the way it usually goes.

I was listening to Fiona Apple's "Paper Bag"...

I was staring at the sky, just looking for a star
To pray on, or wish on, or something like that
I was having a sweet fix of a daydream of a boy
Whose reality I knew, was a hopeless to be had
But then the dove of hope began its downward slope
And I believed for a moment that my chances
Were approaching to be grabbed
But as it came down near, so did a weary tear
I thought it was a bird, but it was just a paper bag
Hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills
'Cause I know I'm a mess he don't wanna clean up
I got to fold 'cause these hands are too shaky to hold
Hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love
And I went crazy again today, looking for a strand to climb
Looking for a little hope
Baby said he couldn't stay, wouldn't put his lips to mine,
And a fail to kiss is a fail to cope
I said, 'Honey, I don't feel so good, don't feel justified
Come on put a little love here in my void,' he said
'It's all in your head,' and I said, 'So's everything'
But he didn't get it I thought he was a man
But he was just a little boy
Hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills
'Cause I know I'm a mess he don't wanna clean up
I got to fold 'cause these hands are too shaky to hold
Hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love
Hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills
'Cause I know I'm a mess he don't wanna clean up
I got to fold 'cause these hands are too shaky to hold
Hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love

This is usually how love goes for me. The line, "Cause I know I'm a mess he don't wanna clean up" repeats in my head. And also, "Hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love."

Is it "Normal" to trust?

