Maria-isms

So apparently I talk in my sleep. According to my boyfriend, here is some of the things Ive said while asleep:

Him: nevermind
Me: tell me
Him: nevermind
Me: tell me
Him: nevermind
Me: tell me
Him: i'll tell you later

Me: I love you

Me: Babe i have a question. Are chicken nuggets and boneless wings the same thing?
Him: No. Nuggets are processed and boneless wings aren't.
Me: *grunts*
Him: Hey babe? wanna know a secret?
Me: What?
Him: Im not wearing any pants.
(apparently i felt his leg)
Me: Oh no. Don't tell my mother.

My boyfriend: (in full batman voice) WHERE'S THE DRUGS?
Me: (in a completely normal voice without a change of expression) Up my ass...go find them.

We were facetiming and this exchange occured:
Him: Babe I have an idea! (moves camera slightly up)
Me: OOh what is it?!
Him: Whats above my head?
Me: A light? A fan? A vent? the ceiling?
Him: Close. Babe I have an idea! (moves camera to lightbulb )

Dear the next guy

(this is just a bit of poetry i wrote on one of my less than perky, sunshiny and glitter days)

Take care of her. 

You hurt her, I’ll bitch slap you. 

She hurts you, I’ll bitch slap you. 

She’s that person 

who’s eyes light up when she sees your name in the notification bar. 

It doesn’t take alot for her to be  happy. 

I gave her a rock that resembled a heart 

and she stopped talking and smiled wider than i’ve ever seen. 

She hugged me

 and she was so happy 

to receive that rock. 

It wasn’t much, but seeing her smile made it worth it. 

She’s been through alot 

and she doesn’t like to cry in front of people,

 but if you make her cry, 

she’ll look at you with these big brown eyes 

and wonder what she ever did to deserve more hurt. 

She’s pure. 

I never said innocent 

because when she’s fully comfortable, 

she has one of the dirtiest minds ever for a girl. 

Make out with her 

and tug on her ponytail 

and she’ll challenge you to do it more just by the smirk on her face.

 Bite her when making out with her. 

She loves that. 

Her heart is pure. 

She will drive across town 

and give you a hug if that is what it takes to make you feel better.

She will never complain about helping out a friend. 

If you take her out, be sure to pay. 

She’s a strong independent woman 

who makes her own money and will offer to pay. 

Pay and do not let her pay often. 

Break her. 

Not make her cry, 

but do things like holding the door,

 opening her car door, 

holding her hand in public, 

paying,  etc do it until she still offers, 

but looks at you with a twinkle 

and love in her eyes and says

 “whatever you say” 

and doesn’t object. 

Take her driving. 

It doesn’t matter where, just drive. 

She’ll want to hold your hand the whole time. 

You  can feel the callouses on her hands. 

Turn up the radio. 

She’ll sing along the entire time smiling, 

but don’t play Whitesnake “Here i go again on my own.” 

It’s bad luck for her and will cause her to cry. 

She has depression, 

so make sure you feed her dark chocolate

 and ice cream if shes having a bad day. 

The biggest thing is love her. 

Love her with a pure heart 

and whatever love you give her, she will reciprocate and multiply. 

She’ll make you 

feel like you’re the king of the world even when you are hanging out with her friends. 

Her heart might have been broken 

and taped back up together again and again with the cycle on repeat, 

but she loves with all of her heart. 

Just please take care of her.

 I didn’t 

and

 I 

lost 

her. 

Changes

It has been almost a year since I have had the time to sit down and blog. School is now officially insane. 20 credits, 2 break ups, and a car accident later, I am alive and functioning.

First of all. I got challenged to drink a gallon of water each day for a month. The first days were hell. Literally hell on earth. My life was centered around drinking so much water. When i wasn't drinking water, I was looking for a bathroom. But as time went on, the bathroom breaks became less and less frequent. and i didn't feel as waterlogged and bloated as the first few days. After a month, my skin looked much better. So now it is an everyday thing to try and drink a gallon of water. Some days i make it, and others I don't. It is just a matter ofhow i feel starting off my day.

