Reflection.. a short inspiration.

R is for Reflections……


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I started this blog on Feb. 10 2010 with the intention to “share with the world my journey on the path to my soul mate.”

It’s been almost three years and I would love to be writing, “I found HIM!!!!!!” But alas that is not the case.

But what I can say is that, “I have found me.” And maybe at the moment that might be a better thing. In actuality it’s more of a better understanding of who I am and the choices that I have made in my relationships and how so many puzzle pieces over the years have interconnected.

And finally out of desperation I prayed.  I asked mother/father god to please show me what was the obstacle preventing true love from coming my way?

And I had an aha moment …………..

For the rest of the story read, The Illusionist by Ivonne Montijo available on amazon.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

….Daddy’s Girl…..


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daddy’s girl

I no longer have my hair in pig tails and curls

but deep down in my heart

I’m still daddy’s little girl

I may be grown up

but there’s still an ache in my heart

when you tore us apart……..

I remember chocolate kisses,

you fixin’ my broken toys, super hero games and  guitar serenades

anxiously waiting for the day to end

and jumping in your arms

as you came through the door…

I no longer have my hair in pig tails and curls

but deep down in my heart

I’m still daddy’s little girl

I may be grown up

but there’s still an ache in my heart

when you tore us apart……..

You went away

you said you couldn’t stay

you and mom had to part your ways

you moved on

but life seemed to stop for me

as you went on to a new family

I no longer have my hair in pig tails and curls

but deep down in my heart

I’m still daddy’s little girl

there’s still  a deep ache in my heart

when you tore us apart……..

 

I may be grown up

but I’m still daddy’s little girl

waiting for you to come back through the door

and fix my broken heart…..

 

© 2012 ~♥ IVONNE P MONTIJO ♥ ~

…Missy’s Malaise aka Three Dog Night…..


 

Actually it was just one white dog with diarrhea, which is the equivalent of a three dog night.

So around 8:00 pm my neighbor notices that my dog has diarrhea.  Great, that’s just what I want to hear.  I am hoping it is a temporary situation.  Walk the dog at 2:00 am, still diarrhea.  Did I mention she is a white dog?

We go to bed, me on mine, she on hers.  I usually sleep better with the dog next to me but given her current physical malaise I did not coax her into my bed.

It’s a little bit before 5:00 am  and I awake to this rancid odor. She must have pooped in the living room, I thought. 

Dear God, it’s 5:00 am I just do not want to deal with this.  I roll over thinking I deal with it in the morning. Oh, by the way, she is now sleeping on the pillow next to me. I get up and decide to go to the bathroom.  I unknowingly find it, step in it.

Not in the living room, in the hallway.  My socks are covered in it.  I turn on the lights there it is. A yellow-brownish river flowing through the hallway.  Like it or not I now have to deal with it.

I can’t blame her it’s not her fault.  It might even be my fault. I ran out of dog food and instead of going to Target I decide to go to the corner 7/11.  In all likely hood I only have my lazy butt to blame. 

The thing is the day before I had left my purse/wallet/money/atm/license at my mom’s place in Granada Hills(about 70 miles from me), so the least amount of driving the better.

My badd, my badd, my badd…my dog, my dog, my dog…..

 I start to clean up the mess. I call out to her, Hey Missy let’s go for a walk.  She is not budging off of my bed.  I have to grab her by the collar and drag her poop laden butt off of the bed.  Then there’s the pillow she was sleeping on, a part of my comforter, a blanket…thank good I had a towel on my pillow from washing my hair.

 I walk the dog at 5:00 am and this lethal brown liquid just shoots out of her.  Did I mention she has white fur?  I get a wash cloth and shampoo and start cleaning her off at 5:00 am.  Truly the dedicated actions that only a mother would do.  My dog is confused, she does not understand and she hates water.

 Back inside to deal with the bed.  Needless to say there is a lot of laundry to be done tomorrow.  My dog’s bed get put into the living room.  The bedroom doors are closed.  My dog is standing in front of the bedroom door, expectations in her eyes.  She looks at me, she looks at the door as if to say what gives?

 She has never been banned from the bedroom before, not in all her five years and it’s her Birthday month.  She is very spoiled, however, I had to draw the line at the possibility of more diarreah on my bed.  Disgusting isn’t it?

