Dear mum and dad,
I'm going to start this off with a thank you. Thank you for being the greatest, most supporting, chill and loving parents one could ever ask for. There has never been anything that I wanted to do (even the obviously detrimental shit) that you guys didn't support or encourage me in. In all honesty, I feel like I really took that for granted in my younger days. I never really realized the importance of having loving parents until I got older and started working with youth and looked at myself like "Damn, Illa, you're not that bad".
Sometimes when I was younger, I would wake up to you guys fighting, and (spare me, I was young) I would pray for you guys to get a divorce. I would pray for one of you to get fed up enough with the others bullshit and just leave, hopefully without dropping bombs and putting us in the middle. It never occurred to me how much you guys love each other. Despite everything, you guys were still together for over 2 decades. That's admirable. I admire it.
Having you as parents taught me that for things to pan out in love and relationships, you must put your pride aside (I've yet to master it, but I have indeed grasped it.). That's the only way it'll ever work. And that's the only way you'll know that person is the one for you. At times I feel like no matter what I do in any relationship, I will never measure up to yours, and I'm perfectly fine with it, because if anybody knows hardship and work it's you guys, but I can only hope I do as good a job raising my children and being a significant other as you did.
I owe you forever and then some and would give you my left lung, thank you for keeping my head above water in times when I didn't want to wake up the next morning.
Much love,
illa.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Day 2: Your Crush.
Dear James Franco,
Honestly, I’m not even sure if I should be writing you this letter, I contemplated three people to possibly write to and picked you because you most likely will never see this and because I am full of cowardice, I think that’s good. My infatuation with you began with the movie Never Been Kissed. I was like.. 11. It was pretty gross, I kept you hidden for the majority of my young life, because I didn’t want anyone else to like you… that was obviously very effective… that was sarcasm, I’m assuming you’re good at picking up on it, because in my head, you’re pretty damn perfect, even though I know good and well you may very well be dumb as a rock or smell like a fucking foot, I choose to disregard that, because I will never meet you and I will keep you at the prime of perfection for as long as I possibly can. I understand, you generally like scrawny white hipster bitches - tis coo’, I just wanted you for sex anyway. Jussayin’. Peace and blessings be unto you, even though you’ll probably never even read this.
Cheers,
illa.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Day 1: Your Best Friend
Dear best friend,
We're on the phone right now, so I don't really know why I'm writing this, but I figured if I was going to do this 30 letters ordeal, I wasn't going to half ass it. Calling you my best friend feels weird because you are so much more than that. You are a lover, a friend, a right hand, a partner in crime, an enemy, a compadre, and many more things that would take much time off my life span to list. I owe you the world and then some for always being there, even when I pushed you away beyond repair, for playing along with my bullshit and being you but I must admit, I'm scared, because though I love you with every molecule in my body, I know that realistically everything ends, and that makes me shit bricks because if I lose my best-friend than I essentially lose everything. If I lose you, I have to start all over again and it will never be the same, and I'm not just being melodramatic, because I'm old enough to differ drama from real emotion, but it has gotten to the point where it will never be the same. Maybe for you but definitely not for me. I've never been in a situation where I put all my cards on the table and I don't want to do that with anybody else, and it may be childish and infantile to think that way, but there are certain bonds you experience in life that you know, you just know, that no matter what, even if you wrote a step by step booklet from beginning to end based on the previous bond to try and replicate it you never could and that's the terrifying part of it all.
Much love,
illa.
P.S: Peace to Brooklyn.
We're on the phone right now, so I don't really know why I'm writing this, but I figured if I was going to do this 30 letters ordeal, I wasn't going to half ass it. Calling you my best friend feels weird because you are so much more than that. You are a lover, a friend, a right hand, a partner in crime, an enemy, a compadre, and many more things that would take much time off my life span to list. I owe you the world and then some for always being there, even when I pushed you away beyond repair, for playing along with my bullshit and being you but I must admit, I'm scared, because though I love you with every molecule in my body, I know that realistically everything ends, and that makes me shit bricks because if I lose my best-friend than I essentially lose everything. If I lose you, I have to start all over again and it will never be the same, and I'm not just being melodramatic, because I'm old enough to differ drama from real emotion, but it has gotten to the point where it will never be the same. Maybe for you but definitely not for me. I've never been in a situation where I put all my cards on the table and I don't want to do that with anybody else, and it may be childish and infantile to think that way, but there are certain bonds you experience in life that you know, you just know, that no matter what, even if you wrote a step by step booklet from beginning to end based on the previous bond to try and replicate it you never could and that's the terrifying part of it all.
