10 for 10

I am ready to start anew. I did A LOT of growing up in 2009, I learned a lot about myself and I learned a lot about other people. It would be almost untrue if I said that 2009 was a bad year all around, but in actuality it did suck.

I loved.

I lost.

I cried.

I gained.

I had fun.

I drank green tea.

I got painted.

I dated.

I yoga'd.

I wrote.

I spent.

And I tried.


I am a huge advocate for doing what you say. For the new decade I will steal Nike's slogan and "Just Do It!" because odds are, I will regret it if I don't do it. So, lo and behold the great 10 of 2010-in no particular order:

1. Become a size 4. And stay a size 4.
2. Learn my native tongue. Spanish.
3. Read books. For a writer, I need to read more to expand my thoughts, ideas and vocab.
4. Take ballet. Flexibility, grace, elegance and a workout.
5. Continue playing soccer. I proved to myself I can get back in the game.
6. Drink the proposed amount of water daily. Good for skin, internal system and thirst.
7. Recycle. It's just good for the environment.
8. Smell the roses. Taking time, slowing down and just being.
9. Save moola. 10% of every pay check is going into a savings account. Credit cards will be emergencies only (new shoes count :))
10. Stick to a diet plan of healthy eating. Weight Watchers is first.

One more for good luck: Blog more. Besides actual therapy, this blog has proven to be an outlet for me and it feels good.

Cheers to a happy and healthy one!

Retraction: Best Birthday Ever!

On December 25, 2009 I became a believer. I became a believer in people- not Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy, but of the good in people. And I believe that I have the most amazing friends on the face of this earth.

You may remember a little blog I wrote about how much I hate the Holidays. I still hate the Holidays and I am contemplating converting to Judaism.

My birthday, this year, was splendid. I did exactly what I wanted to do and loved every minute of it. So, in essence, I stuck my foot in my mouth the minute I opened up my birthday gift from the BF.

It was a big box, full of paper, one piece with a special message that would unlock the password to bring someone to me.

Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer

My boyfriend, my girlfriend and Miller all devised a plan to bring my wife home to me from the sunny state of Florida.

Wife.

I get to be with all of the people I love on the eve of a New Year and I get the chance to start off a new decade on the right foot. The one NOT inserted in my mouth.

**************************

Oh, I will also be on a sandy beach for my one year anniversary.

Here.

<3

Alien Abduction

There are many things, in life, that are sacred. A woman's alone time in the bathroom "putting her face on," is one of them. We all have customized rituals, specific products and do-hickies that we use, as well as actions that shouldn't be witnessed by the opposite sex. Most of the male population fail to understand the importance of our alone time in the bathroom. Unfortunately, for most of us gals, it takes more than a shower and a shave to get ready for the day.

This morning, I shared my morning routine with my boyfriend of 8 months. He was brushing his teeth as I applied blush to the apples of my cheeks. He turned away to wipe his face of the toothpaste-using a towel hanging on the back of the door. He turned back and...

Him: "Aaahhhh!"

Me: "What?"

Him: "What are you doing to your eye??"

Me: "I'm curling my eyelashes!"

Him: "Aaahhh!"

I laugh. An eyelash curler is a scary thing, to anyone who doesn't know how it works or what it is.

After a confusing, disturbed stare I broke the silence.

Me: "I love you."

Him: "I love you too...alien."

Guest Post: Anonymous Adulterer

*Let's face it - no one over the age of 14 has watched MTV in years. It should change its name to NMTV (No Music TV) and/or be sued for false advertising. Admittedly, they sometimes put out some true gems such as their recent Jersey Shore and one of my personal favorites, Tough Love. I haven't quite figured out if it's because it's host, Steven Ward is ridiculously good-looking or if it's because I feel as if I belonged on there, but I digress.

Tough Love is a show about relationship-challenged women who face Steven and his mother, professional match-makers, and learn how to be more open physically and emotionally to create successful relationships. On the most recent episode, they had a challenge where one of their most deep secrets were revealed in front of a jury of men and after they were bombarded with questions, the jury would either deem them "dateable" or "undateable." One woman's secret was that she had an affair with a married man. She knew he was married well before the affair started and she let it go on for over a year.

She went on to express how she felt a lot of remorse and how she'd never do it again. After all was said and done, the jury showed mercy and labeled her "dateable" solely because she was honest, regretful and mature. It was at this time that I, myself, let out a huge sigh of relief because years ago, I did the same thing.

Some of the details of it all are a bit fuzzy, and not because it happened "so long ago," but moreso because of the sheer shame of it all; I'd like to think I subconsciously pushed it aside. The part that I remember most of the "affair" was the day the line was crossed. I was single and 22 years old while he was married with a family at 34. I often wondered who was more at fault, he or I, or was the blame to be shared equally?

