This song says it all. . .

B.A. (Before Atlanta)

In a typical Ymelda fashion, things were forgotten. You would assume that the many times that I have traveled in the past, by now I would have a mental check list of everything that needs to leave with me. Very cliché to say so, but, it should flow like clockwork. Apparently,  I need a new clock. Unfortunately, my sacred memory stick is sitting in my work bag on top of my bed or on the floor somewhere. Can’t remember exactly where I left it. Therefore, all the work that I was supposed to get done on the plane is not going to happen until I arrive back in Miami.

Yes, I said on the plane. For the first time in about seven years I am flying without my reliable relaxant, Xanax. To say that I am freaking out and just seconds away from being tased by the hot Marshall sitting in the corner, is a HUGE understatement. I am keeping calm by pretending I am sitting in a chilly Starbucks and writing on my blog, like I would any other day of the week. I have my iPod on and Godsmack is playing in the loudest possible setting that I can stand. This technic is used in order to drown out the sound of the engines, which I’ve learned get louder as the plane speeds up. It gets lower as the engine slows the heavy mass of metal down and that’s when my heart feels like it’s about to burst into a never ending hysteria.

On a less psychotic note, this will probably be the third time I visit Atlanta. For the life of me, each flight there has been a total blur. Thank you Xanax! Since my total stay this time will be about two days in the city, my usual recovery time of a day is going to be a waste. So, I decided this time not to take anything and wing it. So far so good! I can’t see myself flying to L.A anytime soon without it….but It’s good to know that I can last an hour or so without having a minor heart attack.

My writers block has somewhat lifted. It’s not as bad as it was, but the stump is still there. Things don’t come as easily as it used to and it’s starting to feel like work. There are currently three stories in my head, from beginning to end. Each detail is outlined perfectly and I can see the characters and I know them as well as I know my closest friends. But, the words won’t come. The letters will not formulate and make sense long enough to bring these people to life.

It seems that lately the easiest thing to write about is myself and what I’m going through. And, if you’ve been following my blog at all, you would know that it really isn’t much. Don’t get me wrong, I am happy with where my life is now. I am comfortable, I have a dog, I have a stable career that I love…my friends and family are amazing and I am truly blessed to have them holding me up. But, man, I get tired of talking about myself.

I hear that you are supposed to write what you know. It flows easier and the story comes together easier. I do write about what I know. Or at least what I think I know. The ideas are there. It’s the spitting it out that’s the problem. Even now as I write this the words just don’t make sense to me. I could blame it on my one hour of sleep, the nervousness about flying or the fact that I am on a Delta flight and I really really miss Jetblue right about now…but that’s not the case. It’s just not there.

I tried free writing the other day. I can’t remember when, but I’m thinking it was on my flight from New York to Miami. That was a Xanax induced free write. There was a tone of rambling. In the mist of complaining that I had nothing to write about and that it was probably the dumbest thing I have ever written there were two main points that created one of my stories. In fact, I could’ve elaborated on those points right now, had I remembered my memory card.

I could’ve slept, but I’m sitting in a middle seat. And, I also couldn’t pass up the opportunity to write sober on a plane. What exactly brings me to Atlanta this time around? The last time that I was here, it was for a couple of hours. I had a connecting flight while on my way to New Orleans. This time, I actually get to experience Atlanta and all its glory. I plan on it being a calm relaxed visit. I was in desperate need for a vacation and this trip presented itself. Lord knows I can’t turn down a chance to step out of the box and try something new. This is definitely new. According to the besties, Atlanta is as South as it can get. Although, I have pale skin and somewhat light hair at the moment, I will be classified as a “Mexican.” Not really offended as I love tacos and margaritas, but it’s pretty messed up.

Bestie told me a story about her brother in law. He is a pharmacy technician in a large chain. He was working the midnight shift. After responding to work and feeling ill at around 4am, he decided to go home. On his way home, mind you he’s wearing his uniform, which consist of a lab coat; he gets pulled over. I doubt he was speeding, as I’ve been in the car with him before and he drives like a grandma. Or maybe that’s why he was pulled over…hmmmm. Anyway, the officer approaches the vehicle, and proceeds to ask him how much he had been drinking that night. Brother in law, hereafter referred to as BIL, denied drinking and stated that he wasn’t feeling well and was on his way home from work. The officer stated that he knew he was Mexican and that all Mexicans drink and drink a lot. BIL advised the caring officer that he was not Mexican, but in fact from El Salvador and that he had not been drinking. Officer advised BIL that it was all the same thing and asked him to blow into a breathalyzer.

There is a certain kind of “racial profiling” that comes into effect when one swears to protect the laws and citizens of this country. But, that’s taking it to the extremes. I’m ok with getting pulled over because I drive fast and my vehicle has extremely dark tints (I hate the sun), BUT, to be pulled over because I look a certain way. NOT COOL.

My task at hand is to keep my mouth shut. Which, in the last couple of days has actually worked wonders for me. So much so that I am constantly being asked “what’s wrong?” I don’t remember where I heard this quote, but it went something along the lines of being quick to anger but slow to speak. I know I’m slaughtering that quote right now, but that’s what I took from it. I am very quick to get upset over something and speaking my mind right then and there. Most of the time, if not all, my human filter goes out the window and the “words made of knives” come out to play.

Keeping my mouth shut and not saying things when I want to say it has made me laugh more.  I am NOW starting to realize how bad of a temper I have. My outburst are less and my stress level as decreased a little. I have come to the realization that when I am not in control my emotions go haywire. However, I am also learning to let go and realize that I cannot control everything and that’s ok. Sometimes one has to kick back, relax and let someone have the last word. Because, all though they have the last word, silence speaks volumes.