tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15325946602914031162011-11-22T17:59:59.827-05:00Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.comBlogger321100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-40660765968112327672010-06-15T16:51:00.000-04:002010-06-15T16:51:15.657-04:00

What else is there to do but watch old Kate Bush videos on YouTube when you don't have a job? There is nothing else I would rather be doing but I am sure there are more "productive" things like, I dunno, looking for a new job.   I'm just not ready yet.  And I think that if I learn the dance in the Wurthering Heights video that maybe it will inspire me to follow a new path.  Because fuck all

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-22329078955746089312010-06-15T16:32:00.000-04:002010-06-15T16:32:42.211-04:00

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-19903178466637634922010-06-15T16:09:00.000-04:002010-06-15T16:09:07.352-04:00

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-7273042148535872292010-06-11T22:11:00.000-04:002010-06-11T22:11:53.102-04:00

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-88278590413992955452010-06-11T21:25:00.002-04:002010-06-11T22:00:53.267-04:00

I quit my job today.  No one begged me to stay. As soon as I hung up the phone, I knew I was on my own and it felt great. I went for a walk today.  The fireflies seemed so far away. As soon as I walked by, they seemed to want to hide from me. I came home alone today.  It's Friday and I feel lame. As soon as I came through the door, I knew tonight would be a bore.

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-90105434835708868052010-06-08T18:27:00.000-04:002010-06-08T18:27:16.432-04:00

here in O-HI-O. I can feel the desperation ache harder than ever tho I'm older, life is stronger than me.  Fo sho. How can I expect to win against the wind. No. things are the same here in O-HI-O. So? for LeAnn

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-65386569639610475942008-11-17T01:54:00.002-05:002010-06-04T16:00:44.865-04:00

From a very early age I was aware of homosexuality. And I was also aware that a lot of people found gays to be pretty awful. I attended a Catholic school, so obviously tolerance is not a virtue in that environment. (I'd argue that real love is not a virtue in that church either) I don't recall any open talk about gays in my family. My only memory is when I was about 8 or 9. One of my cousins had

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-39068327986429182822008-07-21T21:20:00.003-04:002010-06-04T16:06:24.424-04:00

The last of my Three Muskateers died today. Mr. Ennis Levi was such a good rat. He had the sweetest temperment of any rat I've owned. I named Ennis after Heath Ledgers character in Brokeback Mountain. I don't really know why. I just really loved that movie. I called Ennis my little cowboy. He was such an explorer when he was a wee rattie. At my old apartment, I would close all the doors to the

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-20344166587627450842008-05-28T23:09:00.001-04:002010-06-04T16:02:34.258-04:00

I know this may seem harsh to say about a 7 year old little girl. But Mady is a real whiney little asshole. She is selfish, bitchy, and cruel. Besides, this show is obviously cultivating her already narcissitic sociopathic personality. She totally plays up to the camera. Shut up already, no one thinks you're cute or funny! Cara, your twin, is already starting to suffer because of your insistance

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-75597348799341513502008-04-03T18:30:00.000-04:002009-05-03T15:35:21.966-04:00

Wheeza was born in July 2006.I named Wheeza after the character in Steel Magnolias named "Wheezer" because when I first got him, he seemed to have such a weird anti-social personality. During playtime he would always go under the couch and I could never get him out. At the time it was very frustrating but I can look back on it and laugh. He was a little hellion!I called him my rat with 9 lives.

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-74227178265702108012008-03-04T21:09:00.000-05:002009-05-03T15:42:08.036-04:00

My bubba, Benecio del Ratto, passed away tonight. This is my 5th rat that has died (they have short life spans) and, I swear, it never gets any easier. He was really, really, really special to me. Benecio was such a lovable, crazy boy. He LOVED to eat like no other rat I've ever seen. From the very beginning he established himself as the "alpha male" of the pack. He had a shining, exuberant

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-25481376880476096842007-12-11T03:54:00.001-05:002010-06-04T16:10:52.608-04:00

I was just lying in bed, unable to sleep cuz my mind was writing this soon to be awful blog, among other things that my mind was involuntarily doing (like having that bizarre doctor fantasy that starts with a routine pap smear visit). So, judging from the title of this blog, you may assume that I am a mother if you do not know me. I am not. If you do know me, you may be think, "Well, she's a

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-44325418843815727252007-07-01T22:04:00.002-04:002010-06-04T16:11:31.331-04:00

