

I really have no idea how she finds me in the randomest ways to show me, "hey guess what, you're an ass, of course I didn't abandon you." But she does. And for this I am oh so grateful. Just last week I told my friend Rey, "I'm hitting another wall. This can't be it, my whole life can't revolve around my job, I love it, but its not enough. I need help and I don't even begin to know where to go." And since that moment, I have been inundated with not only gifts for how to get through that feeling, but reasons as to how I got there in the first place. Just tonight, one of my favorite authors asked on her blog "Have any of you, my faithful readers, experienced the challenges of being an American daughter with traditional Latin American parents? How did you handle it? What were the concerns your family had?"

Through that question I was able to read the opinions of women who have had much of the same life experiences with their parents and struggled to peice together what that means to them.

43 Things

Karla And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Year... A love letter to my urban family

I have been sitting at this computer forever trying to figure out what I need to do to sum up what this year was for me. How many things changed, how I changed. Do I start with the events? Do I tick off the highlights? The lowlights? How very "Seasons of Love" right.

Its amazing what one year can bring, how much your heart can both hurt and be filled. I can in all honesty say, my heart was broken quite a few times this year. I was talking to Jed last night and enumerating for him what a craptastic year it was for me. I was a little frustrated at first because he kept trying to make me look at the bright side. There are moments when looking at the rainbow through the rain doesn't make you feel any less drenched.

However, I digress. What I mean to say is Jed did have a point. I am still standing! Hallelujah for that. I mean its a comfort to know that after a year where I watched my group of friends fall apart and put itself together, walked away from a friend I loved, saw a spiritual mentor kicked out of the church for abuses of power, saw another two friends come out of the closet, saw a coworker fired for harassing me, my cousin was murdered and I was sexually assaulted... I can still stand up, put one foot in front of the other, and smile.

My heart has some resilience boy. There is a security in knowing that I will always be able to get back up again.

I've been trying to process, the lessons that I am supposed to learn. And rather then stress myself out about it, I'm gonna give it a big honkin rest. I don't think that all the lessons can possibly come before the New Year. The only thing I need to know right now is that I am blessed.

I was out with my friends at this spoken word poetry event and as cheesy as it sounds I had a moment when I was totally struck by how much I loved them. Now I really am a total cheese head so these moments aren't exactly rare. Even so, I was looking at their faces while they laughed at the end of the night. Stood their watching all of us hug. Encouraging the one of us with a date the next night, lol. Taking in just how much these people have meant to me. Even when it was tough I never ceased to believe that they loved me.

I remember how in the middle of the assault, when my brain was abandoning me for numbness, the words I heard were Jed's. He had instructed me long ago as to how to defend myself, and in the clutch moment of my life, those words came to me like armor and I got away. I called one team member that night, one member of the Elite 8. By the next morning, my entire facilitation family had mobilized to provide whatever support they could, they didn't believe distance to be a block and wanted to be there for me any way they could. Isacc was at a workshop, with so many worries besides me and through my tears was able to be the first to pull out of me what had occurred that night. I can remember the day after the assault the girls forced me into a car to see a therapist and get the help they knew I needed yet I was too embarrassed to seek out. As I tottered out of the car, literally scared of the world around me, they held my hand and I knew I was safe. I remember that very night as I slept, Rey slept next to me, hugging me whenever I awoke crying with memories that made me feel like the world was closing in on me and I would never be right again. I remember sitting with Bola, having her hold me as I fell apart while filing a police report, knowing that life couldn't possibly get this rough or painful again. I remember sitting at restaurants with Sam, drinking a beer and having the feeling of being understood in ways no one really ever got before she came into my life. In one such instance hearing her plea to stop believing the person I was had somehow vanished, listening to her assurance that I wasn't lost, and the accompanying embrace that had so much love in it, I longed to believe her. Having my first real argument with Bola and even in the middle of it finding comfort that we would never yell at each other, never make each other feel less than, knowing that in her I found my life-long sister and no one thing would ever be great enough to take that away. Laughing with Rey on various carpool rides at times when laughter seemed like a foreign concept to me. Yet there he was, constant, supportive and my goofball. Writing an email to shut out the very people who helped me make myself capable of surviving, knowing I was hurting them, yet knowing that this time my pain had to be a private endeavor, I had to know how to go forward on my own.