I would quietly critique his every move. Work, home. Work, my house, home. Work, home, etc. He was cautious, but not that cautious. If he was with coworkers and saw me in the grocery store, he'd pretend he didn't know me, but if I was walking him out of my apartment, he would kiss me outside by his car. Not the brightest of crayons in the box. I was very confused about my feelings for him. How could he be so passionate with someone other than the person he exchanged vows with? Part of me resented him for what he was doing to his family. Part of me thought that aside from this, he was a great person. He'd help anyone that needed it - lord knows he was a good friend to me both before and after.

I can't really explain why, but one day it all became so clear: I wasn't gaining anything out of it. I didn't want a relationship with the guy (who wasn't going to leave his family anyway), I could get a booty-call from anyone, anywhere, and do I really want this on my conscience? I'm not a religious girl, but I do believe in karma. At the end of the day, I know I wasn't the first girl he cheated with and I know I wasn't going to be the last. One thing I was going to make for certain - when he got caught, it wasn't going to be with me.

Here we are, almost 4 years later and I'd like to think I've repented! I wouldn't want my husband to cheat on me, so I won't be helping a husband cheat. I also think that it's the eureka moment I had that one day which makes me once again "dateable" just as it had that contestant on Tough Love.

People make mistakes. Some live, learn and grow (me), and others don't (him). We'll see who falls first.

*This post was written by an Anonymous 20-something woman who is "dateable."

Road to Nowhere

I've never been much of a runner.  I think I'm pretty fast if I have to be, but I was told by my doctor to never run track.  As of lately I've had the feeling I've been running in place.  Running and running and running and going nowhere...fast. 

It's not quite clear when I lost my footing, I always remember being a bit confused about life.  When I was younger, the world seemed so much easier-easier to navigate and easier to deal with.  My path was so clear about 5 years ago and there was no doubt in my mind that I would find the end.  The end all be all of happiness. 

Like I said, I can't tell you when it changed.  I used to be confident.  I used to kick ass and take names.  I was fearless.  Or naive, whichever. 

I'm stubbornly ambitious, strong minded and strong willed.  Although lately, I feel defeated.  I feel stuck.  And I feel like I can't get off this treadmill.  It seems that the happiness in my life can never coincide. 

Personal > Professional

For once in my life, I don't know what I want.  For once in my life, my creative juices have stopped flowing.  I feel bottled up and I'm suffocating.  And all I want to do is scream and cry.  I've always been that girl to want it all.  I do want it all.  I want it all, with happiness.  Content-ness.  Content with my life choices and content that I made the right ones. 

My road to nowhere is taking me around in circles.  Spinning me into obilvion, and I can't see what's going on around me. 

"It might be a quarter life crisis
or just the stirring in my soul

Either way, I wonder sometimes
about the outcome
of a still verdictless life

Am I living it right?
Am I living it right?
Am I living it right?
Why, why Georgia, why?"

Everything happens for a reason.

I'm running this race of life.  And I'm dead last.

Flash of Brilliance

For my girls:

"I guess the thing is to not expect perfection in a relationship, but know enough that you know when you're settling and deserve better."-A.M.

A lil Holiday Chipmunk Cheer

Enjoy!

There's Something...About Christ-mas

It's the most depressing time of the year. I'm sure somewhere there's a study about the amount of suicides committed during the Holidays. I, personally, hate Christmas and everything it stands for.

I should also state, that December 25th is my date of birth.

Every year since 1983 I have had to share the spotlight with Jesus and the jolly fat guy. I've had many people attest to the "coolness" of having my birthday on Christmas but no one really knows what it's like.

It sucks big Christmas balls.

Everyone and their Mom receives gifts (depending on when Hanukkah lies, sorry Rag) on my birthday and I am continually forced to rearrange my day or not spend time with the ones I want to spend time with because they are with their own respective families. All I wanted this year was to be on a warm, sunny beach with myself. No one else.

I'm tired of the hype, the gift giving, the Ho Ho Ho's, the seasons greetings and the nonchalant-ness of the commercialization of the Holiday. I'm just plain tired of not getting my way. There I said it, I'm a brat. I want nothing to do with anyone associated with Christmas. It's the crappiest time of the year.

Often, when someone asks to see a form of identification, they will notice my D.O.B. and say:

"OH! You're a Christmas baby! That's so cool! Do you get double the presents?" "Actually, no, but everyone else does!"

She looks disappointed. And I smile like a smart ass.

My birthday is not special. Yeah it's cool that I share my birthday with Jesus, but seriously, where is the Christ in Christmas? It's all about good ol' Saint Nick-him and his dumb reindeer ruin everything.