Alex's big trip is that he keeps trying to define himself as "normal". I've long given up on knowing what that means or trying to define myself that way. Steve says everyone's crazy, just different kinds of crazy. I think I agree with that more than trying to make myself fit into a category that I don't feel exists really. Tonight Steve and I talked about bi-polar disorder. Apparently, his ex was also afflicted with it. I was trying to explain to him what it was like to have an episode, that it's the whole reason why Alex and I are a "tragic relationship". I had to explain what that paranoia about not being able to trust people feels like. And so I fell into another story about someone from my past, Shirley, AKA Valentine, though if I hadn't have been so hurt by Ezra (Eskae) once already, I would've been more disappointed by the loss of my friendship with Valentine. See, Ezra and I were inseparable for a long while in our early twenties. I even got him onto the crew, "Altered States" which he seems to have forgotten. Once, we had even done shrooms in Disneyland, piquing in ToonTown, and then went to Mickey Mouse's house and got Mickey Mouse himself to hit up our blackbooks. I remember thinking we were making some sort of trek to Mecca and it all was making more and more sense as we were herded like cattle in those zigzag endless "psych, you're not even close to the front" lines. At the front of the line, about five people were ushered into the next room with the big heavy doors, out of view, and then the heavy doors would close behind them. Meanwhile, in the background, there was a reel playing of Mickey Mouse giving an interview in an actor's chair on a large screen, so it was made to feel as if we were going backstage to meet him personally. The intensity was building and building until the doors finally opened and we were the ones to be ushered into the next room, The big heavy doors closed behind us and when we were finally in the room, I remember thinking why did Mickey need all those big old bodyguards? And why was he so small? And then I squeezed his glove in my hand so tight because I couldn't even feel his hand 'cuz the glove was so big and cushy...Anyways, Ezra had this epiphany while we were riding the "It's a Small World" ride and I couldn't help freaking out because all the mechanical puppets were clicking and their teeth were chattering and the song was creeping me out too. So Ezra and I spent countless hours talking about everything from politics to religion to scientific breakthroughs, he even visited me in New York and I told him a lot about my life and read him some of my writing until I realized he was using it in his art. Literally, he would draw MY ideas onto his canvasses. That wasn't the really awful part. The really awful part is how he changed, started to become so affected and aloof, playing the part of the guru so much after awhile just because he had some fame as an artist/DJ. And then that's when he started to talk all kinds of "space art bullsh*t and began talking to me as if I was a customer, as if he was some kind of walking talking advertisement promoting himself constantly. Then the other times I'd see him, he'd be so wasted he wouldn't remember anything. I didn't even know why we were friends anymore after awhile. And then I made the realization that he was just selfish and we weren't really friends at all. And that had broken my heart. Why did it break my heart? Because he didn't even care enough to find out how I was doing after I'd been depressed for a while in Cali. He'd talk to everyone else asking them why I was so upset with him but he never had the balls to come up to me personally or even call me to find out why, as if he was just trying to make himself look like a good person to them. Anyways, he was my main grievance with Altered States and now that is finally all over and done with. I have divorced him and AS, too. I spent many years upset by him though and he was my lesson not to trust people so much. And then there was Valentine. Valentine and I met when she had first moved to New York back in '96. She was sweet and innocent back then. She had even gone to my elementary school the year after I had graduated and had grown up amongst all the people that I had left behind when I went to a different school for middle school. We became fast friends. I took her to my New York, the one with graff artists and basement salsa DJ parties way up in the BX. Anyways, when I first met her she was dating this guy named Kenny. He was a heroin junkie and turned into a stalker towards the end of their relationship. This went on for four years. I tried to give her support, but had given up on telling her that I didn't think Kenny was the right guy for her because we love who we love and I didn't feel like it was my place to tell her what to do, plus she never listened. I was still willing to be her friend through all of it, though it was a bit draining at times. Anyways, I left New York and moved to Cali to put a portfolio for school. Shirley came out and she and I flew down to LA together and stayed at her friend's place in downtown LA right next to the Toy District and even went to Christina Ricci's New Year's Eve party. Then I moved to Boston for school. She came to visit once during my Senior year because her cousin lives in Boston and was getting married. This is when I was couching it at Greg's place waiting for the move-in date to arrive for me to move into my own apartment and he lived in a bachelor pad, a basement apartment (located at 666 Tremont Street in the South end) with two other guys. They didn't have windows or cable 'cuz they were broke. She had turned up her nose in disgust and complained the whole time. Josh, Greg's roommate, thought she was a bitch. I tried to cover for her and say that she wasn't really a bitch, but that's when I should've started to notice the change. Anyways, fastforward to me moving back to New York in 2004. I was living with Denise and Kate. I'm still in touch with Kate. She's a wonderful girl, but Denise was always aloof and kinda cold, yet she's the one who was renting the loft and who was offering these built-out rooms that Kate and I were renting. Anyways, I had started dating Rob, dating Rob...He wasn't my boyfriend. It wasn't really serious. Rob was this pot-smoking songwriting guitarist who was working a computer Systems dayjob and was really miserable. That's actually how we met. He put out a posting on Craigslist about how depressed he was and asked was there someone out there who could empathize, so I responded and after a couple weeks of talking on the phone, we actually decided to meet and then we started dating. At this time, my Mom and I started talking again after a heated fight about my half-brother a year before. That's also when she told me my half-sister SoYoung had dumped her kids in Seattle, WA and that they went to foster homes. I couldn't even think straight after that. I couldn't sleep or eat, I was consumed with finding them and making sure they were okay. I had just started a job at a television production company and was working 50-60 hours a week, too, doing pre-production. That's enough background of the stuff going on in my life at that time. Shirley had told me she needed some graphic design work done for her new clothing line and had complained that a friend of hers had told her that she was just using him to do her design work. That should've been a red flag, but I offered to do it for her. She was in a clutch, I wanted to help her out, and I thought I could get a good portfolio piece out of it, too. But she was demanding and wanted it done within a week. I had to shoot all the photos of the clothing. We used Rob's apartment to do the shoot. There was endless cropping. There was also a lot of problems with colorsyncing. And I met her every time she had to go over something at the drop of a hat. I wanted her to meet Rob, so we all went to a movie. Rob left his trash in his seat and I had picked it up and taken it to the trash. He had said, "They've got people whose job it is to do that." Shirley had thought that was tacky and had written him off and I think had written me off too because of that comment. I had to put up with Kenny for four years and she writes Rob off for being a dick once. Kate had observed my relationship with her and said that she thought she wasn't really my friend. This was probably illustrated in how she was selling some of her stuff at a store in the LES and I had gone to keep her company and I had shown interest in one of her dresses and she told me I owed her $80 for it even though I did all that design work for her for free trying to discourage me from taking it because I think she thought I didn't have the "right look" for the dress. I'm not skin and bones after all. Rob and I broke up after a while anyway. I was too much drama for him, plus he and I were all wrong for one another. I was so angst with all the stuff going on in my life with my family and just everything that I went out bombing. I painted a clown on a fence because that's how I felt. Anyways, I've said all this in a previous entry, but to put it in a nutshell, after getting caught for the clown, I did a stint at Riker's. The charges were dropped and I was sent to South Beach Hospital in Staten Island. I called Shirley and left her a message early on in my stay at South Beach. It was about a month later that I heard from her and she had said, "It took me a long time to call you back because it's just been such a burden on me," regarding my whole situation and yet, I was the one in the hospital with no place to go because Denise had decided not to let me back to the apartment. I found myself apologizing to her. Valentine didn't even visit all those months. She didn't even offer me a place to stay for awhile even though she had a two-bedroom apartment. I'd known her 9 years. I had considered her to be one of my better friends and I would've offered that to her. Anyways, I ended up taking Rob up on his offer to let me stay with him and got released from the hospital. When I got out, I called Shirley to ask her out for a cup of coffee. She called me back and said, "I started seeing someone and I just don't have time for you. I need a break." Wow, that was really cold. It had been about five months since I'd last seen her and she was saying she needed a break? I never asked her for anything. I didn't even hold it against her that she didn't offer a place to stay or that she didn't try to visit. I was just hoping for some friendship after getting out of the hospital which was like a jail sentence in itself. Anyways, she emailed me and told me that I was being immature when I called her out on how selfish she was. I packed up all her stuff and left it on her doostep. I want nothing to do with her ever again. Anyways, that's the kind of thing I had to deal with and thanks to being bi-polar I was able to figure out who my real friends are. So when I want to explain what's it's like to be bi-polar, I also have to explain what kind of relationships I had with people too because then it makes more sense why I don't trust a lot of people and why I feel like a lot of my relationships contributed to my inability to trust, too. I think Valentine got jaded. She's been in New York too long. She lost her innocence and also her good nature. All her friends are pretentious or drug abusers/alcys. I feel blessed that I left New York when I did for that one reason. I left before I could become one of those New Yorkers who thinks the world revolves around New York and that anyone from anywhere else just doesn't have a clue. It's important to me that I lived in Boston even though it was lonely and miserable at times, most of the time actually, just because I finally knew what it was like not to live in New York and I had to learn to live where I was. I wear it like a badge of honor now.