I pushed all of them away in 100 different ways. Lack of communication, shutting down, depression. I wouldn't tell them how I was feeling and then I sat bewildered at why I felt so alone. Even now, I know that if I apologize for it, I'll get several reiterations of "Well it’s what you had to do at the time for you, you don't need to feel sorry for it."

I want you all to know, I realize not only how painful this year was for me, but how painful it must have been for you to watch me go through it. I want you to know that I love you all. I love you for being the people you are and for keeping my heart alive. I love you for accepting me for who I am and encouraging me to do the same. I love you because not a one of us isn't a strong ass survivor. I am proud of you and your personal struggles. I see the beauty in your choices. I admire your character and am astounded by the immensity of your strength. Let it be known, this year SUCKED, and at the end, we got through it together.

With that said PEACE OUT 2005! See ya, wouldn't want to go through you again, thank you for the lessons you taught, but get the hells up outta here. We got some joy coming to us in a big way and you can't stand in the way of that. Though I know you to be more a metaphorical than physical difference, I think we earned throwing that baby out with that particular bath water.

Happy New Years guys! I said it a billion times, I'll say it again, with all my heart, I love you.

Appreciating My Eric

I would like to be clear, I know I am a fruit fly(1). I have long been like bees to honey with gay men. I have had a few gay men (both closeted and non-closeted) that have been my best most intimate friends. I have shared with these people and given them pieces of me very few people have gotten. I like the role of confidant, emotional intellectual, emotional support and fun time friend. However, I am starting to notice the effect the role has had on my social life. I mean if you hang out with mostly gay men, you really won't to have the space to meet the straight ones. Up until now, I think that's been okay with me.

I've been working on my issues for a hot second. I'm a pretty self-aware girl and I've actively sought ways to heal. There has been enough work for me to acknowledge the daddy, self-esteem, trust, safety and sexual issues attached with my inability to actively seek a healthy long (or short) term relationship. I have been scared and running since about the teen years from the possibility of men who would want me back.

It isn't enough anymore you know? I didn't contextualize this until very recently. I was walking through the Mission on the phone with my Eric. Feeling how good it felt to love him the way I do now rather than the way I used to. It was my first time out walking in the Mission since the assault. Eric didn't know this, he didn't know that in summoning all the courage I could find to step out of the car that day. He was the refuge I sought to keep me strong to make life normal again. It was just a casual conversation but something about having him on the phone provided me the safety I needed to regain my ability to have command of my surroundings. Being reflected to myself trough Eric's eyes has always rocked the house.

Eric was my first love you see, at 15, I just knew he should be mine. He was the first guy to (and he still does from time to time) look at me like the sun rises and sets in my eyes. He was the first guy I ever found I could talk to till all hours of the night. We pondered the universe, the Spice Girls and our friends. We laughed a lot and I often got caught on the phone long after curfew. I knew we had the chemistry every couple should have. He was my first kiss. Sitting next to him made my stomach flip-flop AND I still could confide in him like no other. To be quite honest, I haven't known love like that since.

My love for him lasted for many years. At varying levels really, not one consistent stream of in love, but most definitely notable. While I was in Spain for 6 months we called each other every couple of weeks. Emailed all the time. When I returned I think I felt a certain certainty that he would realize how horrible having been away from me for six months was, and we would become the couple we were always meant to be. I can still remember my first night home, sitting with him and my friends in my childhood bedroom, my head on his lap, his stroking my hair.

I remember the feeling of him having his head lying on my stomach the night that he told me he was gay. "Karla, I think I like boys." I have never processed so many emotions at once. The bottom had dropped out from under me, but I still wanted him to feel supported and loved through what I know was going to be a difficult process. I shut off a piece of myself that night to be there for him. I spent the night asking him all sorts of questions. "Have you kissed a boy yet?" "How did it make you feel?" "Are you happy?" Assuring him all the while, we would get through this together.

I left his house in the morning, got in the car and started to drive away. It was about two blocks later I fell apart. I was sobbing, tears and snot coming down my face. I was crying so hard I had to pull over the car on the side of the road. I mourned the relationship that I had wanted to bad and that I knew would never be. He had even left a door open for me, he thought he could be bisexual, he might just be experimenting, but he knew he was attracted to men. But knowing him as I did, loving him as I did, I knew it was only going to take some time before he got comfortable with himself. I knew then he would be happy in ways I would never have been able to provide. I knew that day, it was over.