See. While most people have a birthday like, March 1st or August 11th or even October 15th it's a day all its own. Its a day you get to look forward to, a day that you and ONLY you get presents from loved ones and get to go get drunk with your friends. When the Christmakkauh season approaches you, again, have something to look forward to. A day of presents, family and joy. Me? It's all in one fucking day. My birthday is shared with everyone else receiving gifts they asked Santa for and I in turn also have to give gifts on my birthday.

Again, I'm a brat.

When I was younger my older cousin, also a brat, didn't understand why I received extra presents on Christmas. She couldn't grasp that Christmas was in fact my birthday. She then would run to the well-lit tree and begin to open my gifts. This occurred on my 4th birthday, and it's documented on video. It kept occurring year after year, until I "didn't celebrate" my birthday on my birthday. I would open my birthday gifts on Christmas Eve so as to not upset my incoherent, incompetent family member.

Am I traumatized? Hells to the yeah. I hate a big hoopla. I hate when non-family members feel obligated to have a birthday cake for me at their house where I am spending Christmas. I hate that I have to choose which family to appease and which family to disappoint on my day of birth. And I hate that no one is around.

On my 21st birthday, I sat alone in my bedroom. Crying. I should have been at a bar, barely able to hold myself up. Instead, the bars close on December 25th.

This year, all I ask of the dude with the white beard and red suit: World Peace and a new birthday.

'Tis the season!

Blue Skies

I stare into
the distance there is
no truth in sight
who can tell me why

everybody's looking for a blue sky
searching for an answer on a satellite
I know there's got to be a blue sky out there to see
A blue sky waiting for me

Tortoise and the Hare

Slow and steady wins the race.

Mary and Paul were two young adults. They met in a record store in 1977. She was a model. He was a photographer. It was a match made in post psychedelic bliss. They married 9 months later. And after 14 years of marriage, two kids and a house in suburbia they divorced.

The ramifications of their quick decision to love wouldn't come to fruition until their children were much older and more screwed up than you can imagine.

Are their really ramifications from love?

Many know the fable the Tortoise and the Hare, the story concerns a hare who ridicules a slow-moving tortoise for being...well, slow. In response, the tortoise challenges his swift mocker to a race. The hare soon leaves the tortoise in the dust, confident of winning, he then decides to take a nap midway through the course. When he awakes, he finds that his competitor the slow guy who crawled, slowly but steadily, has already won the race.

Anyone would have bet money on the hare to win that race, so why don't people gamble with a fast moving relationship. When you know, you know...right?

Paul and Mary thought they knew. And to this day are forced to keep in contact with each other, mainly for their children's sake. By rushing into love, they weren't completely sure of what the others intentions were. Paul didn't want kids. Mary did. Had she known this little detail, would she have gone through with the marriage? Or was she too blinded by love?

Two friends of mine, in the past few months have met "the one" and have decided to get married after only knowing each other for approximately 4 months. Both are engaged. Both are extremely intelligent. Both are dealing with long distance. Both are insanely happy.

Truth be told, there are many naysayers toward both relationships for very different reasons. Details which will not be disclosed here. Is it that they can't believe in love? Or the timing of it all? And is it really love or just lust? That can't eat, can't sleep, reach for the stars, winning the world series kind of stuff. And who are we to judge?

Is there really a protocol for being in love? Must you wait a year to move in with a significant other? Must you date for 4 months then contemplate getting married? Do you tell your girlfriend that you love her at a baseball game? *wink*

The answer to all of those questions is a big, fat...NO/YES! Because it doesn't matter. All that matters is what you are feeling at that moment, in time. You're ready. You're practicing your swing, knocking the dirt from your cleats, firmly planting them into the ground but not before writing an "A" in with the tip of your bat for luck, there's the pitch, SMACK, it's high, it's gone. Over the left field wall. A walk off home run.

You can feel it in your bones when you're ready. When you're ready for marriage, when you're ready to swing for the fences, when you're ready to move in, when you're ready to win the race and when you're ready to date again. It's not about timing. It's just about the right person.

The tale of the tortoise and the hare is not exactly a love story, but more of a lesson. A lesson that we shouldn't take a nap in the middle of a race, even if it's supposed to be a sure thing.

Sure, slow and steady wins the race...but a heart doesn't know when not to love.

Happy Anniversary

One year ago this month it was over. It was all freeing and crushing at the same time. It was one year ago that I put one foot in front of the other and walked out of the door and made a run for a life of my own. A life that I would determine and a life that would be amazing.

So, there I was...24, almost 25, ready to have a bangin' career, lovely friends and the occasional date here and there. The world was my oyster. But like Sandra Bullock so eloquently states in While You Were Sleeping...life doesn't always turn out the way you plan. Which, sometimes, can be a good thing. Not so much for an impatient woman like myself.

