She Is

She is
heart and soul,
a source of
utter joy,
and something more.

She is
mine and yours,
bigger than us both.
She is light
amongst so much dark.

She is
giggles and sighs,
the most beautiful of smiles.
Eyes bright with delight,
she is hope.

She is innocent and pure,
a new way of looking
at this world.
She is love,
she is joy.

She is art
where things once were dull.
She makes sense
of a senseless world.

She is warmth
in this unbearable cold,
she is hope
and so much more…
my baby girl.

 

© Lillian Figueroa — 12/2/2016

 

Just a Bit of News…

This blog post contains highly important, shocking, exciting information. For me. Frankly, you might not give a shit.

I have made a huge, life-altering decision in the last few weeks. Something that affects myself, my fiance, my family. Something that I can not take back. I’ve had moments of excitement, then doubt, then happiness, and then doubt again. Lots of confusion and indecision. Lots of wishing I could go back to being a kid, and not having to make such a huge, grown-up decision. But alas, I cannot stop what’s been unleashed………… I am having a sex change.

I am totally and completely 100% kidding. Did I just cross a line? I do have news that doesn’t require surgery of any kind. Although, a brain scan couldn’t hurt, considering I may or may not be out of my mind. My fiance and I are in the process of…buying our first home! In New Jersey. This is a huge deal, considering my fiance doesn’t really want to live here forever, when it would be so much cheaper to move to Puerto Rico. So a house means we’re sticking it out…for at least 5-10 years. It’s amazeballs. Anyway, this whole thing happened rather quickly. We just happened to go to an open house one Sunday, where we happened to be pleasantly surprised by what we saw. It was priced relatively low, and looked relatively good. Granted, it’s a much older home, so it has its issues here and there, mostly minor fixes. But it’s the first house I’ve walked into that exceeded expectations. Normally, I walk into a house thinking it’ll look as great as the pictures, only to be disappointed in the end. This house in that town at that price definitely intrigued me.

Since putting in the offer, nothing has gone as planned. For one thing, they weren’t supposed to accept it. Lol. The seller’s agent had said, “Multiple offers received. Submit highest and best offers.” So we went in right at asking price, thinking it’d turn into a bidding war and that we had no shot in hell. Then when they accepted our offer, I about died of shock. It’s been a pain in the ass ever since. The sellers are divorced, so they’re renting the house out, and between the tenants and the seller’s agent, it took us about a week to get back in. This only filled me with more doubt. How could I buy a house I had only seen once? Granted, we did place an offer, but we thought we’d be able to get back into the house before they even accepted it! It’s been stressful, to say the least, but we felt better when we finally got to see it again. The tenants are nice enough and seem to be taking good care of the house.

We need to replace the front door (it’s very cheap), a couple of windows, the front steps, which are currently crappy wood, but will eventually be concrete/brick. Fingers crossed. We’re asking for a credit from the sellers, based on the home inspection, so hopefully they’ll accept, considering we offered asking price. If you’d be so kind, wish us luck that the sellers accept, and that the house doesn’t fall apart before we move in. It’s OLD. But honestly, even though it needs little things here and there, no house is perfect, even much newer homes. So I have to keep reminding myself of that, and focus on the excitement of having our own house, and our own yard to do with as we please. And I can finally decorate! I think that’s the part I’m most excited about. If everything works out, I’ll be sure to post pictures.

Anyway, that’s it. Sorry that’s not nearly as exciting (or bizarre) as a sex change. Maybe I’ll have some better news for you next time. Until then…

~Lily~

Talking To Yourself

Talking to yourself doesn’t make you crazy. We are all guilty of this. And if you think you’re not, then you’re a liar. I don’t necessarily talk to myself (out loud) but I definitely think to myself. Or sometimes whisper. Usually I’m home alone when I do this, so I’m not embarrassing myself. Not that there’s anything to be ashamed of, because talking to yourself does not make you crazy. (Just keep telling yourself that…out loud.) HOWEVER, when you talk/whisper/think to yourself in a foreign accent, now THAT’S crazy. I don’t know how this little habit of mine got started. It’s never just one accent either. It can be British, French, Southern, or some unknown and completely made-up accent. Maybe I’ve always done it, or maybe I only just started losing my marbles. I didn’t realize until just last week, and once I noticed, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. Talking and laughing to myself. Nope, definitely no crazy genes here.