I got home, called a friend, devastated, I told him Eric had come out. Then got off the phone because my tears were blocking my ability to communicate anything rationally. I cried for days. It was good crying too. The kind you go into the shower to hide.

When people ask me whether or not I knew, I don't quite know how to give a response they'll understand. I did. I mean how can you love someone that much and NOT know. I knew in the same way parents know. The "No, that can't be true." way. The "But he loves me, I just know it. We can be happy if he just tried." kind of way.

I appreciate so much what Eric gave me. He allowed me to realize that people don't have to just "give love a chance", they deserve to be overwhelmed by it in ways they can't help but express. Embarrassedly enough, I have to say, for a few months after he came out, I still hoped he would kiss me. Tell me I was enough. It took quite some time before I let go of the safety of that fantasy. When I did, it changed many things for me. I was 20.

Four, almost five years later, I found myself in a similar, but different situation with another person I deeply cared for. Except this time I found myself feeling relief that they had found themself. Relief that I would see this person truly satisfied and in love one day. I knew the moment they said something that my years of friendship had been spent hoping for this person to find love, not find my love.

Walking through the Mission with Eric on the phone, with the easy banter of years of intimacy, I felt free. Free because, at last, I get to enjoy him for who he is and not what he can or cannot provide for me. I no longer need him, I just want him around. Because I am a complete person for having loved him and having survived it. And for the first time in years I am starting to want things for myself and not the people around me.

This all bring me back to my original realization. I have spent a lot of time on the happiness of other people. I love them and I tend to do this with people I love. It allows me a safe distance from the kinds of leaps that I would have to make for myself. In part I think I wanted (and still struggle wanting) people to love me and figure doing things for them will help them care. Its not a conscious thing, but I know now that I'm not just the nice deeds I do. I am wonderful for a slew of reasons that I could enumerate for you but I won't. Its enough that I know.

I'm not going to front, I'm still working on all this. But I'm ready to find a man who can love me the way I deserve to be loved. Who will look at me and realize how fantastic I am. Who wants to rip off my clothes to feel as close to me as he can, not as a way of denying who he is. I want to parachute into it and feel fear yo. I'm ready, and that's a nice place to be for the new year. Thank you Eric, for playing such a large role in getting me there.

(1) Fruit Fly - term used for women who have lots of gay friends. Also known as Fag Hag. However, I have never been and will never be a hag of anything.

Peer Pressure Space

I finally succumbed to the MySpace plague. haha. Oh peer pressure, what can you do. Eric and Rey kept needling me til I went on my hours long myspace rampage. I indentified people from high school and college whom I'm sure barely remember my name. If I was in a class with them, they got invited to my "friend network" haha. I swore up and down I wouldn't do it. Serves me right for being high and mighty. If you are reading this because you looked at my page "HI!" Congrats on your life. As you may already be able to tell, I have partially come into being the socialist you all thought I would be. Next step in my "friend network", my Pomona life.

For those of you who haven't heard of myspace, in case I am not the only one far removed from the 21st century, it is a website where you can post a personal page with your info. Then you can seek out the pages of long lost friends and acquaintances and add them to your "personal network". Then you can reconnect or just know you have their contact info if you ever desire to. I am actually pretty sure there is more to this, however, that is the level of knowledge that I have about the whole deal.

Its crazy to see how many people are married or having kids or have kids. I am just not at that place in my life. I am happy for those people. I can't imagine what its like to have that kind of stability in your life already. I'm still the kid thats flying to crazy locations, traveling for work, working crazy long and obscene hours. Don't trip, I wouldn't have my life any other way. Commitment-phobe as I am, workaholic as I am, I think there is something really special about my path. All its speed bumps, adventures, and quirks. I feel chosen. And really, as much hurt as their is in the world, isn't it great to have that feeling, even in random burts?

Alright, I better go join the fam, just a few hours left with them and then I head back to SF.

Myspace me!

Thanksgiving

Me and My dad



This is bar none my favorite holiday. I wanted to write a quick post before the whole weekend of thanks is over. It is a weekend right? I mean technically, a day, but we celebrate to an extent for more then that. I feel like there is nothing more pure then being able to give that thanks. Its not something our American culture lends itself to, we spend so much time bitchin and complaining over what is created with our complacency... but I digress.

I needed this weekend. I needed it sooo bad. I needed the rest comfort and safety of my childhood home. I sure got it too. There are times when I feel so distanced from this place and the life I had here. Its almost like that line in Garden State, the one about home being this place you miss but doesn't quite exist anymore. Especially now that I am running on year three of having my own place.