This past year, I learned a lot about myself.

I learned that I am a lot stronger than I give myself credit for.

I know how to have a good time.

In Un-Happier Times

I miss this ball of fur and drool.


He would ALWAYS lick my face. Puppy facials.

Puppy Love

There's a scene in Marley & Me that signifies the special intuition and bond an owner and a dog have.  Jen Aniston's character just found out she lost her baby.  They, her and Owen Wilson character, arrive home from the doctor to find Marley.  Owen leaves the room and comes back shortly after to find Jen sitting on the couch.  Marley's head is in her lap and he's sitting there, comforting her.  She leans down, sobbing, petting and hugging him. 

The unconditional love of a dog is a love uncomparable to that of the love between human beings.  They don't talk back (OK, they may bark...), they are always happy to see you and they are content with your company lying on the couch, playing catch or just watching you write a blog on your laptop. 

I find myself very lonely at times, missing the unconditional love I once had.  I find myself almost in tears when I see dogs on television, on the street or in a magazine or newspaper.  I miss my little buddy.  My companion when I had no one else to confide in, no one else to kiss or hug, and no one else to just cuddle with after a hard day. 

You may be wondering what happened, and why I no longer have "my" dog.  My ex (aka Douchebag) bought him, trained him and reared him.  I simply just loved him, and took care of him as part of my responsibilities whilst living with Douchebag.  We would take our morning walk, flying down the stairs and onto the puppy sidewalk, chasing the stray cats into the bushes and watching the cars pass by on their daily commute.  We would eat breakfast together, I'd head into the bathroom to begin my morning routine and he would lay in the doorway as my body guard.  I'd trip over him daily, not learning that he would always take a mid-morning snooze at the threshold.

Nevertheless, when Douchebag and I parted ways, I begged for partial custody but had no means of taking him to court, since in fact, legally, he was his dog.  I was allowed visitation rights whenever I wanted to make the treck up to see him, but it would always end up in a fight and eventually I realized in order to move on from that aspect of my life, I had to give up my Puppy Love.  The only man that could make me feel like a million bucks when I was in tears and the only man that understood exactly what I was feeling and thinking every time I looked in his eyes. 

He was my protector.  He was my little boy.  

In essence, I lost part of my family the day I moved out.  I was more torn about leaving my puppy and thinking that he would think that my absence was his fault.  I tried to best explain to him that Daddy and I didn't love each other anymore and that I would try my hardest to see him all the time if Daddy would allow it.

I had contemplated many scenarios of dognapping in my head and even devised a plan with my hair stylist, but nothing ever came to fruition.  Nor would I have even tried, I'm not THAT crazy.

I miss him.

I miss his cold nose on my hand in the morning.  I miss his frustrated sighs when he was trying to get my attention.  I miss him sticking his head in my laundry and stealing my underwear and bras.  I miss him laying on my pillow after I got up from the bed.  I miss him leaning on the back of my legs when I cooked dinner.  I miss the look of innocence when he would rip apart a toy within 5 minutes of having it.  I miss him tilting his head to listen to me.  I miss him barking at Douchebag for yelling at me.  I miss him thinking he's a bird and trying to catch up with them as they flew (usually dragging me at the other end).  I miss him sneezing all over my car window after I JUST washed it.  I miss him thinking he is a lot smaller than 100lbs and trying to squeeze through small places and trying to curl up on my lap.  I miss him running to the door and trying to stop but instead would fly right into the unsuspecting victim.  I miss him holding down my feet when I would do sit-ups.  I miss his head in my lap when I would drive him "home."

I originally saw Marley & Me, ironically on a plane to Vegas, to begin my "Girls Only" vacation.  The trip I booked to celebrate my singlehood and to forget about Douchebag and the puppy I wasn't allowed to see.  I was trying very hard not to watch, since, well, I knew what was going to happen.  I was not prepared to cry on an airplane full of strangers and there was no way I was going to put a damper on the first 6 hours of my vacation.  But, I couldn't resist Marley's cute face and the way he reminded me so much of my puppy.  I was sucked in.  The scene with Jen Aniston with Marley's head in her lap completely emcompasses and describes Puppy Love.

John Grogan: A dog has no use for fancy cars, big homes, or designer clothes. A water log stick will do just fine. A dog doesn't care if your rich or poor, clever or dull, smart or dumb. Give him your heart and he'll give you his. How many people can you say that about? How many people can make you feel rare and pure and special? How many people can make you feel extraordinary? 

 

Creature Feature

A guest post on life affected by love (all kinds) by Tim.

---

I am deaf. I am smiling. I am myself, for the first time in years.

