Maybe this would be a better example.

Perhaps a better example of the differences between my parent's culture would be in the conversations that go on with the families themselves.


For example, this weekend, when I was at home, and come to think about it, every time I've seen her from my teenage life and on, she's always openly spoken about sex and sexual relations. In fact, it seems like much of my mom's family is open about sex and drugs, to say the least. And, my uncle encourages me to have "sex" buddies, while the other uncle just assumes I have them, and I have no clue what the third uncle thinks. It was, a topic of concern this trip that no one know whether I am or am not a virgin. Like it's any of their business right? Well, it became a huge cause of concern, so much so that my mother took it upon herself to ask me about it while we were at dinner one night. Of course, I gave no direct answer to the question and instead gently hinted at the fact that my status is no one's business. Sigh. . . I really don't care that they ask, but it was kinda weird getting a "talk" from my mom when I'm almost thirty. And it was sort of an eye-opener to realize that it was truly a concern from my mother's side of the family.



My father's side of the family, is a lot more conservative. I don't think I could ever have an open talk about sex with my grandfather. And I highly doubt that either of my uncle's would encourage me to have several sex partners, or to do drugs, or anything wild for that matter.



My father, in fact had difficult time when I started dating, and assumed that the guys I was only friends with were guys I was dating. Let me tell you how uncomfortable I was when he'd introduce my friends to his friends as my boyfriends. Oh. . . my life.

I'm surprised my parents lasted as long as they did.

No one, well at least most people, don't like it when their parents get divorced. But after going home to Puerto Rico this weekend, it suddenly occurred to me that it's a miracle that my parents lasted as long as they did. No really, I'm being serious. I've been immersed in an adapted version of my fathers culture for the past year, and just can not fathom how my parents lasted as long as they did.


Here's the thing. My father's family comes from the all conservative well mannered, respect is everything country of Guatemala. There are customs, and a hierarchy that no one dares disrupt because doing so would cause you offend any number of people. (Trust me, I've done this on a number of occasions throughout my lifetime.)

Then, there is my mother's side of the family. The crazy Puerto Rican side, where, yes, their are customs, but the family is much more laxed about it, and teach by doing rather than ignoring. Here's an example. In my father's side of the family, should you arrive at a family gathering, you great everyone individually starting usually with the eldest person in the room and working your way around. Should you forget to great a person or do it in the wrong order, that person would probably hold it against you for years. You would get either A-the silent treatment or B a stern lecture on how disrespectful and mannerless you are, then you're parents would get lectured for not teaching you the proper manners, or C- they guilt factor, which is the worst, because they'll (both grandparents on my father's side are experts at this) make you feel bad for not knowing any better. That would not be the case on my Mother's side. Instead, said person would approach you, great you, and the night would go on as normal. Sounds nice right.



Now, I must make a clarification when I talk about my father's side of the family. This does not refer so much to the younger generation, who are in their 30s, but more so to the older generation. Only two of the "kids" from the younger generation seem to have issue with this, while it seems like the others either a-don't notice or b-don't care.

Also, I need to say that my grandfather's wife has been amazing to me. For example, unlike many people from my father's side of the family whom I've met throughout the years, she quickly realized that I'm not intending to be "rude," I simply don't know the customs or hmm,. . .I guess we'll call the cultural expectations/protocol, for lack of better words. It was only a week or so after I moved here, that she started to give me clear instructions on who to great first and what to help with, etc. Which is nice. For the most part, I've caught on, but I still screw up here and there, which usually results into a lecture on the spot or days later from at least one of the aunts. At first, this made me crazy--I felt like I could never do anything right, but I've learned to be better about it, and the one's who get bothered by this have recently turned to instructing rather than scolding, so it's been a fair adapting process. But I digress. We need to get back to the story.

So, this weekend, Mothers day, there was a little bit of a fiasco at my grandmother's house. You see, the thing about both cultures is that they tell you to your face what they think of you. If you have too much make-up on, they tell you, if you have a big ugly pimple on your face, they point it out to you, if you're dressed like crap they let you know, and if you're fat, they don't hold back, they tell you that your fat. The difference is that my father's side would strait up tell you in a serious and disapproving tone,(unless it's one of the aunt's or uncles in the younger generation who would either not say anything or make a joke out of it.) while my mother's family will do what they can to turn it into a joke, which is just what happened this weekend.

My uncle called my aunt "FAT." And, according to my grandmother, I made matters worse or lit the match to a wick when I turned to him a said, "Tio, you don't talk to women that way, have a little respect please." I said it in a mocking tone, being half serious while trying not to laugh, but my cousin went "ape-shit" on him.