Let me tell you though, there is love here I don't know I can find in the same form anywhere else. Anywhere from the way my mom hugs to the way Eric and Ricky (my true blue dear high school friends) look at me to the way I joke around with my brother.

Its taken me a long time to appreciate this place as I should, warts and all, but I do.

Poetry Slam

The event I had with my students last Friday was off the chain. Can I tell you, my kids are remarkable. I never stop being blown away by them. There was freestyling, poetry, dance performances, multicultural foods, really they did the damn thang. My contribution to the affair was the last post as well as a plate of platanos. Can I pause to say, I love my job. I feel really lucky, I spent most of last Friday turning a library into a nightclub, complete with votives on the tables, rainbow color light ball and a stage. I mean really, who gets to do that for a living.

I love the atmosphere at College Track right before an event like that. Most, if not all, students (and staff) are feeling insecure about going on stage and opening their hearts. There is mega-anxiety about the whole thing. Its really about just encouraging everyone to get there day of, because once you get in the room, its amazing. All that nervous energy really just transforms itself into this fantastic space of expression. I sound totally cheesetastic right now, but if you saw it, you would know what i mean. On top of that, my kids are mad talented. (Between Mad and Hella, I've been around to many bay area people and too many New Yorkers, haha)

I'm hoping to get a few of my students wrapped into this spoken word CD project. Watch out, it may be coming to a Starbucks near you.

My Souls Ode to My Body

To My Dearest Body,

I looked at you today and I want to say I'm sorry,
I realize how rarely I stand in appreciation of you, defend you, admire you.

Shoulders, you have carried a backpack at least 30 pounds in weight and launched me into the world.
It was due to YOUR determination body I was able to know a Grecian ocean, Italy's art, and Japan's lights.

Yet still I critiqued you and judged you for your fullness.

The same thighs I resented became the muscles that carried me to mountain-tops
There half way to the heavens, you helped me know God's majesty as well as becoming acquainted with my own.

I THANK YOU body for never losing faith in me, trusting at all turns that I would find our way.
Carrying in me the knowledge that not only was I a future bearer of life but a current bearer of light.

As much as I ridiculed you arms, you help me show love and receive it through your embrace.
You allow me to cradle those in need and find support in tides of empty.

Face, I fear you deserve the deepest of my apologies
How many times did I avoid looking at you
How much I longed to change you, rework you into what someone else told me was beauty
Yet strong you stayed allowing the world to know what I needed to express.

Eyes when I had so much pain or so much joy words were not enough,
You gave me tears and allowed me to feel release.

I mourn how I underestimated you, thought less of and even ignored you.

How long I left you as my last priority... yet never did you abandon me.

I pushed you and you kept going
I deprived you of sleep, yet you still woke up

In the most vicious attack of our lives,
An attack that could have numbed us both into submission,
We joined forces and together we found freedom!

We did not allow cruelty to take our power.

I am indebted to you as we are indebted to each other.

I HONOR you body for being a vessel of change,
for not allowing fear, grief or fatigue to stop our greatness.

I can say it no simpler, speak it no clearer, express it no plainer...

With all the joy in my being.

I love you.

Sincerely, truly, and with all my esteem,

Your spirit, essence, heart and core...
aka Your Soul

And life just gets more complicated...

I appreciate having Rey and Nathan here. Those two guys have really added a lot of joy to this place for the three of us. I have to tell you though part of me has to admit, I am nostalgic for the time when Bola, Sam and I were the three amigos and spent a sisterly amount of time together. Don't get me wrong. This doesn't no longer happen soley because the guys moved here. There are unfortunately many sadder twists and turns to that peice. But I miss the freedom I felt with us as a trio. We used to laugh, cry, express and share so completely. There is now distance, lack of time, awkwardness in a space that used to have so much warmth.

Why does life get so complicated that as much as you love people you can't be on the same page? Don't get me wrong, I have no desire to cry you a river. My life has love in it. I am just coming off this really great weekend. I did so much stuff, had so much fun. Between our mini-bar crawl, to frisbee golf, birthday dinner for Nathan and quiz night on Clement we had more then enough to fill the last two days.

I just wonder when the feeling of having my girls as a part of my family dissapated. It just all feels so diseperate right now. Ebbs and tides I guess.