We’re programmed to believe that this chance to be alive and breathing is meant to be something “larger” and “more important.” Bank accounts, mortgages, flat screens. I love possessions, but I am not possessed by them. I am possessed by the sound of a new song, the hair of a beautiful woman, the way her skin looks in the morning sun, the change in her breathing as she wakes up. The fact that some of them just simply feel like home.

I can pick an endless numbers of days this year that have changed me, but some are far more special than others. I’ve played music since I was three years old, and it has never been as vital as I feel it is right now. I’ve fallen in love many times, and that gorgeous, confusing dance is as vital as it has ever been. Music and the love of my family and friends are the only things I want to surround myself with until the day I die. I consider myself to be the luckiest man-boy on the planet.

I have played music, fallen in love, and shared laughter with some of the most beautiful creatures on this planet. Each one of them has made my heart as gracious as it is today. Days away I still feel every beat; every note makes my heart want to explode. Every memory of a kiss feels as it did when it was changing me the first time. I am alive. The wrinkles forming under my eyes are mostly there because of smiles, which makes me feel even more grateful.

Months ago I thought I was dead. My life came crashing down in front of me. A time consisting of layers of pain, exhaustion, and mind-bending agony that I will never be able to adequately quantify. (Can you ever?) Denial is a strong thing, and it ruined me for a long time. The music I made was good, but lacked passion. The love I try to show to everyone in my life felt unrequited with the one person who I thought was my world. She was. Always will be a part of me. However, I need more. I need someone to feel it. I want everyone around me to be their beautiful selves and let loose with whatever is in their soul. (That’s why she ended it. She is who she is and I want her to fly and be the amazing spirit that she is.)

When I look back on my life there are glimpses of special moments which capture all the pain and how it somehow coalesced into something life-altering. Sad to say, we are all damaged, but that’s the beauty of it all. We are all one, it just takes a second to realize that some folks get it and some don’t.

As for today I will play music with three of my best friends. I will think of the amazing women I have had the pleasure of knowing, and wish that all of them could hug me all at once. Inspiration comes from every corner of your being…just look harder.

A Dream Within a Dream

There was a time, not long ago when I never thought I was going to wake up from my nightmare. I was lost, broken and alone. I spent the last half of a decade as a part of a lie, losing myself and my mind slowly. I saw a relationship die right before my eyes a long and painful death. It was time to take off the life support.

That was almost a year ago. I can't believe that it's been almost a year since I felt something so heart wrenching that I blamed myself for everything wrong in my life. He blamed me for everything and I accepted. Except I did something that he didn't expect...I changed.

I don't consider myself a psychic by any means, nor do I believe the impostors out there, I do have this sick intuition that shakes me from time to time and I find that I am drawn to others who share the same feelings. I also have vivid dreams, dreams that, if interpreted correctly, have substantial meanings and impeccable foreshadowing.

A few days ago, I had a dream that *Bob died. I found myself at his funeral looking over his casket. He looked older. I searched around for the family and friends that I had grown to be friendly with after over half a decade together and noticed that none of them were particularly sad. His sister was in a red dress (a la Scarlett in "How to Deal") and I couldn't locate his biological mother.

I knelt next to *Bob's casket. I was upset of course. Upset that I couldn't save anyone but myself. And I did. I took his hand and I swore that he moved a bit, and I thought to myself: "You f*cker."

The next thing I knew I was jarred awake from my alarm clock, bewildered as to what just took place in my subconscious. I wasn't sure how to feel, or if I should call him to see if he is indeed alive. I contemplated and replayed the dream in my head several times trying to figure out what I felt. Then I realized I felt nothing.

" To dream that you are at somebody else's funeral, signifies that you are burying an old relationship and closing the lid on the past. You may be letting go some of the feelings (resentment, anger, hostility toward someone) that you've been clinging onto."

(via)

My subconcious was telling me something that I wasn't aware of. I knew I was OK, and that I am sublimely happy in my current relationship, but I didn't think that I would actually bury *Bob, in a dream no less. I do know that I no longer have any urge to speak with him or see him ever again. Unless it's to give me my dog back, but that's a whole other blog.

The feeling I was searching for and have longed for was freedom. I finally feel free of his restraints, I feel free from guilt and I feel free from myself. I feel that anything is possible and the glass is finally half full. I feel that you can fall in love with your best friend and live happily ever after in a great partnership with the utmost respect and support. Relationships take work, and someone didn't want to put in his time.

I can't quite remember the ending of the dream, if there even was one, but there was a lesson and a hidden message I'm sure of it. What that truly is, is up for interpretation.

But it is nice to feel, finally free.

*name has been changed to protect the douche bag.

Me to a "T"

The Capricorn personality is very grounded in reality; it's the rock that everyone else loves to lean on. For the most part, Capricorns are quietly strong-willed and self-assured. They truly know who they are, so they are comfortable in any social situation they choose to participate in. Although Caps sometimes have a reputation as being a bit stodgy, they often astound their companions with their sharp and sudden wit.



