Beer and more beer

Hello everyone!

I had too much beer last night. You know those nights when you go out to have a beer with your friends and then all of the sudden it’s 2 in the morning and you already stopped counting after the 5th round?

That was my night. But I was a lady while getting tipsy in this outfit.

saturday night outfit

Am I annoying with these random my life and outfit posts? I decided to make more of these but I do need feedback from you guys regarding this decision, I always want to make your stay here at Luna pleasant!

Anyway, back to the post:

I spent the morning in Stirup because we were brainstorming regarding some future business moves and then my nephew came to stay the night with my mom and me. He is at this cute, little phase of childhood when he drives us crazy sometimes but we are dealing with it.

Me and my friend went out pretty early, around 9, because we had so much to catch up on. I really missed her. We had a bunch of beer, some awkward situations with guys thinking they are good at hitting on girls (we all  have these stories). We had a great time and there was a great girl band playing that night. It was something like an acoustic night at Punkt (the place we went to). We also ate something to soak up the beer a bit:

beer and food

Today I had family over all day. We were at my sister’s house and guys, I am dead. I haven’t slept a lot, I was a bit hungover and I was all over the place today. I think it’s time to embrace my bed and watch an episode of The Umbrella Academy. I just started watching it and I am on the second episode. I really do like the show, did you guys see it (please no spoiler alerts but if it sucks do tell!)

We have our first Coffee date with Luna post up and it’s all about gratitude so make sure to check that out and leave a comment.

Sending love and positive vibes,

Luna

Christmas tree outfit

Hello everyone!

This outfit makes me feel like a Christmas tree and trust me when I say that the feeling is amazing.

Christmas outfit

I came to this really sucky realization that soon I will be back at my job and I am so scared that I won’t have as much time to dedicate to the blog as I’ve had lately. I really love how much we have been engaging here lately, there was a lot of commenting as well. I missed this!

Today I was at my job number two which is the coworking space I work for. We are preparing a small project, I will tell you all about it as soon as it’s done. In the evening I am finally going out with one of my friends which I hadn’t seen since September. So, I haven’t only been neglecting my blog, I have also been neglecting people in my life. I am a wonderful person indeed (read sarcastically)

Tomorrow we have a lot of family coming over and we will be having a big lunch which means that I will be eating too much again. I am just kidding; I was unable to eat much lately because I have gastritis. This sentence made me feel so old and I am only 23.

I am going back to my day now, be sure to let me know what have you been doing lately and what is up with you guys. Also, if you didn’t notice, we have our first Coffee date with Luna post up and it’s all about gratitude so make sure to check that out and leave a comment.

Sending love and positive vibes,

Luna

Merry Christmas

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

I just love the Christmas season, it’s so beautiful and sparkly and warm! This has been by far one of the best Christmas Eve and Christmas Day I had with my family. I did miss the snow, this Christmas has been very warm in Croatia, nothing in comparison to the Christmas when I was a kid but it was still lovely.

On the 23rd my sister came with my baby nephew to our apartment and we decorated the tree here and yesterday on Christmas Eve we were all at my sister’s house and we decorated the tree there. We had dinner there and it was so yummy, my sister is a great cook. Next to the fish and everything she made a great Seafood risotto. I am getting fat people.

Later, around 8 o’clock we went to church to Marija Bistrica, which is a Croatian sanctuary. To be completely honest, I am not a church person, I never go to church but I know how important it is for my mom so I was there. The car ride was great. Me, my mom and my nephew were in the back seat and my nephew was in that car seat for kids. We were like sardines in a can which you can see from the photos below.

Today, my sister, nephew and brother-in-law are here for lunch. That’s pretty much it on these two days in my family. You can also check out the Christmas Eve outfit I wore yesterday.

I think I will be spending the rest of the day watching Home Alone and other Christmas movies.

Sending love and positive vibes,
Luna

#savingme- How Do I Escape?

“Hey, kid! Get me some water!”

A surly, old man shouts from his table. I fill a jug and hurry to serve him before Father gives me the stink eye. I haven’t been performing well lately. Not in school. Not here, in the restaurant. Father owns a small restaurant and earns just enough to provide for the family and to quench his thirst for alcohol. Mom manages the restaurant most of the time because of Father’s incessant hangovers.

