An Ode to the Motherland

I grew up in Cuba. Well in reality, my childhood was split between Cuba and the US, but I've always considered the 9 years I spent in my home country to be the most formative part of my upbringing. My days were spent in school and playing with my friends until my mom would call out for me to come home. I have some of my best memories in that amazing place that I will always call home. I also have the worst memories there but I've made the choice to ignore those.

My favorite one is my mom reading to me. We used to lay in my big bed and she would read me poems written long ago by a man named Jose Marti. I remember the one about the little girl who went to the beach with her pail and shovel. I remember that my mom's voice was the most soothing sound I'd ever heard.

Back then my life was perfect. I had the best friends ever. We were like a gang of tiny hoodlums. We played in nearby parks and went on endless adventures together. I still have scars on my knees from those very same outings. Okay, so my scars are mostly from my debilitating lack of coordination, but that's not the point. We used to literally climb the walls that separated our houses. We were innocent. We were happy. We grew up in a place where the bad things where simply not up for discussion. Sometimes I think that was the right call. Talking about the bad things is really fucking painful.

What I miss the most is my time with my dad. I guess all split custody kids miss the parent they saw the least. For me, it's a different kind of longing. My dad was truly the greatest influence in those 9 years. We used to travel a lot together. Because of his job he had to visit farms in neighboring towns and he usually took me with him. I remember once we went to a farm that was near a beach. I remember playing in its strange dark sand. Every time I smell the ocean I think of that day. My dad is the most intriguing person I have ever met. He can talk for hours about almost any subject. He had this huge bookcase filled with countless tales from all over the world. Both of my parents inspired the thirst for knowledge in me. Cuba inspired almost everything else.

I owe as much of my personality to the land which birthed me as I do to the people. It feels like its been centuries since I've walked its streets. It's the only place where I feel as though I am home. It's the only place where I feel like I belong.

To the greatest fuck I will ever have...

WARNING: If you are in any way related to me please stop reading NOW. I warned you.

There is one aspect of our fucked up interactions that is still perfect. There are still some things you do better than anyone else. Most of those things involve a certain level of nudity, but I digress. It's wrong and I know it. I shouldn't give in to you easily. I should play hard to get. I should make you want me more and drive you insane with lust. I try, honestly I do, but I just can't. You trace invisible lines alone the inside of my thighs and my willpower crumbles.

I crave you. Every minute of every day. Long ago, when I was the only one worthy of your attentions, our bodies learned to speak a secret language. We've forgotten the words our lips used to whisper in the dark, but like some prehistoric cave drawings, those same words are etched into the deepest layers of our skin. While we can't seem to remember to say kind words to each other, we are more than kind between the sheets. Actually, its very rare that sheets are involved. 

If there is one thing I love about you its that you're just as kinky as I am. Every time we devour each other with all the anger and passion we normally hold back, I end up covered in bruises and bite-marks. "Branding me", as you call it. I'll confess that I love how they look on the most delicate parts of my skin almost as must as I love you leaving them there. Somehow you always know the perfect moment. Just as my body quite literally begs for it, you yank my hair back and sink your teeth into the most strategic pieces of flesh. In those moments, I see stars. I leave my body and enter some ethereal zone of complete pleasure. My soul feeds itself on the pure ecstasy of it all. Of course my weak mortal being is not up to the task. More often than not, you leave me a panting, trembling, a sweaty naked mess that has still not regained consciousness. 

I love feeling you watch me as if you were admiring your conquest. Some where deep inside you there's a part that truly revels in seeing me like that. It confirms what my lips refuse to admit. No matter how much shit I talk, you're still the best. Number one with a fucking bullet darling. However, I ask that you please ignore this and continue to fuck me like you got something to prove. It's just so much better that way. 

Love,

Nat

The City of Eternal Summers

I love Miami. Like, 305 til I die kind of love. To most people (non-Miami residents), Miami is solely comprised of South Beach. That is so not the case. Miami is a way of life. It is a tribe, and its natives are happy-go-lucky, Corona in our veins, party til we can't stand kind of folk.

Maybe its all the sun and humidity. Maybe its the saltwater, or Cuban coffee, or the palm trees, or the nightlife, or the mojitos...what was my point again? Oh yea, we are one of a kind. Ask any true Miamian and they will tell you the same. I mean, what could be better than driving around on a gorgeous day with the music blaring? It is damn near impossible not to be happy here, despite the God awful traffic. 

I honestly can't pin down one main reason why I love it here. Sure it has its problems, but so does every other city in the world. Every outsider views us as a vacation spot but that's the beauty of it. While most of the country dreams of migrating to NY or LA, our city stays ours (except in the winter). In my eyes we have our own little paradise. We have everything you could ever want. Okay so we don't have cold winters, but who likes to shovel snow anyway? Living here makes you warm (actually blazing hot) right down to your soul. We carry sunshine on our skin. Being tan is not a fashion statement, it's an inevitable fact of life.