(via)

The Way You Love Me

When I first heard this song by Faith Hill, I hated it. It was simple, and if I had a record company backing me then I could write something like this too etc...

When I started dating my boyfriend, I out of the blue, started humming this song and constantly singing it in my head. Almost kicking myself for liking it all of a sudden.

He took me to see Taylor Swift in concert in Nashville and it was one of the best nights I've had in a long time. She's an amazingly talented artist and is so real that you just want to be her best friend. OK, OK, I want to be her best friend. Anyway, there was a buzz going around that there would be a surprise guest appearance, I guessed it would be Tim McGraw who would help sing his namesake. It was actually, Faith Hill. She walked out and started singing "The Way You Love Me." Ironic? Totally. But also, awesome.

The fact that my boyfriend and I were there when she was singing that song, I feel was more than a coincidence.

So, please enjoy the video. It's a tad shaky but gets the point across.

Big Girls Don't Cry

Joey: Rach, you gotta find out if he's in the same place you are. Otherwise, it's just a moo point.
Rachel: A moo point?
Joey: Yeah. It's like a cow's opinion. It just doesn't matter. It's moo.
Rachel: Have I been living with him too long or did that all just make sense?

Honestly, it makes perfect sense. A few wise people have said to me, "you are right where you are supposed to be." And where I am supposed to be could be anywhere. Just as long and I'm smiling. Because I love smiling. Smiling means I'm happy.

I've been told that I wear my emotions on my face (as opposed to the proverbial sleeve). At any given time, you will see me smiling. A "hello" smile, an "I love you" smile, an "I've just blocked Michael's bedroom door with the shopvac" smile and the "my boyfriend is amazing" smile. Very rarely can someone rattle my cage, but it does happen on occasion. Those bastards. I am only human.

Normally, I am a very private person. I tell my deepest, darkest secrets to the people I love and trust the most. I have a very small group of friends that I tell everything to and few who I look to always for support and a shoulder to cry on. They love me for who I am, and shouldn't expect me to change with the seasons. I've been taking care of myself since I was 16 and I don't expect anyone to baby me (my Mom is an exception). Therefore, if there is something you have to say to me, tell me. I can handle it, I'm a big girl. I also will only rarely ask you for your opinion. I prefer to fight my own battles.

The only thing in life that I can't handle is motion sickness. Everything else, bring it on!

I've been questioning motives lately. Why do people do certain things that they do and say things that they say. No particular reason, I guess. But there is one thing that I always ask of people, and that's to be honest. I'm not a person who will tell you you're shoes are cute if I think they're ugly. I don't make passive-aggressive remarks to make you question what it is I'm really saying to you and I'm respectful. I shut my mouth so I don't insert my foot and I will be damned if someone calls me a hypocrite. No one should be faulted for being happy. No one.

When I was in the first grade, my teacher asked us all what we wanted to be when we grew up. The kids in class said the usual, Fireman, Doctor, Marine Biologist (yeah, really) and I said I wanted to be a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. I was a ballerina then and I thought I was destined for the spotlight. I also had a boyfriend named Andrew. We were 6 years old and he was such a babe! We dated exclusively for about a week and then he moved on to my friend Vanessa. I don't remember crying or not liking Vanessa, maybe I didn't share my snack with her or something, but the scenario was anything but detrimental.

Things have changed, I no longer root for the Cowboys (GIANTS baby!), I'm no longer in the first grade and I no longer date Andrew. I have feelings, strong feelings and they tend to get hurt from time to time. I can't pinpoint when, but I started taking life a lot more seriously when I got older. And I also look at friendships differently than just sharing Dunk-a-roo's at snack time.

For the most part, I can make decisions on my own. I like to think of myself as a smart, independent woman. It was recently that I asked far too many people what they thought of my current situation, and I got nowhere. No one could tell me how I felt and no one could tell me how to react. I couldn't sort out my feelings because everyone else was telling me how to feel or what to do. Then I realized that I'm a quarter of a century old and I don't need anyone telling me how to feel or what to do. Simple, huh?

No comments from the peanut gallery, please.

I'll deal with whatever cards I'm dealt in the best way I see fit. I have no apologies for who I am, because no one should apologize for who they are. I like to surround myself with positive, eccentric individuals who give a damn about other people and march to the beat of their own drummer. No one to hold their hand when the going gets rough. We'll be fine. No tissues necessary.

Moo.
(via)

Emotionally Spent

It's a known fact amongst us ladies that shopping cures the blues. Preferably, shoe shopping since we're always the same size (catch my drift?).