So the last post i wrote about my then boyfriend, AJ. We did end up being together for 13 months before he left to Turkey for a two year cycle. I found out that he was using me. It took me 13 months of being madly in love with him before I could see that. The bad thing was that i wish i had noticed earlier about his lack of interest. Well it was supposed to end well, but it really didn't. It ended with a large fight at 2 in the morning on my birthday and a good long uncomfortable silence before it ended well. We are now just friends as that was the better solution than to hate each other.

Well with the stress of everything I developed eczema. Its a terrible thing where your skin gets super dry and itchy. It is either an autoimmune issue or it is brought on by stress...guess which one I have. While all this was happening, i was literally scratching holes into my leg. It was terrible. Actually it still is. It spread to my right forearm and now that is the worst I have ever seen it. To be honest, it deserves to rot in hell. I am tired of always itching and then having the area swell from all the itching. And yes I have tried pretty much everything. And nothing seems to help. Well actually not getting into the pool helps alot, but as a swim instructor, its kind of hard not to get in the pool. So i get in, dye and then take a hot shower to rinse off all the chlorine. 

So i got with my friend Chris shortly after. I did give myself enough time...before anyone can question it. He was great, but he had a temper on him that made me walk on thin ice the whole month we were dating. Im actually not sure if id call it dating. We never actually did anything. He promised a lot of things, but got mad when i brought it up later. He would always get mad that i never made time for him because i was always in school or working. No, duh! I have to survive somehow! And so it ended over text. When you are ignoring me, leaving me on read, and not even responding, excuse me for not wanting to make the effort to talk to you. Well, that is another box checked off for experience. Oh well.

Now I am just planning on doing me for a while. Working, going to school, busting my butt and working on Mikey. Speaking of my precious car. He stopped running early april. So i parked him and pulled the engine. The simple engine pull turned into me wanting to completely restore him. So that is now the plan with Mikey. My good friend Alex is helping me. It is so nice to have two friends that promise something and actually go through with it! I just need money. If anyone would like to donate car parts, that would be lovely!

Honestly the thing that got me through this bullshit called life is being in contact with my best friend Maia. We would email and there were definitely some times where email were a month or two apart just because life got super busy, but i loved getting the email and just over all having that constant (give or take) form of communication with someone i really care about. I miss her and can't wait to see her for christmas break!

Car accident. So after mikey stopped running, I got a 2009 Mini Cooper s. It was a cute little car and so much fun to drive. Long story short, i got into a wreck with her a couple days ago. The feels when your daily turns into a project car hahaha. But now i am working my life around not having a car ready to drive, at my disposal. To be honest, it is kind of a hassle and I dont like it. But oh well. At least I am ok and Minnie is less than ok, but I can fix her easily.

So there it is. The long story short of why i haven't been able to write in a while. Hopefully things should calm down and I should be able to write more.

just ranting

So if you have followed my blog, I truly apologize for not writing. Life took hold and I am busier than a bee making honey. And I also have a bf. His name is AJ. If you saw the post about my best friend AJ, he is not my bf. Currently I am not talking to that AJ. It seems like, to him, I am no longer important. So I moved on with my life.

But my boyfriend is 19 years old and in the military. The struggles of dating a military person are real. I love him to death, but sometimes I struggle with being in a relationship with someone like that.
One of the things I struggle with is him being stressed out because of work. I hate it when people are worried or nervous our sick and there is not a thing in the world that I can do to help them. It's especially bad when he's texting me and I can tell that he's not his normal self. I can't really ask him what's going on because I know he can't tell me. It's super hard caring for him, but not knowing what you are caring for.

Another thing that is hard for me is that, due to the lack of communication at his work, his work schedule is super unsettled. We could plan for dinner and some hangout time during the week, but he could get a call that sends him into work at 2pm in stead of 7 am and then the whole evening would be ruined. And when he has a day off where we could do something together, he is too worn out from work to come and hangout. And I get that. Work messes with his sleep schedule so much that it is completely unregulated and sometimes non-existent.