One day, far far away, I will grow up. I will want to get married and have a family. I will want to live somewhere with cul-de-sacs and ALL of the four seasons. One day I will see Miami as a vacation spot. I will call another city home and begrudgingly accept the cold. Until that day I plan to enjoy my perfect little home to the fullest. Some people may call that settling or never thinking of my future, but the way I see it, I will only be a Miami girl once. I will only be young once. Unless reincarnation is real, but I already planned that with Rossy and David so I'm covered.

I guess what I'm trying to day is that if Drake is right and we really only live once, there is no where else I'd rather be



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An Open Letter to Frank Ocean...

I wasn't planning to write you a letter but your actions have inspired me. The first thing I'd like to say is how much I applaud your boldness. Even in our ultra modern times, we (as a society) struggle to accept those who we consider to be "not normal". Now, anyone that has taken an Intro to Psychology class can tell you that there is no such thing as normal and yet we continually fail to accept the concept. I am not exempt from this character flaw. 
I have always been very outspoken about my support for the LGBT community, but I am intolerant of those who are not. I realize now that intolerance is the same, regardless of who it is directed towards.
I don't know if you realize the magnitude of the statement you made. I know for a fact that many of your fans will be moved to take the same step. I hope other artists, actors, and celebrities who are struggling with their identities can find the courage as well. In my few years of life I have learned that life is simply not worth living if you are not living it as yourself. I commend you for your strength and courage of conviction. I hope anyone and everyone that reads this finds the same bravery in their heart.
Live the life you want. Be the person you are inside. 
That, in my modest opinion, is the key to true happiness. I hope that life, God, Karma, the Universe, or whatever else you may believe in bring you the very best. I hope you feel the love and thanks many of us are sending you.


Truly your fan,

Nat

Bloggin' in the rain...

So I've been a teensy bit missing from the blogsphere but I've been rehabbing my cat Sophie who is finally home!
Okay, I lied, the rehabbing is really more of we've been sleeping a lot y'all...but I mean, she's all warm and fuzzy and its raining and it just, yea I'm sorry. I am weak.
I have written a few things but on my notebook and haven't really gotten around to posting them. Lucky for you I am currently avoiding cooking so I shall post away!

Hope you guys missed me, I missed you!

The Princess and the Hood Rat...

Once upon a time...okay, ours isn't exactly a once upon a time love story, but it's a fairy tale none the less.
I'm fuzzy on some of the details, I actually don't even remember how we met. I wish I did because meeting him changed me. I won't bore you with the details of our courtship. Leave it at the fact that he was wrong for me in every way and also right for me in every way. My family strictly forebode it (I'm not kidding, the word forbid was used more than once), but we didn't care. For 10 excruciating months I tried to deny what my heart wanted from day one. God bless that boy's heart he kept on trying, no matter how many times I shot him down.
It all lands on one fateful night in a magic kingdom. We had been fighting for about a week and weren't even speaking to each other. From the bus ride over all I wanted was to see him. I finally worked up the nerve and called him while I was walking through the park with my friends. I told him I wanted to see him and he asked me to go find him. Naturally I was insulted, I mean had the boy never seen a romantic comedy? He was supposed to find me! He convinced me that since he'd never been to the kingdom before and since I had, that it was the smarter choice for me to find him. Whatever, screw him and his logic...that resolve lasted me all of ten seconds. 
After a few missed tries, mainly his fault I might add, he was finally able to guide me to him. I stood on one end of the bridge and my heart stopped. I saw him just a few seconds before he saw me but those seconds were enough. I fell for him, with the fireworks as a soundtrack. We started walking towards each other and then I'm almost positive one of us started running. Before I knew it, he had me in his arms. I know guys, it sounds like a bunch of crock but it's all true.
We walked around and held hands and there was a lot of hugging but neither of us took the big plunge. We were walking out of some dance tent thing and I made a comment about being hungry, he faced me square on and opened his arms inviting me to take a bite. Little did he know that I would. I don't know how it happened. I have no clue who the hell in my head authorized the move but I grabbed his shirt, pulled him in, and the rest is history...
Shitty, messy, painful history. But before all that there was love. Real fairy tale kind of love. We were consumed with each other every minute of the day. We were either always with each other or talking to each other. Maybe that was our mistake, but we just couldn't get enough. We were happy.
Regardless of how it ended, I'm glad we had it. Love like that only happens once. Innocent and perfect. I'll never forget the boy that brought me red roses for no reason. I'll never forget the way he used to look at me. I'll never forget the countless hours we spent in his bed completely oblivious to the outside world. I may never get the chance to have him again, but I'll never forget him. 

How to Lock the Monsters in their Cages...