I find an excuse to shop for almost every occasion, for multiple people but mainly for myself. It rained today. Oh! I could use a new umbrella!

On the surface, there doesn't seem to be much of a thought process. In reality, the items purchased on said rainy day are making up for a lack of dealing with the rainy day issue. Sure buying the umbrella will keep me dry (and also stylish) but in essence, it's also shielding me from the issue: ie. the rain.

If I'm not making much sense here, its because its not meant to be justified. We shop when we're upset. End of story.

I was in Grand Central one Saturday morning, cranky because I hadn't eaten, so I bought myself a wheat bagel toasted with butter. Or so I thought. I finally found a seat on the bench when, to my chagrin, I opened the wax paper to find a plain bagel with cream cheese. No matter. I was starving. I took a bite of the bagel-I-didn't-order and then felt a tap on the shoulder. I was startled, I jumped and the bagel-I-didn't-order fell onto the gross NYC train station floor. Turns out it was an elderly woman looking for a seat, I politely made room for her and her friend and cleaned up my bagel. After throwing it in the trash I almost started to cry. For two reasons: for getting the wrong bagel and then not being able to eat it.

I took the shuttle to Times Square and walked to Macy's Herald Square. It was in a matter of 5 hours that I spent close to $1,000. All because I couldn't eat my bagel. Sure it would have been cheaper to buy another bagel, it was the principle of the matter. Could there have been an underlying reason as to why I spent so much money on clothes I didn't need that is more justifiable than me dropping my bagel in Grand Central? Sure, but do you really need one?

Emotional shopping aka Retail Therapy takes its toll on my credit cards and my bank account, but at the end of the day, I'm usually happy with my purchases (after I get yelled at by my boyfriend and my Mom). And in a situation that is less than stellar, its nice to know that there's something out there that will always cheer me up...just maybe not $1,000 worth.

Phoebe: Do you feel any better?

Rachel: Manhattan doesn't have enough stores.

My retail therapy? A pair of UGG Austrailia "Bailey" Button Sheepskin Boots for $150 at Lord & Taylor. A gift from my Mom so I will stop complaining to her to turn the heat on. A gift to myself for a not so stellar situation I'm currently in.

Hey, at least I didn't spend a grand.

Spinning My Wheels

My relationship with my gym is fickle. I enjoy the end results of working out, but rarely find the motivation to just get up and go. One of the things I love most is variety, especially taking the aerobic classes. My favorite is the Spin class. It's a great class for a cardio workout if you're like me and can't stand running on a treadmill. Spinning burns TONS of calories and by changing resistance, it's a great quad and butt work out too.

It had been awhile since I set foot in an aerobic class, let alone in the "Mom & Pop" gym in my lovely small town (where I actually worked during college). Many of the employees from my tenure are still working there, which is comforting to have some familiar faces, but also kind of damning to my ego since I'm still in said small town.

One Wednesday when I worked up the guts to try out the Spin class again, I rushed out of work at exactly 5pm to make it to the 5:15 class. I parked my car in my old "spot" and rushed in to change in the locker room. I saw a familiar face, Kira, whom I've known for a long time; we made small talk as we both made our way into the classroom.

"So what brings you back?" she asked.

"Oh, well, I moved away for a bit then came back home."

"Broke up with your boyfriend?" she asked a-matter-o-factly.

I laughed uneasily, "How'd you know?"

We both grabbed bikes and situated them next to each other. If I was going to endure pain and suffering whilst being drenched in sweat I wanted to do it next to someone I knew.

Lillian, the instructor, had her back turned to the classroom while she fussed with the sound system (which coincidentally still doesn't work from when I was employed 3 years ago). She turned towards us, our faces weary with the thought of what may be in store for our bodies.

"Oh, hey, Kira's here...OK, what's your name? Wait. Do I know you? You look so familiar," Lillian said.

"She used to work here!" Thanks, Kira.

"OH! OK." Lillian began the class, stopping every so often to try and place our lives coinciding.

When I worked at the gym, 3 years ago, I was still in college pursuing my Journalism degree with high hopes of becoming the next Meredith Vierra, Suchin Pak or Anne Curry. That dream hasn't necessarily subsided, it's just been morphed into becoming happy and successful at whatever I do. Currently, it's PR. I like PR. I like what I'm able to accomplish and I utilize my best assets.

Unfortunately, at my current position, I don't believe that I am. After being employed by my firm for four months, I've been itching for a better opportunity. I'm clouding my life with extracurricular's and not focusing on the big picture. The big picture that I had when I was in college.

After my ex and I broke up, I had three different people tell me I looked "stress free." And it was true. Recently, I had two different people say that I'm "spinning my wheels." I'm not where I see myself and I'm getting nowhere fast. It's beyond frustrating. The ambition in me is hammering at my ego for settling for a job that seemed promising at first but quickly turned into a "WTF am I doing here?"

