address.

Im terribly bored at work signing people into the gym, so i figure i'll blog for a bit. Came across something online and it said Apt412, and although I never lived in Apt412, just the sight of it hit the memory switch in my mind and i figured i'd blog about where i've lived.

ridgewood, ny. (hancock as my mom refers to it)
this was the first place i ever lived. I have no recollection of the apt but I've seen pictures. I was a newborn living here with my father, mother, and older brother - who was 2 yrs at the time. Its a crummy neighborhood and we left quickly after I was born.


middle village, ny.
This i remember very well. this is where i walked, talked, became a big sister, and saw my father go through chemo. Upstairs was Becky and Ricardo - a puerto rican and jamaican couple with 2 kids - Debbie and Joshua, home schooled kids. I remember not being able to say words like 'dumb' or 'sucks' in there presence because it was a 'curse word'. Joshua had absolutely no sensitivity to pain. I witnessed this boy, no older than 4, fall down a flight of stairs and run outside to play. Up the block there was a little girl with a hearing aid and her attentive father. Paige was the palest girl with the blondest hair. Absolutely gorgeous in her own way and a pleasure see riding her bike with her father always at her side. At some point next door was an old man, whom later in my life I came to realize was gay, who had a black poodle. The poodle always had some variation of red or pink nailpolish. Attached to our home lived a family. Don't remember the family but someone owned a motorcycle that my mother knocked over pulling out the car and never fessed up. A good handful of neighbors gathered together to offer condolences and I'm sure give donations to repair what had been damaged by an 'anonymous party.' I imagine it still haunts her. Across the street was an abandoned house. Neighborhood kids, myself included in, would try to get into the building because we were convinced it was haunted. And I still think theres some truth to that. Anytime we'd walk past the building we'd hear a slight but consistent beeping sound. But the moment you passed the house the sound was gone. Down the block a series of old ladies. I remember one who'd always complain that my mothers car alarm went off in the middle of the night.

Inside my house, well I had my own room. I vaguely remember the room being white with some sort of border, but I went to Colombia one summer and came home to a pink room. I hate pink. I might be confusing this with my room in Glendale, or its quite possible I lived through this 2x. I remember my dresser, my father built. It had a lamb on it. Unusual now that I think about it. My room was all my own, havent experienced that since. I had no ceiling fan and no AC. .(A trend that followed me to glendale too)Next door was JayJays room and Jesses nursery. I typically slept there. Sleeping in solitude is creepy when you are a little girl and next door had AC and most likely a ceiling fan as well ( another trend in living arrangements). I saw a ghost in that room. Well a pair. That I'll never forget but rather tell in its own blog. So yeah. Jayjay was unusual some nights. I remember him telling me on more than one occasion that Chucky or Freddy Kruger was going to come and kill me. I also recall a time when he told me that I was a spec on this earth and completely insignificant. I'd cry myself to sleep on those nights. I never brought this to his attention as it never really had a long term effect on me but Im sure it'd make for an interesting conversation. I remember playing ninjas and us asking adults to watch. How ridiculous it must have been to watch two kids punching and kicking the air. We'd even tell eachother to 'watch out' and act as though we were in fact injured by the 'bad ninjas' at times. Ninjas was the most fun in the basement. We had a big carpeted basement. It wasn't always carpeted. I remember family parties seeing the grey cement floor. Family parties were common. But it wasn't really family per se. I guess a handful were related to my dad, but typically they were my dads friends. I miss that. I've never had that again in my household after my dad died. My parents room was the furthest from our rooms. I loved it there. It was the ultimate safe haven. I remember making breakfast and bring it to my daddy in bed on fathers day. We'd give him the gifts we got him, which was actually what we picked out my mom paid for. I remember I have him a seafoam green shirt with bugs bunny on it. He wore it a lot. He also wore vans a lot. I haven't seen my father in over 10 years, excluding dreams. I remember him very well. I remember being the princess and being so embarrased when he'd make fun of the boys that called the house. I remember one of the big fights he had with my mom and how me and jayjay hid under the bed. I wonder if that was something we'd seen on tv or if its just in a childs nature. Probably the latter. Oh middle village. The memories are pouring out of me. I was happy here. The good times outweighed the bad 10 fold. Here I experienced a beautiful childhood. I wish we never left.

glendale, ny.
I hated it here. I came back from Colombia and with no chance to say goodbye my home, i was thrown into an ugly pink cubicle/hallway with no privacy. Intially im sure I was excited at the thought of living in a new place, but it just wasn't the same. I didn't have fun there like middle village. No neighborhood friends. No manhunt at night or finding abandoned animals. Hated it. Here I lived one of the worst years of my life. Here my parents split apart. Well technically they didnt get that far because my father died. Yeah he died before they could divorce. As if it wasn't enough for a child to be witnessing a marital break up before their very eyes and hearing the muffled screams through the pillow, we all had to deal with the death of our father. I remember when he went back to the hospital after not dealing with cancer for nearly 5 years. It was just a fever I thought. I didn't even hug and kiss him like it was our last goodbye. It was a simple goodbye. The bye you give when your running out to the supermarket or up the block. It wasnt right. After little time in the hospital my father died, and was revived.. but not really. He was in a coma. I wont go into details here. Its too much for me to do in public. Point is march 29, 1999 my father died. 'I finished out 5th grade and Jesse was in Kindergarden. The next few years I hated. I didn't feel like part of my family for a while when my mom pursued her relationship with a man I hated. I later came to realize he spent more time in my house on weekends than I did, without my knowledge. They were their own little unit and I wasn't a part of it. I lived through another two of my moms relationships here. Those weren't so bad. I went to Jr. High, got my period, hated my mom and spent my time with friends. Went to high school, lost my virginity and especially hated my mom and eventually my older brother. Things got better, and i eventually went away to college and dormed. Only really good things that happened in glendale was me and my mom starting over after I graduated from HS, and Pochi (my chihuahua) who became a part of the family in July of 2007.

Overall, I hated glendale but lived there until I was 19. I lived through several deaths in that house. The last was on Feb 3 2008. The morbid and unusual death of my 29 year old cousin, ironically parrallel to that of my friend Nilssons death less than a year prior. I won't go into depth but it was rough. Then on Valentines day, we were robbed. Every bit of jewelery I owned - gone, everything valuable gone. It engrages me as I type this. I have to stop for a minute and remember :when things are bad, they will get worst, but when you least expect they will get really really good. Some how it just peaced together and a month later we were out of that hell hole and up the block from my mourning aunt.

briarwood, ny & stonybrook, ny
to be continued...

Blurbs.

Hello hello.
So this is strictly me blurbing updates cause i have no time for indepth thoughts. I dyed my hair, or tried- dumb move the black stayed black the root is a devilish red.. but i like it.
im back at school, crazy busy - 6 classes, academic advising intern, menta health peer educator, , PR for Minorities in Psychology, Cultural Advocacy Chair for Latin American Student Org.
Ill never write that out again - its APA, CHILL, MiPS, and LASO, respectively.
I also have my pretty baby to keep happy...
Were happy roomies and i love him soo much.
i had a weird dream that i was spinning in my own vomit.
the other side of campus is the best. less obnoxious-ness. so mellow and nature friendly and close to all my classes!
classes = great. 4.0 here i come.
im still chunky n tryna find the time to fix that
i want a bicycle to ride around school
i miss my pochi and my grandparents n momma n brothers already
im super excited about lifeeee.
looking into mental health counseling programs.. probably applying for my MA ... im not longer so eager jump right into a PhD program. scratched the 4yr plan.. i have time : )
im happy. im happppy im happpppy.
later.

21 in 9 day!
D.