There are days when I'm going through a ton of shit and it would help just to see him and I can't. But instead, I listen to him rant and get it all out of his system. I don't tell him when shit is bugging me because I don't want to have to worry about me on top of what he has to deal with. I know that many people tell me that its not a good thing to do that, and I know that. It's more of I've been single for so long that having people worry about/care for me (more than my family and close friends do), is just a little weird for me. I want to deal with my own shit myself...knowing full well I can't.

Another thing about dating a military guy is that he can't disobey orders. I know it makes me a little selfish when i think about this, but i honestly don't know how else I am supposed to act. If he gets orders to move, i won't be able to go with him...yet....but i don't want to lose him. I really don't want to think about what would happen in that case, and we've brought it up a couple times. He's had to assure me as I'm bawling my eyes out that he won't be leaving here in the near future and if he does we'll make it work. I'm just afraid of losing another person that is so close to me.

One of the weirdest things that I deal with while dating a military guy is the lack of affection in public. I am a very touchy/feely person and like to be shown this affection especially in public. But when he has his uniform on, he can only give me 3 seconds of affection. I mean he does draw out the syllables of the "Mississippi"'s, but its still not enough. there are times that i just need to hold him because i need that closeness that my family can't provide. It is just so hard with all the rules and regulations to have a regular relationship. But I love him and will never let him go.

Mikey goes...

As you may have known, I got my car a month ago. I named the 87 firebird Mikey. I thought it would be fun to make an album that shows all the places that mikey has gone. Like the more interesting places. I will not include the gas station. That isn't interesting.

...to the mechanic.

...home.

...to his first car show!!!!

... to dance!

... to his first Fastino's show!

... to prom!

...to 66 diner!

...to school.

.....0n a date with Kate

Short story that is based on real events.

AJ

Oh shit! The squeal of our screen door told me I was in big trouble. “Anastacio Joaquin Ortiz!” my mum whispered fiercely over the din of tinking metal and ACDC. I could hear her just fine, but I knew that whether I responded now or in a few seconds, she would still be pissed. So I decided to wait it out. “Anastacio Joaquin Ortiz! It is almost one in the morning! You need to get to bed! You have work tomorrow and you are going to be exhausted! Get out from under there and get to bed!”

My mum, a stocky woman with long, but prematurely salt and pepper hair, knew what it meant to me. She was raised in a family of boys. Not a big deal. But her brothers and father were racers. They lived for the slightly nauseous smell of burnouts, the black stripes in the road, but most importantly, they lived their lives 15 seconds and a quarter mile at a time. She refused to have her brothers touch her car. She fixed and tuned her own car. That was the way she rolled.

That is also how she met my dad. One Saturday my mum and her brothers went down to Eubank to get some racing in before they needed to come home for supper. The passes she made weren’t amazing, but they were getting better. As in, she didn’t stall out before even starting the race. She was waiting on the starting line. “Keep” –inhale labored from adrenaline– “me” –exhale – “safe”       –inhale again – “as I” –exhale—“make this” –inhale—“pass.” –exhale—Swish. Swish. She rubbed her hands together, not because she was cold, but because she was a nervous wreck in between passes.

Vroom. Vroom. The universal signal for “wanna race?” She revved her engine in response. The bandanna moved upward as if time was slowed completely. And it went down faster than a cannon ball shot out of a cannon. The dinky little Chevy Nova and the brand new bumblebee Camaro launched and the pass was over in the blink of an eye. The race master began jumping up and down like a bunny rabbit. “The Nova won! The Nova won.”