Text Updated 8/19/08...Shirley Leung, I live on Park and Grand. You don't...

Tragic relationships...

Because of my situation with A, I have been thinking about this guy Arlan from my past. Plus I had been reminded of him since I had told the story to my new friend Steve. See, Steve was telling me about himself, that he never spoke until the age of 17. I mentioned Arlan was this really silent guy I knew too and somehow I just fell into our story. Arlan and I spent a lot of time together doing things like crossword puzzles. We probably started hanging out when I was like 20. He was a brilliant artist and I encouraged him to start playing in a band, so he took up drums in Jason's band, "Three Years Down". I'm the one who taught him to put oil in his car, too. On his twenty-first birthday, he called me up and asked me to go to Reno with him to celebrate, so I piled into a car with him and about four other dudes and we went, me the only girl. I think I had inspired him because I had been a bit older and took off by myself for my own twenty-first b-day to Tahoe, having an early breakfast in a room full with lumberjacks and then playing some slots. I had also written him a story for his twenty-first birthday, too. About this little boy who never spoke. The things he heard people say would make his ears bleed, and then one day there was this snail who observed him in his pains that no one else seemed to notice and she gave him a magic drum set and he found he could make as much noise as he wanted, entertaining all the woodland creatures who would gather to hear him play. The boy, in the end of the story, turns to the snail and smiles at her with this brilliant smile, ear-to-ear, his blue eyes twinkling. I really loved Arlan. I could see how uncomfortable he was trying so hard in social situations to speak. But I also knew that as someone who didn't say much as a young kid, you listen an awful lot and a lot of times, people say stupid things, even hurtful things, and then they put you into a box and that picture of you is what they expect from you. Arlan was, might still be, a raging alcoholic, probably became one in large part due to social awkwardness. Anyways, I was having my first manic episode (age 22) and I had been sitting next to Arlan on the couch at my Oakland place on Shafter and 45th where I had lived with four other people, and put my head on his shoulder and said quietly, "I love you, Arlan..." He turned to me and said, "I love you, too...but I'm an alcoholic, Milissa...And I can't give it up..." It felt like he'd wanted to tell me this for a long time. All I could do was get up and start talking to my Mom in the closet, except she really wasn't in the closet, if you know what I mean. Later that night I had visions of Arlan as this demon who was tearing me up with his claws and all I could do was shut my eyes thinking that I couldn't be harmed if I kept them closed and then in the morning, Joelle brought me to the hospital for the first time. We never talked about it again, but I knew he was right. He didn't want me to get hurt by his inability to give up drinking. I was also dealing with my mental. I saw him about 8 years ago once. I was sitting at this cafe waiting for Joelle and he comes up and sits down with me and we start to do a crossword puzzle together for old time's sake, I suppose. Whilst doing the puzzle, he says, "I've been thinking about going to AA lately..." And I looked at him, his now aged rosacea-from-drinking face and his body smelling of an alcoholic who's long been drinking, and I said, "That's good, Arlan. I think that's a good idea." Joelle came then and saw me with him and quickly took me away from him without a word to him. She later told me that since I'd been gone, he'd been doing the same thing every night, getting sh*t-faced at "Ye Olde Hut", the local townie dive and he was even barbacking for his drinks now...Steve listened to the story and said, "That's so sad..." I guess I had forgotten to think it was sad, just thinking that was truly love. Which is why I am reminded of him when I think of my new relationship with Alex. He's so angry and we have this great amount of love for one another, but the world would never put us together. I am hoping it won't turn out to be as tragic as it was for me and Arlan.

Mom's trying to fix me up with a Korean Civil Engineer, but Alex...

I have been seeing Alex, which is probably not so surprising since we got quite, well, "weirdly" close in the hospital. The first night he showed up in the ward, we spent a few long hours together before bedtime in the Activity Room alone, just the two of us, and there were periods of long silence so deafening you could feel the tension between us. I remember thinking he was strange, but attractive, and I wanted to leave him so many times because of the languorous awkwardnesses, but I stayed. And he told me to stay with him. That's right. TOLD me, "Stay" when he saw me fidgeting like I was going to get up at that moment. I felt like he had something he wanted to say to me the whole time.