First she told him never to talk to her like that again, to which he quickly responded to with a sincere apology. I must say, that was very surprising to witness because I've never seen my uncle apologize to anything, but he apologized. However, by that time, my cousin was already seeing red. She wasn't listening and stopped out of the kitchen. Apparently she went to the family room to vent, and the next things I knew, she was walking out of the house calling my uncle a women hater who knew how to ruin mother's day for a woman, and telling him it was no wonder no women would ever stand by his side, and that she didn't want anything to do with him for as long as she lived, blah blah blah blah blah. Needless to say, she was furious.

Was it a ridiculous reaction, I think if you take the culture into consideration, the answer is yes. But anyhow, the whole time this scenario was going on, I was thinking, oh, this would never happen at my grandfather's house. This shit would be stopped before is started-maybe not if it were one of the kids from my grandfather's second marriage, but I can guarantee that none of the grandchildren would dare blow up in this manner on a holiday, at a family gathering, out of strait up fear of causing a scene or upsetting the grandparents. Blowing up at your elders or disrespecting them in any form, regardless of whether or not they have it coming to them is simply not acceptable behavior. I could be 40 and still get my ass whipped for saying something like that. But it happened. And she left, and the incident became the topic of conversation that night and into the next day, and the family came to several conclusions:

1. She is very sensitive to being fat
2. She was under a lot of stress and that was the straw that broke the camel's back
3. She was on her cycle
4. She must be going through something no one knows about.

I however, can not give her reason in this. For one, she has gained a lot of weight since I last saw her. True, she's had two kids, but she's also had two years to work off the weight and hasn't, which wouldn't be an issue except for the fact that I lived with this family for a summer five years ago and they haven't changes a bit. If you're fat, they will tell you you're fat. If you're to skinny, they'll let you know. If you talk too much or not enough or whatever, they will tell you. They do everything short of publishing in the paper all of your flaws, so you just deal with it. She's lived with them all her life and should be accustomed to this by now, but isn't.

On the other hand, I feel for her, because I tend to have weight issues, I have all my life, despite the fact that I hit the gym three to four days a week for a serious work out, and also play sports or go on long bike rides. My diet isn't the greatest, but it's still better than most people's (by this I mean the bulk of my diet consists of fruits, vegetables, and healthy carbs), and yet I struggle to be at a healthy looking size. Not fat, but not skinny, just slightly heavey, and sometimes it's difficult to constantly hear from people that I'm fat or a little on the heavy side, but the truth is I am, and blowing up at them isn't going to do anything. I usually respond by saying, "I'm not fat, I'm pleasantly curvy," which I really believe I am, and leave it at that.


I have obviously gone on a tangent here. The point is that one. These are two vastly different cultures with drastically different reactions to the same incident, and based on a reaction such as this alone, I have no idea how my parents lasted as long as they did.

The Five Borough Bike Ride

Ok,

So last month . . . well, actually in mid March, I got it in my head that I was going to do this Five Borough Bike Tour in NY. I've been riding around the streets of NY some 22-26 miles on weekends to prepare, and was so excited about it, that last night, I slept maybe two hours, because I was so worried that I wouldn't wake up in time. (Yes, we all know I can be 'slightly' neurotic at times)

I don't know what I was thinking. The website says they cap participants at 30,000 people, but when we got there the announcer said that there were 37,000 people out on the tour. CRAZY! All you could see for miles and miles, was a sea of helmets. And, there were so many people out, that we were forced to dismount our bikes on several occasions because the space allotted simply couldn't handle the amount of riders in them.

I think, all in all, we probably walked 5 miles worth of the stretch. Around mile 25 it started to rain pretty hard, and by the time I finished the race, my clothing stuck to me like a second skin, my fingers were numb, and my feet were sopping wet. I was so cold, that the first aid people gave me a hypothermic blanket thing--You'll see in the picture. Anyhow, my friend's bike broke around mile 15, so I finished the race all on my lonesome. I met several nice people along the way, and got picked up on by a couple of nice guys, which is always flattering. And, since we were on bikes, I had the perfect reason for not being able to exchange numbers, although, one of the guys did hand me his business card, which was interesting. He just whipped it out of his pocket and asked me to e-mail him sometime, and almost crashed into someone in the process, since he wasn't watching the road.