At the end of a pass, it is customary for the drivers to shake hands when they return to the starting line. The driver of the Camaro exited the car. He sauntered up to the driver of the Nova just as the driver pulled off a baseball cap and shook out her long brown hair. “Hello Ma’am. Great race. Wait. Ma’am!?” My mum just laughed and offered her hand. The guy, realizing he had lost to a girl, shook her hand numbly. “My name is Jay Ortiz and I was wondering if you would like to go out for a milkshake sometime?” My mum laughed out of confusion. She was a tomboy and was not used to being treated like a girl. But she agreed. Just to be nice.

The milkshake date that night turned into many more over the years and eventually turned into marriage.

My dad loved to race and shortly after they were married, my dad purchased a red 56 Chevy that he named “Rowdy Red.” It was his baby. That baby broke records at many tracks before my dad stumbled on “The Monster.”

“The Monster”, a pile of junk that resembled a 55 Chevy, was not a monster. It was a frame. Between their daily jobs, my mum and my dad toiled away at “The Monster.” The late nights. The records being warped from playing them so many times. The tinking of metal on metal. All of this to finish the car before the 1998 race season.

Maria

                I was an ordinary Joe. Well…actually I was an ordinary Jane. And by ordinary I mean a kid that came out crying like any other normal baby, slightly ugly yet somehow cute at the same time. Apparently I got a lot of attention as did any first born child, but I have a hard time believing that considering my two younger sisters hog my parent’s attention now a days.

                But just because I resembled a normal kid at birth, that doesn’t mean that I was normal. Little girls at age 4 or 5 are stereotypically associated with Barbie dolls, pink and other disgustingly girly things. I shudder at the thought. I had a collection of Hot Wheels cars, screamed if I was forced to wear a dress, and just enjoyed being gross, disgusting, dirty and sweaty. All my friends at school were guys. My mom, for fear of teasing, told me not to tell people that I loved cars.

                So as a good little child would do, I put it into the back of my mind. I still played with my Hot Wheels at home, but never at school. But the teasing began. “Why do you like to play in the mud?” “Are you gay?” “Are you even a girl?” Harmless, but never the less it escalated to physical levels. I got so sad that I cut my arms. But thankfully since I fainted from the sight of blood, I never tried that move again.

                I became the chubby kid. It wasn’t because I was eating a butt-load of food each day. It was because my thyroid stopped functioning correctly. “Fatty.” “Fatso.” “Fatty, fatty. 2 by 4!” The one day I told Liam to shut up, he whirled around and hit me in the head with a 4 inch thick Bible. How very Catholic, right? The administration told me to stop irritating Liam. It was also about then that I stopped eating. I figured that if I was thin, they’d stop teasing me. That was also about the time that I started fainting. My parents didn’t know what was wrong, but I did. And I wasn’t going to tell them. By the time I was a seventh grader, I was 5’4” and about 100 pounds. Not scarily thin, but still bad enough. From all the teasing that I endured in Catholic school, I became the girl who always ducked her head from the lack of self-confidence.

                My Uncle worked on classic cars in his spare time. Whenever we were visiting, Uncle David would always be bending over the engine bay and cursing under his breath. “Where the fuck did I put my glasses? I swear I just had them!” That always sent me into titters of laughter.  I found it amusing because his glasses were always on his head. He didn’t let me actually work on the cars, but he would let me watch and ask questions. The questions had novels for responses. Uncle David was also the one that told me about the joys of manual cars. But that was the only place that my hidden passion could surface.

                I transferred from Catholic school to Albuquerque Academy my 8^th grade year. My first friend at Academy, senior Elizabeth Anderson, told me about Senior Projects. “So it’s like when you do what you like really want to do in life. Like as a job.” Boom! I knew exactly what I wanted to do. A transmission swap (from automatic to standard) on an old car. I was just starting to come out my Catholic School enforced shell with the help of the Beatles.

                There was a girl at my advisor table that looked lonely. One day she came in wearing a Beatles shirt. “Oh my goodness! You like The Beatles too? Who’s your favorite Beatle?” I don’t think Schifani liked me screaming at his advisor table. The girl nods. “George.” I think I near about died on the spot. Someone who’s favorite Beatle was George also!? Maia was my first and best friend at Academy. But no one was to know that I liked cars. I didn’t know anybody except for Maia and I really didn’t want to be teased for liking cars.

