Your Enemy (Social Network Blocker)

Erase me, deface me

Six months later you'll be requesting me

liking my status

hum drumming through my pics

wondering what I've been up to and who I've been with.

All along the enemy was in your head, on your list of friends

thumbs up to every vile thing you said

Not helping you get out of your rut

but burying you with lies until you're dead

Inside...

Can't you see? The enemy...

It's not me

Adding fuel to fire with their lowly comments

The devil is a liar so they say

it's usually the ones who are negative and angry everyday

Can't you see? The enemy

It's not me.

It's always been bundled up inside of you

wrapped up with your insecurities

and your sad attempts to gain sympathy

Squatting on your five year old temper tantrums,

in hopes that you would lose all control.

Lingering and waiting like a monster under your bed.

You see the enemy

it's not me...

it's in your head

Muse to my Heart

picture by Aegils on www.deviantart.com

My heart paints for you

Monet-like creations for you

like droplets of rain falling from a summer blue sky

and sunny vibrant yellows flashing across my eyes

My heart composes for you

adolescent jitters and cherub like whispers for you

a Beethoven sonata that plays through my veins

like a Fall Harvest Moon illuminating the terrain

My heart writes to you

crisp clear Shakespearean sonnets for you

with frosted tip feathers and inkwell at bay

refreshingly professing my soul like snow on a wintery day

My heart dances for you

open and genuine moves for you

like Baryshnikov's incomprehensible feats

high in the air my spirit springs unbounded leaps

my heart, my heart,

You are a Muse to my heart

written by,

©Jessica Rodriguez

About my writing...

When writing under pressure

I blankly stare at the paper,

with the pen in my hand.

Awaiting for my emotions to give away.

But I am speechless...suffocated, no words to say.

Once again, my confusion has left me astray.

Therefore, I ponder here in this dreadful state and sulk.

I feel helplessly intoxicated, when writing becomes difficult.

Then again, there are times when I am spiritually motivated,

And my mind shifts into space.

I start visiting my dream world an ecclesiastical place.

A world where the guardian spirits reside,

Sending forth the haunting and blessed visions that aid me to write.

I set the pen on paper and it begins to move on its own incredibly fast.

Making my poems and stories a much easier task.

However and whichever way I reveal myself,

through fiction or a composed verse,

it does indeed

still becomes new to me

And often too many times, involuntarily

frightening.

Some bits & pieces of the Oye Adele

There is this man in my life, whom I adore with every fiber of my being, his name is Santos Orgullo. He and I have been friends for all of my 31 years. At the age five, Santos and his parents moved from Spain to the house next to ours, here in Maryland.

At that time, my mother was pregnant of me and a single woman; his mother would check on her often and being that Santos was the only child, he would always come along. My mother said Santos use to come to her, gently tap on her belly and say “Come out already. I need someone to play with.” When he finally got his wish, he didn't seem to mind that I was a girl.

In fact, he was like a big brother always protecting me, teaching me to ride a bike, climb trees, beat up bullies, and how to be a considerate individual. Santos, was always helpful to everyone around him. He didn't care if you, at one point, bullied him.

If he felt that you were in dire need of a friend, Santos was there by your side and happy to do it. Even after losing both of his parents, Santos still kept his spirits up and helped the local community center with a Big Brother/Big Sister program. At the same time, he had to handle all of his parents' affairs in Spain and the mortgage for the house here. The locals thought he might have been taking on too much for his age but Santos proved to be an independent, reliable 18 year old.

With his inheritance he was able to put himself through college for Business Management and study Contemporary Spanish Art in Barcelona and all over Europe. He also gave me some money to go to Puerto Rico and meet my father and his family.

Due to our travels, we sort of lost touch with each other. Until two years ago, when he came back to settle down and start a family of his own. He came over to introduce us to his beautiful fiance. As I came outside to greet him, my heart stopped.

Here was this brawn of a man, with dark chestnut colored hair and touches of silver signifying his experiences in life. His skin was a light olive color and glowing from the Mediterranean sun's rays and eyes as black as midnight. As soon as he saw me those midnight eyes shone twinkling stars. He smiled from ear to ear and opened his arms wide for me. When we embraced, his scent seeped through my nose and into my veins.

