The core

The center of my body is the core to my existence...
It radiates through to the tips of my fingers...
When it's twinged, it creates my body to spiral into mystification...
I'm at a loss for explanation...
I'm at a loss for alleviation...

The center of my body consumes my daily timetable...
It causes a hesitance to my joy...
It causes arrest to my character...

I'm in control of how it manipulates me daily...
I fight its actions...
I govern my reactions...

The center of my body has a diagnosis of forever...
When it's cordial I welcome its presence...
When it's harmonious I walk on water...

My bond with the center of my body is everlasting...
I can welcome its companionship...
I can be calm toward its boundless grip...

My core,
My center,
My life foe,
My flame.

No, you're a colon!

Life likes to throw darts at you…
Dodge them.
Catch them.
Don’t let them hit you where it hurts.
I’m not one who likes to complain about the deck of cards I’ve been dealt. I can accept it, come to a compromise and move on.
October wasn’t exactly the easiest month for me – turns out either were the last 3 years. I had frequent visits to doctors and the ER. I got used to hearing the diagnosis of Gastritis, Irritable Bowel Syndrome and my favorite, "it's all in your head." It wasn't until I moved to Florida that I demanded a colonoscopy. The procedure in itself is not too bad. You're put under, so the scary thought of someone staring at your bare butt isn't so bad. However, the night before is pure hell. You can forget about getting sleep. You CAN count on spending the entire night with your butt glued to the toilet. Just place some scented candles in the bathroom and a lot of books or magazines. This is generally not a typical procedure for someone under the age of, ohhhh, 40! But this can be a miracle procedure. If it wasn't for that small camera shoved up my butt, I would have waited another three years to be diagnosed. My colonoscopy discovery: Crohns Disease, with Colitis.
Not exactly what I was wanting to hear, but finally it all made sense! Now I have this unpleasant love/hate relationship with GI doctors. My favorite (total sarcasm) was the doctors in Santa Fe. Wow, just WOW! I had a lady GI tell me to "fuc**ing read the labels," she was convinced I had an allergy to dairy. I was "ignoring" whey in the ingredients. Also, she proceeded to tell me that I was depressed and that caused all my stomach pain. Well, heck yeah lady, of course I'm depressed. Everyone thinks I'm a hypochondriac! About four months later I had my gallbladder removed. Thank you for listening Ms. GI devil woman. Good thing it didn't explode and cause even bigger problems. I still want to write you a mean letter giving you a piece of my mind!


I'm a firm believer in the saying, "follow your gut!" I didn't make it up and I had the symptoms for a reason. Generally it takes doing your own research and approaching the doctors. They never want to take that extra step and find out what's wrong. I've been told I'm a GI doctors worst nightmare. I did watch a lot of Freddy Krueger as a child, but I don't think my symptoms were that scary to approach!
I can gladly say that I'm practically in remission and on my way to figuring out how to live with Crohns. My life will consist of medication and monthly injections, but at least now I know it wasn't all "in my head." You still have to be the squeaky wheel that always gets the grease. I still have to do all my research (with love and support from my family). BUT, I will never again accept the cold shoulder from a doctor. Demand what you want. Now I can sometimes laugh about it all and call myself a colon. Bowel movements tend to be the topic of conversation in the Camarena house...live and laugh.

Makes me dance.

I've been raised in a music driven environment. Turn up the volume, gather around the living room, and dance until you sweat. I couldn't imagine it any other way.

My brother and I were introduced to Latin music at an early age. Our parents would gather the troops and head to Rocky Point, Mexico. We would sit along the beach eating fresh tortillas and blast The Gypsy Kings. Sure you could say, because we're half Mexican it only makes sense to have a family listen to Latin/Hispanic music. Not necessarily. These trips to Mexico were me and my brothers outlet for exploring our culture. We were not raised speaking Spanish, even though my father spoke the language fluently. We were not sheltered from the Hispanic heritage. We were more introduced to its offerings through music and immersion. I would in no way say we were a "traditional" Hispanic family - especially relating to religion. I've recognized that those close around me have taken love to the Hispanic and Latin culture.
(Note: Now, I understand that the terms "Hispanic" and "Latin" carry certain historical weights. I'm not trying to be overly politically correct here. I am just trying to generalize to speak of the music).
Numerous gringo (no offense), OK "white," friends of mine had learned to speak Spanish or had traveled to a Latin/Hispanic country. This definitely makes me feel like a pretend Mexican, but also makes me proud. Spanish is a beautiful language and so is all the music from the culture. I can gather with my friends and salsa, mambo, meringue and rumba. We all have a love for its movements and feelings it delivers.