I also tend to make funny faces at myself in the mirror. It amuses me. You’re judging me, aren’t you? It’s not like I do this every day. Just when I’m really bored and standing in front of a mirror. (Basically, every day.) Tell me, do you think I’m crazy? Do you do talk to yourself in different accents or make funny faces? Please say yes, it’ll make me feel SO much better. Or don’t, whatever. I wouldn’t have a public blog full of stupid random things if I was afraid of being judged. So ha! Poor little blog. I used to fill it with semi-amusing thoughts or semi-decent poems, and now it’s not even semi anything. It’s okay though, because at least I can laugh about it…to myself…in a British accent…while making funny faces in the mirror.

~Lily~

Note: Lily’s brain can no longer handle the responsibility of writing a blog. It’s become too much. This is the kind of crap you’re gonna have to put up with until someone can figure out how to fix Lily’s brain. It’s a very risky procedure, so don’t hold your breath.

What Can I Say?

A month later, I force myself to open up WordPress and type something, anything. A month of silence, and rather than coming back inspired, I come back just as empty as before.  Perhaps even emptier. What can I say?

A month later, and not much has changed. Everything is as routine and boring as ever. Is life meant to be this way? Go to work, eat, sleep, and repeat? Shouldn’t there be more to life than that? I have no clue. What can I say?

A month later, and I find myself feeling more bitter every day. A month of double the work, double the stress, and half the appreciation. A month of wondering, is it even worth it? Is this what I want to do for the rest of my life? What can I say?

Maybe in another month or so, I’ll have a new perspective. I’m not always this negative. Despite hating how quickly time flies, a part of me is excited for the new year. Work will slow down, the stress will ease, and maybe I’ll find time for inspiration. Maybe. I have this feeling that something exciting will happen in the near future. A symbolic ring, a promise of forever? Who knows. There’s a glimmer of hope, and something to look forward to. Until then…what can I say?

~Lily~

Help, I’m Trapped In My Shirt

Can someone please explain how it’s possible to put on a shirt, and then not know how the hell you’re supposed to take it OFF? I can’t be alone here. It was a day like any other day. (Pretending to sound dramatic.) I received my online order, and was excited to try everything on. In hindsight, that was very naïve of me. I grabbed the first blouse, but hesitated putting it on because of the lack of stretch. I should’ve known not to take the risk, but what the hell, what’s life without a little risk? Trying on clothes is fun! Well, it was easy enough getting into. While it was on, it looked fine. A little loose, but in a good way, because who needs to see my love handles?

But then…THEN…I decided I should take it off and try on the next top. Makes sense, because when you try something on, you’ll eventually need to take it off. Easier said than done. Maybe I never learned how to properly remove my clothing. Maybe I’m just totally clueless. Or maybe there needs to be a law about all tops having at least 5% elasticity in the waist and shoulder areas, for those of us who are, you know…NOT PERFECT. Because maybe some people have broader shoulders than others, and can’t just gracefully remove the top over their head. Maybe some people can’t bend their elbows awkwardly enough in order to find their way out of the arm-hole. Maybe, asshole, it shouldn’t be so damn complicated to take off a fucking shirt.

Attention, clothes-maker. The removal of one’s clothing should not cause one to sweat, you hear me? Absolutely not. Removal of one’s clothing should also not cause slight to moderate panic attacks at the thought of being trapped in the garment forever, or the thought of having to scissor your way through a brand new shirt. None of these things should happen. EVER. Maybe if I had a perfectly proportional body, it wouldn’t be such a workout to get in and out of non-stretchy tops. Perhaps the clothes were being intentionally difficult, so as to inspire me to work out or chop off my love handles and shoulders. Or maybe none of that should matter, because who the hell are you to judge? Just make your clothes stretchy and forgiving, would you? I should hope this incident will not soon repeat itself. You’ve been warned, evil clothes-makers. So beware. Because, yeah. There’s jack shit I can do about it.