The tension from that night continued up until he was released actually, just yesterday. In the hospital, we would sit by the back window of the dining room in chairs positioned right next to each other for hours on end, but it was seriously innocent between us, we really just liked each other's company after awhile 'cuz we were like little kids together (activities included setting up rubber band shooting ranges with cups, developing characters for a screenplay, playing "six degrees of Kevin Bacon, but with different actors"...) though we needed to be right next to each other and those were times we were loving with one other. It was quite sweet really. I had heard an old R&B/Soul song on the radio one night by Earth, Wind & Fire before he came into the hospital "Love's Holiday" and it had stayed with me. There's something so classy about those old soul songs which is so different from these newer crude jams, just that the singer had the couth to ask,

"Would you mind if I touch,
If I kiss, if I held you tight
In the morning light
Would you mind if I said how I felt tenderly tonight
Again cause

I never ever felt this way in my heart before
Love has a holiday in my heart tonight

Would you mind if I looked
Into your eyes till Im hypnotized
And I lose my pride
Would you mind if I make love to you till Im satisfied
Again cause

I never ever felt this way in my heart before
Love has a holiday in my heart tonight"

One time towards the beginning of his stay, he was ranting about the injustices inflicted upon him and I could see how angst he was and how misunderstood he felt, angry, turning more and more oh so angry, so I asked him for his notebook and wrote in it, "I've got only one question for you. Will YOU LET me love you?" because it was the question that I wanted him to know was important. I was willing to love him at that moment. He just needed to accept it. I told him I had heard the song and that I thought he needed to hear that because of how that topic of conversation was making him feel. Maybe he didn't know what I meant by that. I meant that I cared. I was listening to him. I know about dysfunctional family and toxic people, feeling like I'm surrounded by those who are mean and hateful for no good reason except that I exist, that I am who I am and maybe that I have the unfortunate circumstance of being in the same space or that we happen to run in the same circles. I was actually kinda surprised by my boldness. But I meant it. Because he needed me. Not just somebody. He needed me. And I needed him to need me.
Alex was always super protective of me and was very tempermental when other men talked to me, which I actually thought was kinda cute. Yeah, that could be construed as being overly possessive, he didn't want anyone else to have my attention, but honestly, I felt like that was kinda macho (He is a NYC-born Latin male, after all) and so different from C who's known me since 22 and who had met me hanging out with a room full of guys, so he was never possessive of me like that because he knew from jump that I was treated like one of the guys, that I was part of the crew. Alex always makes it known that I am a woman. And tonight we went to see, "I Am Legend" at the IMAX Loews Theater at Lincoln Center and he was stewing and tired after a sleepless night, cranky, because tix cost $16 apiece. But I still love him. I have yet to figure out what that means. I just got out of this relationship with C, but my feelings for Alex are genuinely deep. They go beyond just going on a date with someone whom I might or might not see again or even care about yet really. I've already developed feelings for him. I know he's a part of my life.
On New Year's Eve, while sitting waiting for the ball to drop and for that excruciatingly drag-on night to be over in the usual seats we shared at the back window of the Dining Room, the Charge Nurse came up to us and said we were too close together and that he was watching us (meanwhile Wendy and Edwin had made out already and were trying to work it so they could get it on in the Laundry Room, and that went totally unnoticed by the staff), as if we were twelve year olds caught naked in the dark of a basement or something, but seriously, nothing physical beyond a light braising of the arm or my leg pressing against his ever transpired between us. Later Wendy, like a sixth grader, asked me if I had gotten any action with Alex, trying to compare notes. I was kinda naive, I guess, compared to her, and didn't think it was a good idea to confuse matters by getting together with Alex in the hospital though I started to wonder what it would be like if we were alone together outside of the hospital setting. Wendy bet me that we would see each other outside of the hospital. What happened when we were on the outside, well, that would be different...And it is different now...What's up with my hospital experience sounding like a summer at camp or something?

Progress

Two weeks have passed, and Alex is being released on Thursday. I, myself, have found employment, after having fielded all sorts of phone calls from concerned loved ones and also creditors, going through my two months of built-up mail, and hundreds of emails the first couple of days of being set free once again. School was a nightmare to deal with. After much counsel from several sources, especially my VESID counselor, I have decided to forgo the coming Spring semester and return to school in the Fall because I have incurred a balance, and this was not due to my grades (which were failing ones due to the absence from classes, assignments, tests and finals...). It is because when I switched my major in the fall and dropped the Chem classes, all my financial aid reneged anyway. So I decided it would be best to find employment and pay off my balance myself and not try to scrounge up the money somehow because I'd have to borrow it, and it was all too stressful to accomplish that in only a couple weeks. Luckily, I was able to get retroactive withdrawals from my classes so my GPA is back to a 3.4. As long as I pay back the balance before July, I'll be able to go back in the Fall. And my VESID counselor told me they would keep my case open.

My Mental Health Network is wonderful in New York. I really do like my therapist, psychiatrist and ICM Worker. I feel very lucky to have found such a solid support system. My therapist has made me question my motivations. Why did I think going to the streets was the right answer for me when it was my apartment in the first place? My first answer is that I've been running away since the age of six to the streets. It's kind of all I know. But I burst out crying in session because I know that's wrong and I never cry. My therapist says I punish myself and she thinks it goes back to how I was treated as a kid, that I feel I must punish myself. I realized I really do try to punish myself. At my job interview, one of my interviewers asked me, "What would a past employer say is your worst trait?" and I said, "I don't know what someone else might say about me..." She then said, "Well, what would YOU say is your worst trait?" and to this I answered, "I take on too much sometimes, and I try to take care of everyone and everything else, but when it comes to me, I don't really take care of myself as I should. I'm my last priority, but that's something I'm working on." Luckily the interviewer leaned over and kind of quietly said, "I'm the same way." The other thing I've told myself to work on too is asking people for help. I'm terrible at it.

