I guess this means I'm a shopaholic

"Haven't I seen you here before?"

I wasn't in a seedy bar. This question wasn't asked by a drunk trying to get lucky. No, this scene played itself out in an Aldo store.

"Yeah, I know I've seen you in here a few times recently." The sales guy has an "Aha!" look on his face as he points an i-know-you finger at me.

I smile, amused and flattered but eventually slightly embarrassed. He's right. I had been in that store a few times recently. What he doesn't know is I've been in an Aldo store at another location recently as well. And what only my trunk and closet know is I've been in many stores at many locations recently, each time carrying out adorable loot in my re-usable shopping bags—my sorry attempt to be altruistic amidst my self-fulfilling addiction.

Though this guy had no ulterior motive in saying what he said to me, or was probably just trying to get another sale out of me, those 6 words caught me like spotlights catch escaped convicts as they attempt a jail break.

Caught.

It all became blindingly clear. I shop so much that the sales people are starting to see me as "a regular." Not good. Not good for my closet. Not good for my bank account and credit cards. Not good period.

I smile at him, he's sweet-looking, the kind of guy I'd have a crush on in junior high.

"I guess that means I shop too much."

"I didn't mean it like that." He's suddenly embarrassed for me. Again, not good. "It's just good for us to know our customers." His explanation is plausible, but we both know it's an attempt to save face—my face.

"Well, I'm just looking today."

"Ok. Let me know if I can help you with anything."

He walks away and I look around, admiring the heels and wedges and sandals and flats. I build outfits in my head, imagining the perfect sun dress or skinny jeans or accessory that will compliment each pair. I sigh internally. I remember the stack of boxes at home. I remember my dwindling bank account and the growing balance on my credit cards. I remember the heavy feeling of guilt and remorse that closely follows the initial but fleeting feeling of exhilaration and joy each purchase brings me.

I sigh again and walk out. I have to stop. And thanks to this Aldo shoes sales guy with the cute, boyish smile, his question was just the slap in the face I needed.

My name is Carina Zaragoza. And I am was a shopaholic.

Good-bye

Another ending.

Meaning #1: something that began for the third time has ended again.

Meaning #2: something that began for the third time can continue, resulting in something different, better, happier.

#1 is reality.

#2 is fantasy.

Can I alter the meaning of something that has already happened? Can I make fantasy reality? Maybe a more important question is, do I want to? And, what does he want?

Well, it's too late for any question now. What's done is done. This is another ending. And sadly, the last ending.

Sad for two reasons.

Reason #1: I miss him.

Reason #2: I fear the loneliness.

#1 is the immediate pain.

#2 is the real pain.

It isn't so much the absense of him that pains me as much as it is the presence of no one.

I am alone. He filled that void. And I am alone.

At least these experiences have sent me running back to my one true love: writing. It fills the void like it fills a blank page like he filled me.



But whether it's writing or loving, I remain empty. And alone.

And here I sit, dwelling in this, another ending.

Option #1: Sit and fester.

Option #2: Return to him if--he'll have me.

(And this time, there is a #3)
Option #3: Live and love living and erase the emptiness with life and love and laughter and the exhiliration of it all.

#3, because the sun is waiting for me and so is life.

Good-bye.

A crossroads.....

.....yes, a cliche, but a crossroads nonetheless. 2009 has brought tremendous changes for me, most of which were unwelcome. But they came regardless of my most passionate efforts towards a different reality and so here I am now. December 31, 2009, a full moon above, a rare occasion as I've read. I sit here as a guest in a familiar house with curlers in my hair awaiting the night to start, a night that will bring memories and pictures along with the new year. Yet, I am not where I imagined myself to be. This feels almost like a lie but not as harsh or cruel. It's as if I am machine in a car factory, diligently doing what I must, completing the task put before me, but all without feeling, emotion, or desire. That's what 2009 has felt like for me. I want 2010 to be on purpose, not a reaction. Do I have it in me? It seems as if this rallying cry of mine comes around once in a blue moon (pun intended as there is a blue moon shining down on me as I type). Am I going to do it? Not right now at least. It's time to layer on the sequins and heels and mascara. It'll happen. The question is, will it happen because things must happen or will it happen because I made things happen?

In Memoriam

Kitty (aka The White One aka El Chiquiado) has gone onto cat heaven it seems. Almost two weeks and no sign of him. In my experience living in Boyle Heights, if a pet disappears for more than a few days, this usually means it bit the dust or it found a home that feeds it better. Either way, our cat is gone. It's sad a little. He was playful and silly while his brother (aka The Fat One) is more stand-offish and rude. For reasons I think we may never understand, Kitty provided a certain comfort. All he did was lay around (ah, the life of a cat) and beg for food. But somehow, seeing him everyday, doing his cat thing, everything seemed right in the world.

So wherever you are Kitty, here's to you.....may you rest (or live in a nicer neighborhood) in peace.

A typical Sunday morning in Boyle Heights

Woke up this morning. Had coffee and tamales for breakfast. Just a chill morning. Watching the games. Went outside to check out the neighborhood. And lo and behold, chickens kicking it on the street. Nothing unusual. Just another typical Sunday morning in Boyle Heights.

Le Sigh

He saw beauty where I never thought it existed. Made me smile while I looked at spreadsheets and reports. Gave me a high that was unlike anything I've felt before. He gave me a taste of ecstasy. And in a flash, it was gone. No need to shed tears. No restless nights. No pathetic "Why? Why? Why did this happen to me?" Just simply a sigh and a memory. That's all. That's all it ever could be. I see that now. I knew all along this had an expiration date. Now I'm on the other side. But how I hunger for that moment of sheer bliss when I was in his arms.

Oh well....on to the next....

RIP: Us March 20, 2004 -- October 5, 2009

"I hate you." That's how 5 ½ years ended. A horrible, unjust end to a painful but unforgettable relationship that was, at times, filled with love.

This blog isn’t about Boyle Heights. It’s about me. And about him. And about a relationship that ended. I just couldn’t let 5 ½ years go without…..writing something, saying something…..I don’t know what. I just needed to do something. As a step towards healing.

I was devoted to him. Our love and desperate need for each other took us from Pasadena to New York to Miami to Jamaica to San Diego to Rosarito and finally….to Boyle Heights. So I guess in a way this is about Boyle Heights. After 5 ½ years, I found myself home again. It’s fitting. Now I can start anew.

I was devoted to him. Loved him like no other man in my life or woman in his life. He was to be my life partner. And as I think about that dream of my future with him, now shattered, I am saddened and my heart breaks again.

I was devoted to him. It wasn’t enough. Nothing was ever enough. I gave everything, was left with nothing, became a shell of myself. My life was not my life but his life. But it wasn’t enough. And now I must accept that it’s over.

I was devoted to him. And for my devotion I received pain and lies and betrayal and broken promises. There were good times and laughter and joy and light and yes, even love. There was hope. The hope of a life together. The possibility that will never be is what hurts. More so than the what he did to me.

I was devoted to him. And now I must devote myself to me.

This is it. We were and now we’re not. “I love you” became “I hate you.” Whereas before I needed to hear “I love you” or die, I now realize I needed to hear “I hate you” to live.