I figured I start my blog entry with describing Easter traditions as I grew up. I guess I will, eventually. Then I wanted to write about some feelings I am going through, and I shall in a minute.
What I want to do is to say one thing. I want to shout it and I want to scream it, but I won’t. Not my style, I don’t fight.
So I shall just say my piece.
I am tired of reading about the heartaches we go through, the pain we feel after there is a break up, I am tired of listening to how many frogs do we have to kiss before we find the right one. At least I try, at least I talk about it, I try to figure it out, but I am tired of watching ladies going after “bad” and finding that the good butches, the good bois are boring. Never getting a chance. Just to find out later that “bad” is really bad
I give everyone a chance. I try it, I even argue with myself why I can’t fall for this person and why I fall for the other person. I know where I go wrong and why.
I hate that I have a gorgeous woman in my bed and I make her cry, cuz I don’t make love to her.
Sometimes it feels that these ladies who pretend to love me, have a way to chip at me, till I turn cold, but I won’t.
I like me.
I like who I am.
I like what I do.
I like how I treat women.
I like how I treat people period.
I enjoy life.
I am content.
I can love deep.
I can care deep.
I am good.
I am not afraid to be good.
I am not a doormat just because I am good.
I am also not a dumbass, as you all may think, just because I am good.
I am full of hope, because I believe everyone has some good in them, hope.
I am not going to pursue anyone, who does not show interest in me anymore.
I am not going to try anymore.
I am not a looser for being good and not bad.
I am tired of reading women complain that they can’t find a good one, when it is staring right in front of them, and not even trying to give it a chance.
I am bad in certain places, but that is between Her and me.
I am bad, when it comes to the security of Her and me.
I am bad, when it comes to the future of Her and me.
I am bad, when someone hurts Her.
I am bad, when people I love, hurt.
I am a protector and a lover.
I listen and I talk.
Not going to change into a bad boi, I had those days.
Not going to be sad because you show interest then flea.
Not going to be sad if you will never know what real love is, when you didn’t give me a chance.
So until you are ready for Good Butches
Let yourself be cheated on
Let yourself be abused.
Let yourself be hurt
Let yourself be trying to change something that won’t change.
Let yourself think that being with a bad Boi/Fem is living an interesting life.
Go On! Why are you still here? I am good…. So go find your Bad! Bad is all sold out here, I don’t keep that in stock no more. So Move! Get out my way! Bye!
Ok, so now that I had that out of my system.
Easter!
First of all, if you go to the Market (Market= like a flea market with tables filled with vegetables and fruits and open areas for live stock) all you hear is the cry of sheep and lamb. If you are a kid, it is traumatizing to see the lambs hanging off the hooks from their ankles, bleeding out and you staring into their lifeless eyes. The stare never leaves you.
Once you get over their eyes and blood flowing into the canals, you hear the axe chopping the meat up in pieces. Most times people buy a half of sheep, like in-laws and parents will split a lamb in two.
You do understand that during the whole year, you save and put aside anything that you need for any major holiday (example: eggs, butter in our case only margarine, oil, flour, sugar). Saturday before Easter is the big cookout, the preparation of cakes, cookies, meals. Women in their apron run and sweat by the stove, beating the dough, washing the vegetables, yelling at kids to get out of the kitchen. Men stay away, just make sure the ladies have anything they want and if something needs to be chopped they are ready and willing. Sunday, church in the morning, then going home and have a nice meal with family and friends, sit and watch the only 2 hrs of TV, then sit at the table and drink coffee, play cards, rummy and listen to the radio, hoping you get some news from over the border.
Now Monday comes. WOW! May I say WOW. So waited by kids. You go to school, it end at 3pm, then the boys go home and change, dress up really nice, they meet somewhere with their friends and team up. The girls go home and dress up and prepare the cakes and eggs in a nice plate, and then they glue themselves to the window. Now, you ask Why?
The boys, guys, men go around to friends and families houses with cologne, perfume , reciting poems and showering girls with their bottle (so girls can bloom into gorgeous flowers) recite the poem they wrote or learned, then the girls thank them with cookies, cakes, eggs and money.
To girls this is extremely amazing, because this way you know which boy likes you form school or the neighborhood. Now you can imagine that adults get alcohol, so by midnight all you see on the streets is drunks, wobbling on sidewalks. The good thing was that we hardly ever drove; we all used public transportation and walked a lot.
I was jealous, so I couldn’t wait for my brother to grow up so he can go and I can chaperone. I was just impatient, typical to my nature, so when he was 4 the guys came to my house and I said do you mind if my bro tags along with you, they didn’t mind not me. So I went. I had to experience this. I had to see how girls look at boys, I wanted to know, I was 11. Of course my bro, was a little chubby guy, and I was dragging him so at some point I was sick and tired of his winning and I let his hand go for a sec. Shortly after he fell and a piece of glass got stuck in his palm. Boy! Was I in trouble? I paid for it dearly. One for leaving the house and do my girlie duties, second the baby of the house got hurt. My bro was/is everything to my family.
I lost an important person in my life. He died Horvathy Sandor. He was 74, an interesting man and the only sober man in my life, a father figure, whom I loved and respected the old fashion way, the old school way. My best friend Adrienne AKA Rabbit.
This man was always hard on us, strict, not giving in, not knowing how to handle her daughter, who most likely always reminded him of is youth. Set in his ways, 4 yr. ago he blew our minds. He was a gentle, missing us guy. Who smoked with us, who joked with us and drank. A man who opened up to his daughter finally. This year Rabbit and me were going to go back and visit him, do another European vacation. I think we won’t.
Lately the thought of my grandmother has been strong. Always is but I was more emotional to her memory. I miss her dearly, then this past week, a very special friend of mines grandmother passed away. I feel her pain so much. I really do. Tina asked me if there was one day that I could change in my life, what would it be. Before it was may 6th, 86 when I broke m knee and ended all my hopes, the day would be when my gma died. I want to be there, so she won’t be alone. My biggest regret.
I am drinking an organic tea, called Inspiration, it s very interesting and I think I made this entry too freaking long. Inspiration= organic green tea, passion fruit, apricot. Yummy.
Thank you for taking the time to read me.