Mom is always stressed out these days with her business, especially with lawsuits, and is constantly trying to get me to move back to Cali, not to mention she's been trying to matchmake me with a Korean dentist and also a Civil Engineer. But I am already imagining my life or non-life in Cali, how she would always use guilt to make me feel bad about myself and then would gradually take control of every aspect of my life. At least in New York, I am so far away from her I feel as though I can make my own decisions and live somewhat peaceably, see who I want to, do the things I like to do. I told her to give me a couple years to finish out my degree at Brooklyn College. When else am I going to get the opportunity to get free tuition, books and transpo paid for? And I really don't want to let go of my support network either. It's finally nearly perfect except that my psychiatrist doesn't approve of graff and is very vocal about his disapproval of it. Other than that, I really do like him.

Since leaving the hospital, I have been out on a couple of accidental dates with Dil. I didn't realize how he felt about me. He really did try to literally jump on me as soon as I let him know he was right about C moving in with me and that we were no longer seeing one another. Anyways, after an awkward confession that included an apology on his part for being so enthusiastic so soon after my breakup, I had to tell him I wasn't ready for anything serious. And his style is so different from C's. C's not a braggadocious kind of guy, but Dil blows himself up so much you would think he was part hot air balloon and that he would start floating off into the sky at any moment. I have to admit the attention was flattering especially because all through college I didn't date anyone for all four years, but I don't think we have that kind of chemistry. It's pretty amazing because I've consistently been seeing someone for the last couple of years, but no one that seriously until C. I consider him my 2nd and 3rd boyfriend and I know that's not so much for a 35 year old woman. It's just that I'm always surprised that someone wants to date ME. Yeah, it's a self-esteem issue. Alex told me he always gets involved with women who have the attitude, "If I can't have you, then no one else can..." I guess it could be worse. Actually, I am relieved to have my own place again and that I am free once again, no longer in a relationship with C. That sounds awful, but I am reminded that I am lucky by a conversation with my homegirl Lisa. She told me tales of her other best friend's materialism causing money management problems and all her baby's daddy drama (him constantly in and out of jail, him being seen around town with other females in HER car)...not to mention her sister has a crazed ex who lives in her home, has two kids with her on top of his other six kids, who puts his hands on her and now is stalking her like a psychotic, threatening her at her two jobs making her life miserable. So yeah, could be worse. I could have children with a crazed maniacal man who cheats on me and uses me for my money. My Mom and I have gotten closer. I think this is because she wants to share her hatred for men with me. She seems to think that all of a sudden I understand how she stayed in a twenty year loveless and abusive marriage. I think she's projecting a lot of how she feels about relationships onto my situation with C. This is because when I told her C was writing her an apology letter after I said it was the right thing to do, she got really angry, saying roughly that she didn't trust anything he said and that he wasn't sincere about being sorry.

The trouble with hospitals.

I will say this about my many experiences with hospitals. There are varying degrees of mental sickness in people and in a psych ward, you can't choose your roommates or even who you're in a ward with. Sometimes it is so stressful just surviving in the ward or halfway house that recuperating and trying to stay positive seem nearly impossible.