Out of the mouths of teenage babes

It is amazing to me how much the kids teach me. I think there are two schools of people that work with kids. One is the person who know they have a lot of information to give and go in to give it. And the second is the kind of person that goes in knowing that the kids probably will school them before they ever get to school. I'm pretty much the second person. Today, I got schooled.

One of my boys, Braulio, has really been such an interesting kid to watch grow. In two years he has grown tremendously. It is only after being dismissed from our program that he really made the leaps that I always knew he could make. He came back and he's been kicking ass ever since.

Today he had asked me for help with a scholarship application, we were chatting and then he says "Hey Karla, I'm sorry I was so hard headed when I was a freshman." At which I laughed and joked with him. Then he says "You know I don't regeret it. I know that I learned from being that person. I would never know how to talk to people like that if I hadn't been that person. I mean life is a maze right? You don't like the patch you chainsaw your way through another place where you can be happy. Otherwise, you just follow the maze. No reason to feel too guilty. You spend so much time feeling guilty you can't get better. I was spending a lot of time telling myself I sucked."

I was listening to Braulio and I started thinking about how much time I spend saying that to myself lately. The assault didn't do it as much as the workshop. The USC workshop had me really feeling guilty for my inability to get past the assault to be the Rap Director I know I can be. I know its silly, it was a week after the assault, I was still in shock, I should let up on myself. It was just still hard for me. Its not about being perfect, it was more a doubting of how strong I actually was.

I actually mustered the ability to call Derek soon there after. I owe him and Oudete a phone call. I apologized for having charged into certification when I wasn't personally ready, for not having been able to clear my filters enough to hear the feedback being given to me, for shutting down. I don't know what I expected to hear Derek say honestly. I think something along the lines of "we all have hard workshops, we have to just keep cleaning out the fliters so we don't get in the way of ourselves." but really I didn't expect what I got.

He told me I needed to not "flip the script" on myself. The long and short of what he communicated was that what I did under the cicumstances I did it in was testament to who I was. There probably could have been more opportune times to certify me, but I got to show myself what I was made of that week. Hearing him say that was so freeing. I wish I could get myself to the point where I can do that for myself or see things that clearly for my own preservation.

It is a process gosh darn it. This has had ripple effects on my whole life. I heard what he said, it will take some time to process and digest it as fact. But I heard it, and I guess thats really the first huge step.

Thank god for my students yo. My life and my growth is so influenced by them, I wonder if they even know how much. How grateful I am for the lessons they teach.

Another One

Mark and I are heading back from the Best Buy/Starbucks complex today and we come up against a few police cars blocking the street next to College Track. There is police tape all over the place, and we hear a neighbor say "Someone shot up a whole car!" Mark and I sat in silence for a bit before either of us opens our mouths.

I still don't know the whole story. For that matter I'm not sure if it was a car, a person, if anyone was hurt. At this point, I really don't care. I am tired of this. I am tired of this neighborhood being a war zone. It makes no sense to me. There is so much anger. So much. All it does is poison more and more people.

On one level, let me say, if it is not clear, taking away the life of someone does not make another person come back. It does not heal a place in your heart, It doesn't make the smile of a loved one any less missed. It only serves to provide that same emptieness to another group of people. I went from watching this kinda of senselessness happen in my community to watching it happen in the one I chose to work in. Trust me, the results are the same across the board.

I have to go speak to a group of my seniors now, I'l write more later. Pray for this community ya'll. It's heart is broken.

Home Sweet Home

You work so hard for the creation of home. So much comes up that disrupts it. Its really a fight to establish a place where you feel safe and have love on demand. No matter how great your parents are, you work your entire life to get out of your parents house and have one of your own. To have that little piece that is just yours.

Tonight I had home. It was nothing planned, just dinner with friends. Some half ass tacos with some slammin bell peppers. But damn if it isn't nice to just feel comfortable. I have been so sad for so long. More then I care to tell the people I love. It makes it so easy to forget that I created a home long before the assault. No bastard takes that away.

I look at the faces of the people who are dear to me and it just fills me. ::sigh:: Thank the good Lord for the blessing of my urban family.

Making Peace With Soccer

Yesterday I went with Rey to take a group of BUILD students (two of which happened to also be College Track students) to a San Jose Earthquakes game. Now, I gotta tell you. I love spending time with my kids. Spending time with soccer? Now that is a whooooole other issue. She and I have a a history that is much more complicated then most friendships.