~Lily~

funny-woman-shopping-failure-cartoon

In The End

There, there,
dry your eyes.
Tears won’t turn back
the hands of time;
but you can try.

You can cry and scream,
beg and plead,
pray to the heavens,
down on your knees;
little good that will do.

Or you can feign in defeat,
that you’ve forgotten,
that your conscience
is saintly clean;
what a little liar.

But in the end,
none of that will matter.
In the end, the truth
can never be detained.

In the end,
you never can
wash the blood
from your hands.*

© Lillian F – 8/29/2013

**Inspired by the song “Oceans” by Evanescence. The last stanza is a line from this song. I’ve always loved that line. Too bad I couldn’t do it justice. Writer’s block is a bitch! (I know, don’t you love how much confidence I have in myself?)**

Not Even Trying

Wow. Talk about lack of trying. I have never gone so long without posting. Two whole weeks with nothing to say. Or more accurately, no energy to bother saying a single thing. To say I’ve felt disconnected from my blog is an understatement. Exactly one year ago, I was addicted to WordPress, and was slowly becoming more popular, which only made me want to blog more. I neglected housework so that I could dedicate more time to writing posts and reading other people’s blogs. At times, I professed my undying love to my computer more often than to my boyfriend. I also occasionally exaggerate. Anyway, the point is, I don’t feel that way anymore. Which would be fine, healthy even, except that I went from one extreme to the other. I don’t care anymore. It started as a serious case of writer’s block, but now, it’s just…who knows. Don’t get me wrong. I still very much enjoy reading other people’s blogs. I just don’t enjoy my own. Maybe inspiration will strike, and I’ll write something interesting that will make me proud. Maybe. Some day. I won’t hold my breath.

How do you cure this thing that goes far beyond writer’s block? How can I force myself to write, and not care how it’s received? I want to write just to write, but I can’t. I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t have a public blog if I was just writing for myself. I want to interact, maybe get a laugh or two out of someone. It’s been ages since I’ve written something that could be considered funny. I want to write something that can touch people, something that might even make you cry. Sometimes I read other people’s blogs and I’m in awe of their talent. Maybe just a little jealous. But see, that’s my problem. I want to do and say all these things, but how can I, if I’m not making any effort? How can you accomplish something if you don’t even try? What a hypocrite. What a lazy little hypocrite. As if a blog post is supposed to just write itself! Silly Lily. I need to go to a writer’s therapy group or something. In the mean time, I’ll just keep not trying. I seem to do that pretty well.

Have a lovely rest of the week. Unless it’s raining where you are too, in which case…BLECH!!

~Lily~

Yesterday’s Lies

Things that
Cannot be unseen
Can be blinding

Words that
Cannot be unsaid
Can be deafening

Sometimes never knowing
Is never hurting

Because yesterday’s lies
Did not crush
Or break this fragile heart

But today’s truth
Changes everything
As it all crumbles
And falls apart

Lillian F – 7/22/2013

~*~*~*~*~

-*-Random and somewhat awful poem. No worries, I’m not depressed or anything. I’d also like to point out that you can’t get more random than posting a penis-ridden post one day, and then a depressing poem two days later. That’s how I roll.-*-

Sir, Did You Just Touch Your Penis?