I don't have enough money to pay for a private hospital stay and so I am at the mercy of the public hospital system. This time around, my first roommates were an older black woman who kept confusing me for the other woman in the room who really looked pregnant and smelled like feet, and so yelled at me to take showers constantly when I took showers daily. I was given another roommate who was a Columbian woman who used a cane because she claimed she was so fat that she was in a lot of pain, but she was only mildly overweight. I think she was a hypochondriac and just plain lazy and was seeking attention. She was totally superficial bragging on her daughter who is attending Hunter constantly. She left the hospital and then was replaced by this crazed girl named Beatriz who had just been released from jail, wearing the orange jail "Spitzers" (sneakers). She punched Tia (this black pregnant with twins girl who stole from everyone in the ward, took showers constantly) in the face her first day and then terrorized this other girl, Wendy, and a few days from her brawl with Tia, punched Wendy in the face too. Wendy was a drama queen though, and cried the whole night. Beatriz was smoking in the room, so I was given permission to leave the room and switch to Tia's and Olga's room (Olga was a 63 year old woman who talked all the time). Wendy was 26 and Bolivian and complained about her abusive mother and proceeded to tell everyone how she cheated on her husband with a guy just for sex, but was angered with her husband because he was actually having a relationship with a girl he worked with as a waiter. She and her husband were living with her Mom and they both attended City College. Her husband asked her for a divorce and took back her ring during her stay. And then she got together with Edwin. Anyways, she asked me to get involved and to write a letter to the Supervising Nurse in the ward to keep her in the ward because they were trying to move her instead of moving Beatriz after a second altercation where she got slapped in the face. This is after my incident with Beatriz post-moving-rooms. In the Activity Room, I was changing stations on the radio and had earlier been told to ignore Beatriz by the Charge Nurse and so I was ignoring her, but this aggravated her and she didn't want me to change the station and started yelling at me, then threw her sandwich at me and dumped her cup of apple juice over my head. I was calm and was told to stay away from her and to just go and take a shower and wash my clothes. Later, after my shower, I saw her in the hallway, and told her, "Don't you dare throw anything else at me...I'm warning you..." She threw her cup of ice at me this time and that's when I threw my fists up and told her to "Come on then..." She swung at me a few times, but I managed to hit her in the side a few times too...I wasn't afraid of her. And I wasn't mad at her. I knew she was sick. And I didn't have a grudge against her. But Wendy did. And so did Edwin. Edwin was this 41 year old guy from Queens, an early 80's graff artist/DJ (his tag back then was On One and he was down with PCKid and Kane1...). He later worked for the airlines, was also an interior designer, and he was stalked by Beatriz. I thought he got too involved in peoples' business, namely Wendy's, trying so hard to defend her from all the numerous injustices she felt were inflicted upon her in the hospital by staff and by other patients, whining constantly, talking about her "rack" thinking all men were intent on focusing on it. A staff member pulled me aside after the fight and told me that I should stay away from fighting with Beatriz because she was HIV+ and also had Hepatitis C. Anyways, I helped write the letter to the Supervising Nurse and also wrote one to the Hospital Administrator which Mom delivered personally. Beatriz was moved instead of Wendy. The letter I had written to the Administrator also mentioned the other problems I had with a staff member who forcibly put her hands on me when confiscating a magazine another staff member had given me to read. She also yelled at me when I was doing my laundry saying that I was going to break the machine and that I would be on meds the rest of my life. She was supposedly a Peer Counselor, but I wasn't so sure that she was my peer. She bragged on getting stabbed hundreds of times, being on drugs, being molested as a kid, raped as an adult, shot at, claiming that she ruled the hallways. Anyways, I didn't think that was very peer-like. Then Tia was stealing all my stuff, going through my drawers, leaving food everywhere in the room, leaving sheets and gowns behind too, and keeping me up at all hours of the night slamming doors and switching on the lights, which would then wake Olga who would sit up and start talking constantly and then hope for sleep was all over. And I gave her the clothes the social worker had given me when Mom brought me a gym bag of clothes. She left them soaking wet in the bathroom when they got dirty instead of just laundering them and tried to steal more stuff from me. I ended up having to give back my bag to Mom and just take one extra change of clothes which I left at the Nurse's Station. I didn't need much else in the hospital. Anyways, that's a lot of drama to deal with. But the worst part about it is that I had to deal with someone like Wendy. See, Wendy is a City College student with a big head. She thought she was really amazing because she is a Bio-Engineering major. She belittled my quest for my BS in Anthro/Archaeology saying that doesn't make any money and when I told her my first degree was in Art, forget about it...She then said, "I got into Cooper Union, but decided I couldn't make any money with art. Why don't you try Geology? That's the easiest science." She also said, "Your Mom's paying for everything anyway." And I looked at her and said "What? I left home when I was 18 and my Mom only started to help me after school and then again after my last hospitalization, I'm 35 now...you don't know me..." She hadn't even left home yet at 26 and it was taking her 8 years to get her degree. All she was concerned with was material and what she was wearing telling everyone at the breakfast table that I was trying to lose weight just because I made a routine of waking up at 6 to exercise with Gilad on FitTV every morning. Anyways, that's the kind of bullsh*t you have to put up with when you go to the hospital, not to mention I've spent every holiday since Thanksgiving in the hospital. New Year's the first person I hugged was Alex when the ball dropped. Alex is an interesting guy with green eyes. Dominican, he's bilingual Spanish and ANGRY at the loss of his career. He was once a stockbroker at BearStearns and hasn't been so high-functioning since that time period and is extremely bitter about it blaming most of it on the bureaucracy of the mental health system and also his Mom. He went to Tufts and has spent some time in Danville, CA, so we had a lot in common as far as places we've been. Anyways, he is still there and is desperately trying to find a place to get released to. I had much sympathy for him because of my South Beach Hospital experience, but I realize he has to do it on his own, especially after reading his blog.

Can't seem to stay away from drama...Meanwhile the private dicks lost my scent...

C and I broke up. Yeah, he was only down for self, which is illustrated in how he treated my Mom in the end and also in how he took the Apple remote base station when he left the apartment that he GAVE ME for Christmas last year. Granted, his Mom had given it to him and he just wrapped it up and regifted it to me, but the point was that in our whole relationship, all I have done is give and all he has done is taken. That's not a good match. There were red flags in the beginning of our relationship, too, so I should've known better, but I fooled myself into thinking that maybe he'd changed from when we were younger. He was irresponsible then and he still is. See, I had bought a computer for him for which he is supposed to pay me back and this happened just a few weeks before I took off from the apartment. All the time that I had been in the hospital he never even made one payment. I had also given him my old 30 GB Ipod, but did he leave that or give me anything for it? No, of course he took it with him without paying me a penny for it. So, why was I in the hospital, you ask?