AJ

                Summer 2014. “The Monster” has been retired almost 10 years. It is still a beast that can out run any street car today. It was transformed from a pile of junk to the most badass race car I have ever seen. I mean “Rowdy Red is cool”, but it overheats so often that it just sits in our garage for weeks at a time. Sometimes we take “The Monster” out to the car show every Wednesday at Fastino’s, but that is a very rare occasion.

                Summer is summer. Not much to do except work on Saturday. So my summer is boring. We still haven’t found a frame that I can use to restore from scratch to be my daily. And Dad decided that I needed to learn how to parallel park. The horror of it. He took “Rowdy Red” and “The Monster” and put them in the street. He gave me the truck. “Park in between then and don’t hit them.” Dammit Dad! No pressure, eh? I didn’t hit them, but I definitely know that I hate parallel parking.

                It was my birthday yesterday and I’m rewarding myself with some tinkering around on “The Monster”. I am always almost done with something when Mum is all like “AJ let’s get going. We’re taking ‘The Monster’ to Fastino’s today. Hurry UP!” After letting out a long discontented sigh-grumph noise, “Yes Mum. I’m coming.”

                As usual, we get there and the only spots are by Discount. No one is going to see “The Monster” from the normal parking lot.

Maria

                Ugh! 2014 has been rough so far. Well first off, in January, I asked Brandon to Winter Ball. I had had a massive crush on his since the beginning of 8^th grade. He was in my history class, english class, and science class. He was literally just so nice to me. So to ask him to Winter Ball, I made basketball shaped cupcakes with the black vinyl basketball lines spelling “WINTER BALL?”. Well that ended up to be a flop. He said no. On the spot. Then my best friend Peter Le liked me and was being super flirtatious, then told me that he liked Ella. And I punched a wall. Then I developed a huge crush on Chris Mooty. Oh my goodness was he gorgeous! Well he turned me down over text. This all happened within a time span of 6 months. I decided that I needed a break from this shit called “love” and throw all my energy into cars.

                I started telling people that I was into cars. And people laughed at me. But if they can’t accept me for who I am they don’t deserve to take up my attention. I begged my mom and dad to let me go to Fastino’s that Wednesday. But, of course, it would be after church. Fine. At least I will look nice. Very funny. I hate dresses and to be seen in public with a dress is still humiliation for me.

                When I get there, I am in car heaven. Classic cars everywhere. I think I might actually die happy. I see my 8^th grade diving coach, Dawn Smith and her husband Tal as well as Ms. Lydon. Oh man. I really hope that my skirt is long enough and that she won’t dress code me. I start talking to Tal and he told me to stay right here. He wants me to meet someone.

AJ

                Tal Smith has been one of my longtime friends. He’s cool and pretty funny. He also gives good advice. He comes up to me and tells me that he wants me to meet someone. So I follow him.

                In front of me is this girl. She is quite pretty. Oh wow. Look at her legs! I mean, WOW! I hold out my hand. “AJ Ortiz. Nice to meet you.” “Maria Vianco. Same to you.” She shook my hand and you could see the muscles in her arm flex. The insane pressure of the handshake was also quite insane. I normally don’t know how to shake hands with a girl. Because some will be like “here shake my finger with the lightest of tough possible so that you don’t ruin my hand” and others barely make contact, as if they are afraid of touching a guy. But she gave a guy’s handshake. I think I might like to get to know her.

                “So how old are you?” she asked. “16…17?” “Uh no. I turned 14 yesterday.” “Well, happy birthday man.” Tal and her parents started talking as all adults do.

Maria

                “So which one is your car.” And he led me to his car. It was a blue 55 Chevy. I asked him if we could pop the hood. But since it was a front tilt, that wasn’t possible. The wind was killing me! I mean pants would’ve been more suitable, but Dad made me wear a skirt. And yes. My skirt was threatening to flash AJ. But I did what a non-skirt wearing person would’ve done: I bent over with my arms at my side to look at the engine of this car. “So it’s about a 305 engine. V-8, definitely not stock.”