He smelled familiar...honey flavored cigars, soft and strong at the same time. I just collapsed into him and sighed to myself. When he spoke I felt the strong vibration of his voice against my chest as it gently made it's way to my ear, “I've missed you, querida.” His very essence left me dumbfounded, the only words that came out of were,“Ditto.”

He just laughed his usual wholehearted laughter but this time it didn't have a hint of squeakiness there, it was deeper...he was a man.

What Ego?

PICTURE OF WONDER WOMAN BY Terry Dodson -comic creator

I wanted to touch base on what having too much pride might do to a person or the lack of self confidence and defiance can do. These two characteristic behaviors can take a turn for the worse.

For instance, my first blog post had a lot of grammatical errors; even some errors that I noticed and was wondering why didn't I draft it first and then re-wrote it a couple of times. I know it's because I was impulsive and had a lot on my mind that I wanted to get out. Anyway, being that I aspire to become a professional writer I should be more cautious about how I present my skills.

Anyhow, I have never been shy to have someone read my work and give me constructive criticism. However, whenever it's someone I'm rather close to giving me constructive criticism, quietly inside I'm filled with such an embarrassment that makes me want to blurt out really bad things. (Sort of, what a 10 year old might do) Simply because my pride was hurt, big time.

To know and to admit this to myself, deep down, is to take full responsibility of my inner emotions and not to blame the person who was doing the critiquing. Then I can assess that my pride was hurt because of my lack of confidence in my writing as well as my intellect. The constructive criticism that I received was not meant to downplay my talent and my intellect if anything it was to further my skills with the attention that I need to polish up my writing. I did not let my foolhardy pride and my Ego get the best of me. Therefore, I signed up for a class in How to Improve my writing. It is a non-credit class that will focus on grammar, punctuation, and organization.

Had I let my pride and ego get the best of me, I would have not tried to feed my talent with the basic essentials and most likely become afraid to show that person anymore of my work.

The point I'm trying to make here is, we never give ourselves room enough to be human. With the everyday grind of Today's world and the feats that we accomplish probably makes us feel superhuman; by the end of the day we are too invincible to be plagued by mistakes.

When you are able to be honest with yourself and realize that your Ego has gotten the best of you. Try to let it go, don't be so hard on yourself for being egotistic and rectify the situation. Only then you will find yourself on your way to becoming SUPERHUMAN.

Panic Disorder part I

Hi Everyone,

This is my first blog post so please be gentle.

Let me start off by talking about the one thing that has been inflicting me for over 12 years...PANIC DISORDER. (wrote it in caps cause it freaks me out, j/k) Okay, in all seriousness panic disorder is pretty scary the first couple of times and then it just becomes this monster in your closet that is just waiting for mommy and daddy to leave the room and turn-off the night-light.

In the fall of 1998, I was in college taking a Cultural Anthropology class. The night before, I went to bed late; I was extremely sleepy the next morning. While in class,I found myself slowly nodding off while the teacher was talking. All of sudden, I shot up out of my chair. It felt like I had an outer body experience and my soul just plummeted into my body. My heart started pounding hard and fast, my palms were cold and sweaty. Chills went up and down my spine and breathing was becoming a hard task for me. I headed outside for some fresh air. Still I could not catch my breath; it felt like I had pins and needles all over my hands and feet. Luckily, one of my classmates (who didn't even know me) ran after me to see if I was okay. She helped me get to the nurses office. (Strangely I could never find her after that to Thank her)

At the nurses office, the ambulance come; one of the paramedics puts an oxygen mask on me. Meanwhile, the other one yells out "are you crazy, you can't give her more oxygen. she's hyperventilating, you'll kill her!!!" (I so did not need to hear that. LOL I'm laughing about it now but at the time it increased my anxiety)They rushed me to the hospital; the immediate family comes over worried and all. The doctor comes in to see me and says, "Oh you just had a panic attack." I'm thinking, wtf is a panic attack?

Whatever explanation or diagnoses the doctor gave it never set in with me. I was still left with the questions: what is a panic attack? how does it happen? why does it happen? should i start praying for a miracle or get on some fad diet plan that will help me beat whatever this thing is? And I was also left with the fear of, it'll happen again and it'll kill me.

My life went downhill from there.

...to be continued