I don’t particularly like shaking people’s hands. Especially people of the masculine, penis-wielding persuasion. See, believe it or not, there are still people who find it unnecessary to wash their hands after using the bathroom. Can’t fathom how anyone could be that ignorant/disgusting/stupid. Not washing your hands is never okay, but it’s somewhat forgivable for a woman. Usually, there is no need for a woman to actually touch her vagina during urination; that’s what toilet paper is for. And if a woman gets splash-back on her hands, surely good hand-washing would ensue, as women are generally disgusted by splash-back. Men, on the other hand, must always grasp their penis. Not properly grasping their penis would result in an inconceivable amount of splash-back. So, considering that men must always touch their penis, and factoring in how many men couldn’t care less about hygiene, how can one be comfortable shaking their penis-ridden hand? “Excuse me, sir, but did you just touch your penis? You’ll have to excuse me, but I would rather not shake your penis until I’ve gotten the chance to know you.” And truthfully, after getting to know the guy, you’d probably be even less inclined to shake their penis. Heaven knows where it’s been. That’s the truth, from my brain to your fortunate eyes.

P.S. I wanted to see how many times I could mention the word “penis” while still raising a valid point. I think I rose to the occasion. Pun intended. (I hope I didn’t offend any of you. I’ve been having so much trouble writing, that when this thought popped into my head, there was no way I could turn it down.)

~Lily~

etiquette-funny

Letters And Army Life

My brother has been away from home for a month now. I can’t believe how quickly the first month went. (If you didn’t read my last post on the subject, my brother has recently joined the Army.) Honestly, it didn’t seem real until I saw a picture of him in uniform. That’s when I was like, “Holy crap, he’s in the Army!” We were able to touch base with him the first week, but not anymore, since they all lose their phones once training officially starts. Hopefully he’ll get his phone back in a few weeks. My parents were in Puerto Rico last week to see my grandpa, who hasn’t been doing well, and when they came back, they were surprised to see two letters from my brother. My brother isn’t the most talkative person, hence the surprise. Since we weren’t able to contact him, my brother had no idea that my parents were away. He was probably wondering what was wrong with us, why we had yet to reply to his letters. Then today, my parents received a third letter. In this letter, it was obvious that my brother was wondering what was going on.

“I’m just writing to update you two, keep myself busy, and honestly because I miss home. I don’t know if you have sent any letters yet, but I still haven’t received a single piece of mail from anyone I mailed. It kind of sucks because everyone else has received between two and twenty letters already…”

The poor kid sees that everyone else has been getting letters, yet he hasn’t received a single one. It makes me so sad to think that he feels like no one cares enough to write. My parents mailed their first reply on Saturday, but since the Post Office was closed on Monday, it probably won’t arrive until today. At least, I hope it arrives today so it can lift his spirits. I also wrote him a letter, so hopefully he’ll get that soon. I know he’s feeling alone, especially in such a difficult environment. I can’t even imagine some of the things that they have to do during training. It’s exhausting both mentally and physically. I just hope that he stays positive and remembers that we all love and support him. Recently, we celebrated Memorial Day, which honors all those who died to serve our country. We should also remember to honor those who are in the beginning stages of this difficult journey, those who’ve been serving for years, those who’ve retired, as well as those who’ve lost their lives. Regardless of how I feel about war, I can’t deny that the men and women serving our country are making a huge sacrifice that some of us can’t even fathom. Even if a soldier is never called to war, every part of their journey is important, and their dedication deserves to be recognized. What these people are doing is both courageous and admirable.

Anyway, I’m not sure why, but I just wanted to share that. I don’t know how my brother would feel about being mentioned on my blog, but it’s not like I said anything embarrassing. Here’s hoping our letters make it to him soon, and that he realizes he is not alone. His graduation will be in July, so we’re all going to try to go. It’s in Oklahoma, which scares me a bit, but I think it’d be great for him to see us all there. Then after that, he’s off to Texas for his second training on being a health care specialist. That training should go more smoothly, I would think. They’ll probably be just as strict though. Everything requires so much discipline, you can’t even poop when you want to. I said “poop” on my blog. Way to make a serious post less serious. I believe that’s my cue to end this post. I hope you’re all having a great week so far. Is it Friday yet?

~Lily~

My brother...
My little brother…all grown up.

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