Well, it was the same old pain. I finalized my divorce with Altered States and especially the members that caused me so much grief. Ah, the technological era, a blog debate in which I was able to vent all my grievances and also to hear the other party's lack of argument to my grievances and so I was angry for a period of days, totally upset, and then Crayone (a latter addition to AS) asked C to be his friend on MySpace in the middle of the debate which he tried to facilitate (when I in fact had been the one to reacquaint them) and hadn't asked to be my friend. I felt that was the underhanded way to keep me tied to the crew without acknowledging that I had every right to beef, discounting all my feelings using the " it's man business" excuse and to also get to me through my boyfriend. HA! I'm more "man" than any of those fools. At least I'm not a Mama's Boy who sponges off of my partner. Is that manly? I was so hurt and upset because who is it that was supportive of C and was living with C and he didn't even have my back? Were those people in Cali who proved to be gossipy, small-minded leeches do anything except for make him feel bad most of the time do anything for him? No! I did...C was just seduced by Crayone's fame as an artist. That's when I couldn't even look at him anymore.

C actually showed his true colors and raised his voice to me, snapping at me. I got angry and told him to get the f*ck out of my apartment then. After a few sleepless nights not being able to even stand being in the same room with him, I told him nicely that he had couple of months to find a new place to live. I felt a bit bad about it because I didn't know how he was going to do it. The red flags were coming back to haunt me. See, in Cali, he had gotten a DUI and had lost his license and though I had told him to jump on it and take the required classes the court had ordered, he hadn't done anything about it the whole time he had been living in New York, and in the meantime did not even have a New York ID yet because of that debacle, not to mention he also owed EDD about $8000 for working and taking money from them at the same time. Unemployment is a major government agency and now he's ineligible for their benefits for the rest of his life. So, he had those debts, and also student loans which he owed for attending CCAC from which he did not even graduate. He dropped out his Junior year, but owes about $40,000. So, I knew those were red flags. And also he'd met my adopted Dad, Ink76, and Ink didn't think much of him, calling him my "boy toy". And also Dil. Dil warned me a week before I was going out to Cali last June to help him move out to this coast that it was a bad idea. Man, was he right! See, they saw what I didn't see. That C was not my equal. He wasn't "man" enough to stand up and be down with my familia. After I broke up with him and asked him to leave, C tried to be affectionate with me still and I could not even stand his touch. It was as if he was just trying to save his ass and that creeped me out, so I told him he had 30 days instead, and then I couldn't even take it that that was so far off and knew he wasn't taking me seriously and would never move out in that amount of time, so I did what I've done since I was six years old. I ran away, took a few things and just left in the night. I'd had a fight with my Ed teacher that night too, and I couldn't tell my Mom what was going on because she'd just throw it in my face that I brought C to live with me in New York and I felt badly about his ID problem, plus she'd been very upset and was taking her problems with her own lack of judgments in her relationships out on me for the last month and half too...Anyways, I stayed on the streets for a few days and nights and the police finally got me for writing on a bathroom wall stall at the Atlantic Avenue station and then that was dismissed and I was sent to Elmhurst Hospital for about six weeks. The first three weeks, I wouldn't talk. And then, one day I called Ink. After that, Ink called C when I told him what was up with me and then my Mom was contacted by C. I didn't realize it, but the whole entire network of people that know me were all searching for me. My Mom had hired a private Detective (no other agency would take the case) and had talked with alot my friends. Most people involved were convinced I was dead because I had been missing for so long with no contact with any of them. I took off on the 12th of November 2007 and was hospitalized on the 20th of November. I just got released on the 3rd of January 2008. The cops that I dealt with knew where I was and I had a great time with them the night I was sent first to Bellevue, and then finally to Elmhurst Hospital in Queens. One of the cops who took me told me that the private Dicks ould be looking for me. He was the coolest.

Oh sure, all my friends in Cali said C was such a nice guy and that he loves me so much when I tell them that we broke up, finally getting in touch with them after leaving the hospital and then they try to defend him, but they don't really know him. He's nice on the surface, but that's only because he was able to pull the wool over their eyes just because he's soft-spoken.

My buddy Ed said that people don't reach these opinions about their relationships until they're in their 40's, so I'm a bit ahead of the game and at least we didn't get married or anything. I found out when my Mom first got into contact with me that she had thrown C out at the end of November. Our first visit was excruciating. I think she was just insulted that I had called Ink first and also was afraid of how I would take it that she had kicked C out. That was perfect actually, but she didn't know it. I had to explain to her that I need a Dad sometimes and Ink fills that void for me and that I hoped she might understand that. See, my own biological Dad split when I was two, so I've always lacked that important figure in my life. I think once we cleared up those issues, we got back to loving each other. Since my last hospitalization, Mom's been nice enough to help me the mortgage and management fees and the Electricity bill while I'm not working and in school, even while C was living with me. So basically, C got a free ride and all we split was the Cable bill and also the gas bill which was nothing. He had enough time to pay off a lot of his debts and he got a computer and an Ipod out of it. Just like in those old Looney Toons cartoons, I feel like a sucker.