Much love,
illa.
P.S: Peace to Brooklyn.
30 days of letters.
Day 1 — Your Best Friend
Day 2 — Your Crush
Day 3 — Your parents
Day 4 — Your sibling(s) (or closest relative)
Day 5 — Your dreams
Day 6 — A stranger
Day 7 — Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush
Day 8 — Your favorite internet friend
Day 9 — Someone you wish you could meet
Day 10 — Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to
Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to
Day 12 — The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain
Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you
Day 14 — Someone you’ve drifted away from
Day 15 — The person you miss the most
Day 16 — Someone that’s not in your state/country
Day 17 — Someone from your childhood
Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be
Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad
Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest
Day 21 — Someone you judged by their first impression
Day 22 — Someone you want to give a second chance to
Day 23 — The last person you kissed
Day 24 — The person that gave you your favorite memory
Day 25 — The person you know that is going through the worst of times
Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to
Day 27 — The friendliest person you knew for only one day
Day 28 — Someone that changed your life
Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but too afraid to
Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror
Day 2 — Your Crush
Day 3 — Your parents
Day 4 — Your sibling(s) (or closest relative)
Day 5 — Your dreams
Day 6 — A stranger
Day 7 — Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush
Day 8 — Your favorite internet friend
Day 9 — Someone you wish you could meet
Day 10 — Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to
Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to
Day 12 — The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain
Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you
Day 14 — Someone you’ve drifted away from
Day 15 — The person you miss the most
Day 16 — Someone that’s not in your state/country
Day 17 — Someone from your childhood
Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be
Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad
Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest
Day 21 — Someone you judged by their first impression
Day 22 — Someone you want to give a second chance to
Day 23 — The last person you kissed
Day 24 — The person that gave you your favorite memory
Day 25 — The person you know that is going through the worst of times
Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to
Day 27 — The friendliest person you knew for only one day
Day 28 — Someone that changed your life
Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but too afraid to
Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
From Toronto, with love.
My first love was the biggest waste of time ever. I was 15 and he was 17. I was with him for four years. He was grossly manipulative, disloyal and took advantage of the age gap like crazy. It taught me a lot. About myself. And about other people. For myself, it taught me that I have a knack for shutting off any positive feelings when I’m upset or in a bad mood, that I have a tendency to throw everything that was once golden about a certain situation out the window and magnify the bad side of it and also that I dislike taking steps backwards. Once I’m done, I’m done. For other people, it taught me that everything needs to be taken with a grain of salt. Everything.
I got cheated on in that relationship more than I could count on all 20 fingers and toes that I’ve got. But if you ask him, he wouldn’t call it cheating. Every time he’d have a jam to go to, or an event, or club, or whatever, he’d call me up like a day before and be like ‘I need a break! But you’re still mine!”, and you know, I was 15, so, I ate that shit up, wide-eyed and bushy tailed about the shit, while he was out being a rampant cake fucker.
Two years into the relationship, I was 17, I started getting more attention from other guys and my mind wasn’t so malleable. I started catching onto certain things, started not picking up my phone when I expected and knew what the other line was going to be telling me. And thus the tables turned. Or so I thought. I guess he stopped being an infidel regularly.. because for a good 9 months everything was cris, and then he went to Florida and fucked some random girl there. When he told me this later he told me he didn’t even know her last name. Anyway, when I found out I cut him off for good, because it got to the point where I felt like I was just prolonging the inevitable to spare my feelings that, at that point, were not even really existent, I was just clutching on to some shit that was like 4 years ago.
A few months after we broke up, he came to my house, unexpectedly at that, my whole family was there, and made a big ass scene about shit, begging and trying to coax me into being with him, and when I said no, he turned into the complete opposite, it was actually quite entertaining. He started to blame me because he got a girl pregnant after we broke up and he said he only did it because he was trying to push away his feelings for me and that I wasn’t being understanding.
That relationship taught me a lot about myself. It made me hate myself for being loyal, which isn’t supposed to happen, because loyalty shouldn’t be regarded as a bad trait, but when people take advantage of it, it is. It pissed me off too, because any other person would have cheated right back on him but, I don’t think two negatives make a positive. I don’t think that’s a very intelligent or healthy of thinking and honestly, I’m kind of glad I didn’t because I know girls who do that, and even if their boyfriend did it first, they’re still the one who gets perceived as a ho in the end.
Peace,
i
Sunday, June 6, 2010
frustration.
My Sunday consisted of nothing but shopping and eating.
"Watch where you're going, fat ass!"