While living in Santa Fe, I was introduced to a band called Ojos de Brujo. The group collaborated in Barcelona during 2002. Their music is immensely experimental and unparalleled. Their Techari (insert accent above the i) style speaks for itself through their lyrics. Flamenco is dominant when listening to their music. However, you can also point out their flavor of Catalan rumba, hip-hop and hints of Indian beats.
This band is unique with it's style, but also because they began to publish their own work without the help of a label. They toured across the globe in Latin America and the United States. Eventually they established their own label called La Fabrica de Colores. Their music does not speak of politics, but more of social situations. Their music videos are vivid and sensual. Hop on your computer, search for this band. You will discover a highly addicting jipjop flamenkillo!

Collections

1. Pick me up with your boney fingers, and wretched compassion. I could lie there for hours, nobody would understand that I don't mind the puddle blurring my vision and clogging my oxygen. I won't regret doing anything or saying anything. You can drop me, stop me, kick me in my tracks, while forcing those evil acts. I rarely lie nor can confide in your loveless shame of a game that makes me shake every day, rather than play along. Go back to start, I'm a work of art, that can possess and caress an audience of love makers, not afraid to be caretakers. Shut the door, and let me return back to the floor, because I could lie there for hours upon hours. Watch me cry and realize your worthless presence as a man who thinks he can pick me up with those boney fingers.



2. If I opened a book and looked at all the words and pages displayed before me, I would quiet down and focus and not notice my muffled mind relaxing. My eyes would ignore the LCD glaring and sharing its careless opinions that fool men and women and focus on the driven and given human words of peace and love. Without you and me conversing in the extensive unspoken parts of our mind combined to form a unison of our path to tomorrow, we would be lonesome unspoken bones covered weakly with no touch.
To just shut up and stitch our mouths closed shut is ignorance and the way of the Republican mind not mine. How thoughtless today we say it's time to make a change and selfishly weigh our wants and givings without blinking. If I stood legless at the edge of cliff with my limb swaying right to left ready to progress into an uninviting hole, you'd be there writing a scroll of what a good person I used to be. Instead of using your limb as my savior as a favor to mankind and all we represent. Don't stink just think of how without the other we would reek and ignore the meek whose words may in time change your mind and reverse the curse of today's petty ways.


3. I lie awake starring at the ceiling crawling with spiders that fall from their web into my bed. Their legs tickle my face as they settle in their place. right on my eyes to disguise the pain I feel in my chest. Not allowing me to rest. I feel panic to scream about all my horrifying dreams that keep me awake. I can welcome the spiders as a companion to my stress in my struggled mess of no sleep. They force my eyes to close to which they propose a darkness of imagination. To dream of a place with infinite grace of green trees. I fall to my knees and stare at the sky and clouds that sore by. this should be my dreams, silent of any screams.

After all, we do share blood.

There's not enough time to undo this pollution within me.
I will hold this grievance tight between my fists.
Actions so unreflective....so wasteful.
I've been undone so often that our link may never again attach.
Heartbroken and always melting, I will anchor myself at a distance.

I will await the day to hug you and feel proud - no bad blood. No bitterness.
If I walk down the aisle in my white dress, you will be at my side.
Free of your demons and releasing me of mine.
Our love will mend and the illness floating within you will fade.

"Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try."

I think it’s ok to say I’m obsessed with '80s to early '90s films (mostly the teeny bop ones).

Easily, it can be traced to my childhood. I obsessively rented the same flicks every weekend. A lot of the movies were definitely too adult for me, having no idea about relationships or love, however. Later down the road they became even better. In fact, I think I like them even more today. They were definitely a little out of style and super corny come the mid and late-90’s. I was attracted to the ones with stylish teens such as: Sarah Jessica Parker, Shannen Doherty, Dan Gauthier, Molly Ringwald, Jon Cryer, James Spader and Andrew McCarthy – that list is a poor summarization. I think I just simply love how most of the films are simple. The plots are not complex, and you can guess the ending within the first two seconds of watching. Watching 80’s movies requires no brain cells, but yet it makes you so happy. I can see why so many of them have become cult classics.