                I look up to see AJ’s mouth open in a nice “O” of surprise.

AJ

                Hell yeah I was surprised. She was wearing a girly skirt for goodness sakes. I mean Jamie is another woman friend who loves cars, but Jamie is not girly at all. Marie? Mary? I mean Maria is a badass. She comes to a car show all girly and knows her cars. Wow. I want to keep in contact with her. “What’s your number?” She just kinda laughs and tells me that she doesn’t have a phone and doesn’t need a phone. Wow. So I get her email instead.

                “The Monster” helped me meet my best friend ever. Yes she is older, but I can tell her a lot. She has counselled me through horrible girlfriend incidents. Her being older gives me current advice from someone who has been through it, but put into my age perspective. She is strong and independent and the type of person that isn’t afraid to do things. I like her. And Tal was right: we do only have eyes for each other. 

What happened to the world?

Why are people so stupid? Literally common courtesy is what I was raised on. If I wear something that isn't mine, even if only for 30 seconds, I will wash it and return it clean and folded. But you wear my clothes for a freaking week plus weekends for the concert, you lie about actually having my things, then when i finally demand my clothes back they are crusty, smelly and gross! Like really??! Is this how you were raised? Why do you have to think you are the best thing that ever happened to dance troupe, when really you are nothing but a slob!? What has happened to the quality of everything?

As many of you know, I have been saving to get my own classic car. I walked into school on the first day of school and the first thing i heard was some kid complaining about the brand freaking new car that his parents BOUGHT him. Telling his buddies that it's horrible and all this other BS. Let me tell you first hand, cheap cars that have an engine and transmission and maybe tires is very rare in New Mexico. I am very discouraged. My dad offered to help with half of a car: insurance, gas, the actual car and repairs. Now you are probably saying, "Get the car, stupid! And stop complaining." The catch on this car is that I would share it with my sister and she wouldn't have to pay a freaking thing. I would also not be able to work on it. I would rather wait to get the car that i want and put my money towards MY car and not a car that would be practically worthless to me.

Everyone thinks I'm crazy for liking cars and even crazier to wait for the car I want. I have been teased and made fun of. I am so sick of this. Where did respect for other people go? I am so sick of being told that I "need to be more lady-like" or even that I need to pursue a career in something more "innovative" than working on cars. I can't tell you how many times I have bawled like a little baby when the people that I thought were friends turned around and laughed at me for liking cars. I do try to hide some of the things that I know so that I don't sound like a "know-it-all." There was one guy i had to work with a couple summers ago. I asked him what was the year and type of his car. He told me a 55 plymouth belvedere. I was like cool. But I looked at that car later and it was not a 55 plymouth belvedere. It was a 55 chevy bel-air. The next day I saw him I told him, "I like your 55 CHEVY BEL-AIR." He gave me the look like how should a girl know this.

Literally my family isn't really for me liking cars. So that is pretty tough in itself.  Then I met AJ and I told him this, and he told me not to believe all the crap that people may say. HE BELIEVED IN ME. That was the best thing that anyone has ever done. No i'm not talking about sending me to good schools to get a great education, but the little thing of, not believing me, but believing IN me. He was the person that gave me a bit of confidence and pride in what I loved. You may have seen the post about him. He is my best (guy) friend. He answers all my questions and wants to help me. My best friends at school have also supported me, give or take the teasing that comes with having best friends. I love them all. What happened to loyal people? Or the best friends that would take your secrets to the grave with them? I am blessed I have these people. All people care about today is being fake and having many followers and all this other shallow crap. People need to be disciplined like they were in my parent's generation. My parents instilled into me genuine kindness to everyone, faith, but most importantly COMMON SENSE. As my friend says, "Common sense: It ain't too common."