Someone shakes my arm and pulls me out of my reverie. Father. He looks at me with eyes full of angst and a wildness that comes from inebriation. I have good reasons to be afraid of him but I try to hide the dread whenever I can. I lower my head and walk to the nearest table, throw away the mushy leftovers from the plates and wipe the table. From table to table, I serve the food and clear the old plates, adding them to the pile I’ll have to wash later. Maybe, Mom will offer to help.

I wish I could get out of here.

I’m cleaning another table when Father calls at the top of his voice,”Patrice, come here!” My pulse quickens and I scurry towards him, legs shaking. What did I do now?

“What. Is. This?” Father asks with an eerie calmness which masks the wrath behind each word. I look up to see what he is pointing at: a greasy table with an oily plate on it and a couple waiting to sit there. I clean the table as swiftly as I can and apologize to the customers for the delay. They sit down, grunting and begin to skim through the menu. My eyes slowly creep up to see my fathers’ and his look of resentment says it all.

He’ll deal with me later. Later when he is drunk and when his anger gets the better of him. He’ll probably hit me and then I’ll cry myself to sleepIt has happened twice this week.

The sun is emitting its last rays and fear grips me as the evening wears on. My hands tremble when I serve the dishes.

I don’t want the day to end. I don’t want the day to end.

Father is nowhere to be seen. He must have gone to the liquor shop nearby. I shudder at the very thought and bury myself with work to prevent my mind from wandering. Mom is preparing the dishes along with Nancy, the other cook. Mom has often tried to stop Father from drinking but that just agitates him more. Mom and Father fight a lot and once, I’d even seen him slap her during an argument. That was the first time I thought about escaping.

Father returns with a bottle of liquor and I gulp involuntarily as my heart starts racing. I serve the dish to the last customer in the restaurant, hands trembling. I accidentally drop ketchup on him and a deep red botch covers his shirt. Fury takes over the customer and he yells profanities at me. To him, I’m just a stupid clumsy kid who can’t get a job done right. And maybe, I am. Father glowers at me and apologizes to the customer for my impertinent behavior.

As soon as the customer leaves, Father clasps my wrist and drags me to our house adjacent to the restaurant. Mom hurries behind us, begging him to stop and calm down.

“Unlock the damn door!” He growls at her. Mom wails as she opens the door, pleading him to be calm.

Once we’re inside, he pushes me forward, takes a swig from the bottle and slams it on the table. Mom pulls me aside by her hand protectively. With clammy hands and tears sluicing down her cheeks, she weeps uncontrollably. Father yanks me away from her and my only protection is gone. I feel…vulnerable. I don’t want to cry myself to sleep.

He shouts incoherently, “What was that, Patrice?!” I stand speechless, motionless.

The couple could have chosen another table. I want to say it. But I can’t.

Coward.

“What the hell was that, you stupidgirl?!”

I try hard to stop the tears from falling. I fail. I know what awaits me and I brace myself before it comes. He raises his hand and strikes my face.

A moment. Just a moment of intense, physical pain and a lifetime of haunting nightmares. A lifetime of suppressing the hurt and distress. Excruciating pain and fierce revulsion boils inside me. Blood rushes to my cheeks and tears obscure my vision, blocking my throat and wetting my face. Mom’s shrieks fill the silence and I just can’t lower my head anymore. I raise my head and glare right into his malicious eyes.

Father slaps me hard again and I fall to my knees, dark strands covering my face. I let out ugly sobs and look around wildly for the door. What am I thinking? I can’t run from home! Can I? How much of a coward can I be?

I try so hard to compose myself, setting my jaw and clenching my fists and I raise my face to look at him. He is about to hit me again when Mom stops him. He yells at her loudly but fatigue washes over me and I can’t hear a word he says. My abdomens feel hollow and my chest has become a tight burden. The tears block my eyes and the last thing I see before passing out is Father raising his hand again. But I don’t feel the strike. All I feel is the need to escape.


Hey guys!

My name is Rashi Singh and I love writing fiction. This is my site and I’d appreciate if you check it out.

https://fictivefinesseff.wordpress.com/

In many households, violence is a method of “teaching” and by teaching, I mean hitting them just because they don’t follow something or enforcing them to do things that they’d rather not do.

Please note that this piece is my story but expressed as fiction.