The ride was fun, but I'm thinking it was a once-in-a lifetime deal for me. I think I prefer long stretches of biking where you don't have to get off the bike or worry about crashing into the person in front of you, or getting crashed in to by the person behind you. It was a great experience though. Despite the wretchedly cold and rainy day, most people were in good spirits, and the natives kept telling me all about the best trails and where to ride this summer. Oh, and it turns out that my neighbors that live two complexes down from me are really big into biking. They're about my age and invited me to join them on future outings. YEAH! I'm so excited for biking buddies. I love my mountain bike, but I think I'm slowly convincing myself that it's time for a road bike. . . we'll see how much I get into this NY biking club before I make my decision.

OK, that's all. Gotta go. I know it's a long e-mail, but I'm super excited and wanted to share.

Have a great day! :-)

Your loving friend, sister, niece, daughter, or cousin,

-Maritza

Rough Night

My grandfather went into some sort of shock tonight. The image of his head bobbing backwards, and his eyes closed with his mouth slightly open, is nothing that I ever want to see again. I hope the image will soon be erased from my mind, because it's almost too much to handle.

My grandmother, from the other side of the family is pretty sick too. She's been hospitalized, and I'm scared. I don't want my fairy tale grandmother to pass away. I love her so much. And even though I'm not that child or grandchild that calls all the time, she holds a very very very very special place in my heart, and for some irrational reason, I was under the impression that she was going to live forever. My magical grandmother has to live forever, because that's just the way it is. But she's dying, and I'm so sad. It breaks my heart to think of my vibrant, stubborn, outspoken grandmother, laying in a hospital room in pain, trying to run her life and make decisions on her health, when she can barely move. And I feel so awful for my cousin, and my uncles, and my mom, who do what they can to help, but aren't experts and have to witness her detriment first hand. Life seems so cruel and unfair at times.

Yet, i pray each night for their health and to be out of pain. And I cry myself to sleep, and am thankful to the spirit that brings of life, God, or whatever power is out there that lets us be, that at least I'm able to meet them, and talk to them, and let them know how much I love them. And, they're surrounded by a loving family that cares for them. That I'm lucky enough to be part of a huge family that cares and loves as much as we all do, because the most beautiful thing about life, is knowing and feeling the love of a family.

I think I have post-traumatic stress

Lately, people killing themselves or threatening to kill themselves, is all over t.v., or at least all over the few shows I watch, and frankly, it's making it really difficult for me to watch these shows. Not because the writing isn't good, or because of dis-interest, but because of the cold fear that creeps up my spine and settles into my bones every time the images pop on screen. The images stay with me all night as well, causing fitful sleep as I strive to wake from the horrific images that plague my dreams for many nights thereafter. It's my struggle, I suppose in dealing with my own insecurities and the guilt associated with Grant and Aubrey's deaths.

I am still so angry at them, I suppose, but I really don't know. My therapist said that they chose a long-term solution for a short term problem. Oh how, I wish someone had told them that when they were making their decisions to leave. My cousin made the comment once, that she was so angry because there are so many people striving to live in this world, so many people born with an illness, or who have come into bad health, and live each day fighting to live another day, yet they (Aubrey and Grant) they chose death, a finite end to what so many other people wanted. I still struggle to understand it, and at the same time fear that some day, I, like them will loose that instinct of self preservation. It seems so inhuman. And so unreal, but once people close to you choose that path, it makes you doubt yourself, and wonder if you'd be capable of going down that same road.

I hope not, I'd rather fight for what's mine to have. For what's mine to experience, and I'd want to choose to live for Emily and Tony who died such tragic deaths at so young a time. I'd choose to live for those two people who were just blossoming into new people, when life dealt them a cruel blow, and cheated families of a brother and sister, a father, a son and daughter, etc. It seemed so unfair. And yet, I still live with the sadness, and the anger, but mostly the fear.

The fear of being so afraid of the consequences, that I'm afraid to take big risks and chances in life. The fear of not ever becoming who I'm really supposed to be, because I'm afraid of what that would do to me, of whom I would become, and of how drastically my life would change. But also, there's that fear of living life without taking those risks, and cheating myself of a once-in-a-life-time adventure of Life.

I still lay in bed at night, and sometimes hear their laugh, or voice, and see a memory clear as day. And for a moment everything is peaceful, and life is as it should be, and those events of the past are nothing but a horrible dream. But then the dream beaks and I'm saddened, and anger causes me to push the memory aside. I go outside and turn my face towards the warm sun, and remember all the light in the world. I let the sun hug me with her rays, and remind me of all that's good in life, and am happy again, for that moment, in that day.