I think about posting on this little dot of a website more often. I think about a lot of things that I don't do. I wonder if I am happy, because sometimes I can't tell. Life has been keeping me pretty busy lately, with all the illness going down in my family. I am happy to oblige with the care taking. But when I am not busy, when I am sitting alone after everything has stopped momentarily, I

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-45900996483344407832007-06-16T15:01:00.001-04:002010-06-04T16:11:54.851-04:00

Monday April 2nd 2007 8:00pm I think about stealing great sentences from my favorite books and patchworking them together. Then taking a creative writing class and putting those sentences into a story of my own and turning them into my instructor. Would she notice? Of course I'd throw in some of my own mediocre thoughts and sentences to make it believable. I wouldn't directly quote famous

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-31398896626457179182007-06-12T22:57:00.002-04:002010-06-04T16:12:24.118-04:00

Okay, so I just got home from the grocery store. I was waiting for the elevator at my apartment with my bag-o-purchases in hand (contents: veggie dogs, buns, avocado, 2 candy bars and watermelon bubble gum yumgum bubble gum). Someone walked up to stand beside me also waiting for said elevator. I did not turn to acknowledge their presence because I didn't feel it was necessary to form a fleeting

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-91135146834404035072007-02-23T00:35:00.001-05:002010-06-04T16:13:12.299-04:00

I do not remember much before the age of 5. Photographs reveal a happy, chubby baby with proud young parents holding me. I know I was loved and I was wanted. Not everyone can say that. The details are fuzzy about my parents' divorce. I have always felt that it did not effect me the way divorce can traumatize other children because I do not remember them being together. There was instability from

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-67531943940482866462007-02-10T00:48:00.001-05:002010-06-04T16:13:49.240-04:00

I went to 3/4 of the appointments I made this week. I didn't make it to the last one today. I lay in bed, until 2:00pm. Like everyday, rushing around like a mad woman to make it to work on time. I took a shower with my new apple-scented body wash and threw on my ugliest, most ill fitting clothes. As I was making my lunch my father was hovering in the doorway of our tiny apartment kitchen. He does

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-32927874209613687142007-02-06T15:27:00.001-05:002010-06-04T16:14:38.336-04:00

It is 3:30 pm and I have already accomplished the goals I set for myself last night, plus some extra. I know goals like "making a Dr's appointment" doesn't sound like much but I have to acknowledge it. Today I did the following: Wake up time: 1:33ppm (thanks to a call from my friend, Lena! If she didn't call, I would probably still be in bed) Made the following appointments: Oil change -

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-70710235565493613132007-02-06T00:58:00.000-05:002008-12-17T20:46:22.405-05:00

I read a lot of different blogs throughout the day. Celebrity gossip blogs, mommy blogs, weight loss blogs, blogs by people much cooler than me, blogs by people that I am much cooler than. The one thing I try to avoid is writing about is my day to day life. Mainly because my day to day life is just that... the same everyday. I don't have any children to humiliate online (and believe me, when I do

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-6063572079481743802007-02-01T00:53:00.000-05:002008-12-17T20:40:59.192-05:00

*or When You Have Nothing To Blog About, Poop Will Never Let You Down10. It makes me think I may be able to give birth one day out of my ass if my vagina decides to jump ship.9. I feel a real sense of accomplishment afterwards.8. When I feel intimidated or inferior around another human, I just imagine them pooping.7. You get out of it what you put into it.6. You can use diarrhea as an acceptable

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-6819825266829129312007-01-23T00:46:00.002-05:002010-06-04T16:16:11.373-04:00

I have a streak of cruelty inside of me that runs very deep. I have no explanation for this. I have learned over the years that I can not control these waves of hot anger. I am not proud of them, but they make for good stories. If I have been done wrong or even think that I am about to be done wrong, my mouth will open and say the most profane offensive things that one has ever heard. I have said

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-6961542266695583362007-01-17T12:11:00.000-05:002008-12-17T20:40:59.192-05:00

November 13, 2005 7:34 pmI just saw the movie Jar Head. I liked it. I was proud of myself for going to the movies alone. Of course, I couldn't see a film about something silly or funny- maybe a romantic comedy with Kate Hudson or Cameron Diaz. Ha!- I chose a film about Desert Storm and the Marine Corp. Hot men training to be killing machines. Masculine angst, sweat, comradery, muscles,