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#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to savingmestory@gmail.com and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 

Poem #231

The road is dark, the steps are heavy.
With each breath you gain more understanding
for his actions, for his addictions.
You look in the mirror and the reflection smiles
saying that you look just like your father.
Every lunatic needs his doomed heir.

#savingme – Hammer to the knee

Hammer to the knee. I guess it’s the best descriptive title I can use to relate the two. One day hard to actually remember if it was spring or summer. I do remember being in shorts and a tee shirt. Living in NYC it’s either Spring or Summer if I am wearing shorts. Fall was too cold and obviously, winter does not call for shorts.  It was definitely daylight outside and I had not gone out so still late morning, not before noon that’s for sure. I remember walking into the kitchen from what seems to be the front door area, which also happens to be by the coat closet where I usually place my shoes. Before this, I do not remember much. Where was I coming from?. Either the living room or maybe I had just returned from taking out our day before trash.

None the less, I walked into the biggest surprise in my life. My moms. She was frantic. Angry wasn’t even close to how she was expressing her emotions right then and there. Before I can even muster a word, a screaming question of how could you? came bellowing out of her esophagus. What are you a monster? was the next overly loud question. Who the fuck do you think you are?. How could you?. These very questions seem to fuel a rage that presented itself in the thickest of air imaginable. You can seriously feel the static, ambient, energy flowing in the air.
I still had not managed to get a single word out. Before I could even gasp those questions would stop me from interjecting. When I did finally ask, What are you talking about? My mother lost it. She reached over to the broomstick and begun swinging at me in full force. I was just about thirteen years young and was a few inches taller than my mom already. She was four feet eleven inches tall. During her baseball tryouts as I call it now, She went for the home run swing and for some very stupid maybe even macho, borderline egotistical, reason I defended myself by raising my arm, to block the broomstick, from hitting me yet again.
What a mistake that was. Mother went ballistic. SHe looked around the kitchen super fast, with peering eyes. She found yet something else. The Mop. It wasn’t a wood handle. No. This was the aluminum type. The very type of instrument she needed. You see as she regained her desire to beat the living shit out of me she went for the op handle. Again the rage went on and it was now a metal pipe that hits me a few times over.
Much to my Mother’s surprise this time I stand there and allow her to release all she has and I’ll just take it. She wailed at me again and again, until the mop handle bent during impact across my arm. Oh Boy! that just turned a campfire into a burning pile of logs at the beach. My mother immediately looked at her broken weapon and this time it seemed as if she was bewildered.
I, of course, am rubbing my arms, trying to reach my back for sensitivity levels and in hopes to rub the pain.
Get out, is the next set of words that leave my Mother’s scorching mouth. I try and ask what is wrong? what did I do? and again those words. Get out screaming get the fuck out. She starts reaching again. This time for what looks like the utility draw we keep in the kitchen. Yep! that was it. She opens the drawer and reaches in, as her arm is now sliding out I can see she had a firm hold of the hammer, in her hand. Get the fuck out you monster. And she swings it right to my head.
Her arm goes in full motion behind her back and up toward the ceiling. The hammer is now fully extending her arm and coming down right at me. Only move to make is one very quick motion to fall backward. I make the attempt to jump back. My feet lift, off the floor. My head and upper body start to tilt back and I am going in a backward falling motion. My left knee decided it wanted to race the right knee so, up higher in the air it is over the right knee, that it feels the impact of a cold steel hammer come pounding down on it.
The most amount of pain in the shortest amount of time was going through my head. I was down. In the fetus position, holding my left knee for dear life. At least that is what it felt like. It wasn’t then and there that I came to find out what I had done so horribly wrong that I deserved such brutal actions toward me. It wasn’t even me. In all my years I never once treated a female any less of a Lady. Never once. Not even my sisters. Not any of them not any one of them.
Thank you, my uncle, for assuring me with your actions, that I will never bring harm to a Woman.

You’ll get to know me more.  Chino61.

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#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to savingmestory@gmail.com and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 

Poem #219

He wasn’t backed against one wall
but against four because they were
closing in on him. Those hands that
were strong enough to beat his children
aren’t strong enough to keep the curtain up,
to continue the charade.
The bruises and the wounds are being exposed,
his time is up, the silence came to an end.
by: Luna

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#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to savingmestory@gmail.com and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here.