It's just that there's such an extreme juxtaposition between Natasha's loud and angry and (for a few aunts) supremely cracked out family and my own quiet and drunk little mexican family and the differences gets to me sometimes. I really want Emerald and Isabela to get to know their OTHER relatives, my side of the family and my aunts and uncles and my cousins and their cousins and even the forrest of relatives I have in Mexico that even I don't really know about. But most of these people are way out in Arizona so all my kids ever get to see are people from Natasha's side. And that makes me sad sometimes.
Anyway, Emerald's birthday was yesterday. There's a massive storm going on right now. I'm glad it only started sprinkling yesterday. It was a fun party. Emerald got a ton of stuff she wanted. I spent a good hour trying to open it all up this morning. Annoying how they make toy packages nowadays. You have to be a fucking mad genius to be able to open this shit nowadays. I opened a Littlest Pet Shop playset. That thing had like ten different layers of security. What gives? Jesus.
This is the only picture that was taken that features me in it. All the others are of Emerald or her and her mother. Not bitter, though.
Emerald's birthday parties always take me back to her second birthday, which was the first one that I was present for. I explained that to Emerald yesterday evening and she seened to understand that I became her daddy when she was one year old. I wish that I could have been there from the beginning, though. I will always regret not having the opportunity to meet Natasha and Emerald earlier so that I wouldn't miss out on being a daddy to her when she was a baby, like Isabela. Every time another one of her birthdays rolls around I get a little bit sad and wish
I stress out a lot over my little Bela. I have never, literally NEVER, been around babies before Isabela was born. Now she cires and cries and it's like somebody's punching me in the stomach. It's like Jesus Christ is slapping me in the face. It's like watching an angel bleed to death. It's like the absolute worst parts of every break up I've ever had, all balled up into a screech of utter pain. It hurts me like nothing has ever hurt me before and there is absolutely no way that I can despribe it properly. It hurts mad.
Now it's raining like mad outside. It's coming down hard like I've never seen it rain before since I've lived here. When I moved to Sacramento all I heard about was the rain and the storms and the rainy "season" and the floods. But since I moved there's been little to no rain. Which I don't mind in the slightest. I hate rain. There's hardly any rain in Phoenix and Mesa and Tempe and Glendale. When it DOES rain, it comes as one big epic biblical storm, the kind that leaves your swamp cooler on the street. And the lightening, too. It's epic and massive and frightening and altogether cool. So I don't mind saying it. It's raining. And I'm scared.
Yesterday, after the party, Natasha and Em and Bela and I went over to our friend Gwen's house. She is going through some serious shit. A LOT of some serious shit. In fact, like Jesus, I think Gwen's going through everyone else's drama FOR US, like Jesus had to die for our sins sort of stuff. She's going through so much and I feel really bad but at the same time I know that I can't do anything about it other than just be an ear. Which I did last night. Plus I got my drink on, which I hardly ever get to do anymore. I love getting a chance to hang out and drink with somebody, especially now that I have two little girls now. Gwen rocks. And so do her kids.
Here's a picture of Emerald in her Halloween costume. She looks amazing ...
Yesterday I got my FREE copy of the Limited Edition restored colorized DVD of Ed Wood's classic "Plan 9 from Outer Space". I'll post a full review here in a few days.
Still no computer from me. That sucks.