Tuesday, August 29, 2006

The Bridges of Los Angeles County

Once my mother and I watched "The Bridges of Madison County," the story of a woman who was married with two children who had an affair with a traveling photographer. She had to decide whether to go with the photographer, or stay with her family.

She chose to stay with her family.

"Good," my mom said when the movie was over.

"Why is that good?" I asked her.

"Because, that's what love is about. You stay with the one who's been there for you. All that other stuff is just fluff, it never lasts."

I fell out of love with my own boyfriend recently.

Yes, that boyfriend.

No more butterflies in the tummy. No more kissing. No more plans about getting married and having children. Nothing.

But through it all, we kept talking. And talking. And talking.

I fell in love again, but this time it's a different love. Its the deepest love I've ever known. A love that will exist through this lifetime, and the afterlife.

A love that will cross the bridges of this crazy thing called life.

What Is Love?

Posted by Jaimie :: 10:02 PM :: 17 Peeked Into My Diary:

.:Write In My Diary:.


Monday, August 28, 2006

The Problem With Blood

My daughter's father has a slight problem:

He's mentally ill.

I suppose the signs were there early, but I didn't know what they meant.

For example, he would disappear for hours, gamble our money away and not remember...

...and then days later be in the bed depressed and crying.

And then there was the paranoia...

...like when he insisted that someone broke into our house while we were sleeping and left termites in our kitchen. How ridiculous, I told him, We have termites because of all of the wood cabinets and paneling in this apartment.

...or when he insisted that the security guards outside of a bank on Manchester Boulevard were actually planning on robbing the bank, and were "casing the joint", as he would tell me. No, I would insist, They're security guards.

Now, that I am divorced and away to look at his behaviour objectively, I know the truth.

He has bipolar disorder. He has massive, angry, delusional mood swings that effect everyone who loves him, and then after deconstructing relationships, falls to the ground exhausted, hurting, and depressed.

The problem with blood is that he inherited this disease. His mother robbed banks, then decided to traffic drugs. She was a sociopath, hellbent on destruction and living on the edge.

And my blood isn't all that pure either: depression, panic disorder, and borderline personalities run through my family as well.

Now, if I can just manage to save my daughter's blood...

Do You Know Anyone Afflicted With A Mental Illness?

Posted by Jaimie :: 12:57 PM :: 14 Peeked Into My Diary:

.:Write In My Diary:.


Monday, August 21, 2006

The Day The World Stopped

It was early in the morning. I had just gotten out of the shower. My phone rang.

"Jaimie, where's David?" It was my then-husband's father.

"In the shower. Why?"

"Jaimie, they just hit the World Trade Center with an airplane."

Here was a man who had no fear.

A man who raised his children in the projects of New York.

A man who used to run a numbers running joint in the back of his liquor store.

A man who sounded terrified.

We hung up the phone.

David got out of the shower. We watched the second plane hit Tower 2 on television, not believing what we were seeing.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" he yelled.

"Come on, we gotta go to work," I told him.

I was 5 months pregnant, and for some unknown reason, I didn't have morning sickness this day.

We got into the car and tuned to the talk radio. And then we heard it.

The buildings fell.

"No!!!" David screamed.

"It's okay," I told him. "We saw the people leaving the building. They probably all got out."

"Impossible," he said. "They're dead. All dead."

When I got to work, we were walking our classes down the hall like zombies. Only half of my class was there that day, and those that were there had a lot of questions.

How do you explain to 5 year olds why thousands of people died right before their eyes?

Where Were You On September 11, 2001?

Posted by Jaimie :: 7:44 PM :: 15 Peeked Into My Diary:

.:Write In My Diary:.


Sunday, August 20, 2006

Her Aversion to Bondage

I don't like to be controlled. In fact, I absolutely hate it.

I had a boyfriend. We'll call him "D" in case he happens to come across this blog, recognizes my writing and my eyes on the top of the page, and sends someone to come beat my ass.

"D" was highly controlling. He liked to call me at 2 in the morning, just to make sure I answered. He always insisted I was flirting with every waiter in LA when we would go out to eat, although I could be asking for something as simple as a refill on my iced tea with a smile on my face.