The first time Mom came out from Cali to look for me was shortly after Thanksgiving. She gave C until then to get out of the apartment because she felt that he hadn't been doing enough to find me, was kind of nonchalant about it, and he wasn't Mom's kid. Why should he stay in the apartment without me there when it was my Mom who owns the place? C's Mom came out from Cali for about two weeks and stayed at our place. I guess C had taken one of my suitcases claiming it was his, but my Mom knew that wasn't the truth because she was the one who purchased it for me. That was what she was angry about. She also wasn't sure how much of the stuff he took from the apartment was his. My Mom came to visit at the end of December and one night that she had made plans with C so that he could come by the apartment to return the suitcase and grab some more stuff. I was on speakerphone when he called speaking very nicely to my Mom saying that he could not make it, could they do it the next day? He didn't know I was listening. Anyways, the next day passes and Mom wasn't supposed to come visit, but she showed up furious. Apparently, C brought HIS mom and she started a fight with my Mom and they ganged up on her. He told her a bunch of bullsh*t that she was livid about until I could tell her that it was a bunch of made-up stuff. 1) I begged him to move in with me. BULLSH*T! Mom said he said it several times. Now, in the beginning of our relationship, I told him upfront that I would NEVER ask anyone to move anywhere FOR me because I would never move anywhere for anyone unless I had a reason to be in that city. And I told him I didn't want it thrown in my face in the end if something happened between us and it didn't work out. I always said it was all on him. Who really sacrificed something? 2) He said he advertised my Mom's listings on Craigslist. Another Bullsh*t story! He never once did any of the listings. 3) He bought this crappy junky chest of drawers and expected that I would accept $150 deducted from the computer costs for it. 4) He told my Mom we made a contract in the beginning of living together that he would pay $250 for living expenses and really, who's going to pay $250 for an apartment in New York City? 5) He went through MY filing cabinet. 6) He told Mom that if she hadn't beat the shi*t out of me as a kid that I wouldn't be so f*cked up today. Firstly, that's not his business and secondly, he should be grateful to her. 7) Why grateful? Because Mom never charged us rent, nor did she do anything but take him out to dinner and also give him money. I told him a few times when I got irritated with him freaking out about his debts that he should be grateful that he didn't have to pay rent. Those had been the first times that I became irritated with him up until we had the dispute over Crayone and his lack of having my back. Also, his Mom had stayed at our place too and did not even say thank you. 8) He said cruelly to my Mom "You don't even know how to speak English!"...

Anyways, I guess it's all or nothing with me. I made the mistake of trying to have a relationship with someone from Cali, someone who didn't know how to survive in NY and who was dependent on me for friendships, a place to stay, help with buying a computer, basically everything except for getting a job at Trader Joe's (he managed to transfer from the Cali store to the Manhattan one)...Well, I learned my lesson.

LATER added 1/14/08...After a few days of cooling out, I have befriended C once again...He and I have too much history, shared too much stuff, have too much in common, to not be friends...Plus he is writing a letter to my Mom apologizing for his quick temper at their last meeting and also to thank her for her generosity in giving him a place to stay...and I wrote one to his Mom thanking her for her efforts in trying to find me...Mom gave me a valuable piece of advice in the hospital, that one of the four tenets of the Chinese is that 3) If you hate someone, that person will come back into your life again and again. I have concluded that we are not right for one another, but we still have a lot of love for one another...

See, we will always have the night we went to Spie's Port of SF party by the ocean. I actually first glimpsed C at an Oakland house party when I was like 22. He hadn't seen me because he was preoccupied. I had been hanging with my buddy Trav and I noticed C 'cuz he was fine as hell back in the day and he was all alone in the living room of the party, plus he was taking art off the wall and placing it in other places on the wall and then he started setting paper on fire on the coffee table. I said to Trav, "Oh, he's fine..." and Trav turned to me and said, "Well, he's psycho...just your type." We didn't meet that night. It would be another three weeks until I would officially make his acquaintance. He was hanging out at Andy and Marlon's crib and I had swung by to pick them up to head off to Spie's party. There was enough room in my '65 Ford Fairlane and it was a perfect full moon that night, plus the party was amazing. About twenty feet away from the tables, there was no sound because the ocean made for great soundproofing of the acoustics, so it was totally the perfect spot to have the party, no threat of the cops breaking it up. Once we got to the party, all the boys scattered and it was just me and C standing there in the moonlight. That's when he just wordlessly held my hand. He was shy. And it was the perfect thing to do. There was no word of communication needed.

About three weeks later, we started dating. We broke up nine months later because I had moved to Brooklyn midway through our relationship and we were too young to have a serious relationship, I didn't think he was "the one" and the long distance was too much of a bother. Fastforward to 2006, we got back into touch through MySpace and then started talking on the phone. I learned he had had a near-fatal car crash and felt that that dark cloud above his head in his youth had finally disappeared because the crash somehow gave him a renewed vitality. That's how we got back together in December of that year.

Even Later...Did C actually write the letter of apology to my Mom? Nope...I've realized the reason that we didn't work. He always SAYS the "right" thing or what he thinks I want to hear, but never follows through, so it never really is the right thing...To be fair, though, C returned my Ipod when it stopped working properly and has almost paid off the balance on the computer, though I am disappointed to say that C told me his Mom suggested that he just take off without his forwarding info and ditch on paying off the computer...Luckily, C could not do that to me...Plus I made him sign a contract anyhow...I would've sued...You don't think I watch Judge Mathis, Maria Lopez and Judy for nothing?!