 Morning comes, she still has diarrhea.  I cook her white rice, in the hopes it will cure her of this disingenuous malaise.  Problem is, my dog is fussy.  She only eats my mothers, spicy Puerto Rican Rice, she does not even eat chinese rice or Puerto Rican rice made by other people.  She only eat’s abuela’s rice.  It has been three hours since the rice was put in her bowl and it’s till there.  I have done 2 loads of laundry with 2 more to go.

 The dog is calmly sleeping on one of her dog bed’s in the living room. She has three–I said she was spoiled, right?

 I should probably wake her up and take her for a walk before the cycle starts again.

I am anxiously looking for a solid poop.  Those are the little things that bring joy into the day of a mom.  Things like solid poop and eating your food.  I don’t think you realize the anxiety a woman goes through when a dog/cat/baby does not eat, untill you have one.

Ok, I am not being sexist.  Maybe men feel the same way but that is not the impression I have gotten over the years.  I can’t exactly picture my ex-husband cleaning a dog’s butt with a wash cloth.

(Mental note do not use said wash cloth to remove make-up ever again.)

….did I mention the cat who refuses to use the litter box?……

…What was I thinking? !!!


 

We have all been there, that glorious part of a break-up where all the effects of oxytocin have worn off and the fantasy bubble finally burst.

It is like the sun bursting through the clouds after a storm, warm welcoming rays of light with iridescent rainbows in the background.

The moment we realize we are finally free and no longer a slave to the imagination inside of our hearts.

I finally got there. I finally got over Jackson!!!!  And all I can say to myself is, ” What the heck was I thinking”?

As as you travel through life you will discover that people who you thought were real, really weren’t…that they were fakes and phonies and the only thing that made them into real people was your belief in them…what you thought was the good in them and it turns out the good was only in your mind?

You see I thought Jackson was this great guy in the beginning, that I had seen his heart and maybe to some people he does have a heart (to be fair) but where I was concerned it was more like heart-less.

At first I was hurt.  I wanted to believe the three, count them three psychics that had said that he would be back.

And then I got angry.

I have gotten past the anger and now I am simply at, what was I thinking?

I think that there is a disconnect between the heart and brain when you think you care for someone based on imaginary factors.

I don’t know if guys do this but women certainly do.  We plan out a whole future based on a few dates, a few possibilities.

It is the imagination and heart run amuck.  The beauty of it is that this is a temporary condition, somewhat akin to temporary transient amnesia where one temporarily loses one’s mind in which all you can remember is nothingness.

And when you come out of that black void you ask yourself, what was I thinking?  That is when you know you have been cured and your heart now displays a vacant sign.

A vacant sign that hopefully the right man will occupy!!!

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…. ¡OH NO !, he DIDN’T (snap …snap…)


..oh yes, he did….

oh yeah, I got a text message today from Jackson, you remember him?, “Hit & Run” guy….

this conversation was much shorter and went something like this…..

Jackson: Are you by chance on Campus?

Ivonne: not yet my class is at 7…why what do you want now….(I’m still a bit p’d over the hit and run thing)

Jackson: Nada. Lo Siento (translation: nothing I’m sorry).

Oh no, you do not get to do that to me.

You don’t get to text me and then NOT tell me why you called.

So I called him and I asked him, what do you want?

And he gets all defensive on me.  I, of course point out, that the only time he ever calls is when HE wants something and that is not very friendly…

¿ Are you aware of this? , I say to him.  Jackson is still defensive says something like, point taken or some such thing.

¿What did he want you ask?…he wanted to know if I could pick up his thesis at the school library.

Ok, so here’s the thing…Campus is in Long Beach…I live in Long Beach…Jackson lives and hour away.

Either way he still has to drive to Long Beach to pick it up.

Does that even make any sense?

I’m open to input.

..a good ole country song…


 

in this moment, in this instant, my heart cries out for a good ole country song…..

nothing quite expresses the angst you are feeling like a good ole country song..

Pastsy Cline—” Crazy..crazy for feeling so blue…”

Pasty Cline—-“I’ve got your picture…she’s got you…”

Tammy Wynette—–“…stand by your man and show the world you love him…..if you love him you’ll forgive him….”

Reba McEntire—” the world didn’t wait for my broken heart…”

Barbra Mandrell—“…if loving you is wrong, then I don’t want to be right…”

Barbra Mandrell—” sleeping single in a double bed trying to forget…”

Loretta Lynn—” I gotta lotta love left in me, so I wanna be free…”

And so I raise my Mango Ice, to the Queens of Country who in their song have exposed my bruised and trampled heart and may God bless them as tonight they exorcise the shadows and demons that have been left behind in my heart and in my bed ……..

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