"D" had a complex relationship with his mother. In fact, his mother was very controlling of him, and he hated her for that.

Because I felt sorry for him and his ego, I let him believe he was controlling me, when in actuality...

...he never really had me.

Why Are Some People So Controlling?

Posted by Jaimie :: 2:23 PM :: 15 Peeked Into My Diary:

.:Write In My Diary:.


Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Peek A Boo, I Know You

It's always been there.

Sometimes I ignore it.

Sometimes I don't.

Once, I went to the horse races with a friend. "Mike says to ask you who's going to win the race," she said.

"Oh really? How would I know?" I answered.

"Mike says he can tell that you just know things like that. So, who's gonna win Jaimie?" She shoved the program at me. I looked at the horses' names.

"This one," I said, pointing to a horse and handing her back the program.

The horse won.

I can pass by a person and know things, without knowing them. I can know if they have done something horrible to someone else...I can know other things too.

Recently, the California Lottery jackpot was over 100 million dollars. I filled out the lotto card and kept seeing the numbers 2 and 8 in my head. I dismissed it quickly. February 8 is my ex-husband's birthday, so I defintely wasn't going to play those numbers. I bubbled in my usual numbers.

Needless to say, I didn't win, but 2 and 8 were part of the winning numbers.


Don't worry...I don't see dead people. Well, okay, maybe one, but he meant well. He floated along, right past my grandmother's bedroom door while we slept. Hi, Granpa.

And my daughter? She likes to tell me things like "The angels gave me the answer, Mommy" and "People are afraid of God because they don't understand him."

Yeah, she's got The Gift too.

Do You Have The Gift?

Posted by Jaimie :: 9:12 AM :: 13 Peeked Into My Diary:

.:Write In My Diary:.


Saturday, August 12, 2006

Experience Preferred

My best friend has a very lucky husband.

By age 28, the age she married, she had only had sex with two other men. He practically married a virgin.

Or is he so lucky?

She and I would have many discussions about sex when we were in high school and college.

"Aren't you curious?" I would ask her.

"Not really," she would answer.

"Have you ever, you know, had an orgasm?"

"I..don't..know..." she stammered.

"Nevermind. If you had, you would know."

Which Is Better From Your Partner: A Little Experience or A Lot of Experience?

Posted by Jaimie :: 9:09 AM :: 17 Peeked Into My Diary:

.:Write In My Diary:.


Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Why Men Cheat

Every man has a repressed, little boy inside of him. A boy who misses his mama's kisses and cooking. A boy who longs to play with GI Joes rather than pay his bills. A little boy who refuses to grow up.

Everyone knows that girls mature faster than boys. Take my daughter for instance: she came home one day and told me that she had a boyfriend and that she loved him very much. When I went to pick up my daughter at preschool, her "boyfriend" seemed confused when I asked him if he was dating my daughter. "No," he said, "But I like Spiderman."

I've come to the conclusion that men are just stretched out boys who still like to play with games and toys. Unfortunately, we often become the toys. And when they become bored with their toys THEY WANT A NEW ONE AND THEY WANT IT NOW!!!!!!!

So, next time your man/boy appears agitated, bored, or withdrawn, buy him an Ipod, digital camera, or video game. He will probably be captivated for months and find a newfound love for you. He might even want to marry you.

And remember...in my opinion, we're the more intelligent gender anyway.

Who Likes A Mama's Boy?

Posted by Jaimie :: 1:58 PM :: 33 Peeked Into My Diary:

.:Write In My Diary:.


Monday, August 07, 2006


I've been stood up. Once. But I deserved it.

There was a young man who I once knew. He was my "temp", my rebound, my transitional man. He actually was quite boring, but nice looking.

He asked me to spend the day with him. I said yes. I was walking out of the door when my ex-boyfriend called.

"Hey," he said.

"What do you want?"

"I'm going to ignore that. Can I see you?" he asked.

"I already have plans. No."

"Come on," he coaxed.

After some pushing and pulling, he convinced me to see him. I waited for him to come pick me up, and we spent the day together.

I never called transitional man to let him know I wouldn't make our date.

Fast forward 6 months...