The other night I watched Cry Baby with my brother. The acting is over the top, which leaves no possibility to judge for bad acting. I’d definitely classify it as a sloppy musical (it has been on Broadway people). Who cares that it doesn’t have the greatest musical score around? I loved every second of it. Johnny Depp never fails in playing his roles, especially as a seductive Greaser – let’s not forget he’s the only one who can pull off a ghetto teardrop tattoo. Oh, and I think Hatchet-face completely stole the performance in this one – sorry Johnny. They make her so disturbingly ugly. I’m trying to blame it all on the makeup. If the life of Cry Baby were real, I’d have to say that I would want to be a “drape.” Ha, I’m totally a nerd.


So besides Cry Baby totally rocking, I’d have to say Pretty In Pink is by far my favorite. I think it’s because, when I was little I desperately wanted to fall in love. If someone would have told me it was totally heartbreaking and challenging; I would have thought differently. I guess in some ways this movie was a little more realistic. John Hughes is a genius in my book. He is one of the only writers who can relate to young people using great, unique comedy (R.I.P). He created the “Brat Pack,” that will never be recreated today. Don’t even think about placing those High School Musical kids in the same category. Of course I always wanted Andy to fall in love with Duckie. Even though today Jon Cryer isn’t so hot – physically anyway. I still to this day can pop in the soundtrack and it will take me back to a time in my life where I was a dreamer. If only my Hot Topic Pretty In Pink t-shirt still fit.


I don’t want to ramble on about ALL the 80’s films I love, because that would be boring. I guess I will just talk about more one and then list my favorites towards the end. Aw, sweet, sweet Sixteen Candles. What the heck is it about this movie that makes it so memorable? Is it Long Duk Dong? Or the amazing “Brat Pack” kids? The Geek/Farmer Ted? I guess we all knew someone that reminded us of him. You so badly wanted them to grow past their awkward phase. I think Sixteen Candles has classic movie quotes that will always be amazing, just like Heathers: “Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.” Better yet, “Did you have a tumor for breakfast?” Ok, back on topic. All the characters in the movie are important: the jock, the prom queen, the freshman, the geek, and the foreign exchange student. However, I think the Donger won the show in so many parts. “Dong…Dong, where is my automobile?” OR just the random conversations between two characters:
Jake: “I’m being serious, ok. She looks at me like she’s in love with me.”
Jock: “Maybe she’s retarded.”
Anyway, I hope that later down the road, my kids (yikes) have enjoyable movies to watch from my time. I hope it doesn’t come off as just the ones with sluts with big butts and thousands of curse words. I think we’ve got some classics though. Nothing will ever beat my favorites:

Teen Witch
Breakfast Club (duh)
Girls Just Want to Have Fun
The Goonies
Uncles Buck
Ferris Beuller’s Day Off
Weird Science
Curly Sue
Fast Times at Ridgemont High
Say Anything
Heathers
The Outsiders
The Lost Boys
Can’t Buy Me Love
Adventures in Babysitting

AMEN!

Someone once told me, "life is too short...to stay sad."

There will always be these consistent crossroads in your life. Sometimes I can take them for possible opportunities to come, but other times they distort my plans and make a mess of my mind. I am trapped. I suppose that's the simplest way to put it.
I'm going to be 26 next month, and career wise, I've accomplished nothing. I went to college hoping that after I could strive for better things. Sadly I found myself being the receptionist or bored retail girl, who just visualized her passions. If someone asked me to lay out everything that would be considered my "dream job," I wouldn't know how to complete the list. If you asked me before my college depression kicked in, I would have said dance or performing - easily. That was something that always made me feel effervescent. Today I am lost. I'm not sure what I want to be or what I want to do specifically. I do know that I want to find a town or city that make me want to wake up every morning and see the sun. I know it's time to separate myself from my mother - to a certain degree. Today is a day for me to begin starting over. All the doors are open and I can't decide which one to walk through. How easy is it to say, screw what society wants of you, screw money, and just GO. Go with little direction and little knowledge of what may happen. Fall flat on your face and try to get back up again, still with some pride. FEAR...damn you fear. The fear in others leaks onto me as well, and I walk around daily with it draining down my throat. Nothing comes on a silver platter...nothing comes easy. I know all this...I just can't overcome my fear and let go. It's more than time, it's the best time. Otherwise I will remain lying in bed feeling alone and envisioning a better life.