Yeah, I know... I went to Zara, and there was this really, reallyyyy, reallyyyyyy, gorgeous dress there, just calling my name on the rack, it was the last medium, it was green, it was meant to be. Really, meant to be. As I made my way to the fitting room, I felt the fabric, it was like silk, so goddamn soft, tried it on, everything was perfect. Hauled ass to the cashier (who, mind you wasn't there when I arrived and took like 10 minutes to get there), and when I put the dress on the counter, I noticed that some of the stitching was coming loose, and there were some slight imperfections here and there. Given that I didn't really notice it when I tried the dress on, I figured whatever let me just ask for a damaged goods discount and take it to the cleaners to have it tightened around the seams. The cashier lady finally comes to the counter, and I noted whatever I saw on the dress to her and asked her if she could apply the discount, this bitch doesn't even look at the dress and goes "No, we don't work with that system!"
FUCK YOU JUST CALLED ME?!
So I asked her how come, and she goes we just don't.
So I'm like... How do you not work under that system? Isn't that a general retail rule? If something has affected the integrity of the item in question and it is not in it's original or best state, you apply some sort of discount or incentive. Like I know if I had gone to return that dress and the stitching was in the condition that it was they would not have allowed me to return it. And she goes "Well, we put it in the damaged goods bin for it to get thrown out if somebody points out imperfections but we don't give discounts". So I was like, alright, bet. Left the dress, fuck that, I'm not paying $80 for something that's falling apart before it even leaves the premises.
Anyway, I came back to the store like an hour later to get a fedora, and guess what's back on the rack? The momofuckin' dress! Blasphemy, I swear! I hate when big corporations are so frickin' cheap! I wouldn't even have agreed with them throwing it out because somebody could use that, but that's just so insanely petty, like on some "well, if you don't want it someone else will", assholes. On the upside, I got glitter nail polish from Sephora, and that makes me happy, because I'm 5.
Peace,
i.
"Watch where you're going, fat ass!"
Yeah, I know... I went to Zara, and there was this really, reallyyyy, reallyyyyyy, gorgeous dress there, just calling my name on the rack, it was the last medium, it was green, it was meant to be. Really, meant to be. As I made my way to the fitting room, I felt the fabric, it was like silk, so goddamn soft, tried it on, everything was perfect. Hauled ass to the cashier (who, mind you wasn't there when I arrived and took like 10 minutes to get there), and when I put the dress on the counter, I noticed that some of the stitching was coming loose, and there were some slight imperfections here and there. Given that I didn't really notice it when I tried the dress on, I figured whatever let me just ask for a damaged goods discount and take it to the cleaners to have it tightened around the seams. The cashier lady finally comes to the counter, and I noted whatever I saw on the dress to her and asked her if she could apply the discount, this bitch doesn't even look at the dress and goes "No, we don't work with that system!"
FUCK YOU JUST CALLED ME?!
So I asked her how come, and she goes we just don't.
So I'm like... How do you not work under that system? Isn't that a general retail rule? If something has affected the integrity of the item in question and it is not in it's original or best state, you apply some sort of discount or incentive. Like I know if I had gone to return that dress and the stitching was in the condition that it was they would not have allowed me to return it. And she goes "Well, we put it in the damaged goods bin for it to get thrown out if somebody points out imperfections but we don't give discounts". So I was like, alright, bet. Left the dress, fuck that, I'm not paying $80 for something that's falling apart before it even leaves the premises.
Anyway, I came back to the store like an hour later to get a fedora, and guess what's back on the rack? The momofuckin' dress! Blasphemy, I swear! I hate when big corporations are so frickin' cheap! I wouldn't even have agreed with them throwing it out because somebody could use that, but that's just so insanely petty, like on some "well, if you don't want it someone else will", assholes. On the upside, I got glitter nail polish from Sephora, and that makes me happy, because I'm 5.
Peace,
i.
but your mom's a slut...
The following public service announcement has been brought to you in part by the good folks at Bad Luck Illa industries on behalf of the blogger community; ladies and gentlemen, don't let your mom be an internet slut. If you call people sluts and hoes on the regular (which, given the fact that most of the people who will read this are within my age bracket, you most likely do) don't knowingly let your mother be a slut or a ho. End the bad luck cycle and prevent life scarring, you too can do your part.
Things I dislike: Having "friends" who have their mothers on Facebook and being the lurk that I am, I click through, and their mom is the biggest skank ever!