Ex-boyfriend was gone. It was Saturday night. My phone rang. It was transitional man.

We spoke pleasantly with one another and he told me that he wanted to see me again. He told me to dress up in my best, because he was taking me somewhere really nice.

I did, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He never showed. I called my girlfriend.

She found my plight hilarious and asked, "What'd you do to him?"

Damn...What goes around comes around...


Posted by Jaimie :: 7:51 PM :: 10 Peeked Into My Diary:

.:Write In My Diary:.


Friday, August 04, 2006

She's Come Undone

When I was in college, my best friend was a stripper.

I never visited her in the strip club. I couldn't bring myself to do it. Another friend went to visit her. She told me it was disgusting, nasty, and intriguing.

My friend became a stripper because she got herself into a bit of, er...financial difficulty. Stripping paid off all of her bills and her car. She graduated from UCLA, and got a book deal within a few years of graduation.

I was once desperate too. Bill collectors were calling my apartment. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat.

There was this club I knew about. I walked in. I looked at the girls. I talked to the manager. He started to break down for me how much of a cut "the club got", "the dj got", and how much I would actually take home. Then he asked, "Ready to audition?"

"Audition? Where? Here?"

"No. In the back. For me."

Hell no.

I called my dad the next day. He told me how to handle the bill collectors, mailed me money, and helped my buy a new car.

I could not sell my soul.

How Far Would You Go?

Posted by Jaimie :: 10:37 AM :: 9 Peeked Into My Diary:

.:Write In My Diary:.


Tuesday, August 01, 2006


Living in L.A., you're bound to run into a celebrity or two. Not everyone can say that they have dated them.

All names have been withheld to protect the guilty.

Celebrity #1: I was 17. He was a rapper.

I went to a dance club with some girls who were older than me. I walked away from them for a while, and when I came back he was there talking to my girls. He looked up at me as I was walking towards them.

"Jaimie! Look at this picture that (name withheld) has. It looks just like you!" my girl said.

He held the picture out to me. "She looks nothing like me," I said.

He laughed. "What's your name?" he asked.


"Well, Jaimie, my boys and I are going a hotel after this. Wanna come?"

"No. I'm not that kind of girl."

My friend pulled me to the side, convincing me that it would be okay if we were all there together. As we all walked outside, he pulled me aside as well. "Want to ride in the limo with me?"

"No. I should stay with my friends. We'll follow you there."

And so we did. He and I sat on the back steps of the hotel and talked for a long time. After, he rode the elevator down with us. As I got close to the exit, he called out to me. He wanted to see me again.

I did, for a few months. He bought me clothes and shoes. He introduced me to other famous rappers. Then he told me I was too young for him.

He told me I was just a kid. And I was.

Celebrity #2: I was in college. He was part of an up and coming rap group, who have now sold millions of records world wide.

I was at one of their performances, sitting a few rows behind the stage. His group members were talking to my friends. He and I both held back, observing. Finally, he spoke:

"You look like Sade."

"Nigga, do you know how many times she probably hears that?" his group member said, hitting his arm.

We walked outside and talked. He asked me for my phone number. I gave it to him.

We dated for a few months. He was confusing. He was unsettled. He was focused on his music. I was focused on my college degree. It ended abruptly and without apology.

Celebrity #3: I had already started my teaching career. He is an on-air personality for one of the most popular hip hop and r&b radio stations in Los Angeles.

It was New Year's Eve and I was at a party. When the clock struck midnight, some random guy grabbed me and kissed me. My eyes were open, and when I looked across the floor, a different man was staring at me.

I sat down and he came over to me.

"How are you?" he asked.

"I have a headache. I drank too much. Some guy just kissed me. I don't know."

"I know. I saw that. I felt jealous."

"Jealous? I don't even know you!"

We were together for a year. He was insanely jealous, although I had to deal with women all over him, passing him their phone number, promising him threesomes with their best friend if he would just call.

And he was jealous of me...

Would You Ever Date A Celebrity?

Posted by Jaimie :: 12:31 PM :: 15 Peeked Into My Diary:

.:Write In My Diary:.


© The Diary of Jaimie 2005 - Template by Caz.