The foreigner in Germany

For once I will be the foreigner. Well, not including those times in Mexico as a child. However, those stays didn’t last longer than ten days.

May 2010. I will do my best to prepare for a new life in Germany. I have about four months to save money, and get myself mentally ready. I believe that it’s enough time to accomplish my mental preparation, but money will always be an issue: lifelong. I’m going to be 26 this March and I don’t have a profession. I’m going to travel to Europe with the money in my pocket on an adventure for love - let’s just hope my Rosetta Stone gets to me sooner than later! Anyway, I feel that there is a possible future with Benni. When I visited him September ’09 it was surreal. I loved the green hills in Germany, and the hundreds of people walking the streets. The buildings, homes and streets reflected an ancient time, mostly not influenced by modern times. I adored the purity of every town I saw: Einback, Hannover and Heidelberg. It was so simple to step outside your door and roam the streets. The transportation was uncomplicated and effective for the town. I never felt alone. In fact I’ve never before wanted to be outside as much as in Germany. It’s truly romantic.
Heidelberg was definitely more diverse than I could have imagined. I don’t think anyone could have felt out of place in that city. I suppose it’s because so many students travel abroad to Heidelberg. When I was there I ran into someone from New Mexico, so bizarre! The castle was astonishing in this town. Benni and I often ate at little restaurants right off the cobblestone streets. When I turned my head, there was the castle shinning in my view. However, I understood why Benni chose Hannover as his permanent residence. Hannover had a sense of calmness. I could see it being a perfect place for families. The gardens, parks and pathways were so inviting. I wanted to jump on a bike and ride all day. The nightlife was still wild and amusing. It felt like everyone under 40 was out, and ready to dance. Everyone seemed so alive. I guess I felt like there was always something to do in Germany.
When I was with Benni I truly saw myself there. I imagined a life with him and seeking our possibilities of a future. Now, I’m not sitting here saying that I’m going to run away to Germany, get married and have babies. That is truly not my goal. I am just SO ready to try something new and unfamiliar. If anything, I will learn from the people and their culture. You know…I am a little German (less than half, but it still counts)! Which I know is far more believable than me being Mexican – which is also VERY true!
Anyway, I don’t know how long I plan to stay in Germany. I honestly can’t answer that question. If I’m jobless and out of luck I will come home, but I will be glad I tried. I also know that the most difficult part of all this is that my family is in the US. Benni is from Germany and neither of us can expect each other to say goodbye to our countries. That’s something for me to think about later down the road…if it all works out. I’m sure everyone is sick of hearing me talk about my battle with deciding on where to go. I know I am a person who lives with a lot of fear. Especially fear of the unknown. It’s time for me to embrace my sociable side. The fearful Carly has officially retired.

Yes, we all get old.

I was laughing with our neighbor/friend Norm a while back about aging. It seems to be a topic that generally comes up while I'm sitting at the table with my elders. There was a doctor on television who spoke of how we all want to hold on to life. I may not be accurately quoting him, but this is what I remember, "Some of us just need to face the fact that one-hundred percent of us die!" I don't think we'll ever face that fact!
Let's say we have a terminal illness, but have fought it for numerous years, we'll still have hope. No one wants to die, nor does anyone want to truly think about the afterlife (unless of course you have true faith). Well, I believe that when we reach a certain point we're simply ready to go. I can't imagine that we'd want to live 5 months hooked up to a breathing machine, struggling every second for a breath. That has to be some form of hell, and your family is either there for you, or their not. They will either throw you in a home, or be kind enough to take you in theirs. I know when my grandmother lived with us for 5 years, completely bedridden, my mother held onto her the last month. We tried everything to remove the mucus from her lungs. When truly, she just wanted all of us to let her go. Life is bizarre, and Norm has told me plenty of times to live it joyfully while you can. I agree with that. Eventually we all have an end-I don't mean to be morbid. We'll truly never really know our purpose, so let's face reality. Even if that means denying it and living a chaotic life! Whatever floats your boat. I really believe that you can learn from people who have lived a plentiful life. Whether they've failed or succeeded. Well, according to societies standards anyway. He just sent me this email on his view about this little poem about a "crabby old man." Definitely an intense perspective:


The problem is that once the "covering" goes--the "tubing" rife with leaks and oozes--one is treated (especially by medical people who see it all the time) like the used up blubber we become if around long enough. And few (sometimes even those who know us best) will care about the history, the past, the nostalgia, the events, the highlights of life or the personal tales we all possess after so many years on the planet. Like rusting cars stripped of their best parts and left to rust in junkyards, there's little to recommend us. The view is certainly much better somewhere else--anywhere else. That shiny new sleek factory-smelling roadster in the showroom driven off with pride, as the newborn is carried from the hospital, soon morphs into just another possession destined to oxidize and tarnish and wrinkle and blotch into the unattractive hulk that "crabby old man" represents. It is the way of things in the world. For all time and not just our own. And I think of my two wives, who both left at 44. Too early for sure, but in a sense lucky that they avoided the last sad, inglorious, insulting, demeaning, disgusting days in a home or a hospital bed attached to tubes and catheters. Oregon, eh? Or Switzerland maybe? Or anywhere if the means exist. Hmmmmm. There's hope yet. N.

(I hope he's ok with me posting this-his perspective sometimes is pure genius)

Optimism for Journalism

Is journalism slowly fading out? I think so – there goes my future.

I contemplated so many majors before attending college. However, all the ones that you truly want to do usually have no income: a dancer, actor or artist. Now, I thought by choosing journalism I would grasp a better education. That part is definitely true. But today I might as well be that struggling actor in Los Angeles bartending or waiting tables at Hooters. I never really wanted to write for print, because I had more of a creative-writing style. The problem today is I just want to write: something. Why the hell are there no jobs?
I can see that blogs are definitely becoming the future for readers. Usually they have wide-ranged topics. I suppose no one likes to pick up the “giant” newspaper and search for their topic of interest. I bet the pages are just too large and intimidating. Anyway, blogs are great, but no matter what, you’re still reading someone’s opinion. I’m only complaining because I wonder where this places me. I still have a dream to become a news anchorwoman. I don’t feel that broadcast journalism will ever fade out. I guess we can call the E! Television people reporters, but what do they really report? They’re more like entertainers. I don’t really feel that is quality journalism, but it’s definitely entertaining. So why is this downfall happening? I went to college studying The Associated Press Stylebook (I have a love/hate relationship with that book), and I don’t think blogging really requires that specific knowledge. On the internet everything goes. Everyone overuses ellipsis’ (…), and everyone now abbreviates their words. I don’t claim to be the greatest journalist. I am so far from being great. I just feel this economy is putting us journalists all on the backburner. Well, I’m done roasting.
Facebook is the new place where we all go to put a word in. We know someone will listen: our friends. Plus it’s highly entertaining to watch people write in their own Ebonics-shit language. Since when was the word life spelled l-y-f-e? Oh, my favorite is sentences that go as follows, “Im wachin’ the gamz n drinkin beerz. Thatz tha lyfe, lol.” Really, was I supposed to understand that language? I admit that maybe it was fun in preschool to abbreviate and put z after every word, but we’re adults now. Maybe I can get a job on Facebook and write to all the people using that made-up language and send corrections. I understand not being great at grammar – it’s been my downfall. I just hope that those people don’t walk into work interviews talking like that.
Q: Why do you believe you’re qualified to work here?
A: I gotz skillz. I wunt ma lfye ta b betta.
Q: What did you just say?
A: I sud, I gotz skillz. Truzt me. Rofl, lol, fo sho….

So I hope later down the road I can still manage to be some form of a journalist. I hope the demand grows, not because there is a war and tragic news to tell, but because people love to hear the voice of a journalist. I hope we can bring something new and genuine to the table. I think the internet is a great way to go, I just hope a greater income can come of it. Writing is great, even if it comes for free.
Sadly, not all of us even have the opportunity to write a book and get it published. Today the people writing books are has-beens who only get published because of their celebrity ranking. That’s all they need, more money. They’re already making more than doctor’s: seriously? That is total crap if you ask me. Hollywood needs to step aside and let the real writers in.
So basically my point is, if I have a point, that I have hope for the future of journalism. I hope that I don’t have to become a lifelong retail girl – no offense retail people. Journalism jobs just need to fall out of the sky. I am waiting with my arms wide open.