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-33215723796904177472007-01-17T01:36:00.003-05:002010-06-04T16:16:59.135-04:00

My whole life is filled with shameful experiences. I look back on nothing with pride. I have made hundreds of choices that were wrong wrong wrong. I am even making a bad choice as I write this- just by writing this. I have read over my first week of blogs with obsessive frequency. I embarrass myself. Story: My friend "Mary" just graduated from the Marine Corps boot camp. She has been home since

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-79508807847525006452007-01-12T02:52:00.000-05:002008-12-17T20:36:03.608-05:00

I come home to cannoli's and cream cheese.Loneliness is a bitch. Well, I am not completely lonely. I do have these sexy boys to come home to every night:Wheeza Whizzle, Benicio del Ratto and Ennis LeviWhat more could a girl ask for?

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-53307083638263377552007-01-09T01:22:00.001-05:002010-06-04T16:18:13.010-04:00

I have a confession to make. This isn't my first blog. I used to belong to this website called "MySpace" a long time ago. I joined because it made me feel popular and cool. And I couldn't stop the fever. When I had a new comment from a friend in my inbox a feeling of joy shot through my body. You like me, you really like me! I'm not gonna lie, it was tonz 'o fun while it lasted. I love spying on

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-86226534861337693782007-01-08T03:31:00.000-05:002008-12-17T20:36:03.609-05:00

October 27th, 2006 12:55amIs there nothing else to strive for in life but love?Let me cry on your shoulder.Let me cry on your lap.I scowl at this woman that comes into work. She gets a small espresso in a porcelain mug. She piles her books and papers onto the same table she sits at everyday. She makes about fifteen trips out to her car. Back and forth. Back and forth. She has succumbed to some

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-24921142174276729092007-01-08T01:47:00.002-05:002010-06-04T16:19:03.394-04:00

What I hate the most about living in an large apartment complex (besides people pissing in your elevator) is having to share the washers and dryers with other people. It really grosses me out. All I can imagine is peoples nasty skid marked underwear and vomit stained shirts from the wee little babies that inhabit this building. And no one EVER cleans out the lint trap in the dryers. I use 8x the

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-7454412665651722002007-01-05T01:36:00.001-05:002010-06-04T16:19:36.363-04:00

This instant message was written about a year ago when I was in the beginning stages of my divorce. Things are a little fuzzy from that time, but one of the things that kept me going was my obsession with Jake Gyllenhaal. At that time in my life it was not uncommon for me to start up random conversations with my customers at the coffee shop about my amazing Jakey-poo. A few friends and

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-27284794328363420792007-01-05T01:16:00.002-05:002008-12-17T20:36:03.610-05:00

I miss him so much. In less than a week we have become worlds apart. At work I want to curl under the espresso machine and cry. I do not know what to do with myself. I can't comprehend that I am separate from my husband. I want to stop all the pain he tells me he is feeling. This is not my husband but it is.I want to force everything back to normal. What was normal? I suppose normal was just

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-28521340760893510622007-01-05T01:16:00.001-05:002008-12-17T20:36:03.610-05:00

Pen to paper. This is a start. Just write.It's too painful. My head is spinning. Throbbing. I'm a little nauseous.It started out with one cigarette to work and one cigarette on the way home from work. Then two because I could fit two perfectly in my travel time. Then an email from a long lost friend and a phone call to reunite us. The whole pack vanished in a two hour long conversation. They were

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-69373795565928714422007-01-05T01:14:00.002-05:002008-12-17T20:36:03.611-05:00

I can't believe I just drove to a gas station to get a pack of cigarettes. It's not like this is something I've never done before. But not now. Not when I'm 24 and married. But it is raining that rain that makes me go back. Back almost 10 years. 10 years?! The rain made me look up names on the internet of people that I miss. The rain made me pull out old notebooks and journals. The rain told me,

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1532594660291403116.post-69401900502205580922007-01-05T00:12:00.001-05:002008-12-17T20:30:28.069-05:00

My name is Marciel and it is a big deal for me to be writing this. Do I start to write like I have always been here? I am not a trained professional, people. I am only armed with a high school diploma and a diploma from a technical school (you know those commercials that run during daytime t.v. hours only and look like they were made in 1992? They usually star a chick with crunchy bangs and a

Marcielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03137713008341995317noreply@blogger.com0