The bike ride

So, I'm on this biking kick--the same one I go on every spring. Only this time I'm in the "Big City," and it can be kinda scary. I mean, cars only stop at the red light at the very last second, pedestrians never stop for lights or traffic, and the roads aren't exactly always well kept. Really, it's no surprise to me that most people own a mountain bike.

Anyhow, so I did 22 miles last weekend and 24 miles this weekend. Each weekend I explored a different part of the city. Las weekend was passover, and we were following Vernon road until we came across a ginormous gathering of hasidic Jews. It appeared that they were waiting for some sort of shipment. Well, we worked are way through the black sea of clocks and continued to ride through an obviously Jewish neighborhood in Brooklyn until we eventually made our way to the Brooklyn Bridge. On the way, we saw these really cool old ruins covered by vines that ended up being part of an old Army something or other. I can't remember, but I really wished I had a film camera at that time to take black and white photo's of it.

This weekend, I decided to explore Astoria, but 10 miles wasn't enough for me, so I rode over the 59th street bridge, across Manhatten and up the Hudson River trail, were I discovered riverside park, which was actually pretty cute and quaint. I liked it. I turned around at 125th street because my knee started to hurt, but curiosity was urging me to go on.

This coming weekend, I think, that for safety reasons, I'll take the subway into the city, start my ride up the trail, and see if I can make it as far as the George Washington Bridge. That would be pretty fun, and quite an accomplishment.

The Never Ending Quest for the Red Baron

Red Baron (http://www.redbaron.com/default.aspx) is truly the worlds best Frozen pizza. Nothing expressed the comfort of home like crispy crust Red Baron frozen pizza on a Friday night, while watching a chick flick on the big screen, with your dog on one side and the cats curled up at the top of the stairs.

Sadly, I don't live with my cats and my dog anymore, which I had mentally prepared for, so I'm ok with that, but now I have to live without the my Continent Soy Milk (http://www.8thcontinent.com/) as well as without my Red Baron Pizza, which I will again proclaim as the best Frozen Pizza to grace this earth. It's seriously Yummy! and I am so sad to be living without it.

I've been to countless stores in Manhatten in search of my Red Baron and Continent, but to no avail. It's all about the snooty pattootie healthy crap, or frozen Pizza's for one. How lonely does that sound? Sigh, I think next time I go home and bringing back pizza and soy milk. I know, it sound ridiculous, but I already checked Amazon, can't buy it there, so I'll have to fly it to me.

The Date

I went on a "sorta date" this weekend. With a young, and handsome guy I met in passing. We had a good time, but there were no sparks. It's too bad too because he's very handsome and educated, but alas, the chemistry wasn't there. Sigh Sight and bigger Sigh. . . It's just my luck. Or maybe it's just practice, whatever it is, it was nice to go out on a date, and have a nice time, without the pressure of anything more.

Then Maybe It Doesn't. . .or Perhaps So Slowly as to Make You Suffer More, First

They say time will heal all pain and I, in fact, wrote that one or two blogs ago, but the truth is, sometime time makes the pain get worse before it starts to heal. Similar to an injury. The initial pain isn't always as bad as the pain that comes a day or two later. It's been over a year now, and while he has moved on, my heart still aches with the pain of not having him around, worse than the night of our initial parting.

He monopolizes my thoughts, most especially at night, when I'm trying to fall asleep, and early mornings, when I wake in hopes to see him lying there beside me. There are nights where I feel like going one more day without his touch or the sound of his voice, is my punishment, or bad karma for actions I'd taken earlier in my life, or in a past life. Who knows. . . all that's true is that the pain is real, it's strong, and at times barely manageable. This is how I feel.

It's so unique, that feeling of closeness that encompasses you when you meet that person whom you fit well with. Not only physically, but it's like your mind, body, and spirit, although not always in agreement, are so in tune and so inline that even after only a few months there's the illusion of reading each others minds. You can almost feel one another's thoughts, and move in a synced rhythm of life. The closeness is at once scary and comforting, bust most importantly, it's sacred. Strong and sacred, and so powerful that sometime its power alone is too be feared, because loving someone so much, or feeling such a deep connection is too risky. Risky because at one moment you're one, but if you were ever parted, or if he were ever taken away, well, where would that leave you. Alone? Set to live you life looking for something just as powerful, if not more so. Thirsting for that feeling once again, and never knowing if it's possible to re-find it. And if it does come along, say the offer stands to feel it once again, will you run away? Is it better to live in the torment of life without it as apposed to risking it's being taken away once more? To what end does love itself become the enemy? After all, the cause of the pain that haunts my life and darkens my spirit was initiated with the warmth and glow of love itself. Until when should my heart no longer deserve to suffer?