Father Sky

The stars flutter through my hair and between my fingers. With each movement of my toes, I wait for another star to touch my skin. When there is silence there is absence.
The orbital planets align around my body. The father sky surrounds my loneliness and separates me even further from the strength I need. He leaves me lingering through nothingness....and I float.....I float waiting for another star, and hoping his love will cause an explosion that brings me to ground. He stays still and allows me to hear nothing but the panting of my anxiety. I aggressively grab each star in my hand to calm the hell of my massive black hole. Each one crumbles slowly beneath my fingernails. His burning presence has left me unsettled and I soon realize I must float alone....to no where......to somewhere....
Always without his comfort
Always without his passion
My absent father sky

Love will guide my way...I hope.

My main reason for writing this blog is simply to help myself get a clear head. For the past few months I can’t seem to figure out how to get out of Santa Fe. Money always seems to be the most important aspect when deciding to move. Luckily for me it’s flowing out of my ears. Can you sense my sarcasm? Money will continue to control my life, unless I marry a rich man, so my mother says. To me that seems like an old-fashioned ideology: the man must fully support you while you spend all day cooking in the kitchen, wearing high-heeled shoes. I’d rather marry for love. However, plenty of divorcees can argue that the lust and love begins to fade away. Well, I can still hope.
I am torn between two wonderful places at this time: Florida and Germany. June of 2009, I fell in love with a German boy. One could say that it was my fault I fell in love knowing his location from the beginning. I felt something special the 4-5 weeks I spent with Benni. I wasn’t searching for love at the time, and I was truly focusing on myself. I think that’s the best way for it to happen. My feelings progressed quickly and I didn’t want to push them aside. I knew he was from another country. I thought about it every day, but mainly I focused on how magnificent he had me feel. I knew he was someone that doesn’t come around too often. I was lucky.
When Benni left back to Germany I was devastated. I cried for days, and I was so unsure how we were going to work. I put aside my thoughts on moving to Florida and saved my money for a ticket to Frankfurt. That decision was by far one of the best I’ve ever made- to this day. My time with Benni in Germany truly confirmed my love for him. It grew daily, and I even pondered what life would be like in Germany. The best part would be him. Since my visit in September 2009, Benni came to see me in December. Although the time apart felt like forever, I was very fortunate to have a man who truly wanted to make us work. We had a remarkable time together in the states. When he left I knew it was truly the real thing.
So now this left me more confused than ever. I had a goal to move to Florida and be close to my family. My brother is one of my best friends and I miss him every day. When I’m close to him, I feel as if I’m home again….wherever that is. Plus, I’ve always wanted to try living near the ocean. I loved the green grass and the feeling of community on the boardwalks. Applying for jobs in Florida and living in Santa Fe, is a little difficult. My sister-in-law is the editor of South Florida Parenting magazine and was able to get me an interview. I’m still waiting on my yes or no (thanks for ruining my life). If I don’t get a job in Florida, maybe I’m destined to go to Germany. What’s truly holding me back from experiencing Europe with the greatest man? Let me list my worries:
1. Money.
2. Job (possibly teach English).
3. Money.
4. Health Insurance (we all know I’m the queen of getting sick).
5. Work Visa.
6. Job availability.
I did list money, right? I can pretty much list the same damn things over and over again. These are all fears, something I shouldn’t let control my life. Are they truly reasons to hold myself back? Everyone says, “Do it!” However, if you were in my shoes, would you truly ‘do it’ or have the deep fear I hold?
What I do know is that I love Benni. He is supportive and accepting of whatever decision I make. If I decide to go to Florida, he will make a solid effort to come to the states. I just know that it will take extreme dedication. We are both willing to make adjustments for each other. I suppose that’s the greatest part of all. Both of us want to be together no matter what it takes. It’s more than complicated missing someone across an ocean. But I have to stay hopeful that my path will lead me to him….maybe Florida….maybe Germany. Right now every day is a struggle in my attempt to get there. When I want something, I want it now. I need and want Benni tomorrow, but if I must wait for him, I really don’t want to wait in Santa Fe. Dear God, please get me out of Santa Fe.