I was going to go post something on someone's wall from elementary school, and I saw their mom leave them something so I'm like, 'hmmmm, interesting' (I'm nosy as hell, so what) and I clicked through, and low and behold... I go read her status updates and what have you and she's talking about men she finds sexy and how older women give better blowjobs because they have more experience, and she's posing up in some hot pink Nylon dress that looks like she bought it from the corner store on Yonge & Dundas. Dude! Seriously?! How do you allow your mum to be trashy like that and flaunt the shit? Horrible. And what's worse is next time I see this woman all I'm going to think about is her popping out her dentures and giving some guy brains.
Scarred for life.
Please, people, especially if you still share a roof with your parents, don't let them be internet harlots. It's not a good look, and it makes me question your conception and the possibilities of there probably being sixteen you's out there that we don't know about. Prevent unwanted pregnancies. And all that good stuff!
Peace,
i.
Things I dislike: Having "friends" who have their mothers on Facebook and being the lurk that I am, I click through, and their mom is the biggest skank ever!
I was going to go post something on someone's wall from elementary school, and I saw their mom leave them something so I'm like, 'hmmmm, interesting' (I'm nosy as hell, so what) and I clicked through, and low and behold... I go read her status updates and what have you and she's talking about men she finds sexy and how older women give better blowjobs because they have more experience, and she's posing up in some hot pink Nylon dress that looks like she bought it from the corner store on Yonge & Dundas. Dude! Seriously?! How do you allow your mum to be trashy like that and flaunt the shit? Horrible. And what's worse is next time I see this woman all I'm going to think about is her popping out her dentures and giving some guy brains.
Scarred for life.
Please, people, especially if you still share a roof with your parents, don't let them be internet harlots. It's not a good look, and it makes me question your conception and the possibilities of there probably being sixteen you's out there that we don't know about. Prevent unwanted pregnancies. And all that good stuff!
Peace,
i.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
"oh, you're dominican?"
"your family must be REALLY violent"
Yeah, you simple bitch, they are, and you'll be the first stop they're going to make since your melanin lacking ass obviously needs five across the eyes.
Peace,
i.
Yeah, you simple bitch, they are, and you'll be the first stop they're going to make since your melanin lacking ass obviously needs five across the eyes.
Peace,
i.
no, we're just friends.
Maybe I've just got an old fashioned way of thinking.. but I was always under the impression that men were the ones who used this phrase.
If I did not say I am your girlfriend, if I didn't accept a proposition to go out with you, I am not your stinkin' girlfriend! I find myself having to clarify this too often to certain people and then they proceed to get butt hurt and go around telling people I lead them on..
Wait..
Lead you on? How? How did I lead you on? Because I was unaware that you perceived me as a better half and and you, to me, were just another fish in the sea? Please! Miss me with that bullshit! If I really wanted to lead you on I would've kept you around for money and weed and dropped you on your ass once I had felt you served your purpose, you useless boob! All we did was chill a few times and possibly burned down a spliff or two (or three or four), I never even touched you. What a horrible way to live life. You must have a lot of girlfriends since it obviously doesn't take much for one to become that.
PS: And another thing, just because I'm drunk or high, doesn't mean it's a green light for you to attempt to get me out of my clothes. I'm drunk. Not demented. If I didn't find you attractive when I was sober, I probably don't find you attractive when I'm drunk.
Peace,
i.
If I did not say I am your girlfriend, if I didn't accept a proposition to go out with you, I am not your stinkin' girlfriend! I find myself having to clarify this too often to certain people and then they proceed to get butt hurt and go around telling people I lead them on..
Wait..
Lead you on? How? How did I lead you on? Because I was unaware that you perceived me as a better half and and you, to me, were just another fish in the sea? Please! Miss me with that bullshit! If I really wanted to lead you on I would've kept you around for money and weed and dropped you on your ass once I had felt you served your purpose, you useless boob! All we did was chill a few times and possibly burned down a spliff or two (or three or four), I never even touched you. What a horrible way to live life. You must have a lot of girlfriends since it obviously doesn't take much for one to become that.
PS: And another thing, just because I'm drunk or high, doesn't mean it's a green light for you to attempt to get me out of my clothes. I'm drunk. Not demented. If I didn't find you attractive when I was sober, I probably don't find you attractive when I'm drunk.
Peace,
i.
bigger, better.
New year. Not really, just yet, new year as of June 29th. So I figured I'd move my ranting from Tumblr to Blogger. Why? Because I'm tired of 15 year old kids feeling welcome to give their input anytime I say something, because 1700 followers was just a smidgen too much, and also, because.. I like coding Blogger layouts better. Anyway... this is kind of my first time doing this with intentions of actually keeping up with it, so, um, be nice, bitch! I'll leave you guys with some music in the next post, I suppose.
Peace,
i.
Peace,
i.
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