The Good and the Bad of It

There are weekends where i feel stranded from this city. What's the cause of this isolation? Work on the subway. Work on the subway tracks is sometimes so inconvenient that it's easier just stay stay home in my "little town." The great thing about it, is that it makes me slow down, enjoy life, and explore my little town. It's also a cost saving strategy as the temptation to go bar hoping in the city is easily eliminated. (Although that doesn't mean that I won't go around in my city.) So that's the good of it, good rest and adventure without going more than a 2 mile radius. The bad of it, only that I'm cut off from the city and my gym. At least the weather is good this weekend, and I'm thinking that a ride around Rosevelt Island is in store.

Time Really Does Heal All Pain

My mom sent me a box of old pictures this week. It was full of old photographs of High school and college, and among those photos were a couple if pictures of my old friend Emily. She passed away in a car accident just after turning 21. It was a pretty tragic event. It happened on her way home for Thanksgiving dinner, and i had a very difficult time coming to terms with her death. Even though I know she came and told me good-bye, and insisted that things were good now. I was angry. I was angry at God for the longest time for taking away my friend. And, I felt guilty for the longest time for not having been a good friend. She was the first of a trilogy of deaths that came later that year and the next. Coupled with my parents divorce, it made for a damn hard couple of years.

I feel like a fool now, when I think back at how dramatic everything seemed to me back then. Like why couldn't the whole world stop when my friends died. Why couldn't everyone share in my pain, feel my grief, and hold me in the time of my sorrow. It was a very hard time, and there were days were I didn't think I'd be able to breath into the next day. Yes, breath. Because being surrounded by so much sorrow and confusion, weighed me down, and that weight sat right on my chest, making me work for every breath. Time slowed for a while, then stopped when I escaped to Puerto Rico for a summer (my never never land). When I returned, I still struggled with the sorrow, and wondered if it would ever end. It's taken almost eight years, but life has gotten better. The pain is gone, and the sorrow comes and goes, but mostly, I have come to terms with it all. I still dream of my friends, long gone. I like to imagine that we speak through my dreams, or sometimes even in waking life--that our bodies are just vessels for our souls, and that our souls live on forever. I feel a peace I haven't felt for a long time, and am happy that I can once again see these old photographs, and harbor a smile, and warmth that comes with the good memories under which they were originally made.

My Grandmother is very sick

There are those people in your life, who are like mythical characters. They stand tall and proud with wise eyes, and are invincible. Nothing can break them, nothing can keep them from walking through life with their head raised high. They live through depression, oppression, and violence and manage to land on top regardless of what obstacle life might come at them. They carry an air of commanding respect, and shine brightly, sophisticatedly in all their glory.

That is who my grandmother is to me. The woman I'd like to be someday. The lady who would come from far away baring a gift of love unlike any other, because it's only the type of love that a grandparent can shower on a child. That woman, that legend, that mythical figure of my childhood is supposed to live forever, but the sad reality is that she won't. And that makes me terribly sad. Her time is drawing near, and those summer days I spend at her house, will be filed away into a dream, rather that relived year after year. That dream might one day turn into a faded memories, and my children shall never know that same love or that vibrant woman whom I always dreamed of becoming one day.

So for now, I shall prey for her health, and for a painless departure from our world to the next. And have faith that spirits don't die, and that we shall all be reunited one day, in another plain--in a place that knows no pain.

Until then, I shall make the most of the time left, and visit when I can, baring what I hope is the gift of love that only a grandchild can sprinkle onto a parent, and save her memory as clearly and brightly as possible, so that my children will perhaps see a gleam, or know the sparkle of such a grand woman.

I have a new crush. . .and it makes my heart flutter

I have a new crush, and it's so exciting. Not any sort of crush. Not the kind that makes you smile every now and then. I have a new crush that makes my heart flutter and a smile cross my face at the thought of him. He makes me smile like a school girl and feel like a woman. And the feeling is unreal,and warm, and I just can't wait to see him again.

I can't believe it. I haven't had a crush like this in years! And, I love the way the crush makes me feel.

