I spent years thinking about my first tattoo. The main thing that kept me from doing it was the fear from disapproval from my parents, mostly my father. I was well into my adulthood when one day I realized that I could not go through life with the burden of living up to my parents’ expectations.

This came as a crushing epiphany when during a trip back to my hometown I was introduced to someone as Al’s daughter. I am not ready to talk about him today, but he was not a nice man, and somehow being labeled has her daughter was the final straw that I needed. I realized that I was my own person, and that the time had come for my to live my life the way I wanted to. That very same night I got my first tattoo. A very small demon in a discrete place. Hiding, lurking, waiting to come out.

The last time I bothered to check there were over 2,000 comments waiting for moderation. They were all spam. Russian brides, viagra pills, SEO services, you name it and it was there.

I thought of scraping the whole thing, but I did not want to start over or lose the comments, so I just set it aside and ended up never getting around it.

And then, someone asked “Why dont’ you use Akismet?”, to which I responded “What the fuck is Akismet?”. Well, Akismet is the solution to all your spam problems. It actually comes right built-in into WordPress, and all I had to do was sign up for their service, and boom! Spam be gone

Ooops, sorry. I did not see you down there.

It was a long wavy, windy, dirty dusty road. Many times I though I would not make it, and only thanks to my friends, my cell, and twitter I managed to find the strength to get out. What started as an innocent trip on a Halloween night (almost three years ago to the date) brought me into a spiral of destruction that almost took my life. I am still not sure why I am here, but after hitting rock bottom I had to reach deep within to places I did not know existed inside of me. In a strange way the Peyote helped me find who I was.

D. has been a guardian angel, a protector, a friend, and a God-sent presence in my life. It has only been thanks to him that I still have my apartment, my car, and most of my stuff. One of the things that he guarded for me where my notebooks, my writings, and this blog. I had almost completely forgotten about it, but here it is, even with an extra couple of posts and a whole backdrop story that I almost could not believe.

Looking for a job now. I do not want to go back to modeling, but things are looking pretty grim now. I will give it a few weeks while I transcribe my diary.

Love

Rosa Clara.

Hi guys,

I just wanted to let everyone know that Rosa is doing great and that we hope to have her back with us very soon. Those of you that follow her twitter account get daily updates on her progress and your support means the world to her.

Some of you will remember the little brush we had with this crazy woman from Spain a few years ago. Five years after I got this site for Rosa she tried to muscle it out of us. This was a big deal and we almost lost it. She threw a bunch of fancy lawyers at us and had it not been for Nate’s help I don’t think we would have managed to be left alone. He really thought I should have sued her, but I figured that after getting the back-hand bitch slap she got we were done.

Another five years went by (kinda like the Predator movies) and the fucking bitch is back. Same story: “this website is mine, you know it is mine, how dare you take something that is mine, etc…” Nate helped me again draft the response and everything has been filed.

The thing that really got me, and the piece that I want to share with you (because I cannot post all of this on a Twitter update) is the gall of this witch. I really wanted to post the entire letter but Mr. Sanders discouraged me in no uncertain terms (although I can send you a copy if you PM me). The way she wrote this, you would think that she is the next Vera Wang or something. I think that she uses the word “impossible” to qualify the probability that I didn’t know who she was. This was “impossible” because she is a very “famous” person. Back in the day my response went something in the lines of “Listen, seriously, I don’t know who the fuck you are. I never heard from you”.

How dare you not know me? I spent a lot of money on that yellow pages ad

This apparently was the worst thing you could say. This time around you should see the letter: “How DARE you?! I am famous! Paulina Rubio wore my dress!” As I am reading this I am thinking “Who the fuck is Paulina Rubio?”

As I keep going, I deduce that she must be a Mexican singer, because she then proceeds to say that given my address (or domicile as she calls it, which rhymes with imbecile) I had to know her, because “everybody knows that Texas is completely influenced by Mexican culture.”….

Now, see…? I thought it was the other way. I thought that the US was actually influencing Mexico. I mean, I know we have tons of Tex-Mex places around here and that we all enjoy a good Margarita once in a while, but I thought the drones of people crossing the border are coming from Mexico to the US. You see, they want what is over here, not the other way around.

What? We actually won?

Instead, this …. woman, seems to think that we drive around listening to Mariachi music, we watch Telemundo, and pay our taxes in Pesos, because see… “everybody knows” that Texas is just like Mexico.

There are other things that bother me about this whole thing. How much personal information she has managed to amass from both of us. The way she talks about everything we do (did you know that SC is an urban “tribe”?) and the lack of respect with which she addressed me and Rosa.  I would not tolerate this from my mother, and she gets to do it and send it all over the world.

I will post more as soon as this is over or Nate gives me permission.

Peace out.

D.

My one and only medicine. All I need!

I am driving with some friends out to the desert and we are going to get high on Peyote.  I can think of few better ways to spend the day of the dead..

Reports to follow soon, as soon as the trip is over.  Wish me luck!

This is not something that necessarily bothered me.  I am somewhat of an exhibitionist and I do enjoy the attention.  However, in more that one ocassion people just hammered the same question: why? why did you mark your body like that? As if I had dome something horrible to it.  I don’t see it that way.

First of all, my tattoos define me. They are beautiful works of art that took countless hours and large amounts of pain to complete. Each one has a meaning, a significance that is highly relevant to myself as a human being and as an individual. They also represent an ultimate gesture of self-expression and control over your appearance.

We do not choose the place, the time, or the family we are born into. Whatever you find when you begin to be self aware was just the product of chance.  From that point on however, it is up to us.  I am extremely passionate about myself, life, and the elements that define us.  My first tattoo was a broken heart, and I got it just so that I would never forget how it feels like to have it ripped apart.  From that point on, each one of them has a specific story and defines me as a person.

That, is a very nice and long winded explanation.  The short one is that you can fuck off for all I care.

One of my most surprising discoveries. I did not realize he had that many tattoos.

 One of the things that bothered me the most with some of the characters I used to hang out with was the fact that although they did see me as an outcast, they went goo-goo-gaga over people like Angeline Jolie and David Beckham.

David’s tattoos represent exactly what I am talking about.  Each one of them represent a major event in his life.  The names of his children, a guardian angel, and a proverb that represents what appears to be his life philosophy.

You can just Google “Beckham Tattoos” if you are interested, or you can check out this page.

 Another one of my favorite girls is Bella Donna. If you do not know who she is you really need to watch some more porn.  However, I have been unable to get any details on her tattoos.  I just know that I like them and that she is steaming hot. You can check out her website here. Not for prudes, and definitely NSFW.

The engagement was called off.  There were multiple reasons for it and I have moved beyond all of them.  Some of them were my fault: drug use, unwillingness to change my very core and I guess at times being a bitch.  Some were his fault, and I hesitate to write them down because I still have feelings for him.  A great deal of them however were related to his family.  They truly tried as hard as they could to make sure this did not happen and I guess they succeeded.

It took about two months for the whole thing to unwind.  After the break up, in the worst possible fucking way you can break with someone (texting) I went on a downward spiral of drugs, sex, and very bad decisions.  One day, I woke up in a freakish scene on which I had no clue how I had gotten into: naked, in a stranger’s warehouse and without a single memory of how I got there.  I stumbled on to find a bathroom and when I took a look at the mirror it hit me like a freight train: this is what rock bottom looks like.

I got out of there in one piece by the skin of my teeth. I called Dexter and cried for help. 5 weeks later my therapist said that writing would be a good outlet for me, and that I should have never stopped.  So, here I am.  Asking myself the eternal question again.  How did I get here?