It seems to me that after being alive for a certain amount of time, life decides that the fun days are over and shit gets real. It is at this point that you start experiencing what therapists call "traumatic events" and "defining moments". While I am clearly not an expert at over coming life's hurdles, I do have some experience in maintaining a sense of normalcy when it feels like the world has spun out of it axis and we are all hurdling towards our imminent death.
So what I'd like to do is share with you some of my steps to help guide you through recovery;

1. Get the fuck out of bed. No matter how hard the pain you are feeling may be, the world is still spinning and your life is still going. Laying in bed wallowing in your own misery will not solve anything. 

2. Continue your routine as normally as possible. I understand fully that when you are dealing with some especially emotionally taxing stuff it may make you want to punch everyone in the face. That's okay, just don't actually punch people in the face, cops seem to take that pretty seriously. I guarantee that even the mild distraction of your mind-numbing job will help.

3. Do as many "happy" things as you can. We all have some activities or guilty pleasures that just seem to make it all better. Cling to that with all you got. (Disclaimer: Results may very if those "happy" things involve drugs or alcohol, trust me I've looked into this).

4. Put yourself on a sad time allowance. I know it sounds crazy but it has worked for me in the past. It's understandable that you're sad or just plain broken. You need to give yourself time to heal, but you're not doing yourself any favors if that time is 24/7. Try to limit how much time you spend pondering over the "what ifs" and other depressing crap. Gradually reduce the time you spend until you have no need for it.

5. Constantly remind yourself that there are still things to look forward to. I know it seems far fetched right now but you've gotten over pain before and you'll get over this too. The sun will shine, birds will sing, babies will giggle, and all will be right in the world again. Chin up buttercup, you'll be okay.

I hope you take my advice to heart and that things get better sooner rather than later. Remember the ones you love and that they love you. Everything will be okay, I promise.

I didn't write it for you...

The more I write the more I am starting to take into account how the things I say will affect the people I say them to. That wouldn't be a problem for most people because they can put their emotions on the back burner in order to satisfy their own needs, I can't. My hope is that the people whom my letters are addressed to will understand that I didn't write them for them. I write for me. I have no intentions of stirring up the past or going back to the way things were. My only intention is to release the things that I feel. I am well aware that some of the things I write will hurt people and poke at a lot of old wounds, but that's not what I want. Nothing that I write is meant to fix any of my mistakes. The letters I've written to my exes and ex friends are not meant to change the current state of our relationships. I guess what I'm trying to say is that all I want is to speak my peace while I still can...nothing more and nothing less.

To "Emilio II", because it hasn't even been 24 hours and I already miss him...(I didn't pick his code name)

It has been 11 years since you and I met. I still remember seeing you in the hallways of our middle school. You walked around like you were above it all and just too cool for school. It intrigued me. It was more than just curiosity that led me to you. I’ve always felt a weird magnetic pull towards you. We’ve gone through break ups, drama, fights, career changes, puberty, etc. and yet we manage to always find our way back to each other. Granted, a lot of that had to do with the fact that for the first 6 or 7 years you really wanted to get in my pants, but that’s not the point. During the past year our friendship has evolved more than it did during the first 10 combined.  Chalk it up to us living together for about 6 months, or sharing highly confidential information with each other, or just plain dumb luck. Regardless of the reason, I am so glad we did. I’ve told you many times that it’s hard for me to know where I stand with you because you’re not exactly the most expressive of people, but I’ve learned to pick up on your cues. For example, when you give me speeches about how my life is a mess, I know it’s because you honestly care for my well being. Along with bonding with each other, this past year we also bonded with each other’s families and that is something I treasure. It’s not easy for me to allow people into my inner circle. For as loud and out there as I am, I rarely trust anyone enough to really let them in. However, you’ve been the exception to that rule since day 1. You make me feel safe, and it’s not just the soldier thing, it’s a you thing. I slept soundly (most nights), knowing that if by some chance my nightmares became a reality; you were there to protect me. You have taught me so much, including how to parallel park, and for that I am thankful. I’m even willing to share partial custody of Sophie, who has since then become your foster-kitty. I still have all of the pictures of you playing with her and the underwear I bought you, which even I’ll admit is a little weird but whatever (they’re awesome). It brings a smile to my face whenever I look at them because they remind me of all the fun we had together. They also make me incredibly sad because we won’t have fun like that again. You’ve moved on with your life and I’m incredibly proud of the choices you’ve made. I’ll admit, you moving to Colorado left me feeling a bit abandoned and I don’t think any amount of daily phone calls will change that. I don’t seem to handle being left behind too well. I know you did it for you. I know you did it for your career. I know it was the best choice. That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t suck either way. We often joke about how I will handle your deployment but the truth is I have no clue how I’m going to get through it. You have become a very vital part of my life and for better or worse, you leaving just plain hurts. I know one thing for sure, from the moment your plane ascends to when the wheels finally touch ground again, I’ll be praying for your safe return.We are not the same kids we were when we met. You have matured into a strong man whom I am proud to call my friend. We still have a long way to go but there’s no one else I’d rather fight my battles with. By the way, I did not curse once in your letter so I get extra points for that.

Love you (even when I hate you),

Natalia (I still hate that you call me that)