It's been 2 months and I make it, every Wednesday, to Spin class. It's my release for the week. I take out my frustrations on the uphill battles and relish in my accomplishments during the sprints. I hope to, someday soon, find my "niche" and a place where I can plant my feet and stay for awhile, allowing me to utilize my best assets and be all I can be.

Lillian eventually remembered that I used to work at the front desk every Saturday morning.

"Journalism! You went to school for journalism!"

She remembered I would have a stack of newspapers and magazines behind the desk to keep me occupied when I wasn't greeting members.

"You left to be a reporter, I remember now, how did you do?"

I did, I became a reporter, than a Senior Editor, then I went over to the dark side and now I'm in PR. I laughed uneasily.

"That's good, you're going somewhere."

I sure hope so.

Fall? Well I'll be Damned.

Time fly's when you're having fun. Or at least when you're stressed out and don't have time for anything. I'm not sure when it was that I became so busy, or that I put so much on my plate but my calendar is full until mid-November.

REALLY?

Yes. And it's both a good and bad thing. A bad thing because I'm missing moments around me, but a good thing because I'm putting myself out there and relishing in the little moments I get with the ones I love.

For instance: When in the h-e-double hockey sticks did it become Fall? I understand Fall is official on September 21st or whatever, but the leaves are turning and falling and I have yet to enjoy it. I am constantly on the go and I am getting sick of it. I have a backlog on my DVR that annoys me to no end. I'm wound really tight and in the words of my sister, "You're going to give yourself a stroke."

It is my fault that I joined a Women's soccer league that only plays on weekends and it's also my fault that I continue to work part time on top of my full time job. Basically I'm trying to do it all and hoping I don't drop any balls in the mean time.

I've neglected my friends. Not on purpose, it has just happened. It also doesn't help that they live a few hours away. And I can't help but feel horrible when it feels like I'm "scheduling" them in. I joke about it, but in the end it sucks.

I need to become better at time management. I do a pretty good job of it now, my problem is trying to do everything all at once.

I truly can't believe it's Fall already. I'll be damned.

Wake Me Up When September Ends...

Summer has come and passed,
The innocent can never last
Wake Me Up When September Ends

The month of June in recent years has been a month from hell. This past September makes the last 10 years of June's child's play.

To begin our story of the worst September in history we start with the last few days in August when my Grandma passed away. The sadness spilled into September and the grievance period is all but over. She was awesome, but a power far greater than I thought she was more awesome and wanted her to itself.

I fought with everyone under the sun. My boss, my mother, my friends and I had a knock out drag out fight with my brother, something we haven't done since he became bigger than me. It was a rude awakening. I realized at that time that I had my mother's temper and her ability to lose all control of a situation due to rage. Damn Puerto Ricans.

My job ain't what it's all cracked up to be. I tend to make life decisions on a whim and with emotion and so far, it's gotten me nowhere. I'm told to be patient, my time will come. OK, fine. I'm cool with that. But I'll be damned if I am a publicist for a rubber manufacturing company.

I've mentioned before that I have a dysfunctional family, and granted, no family is perfect, but at some point this sh*t's got to stop...After a short dinner with my gf Maggie, I ventured to my boyfriend's house and waited for him to get off of work. My Mom calls my cell phone, I answer.

"Are you coming home?"
"No, I'm at JJ's, why?"
"Oh, well I don't know how to tell you this..."

Nothing good EVER comes out of a saying like that. She proceeded to tell me that my brother had been in a bad car accident the night before and my Dad had taken him to the emergency room. He flew out of the back windshield, landed in the street and refused to let the ambulance treat him. Long story short, the girl was driving drunk on wet roads, lost control, blew a tire, Sean was not wearing a seat belt and when the car hit the rock wall, he went flying. A few catscans and a weekend spent in the hospital later, he's home. In pain, but home. He's alive and that's all I care about.

My head has never spun so fast with everything that has happened this month. I have never felt so many emotions or ridden a roller coaster this long to come to the end with even more confusion. No smile, no sigh of relief, just another shrug of my shoulders to hop back on. It's not over. Not even close.

I've been told I'm a control freak. Shocking, right? That I just need to take everything in stride. A wise woman once said, just take it one day at a time. And that's what I need to do. Just take a virtual chill pill and stop trying to flip the world back onto it's axis. Maybe all of this bad stuff happened for a reason. To make me stop and look around. To spend more time with the people that matter most to me and to repair the damage done by years of no communication. Maybe there's a bigger message under all of the debris left behind.

I'm not done world.

You've just given me a swift kick in the ass.

Ring out the bells again
Like we did when Spring began
Wake Me Up When September Ends