It started out with AYSO. My brother was 5, I was 7. He was naturally gifted at the sport, I was not so much. Bottomline, by the end of my first practice, I knew this was not something I would be doing a lot of. It wasn't until my first game however that I ran screaming from it. In my 7 year old brain, the girls we were playing against were towering giants. My soccer coach, whose name I do not remember, in their infinite wisdom made me a goalie. And I stood there and ducked as 8 goals sailed through my goal post. I was devastated by the end of the game and asked my parents to never make me return. My brothers team in the mean time, was league champs. And it didn't get much better then that.

Soccer was the ultimate division of "Karla is the brain" and "Gabriel is the athlete". Now looking back as an adult, I see we were much more multi-faceted then that. I believe to this day that my brother is naturally smarter then me. Don't get me wrong, I am no slouch. I work hard to make up for what I don't have in natural ability, I make myself very informed of the world around me, I have musical abilities (not talents, just abilities) and I have an emotional perception far far ahead of any member of my family tree. But, in short, my brother is waaaay smarter then he ever gives himself credit for. He's just so busy undermining and not believing that, he doesn't really see it. To this day, I blame soccer (and you know from time to time dad) for this. I blamed her for my artistic abilities never being developed. I blamed her for my brothers lack of confidence. I blamed her for never allowing me to be the apple of daddies eye.

I spent every Saturday of my life from the ages of 7 to 17 on a soccer field. I cheered, I yelled and I read books while my brother got anywhere from exhaulted to berated for his performance. When I stopped going to games, it was the family rift of the century. I was no longer the good daughter of yesterday, I was the abandoner. Because Soccer ya'll was a family member. And you just do not choose anything over family.

Now don't get me wrong, I had some great moments with soccer. We were close from time to time. I saw so much of it, at some point, I probably could have coached it. Good days were good days. It was the most time my family and I ever spent together. It was the only reason we ever traveled. It was even responsible for the first time I ever laid eyes on a college campus. Falling in love that day, as I did so completely, changed my life. I saw my first crush on her fields. I learned the love of reading on her green grass

I've never had the need to make peace with soccer. My brother stopped playing in college (another massive turning point in our families history) and I moved away from it, from them.

Yesterday, I revisited her. Given the events of the last two months, I really did understand how difficult this was going to be. The assault has made every event a challenge to walk into for some reason. Whenever I get into my car, its a matter of bracing myself for the next place I have to be. It can be excruciating. Going to a stadium, around lots of people, predominantly men, many of which have had beer... well it felt scary. However, I had the kids, I had Rey and I had soccer. I knew those three factors would get me through okay.

I found joy in the sport I had forgotten all about. I saw her for what she was. I had grown and learned to accept her for the joy she provided. I thanked her for the sense of competition she gave me. I forgave her. Forgiveness after all opens space for love and I have about all the anger and resentment I can take as of late. Most of all though, she helped my kids laugh. She helped my kids be free. She helps them be kids and I really have to pay my respect to anything that can get that done.

INTRO BABY

I tried doing one of these about two years ago. I got about two posts out and then gave up. haha. Its been a long time since I have written down my thoughts, I figured I deserve to find a new outlet. We'll see if I can do this with any kind of consistancy. I guess I should start by saying who I am.

My name is Karla and I'm 24 years old. I'm a California girl, born and bred in the Los Angeles area, Pomona to be exact. I went to la Uni at the University of Southern California. I am every bit the brainwashed Trojan and proud of it.

About two years ago I moved from Los Angeles to San Francisco. I have since managed to recruit and wrangle a couple of other So Cal refugees. I have my own little commune, if you are cool, you are welcomed to come and join. My urban family is crazy wonderful. My little liberal northern Cal bubble is great. Full of a lot of really cool people. I'm still trying to find my way and navigate this place. Its a beautiful city, but creating home is always a challenge wherever you may go.

I am totally dedicated to my work. I am a youth professional. Work with kids in lots of different capacities. www.collegetrack.org Is my full time place of employment. Check out the website, that way I don't have to spend a whole lot of time telling you what I do. haha. oooh I have a bio on the site too. http://www.collegetrack.org/organization/staff.html

I would spend more time on this, however, I'm sure that as time goes on I'll talk about my students and coworkers at length to the "I'm gonna be ill" point.

And as silly as it is, I am going to post any other thoughts seperately, thats my boring little intro and I'll leave it at that.