The AHA! moment

All my life I've never been one of those people who "get" how to do things on the first try. My motor skills aren't the best, and I'm usually slow to learn. So, I know that it's going to take me twice, sometimes three times as long to figure out how to do something, as compared to most of my friends. Whether I'm below average, or hang out with a group that is above average, is up for discussion. But regardless, I had a moment last weekend, that made me wonder how different my life would be if I were one of "those" people. You know, the type that seem to be good at everything they do on the first try.

I learned to Ski. OMG! I learned to ski, and I was good at it. Really good. I figured out how to stop and turn on the first couple of tries, and the feeling was amazing. "This is what if feels like," is what I kept thinking, as a glided somewhat clumsily, but full of confidence, down the hill. 6 hours of skiing and I only fell twice. Not, bad for a first timer. I even dared myself off the bunny hill and onto a more exciting one, and I did all on my lonesome. I mean, I was on a ski trip with friends, but decided to go on this "big" hill by myself, and it was amazing. The surge of confidence that swept through me was unlike anything I ever felt before. All of a sudden, it felt like doors and windows were opening, and I knew that I could do anything in the world, and get anything or everything I've ever wanted-effortlessly.

It's a moment I never want to wake up from, and never want to forget.

On a different note. There is a new, very handsome guy at soccer. Well, actually, he's not new. He's been around for a while, and I barely noticed him last week. Just thinking of him brings a grin to my face. I absolutely love soccer, if anything, for the eye-candy. Nothing like a guy you know is nice and handsome, to brighten up any girls day.

School is getting a lot better. I got my first A on the last paper I turned in. It's been a slow process, getting these rusted wheels back into motion. I'm sure it didn't help that I wrote my first two papers hours before class. (I used to be a pro at scoring A's on those types of papers.) Last week, I actually sat down, read the article, took notes, wrote an outline for a plausible paper, took a few days to digest the information and think about the process, then sat down and started writing, and low and behold, a few hours later, I had a paper that was way too long. I went through four revisions before I finally got it down to an acceptable page count, and felt a rush that's been unknown to me since I graduated college. Life, for a moment was great. Even more so when I finally got that A on my paper.

This week, I'm putting together a power point presentation for my marketing class. (this after not doing so well on my test in business class). My partner and I decided to do a SWOT analysis on Paranormal Romance Series. We turned in the paper, but forgot to spell out the weaknesses of what we found, so now we've got to bring it all together into the presentation. I'm pretty excited about putting it together, but very nervous to speak in front of the class. I know, funny that I would be the one having anxiety over it. It'll be great practice for sales conference for this fall though.

What else has happened? hmm, well one of my closest friends from high school is having a baby. He's waited three or four months to tell me, and I was super duper happy for him. So happy, in fact that I had tears rolling down my face for a good 15 or twenty minutes. I can't think of anyone more deserving of a child than him, and wish him and his significant other all the best.

On the flip side, the news made me feel old and somewhat left behind. I know we all get to things in our own time, but sometimes I feel like some things are just not meant to happen with me. One of those things is a long term relationship or biological children of my own. I know, I know, I'm only 29. But 29 seems so old when you got to a high school reunion and almost everyone has children, and if not children, they're married. It makes me feel like something's not right with me, even though I know that's not true.

Thank God I'm in New York, the place where everyone is out for themselves, and relationships are a matter of convenience. No need to feel left out here. Even those in a relationship, aren't always really in them for love. It's all about the convenience of having someone around and feeling less alone, and somehow, less insecure.

So, that's all I have to say about that and anything else for today.

Regaining one's self confidence.

Those of you have known me all or most of my life probably think of me as someone who dances through her life at her own tune. I'm not one to give into the latest trends, or to act or say or do what's expected of me. Or do I?

Those of you who knew me in elementary and junior high probably remember me as a smart, opinionated person, who had very little tact and said things before I knew I was thinking them. Those of you who knew me in high school, probably thought I was a high strung moody girl, with a touch (or more) of sass.

The truth is, I don't really remember having a self confidence problem in elementary, Jr. high. High school was a bitch but it had nothing to do with the "cool" kids versus the none "cool" kids. In fact, I don't even remember that schism at my school. It had more to do with "religionism" Yes, religionism instead of racism. I wasn't part of the prominent religion, and it was thrown in my face all the time, and it did weaken my spirit perhaps more than I thought.

This degradation in myself worth is best tracked when I think out over my past boyfriends. I think any guy I dates in high school will tell you I was pretty feisty. I set my limits, stood by them, and was very verbal about actions that made me unhappy. I doubt any one of them would negate the fact that I could be pretty moody, opinionated and bull-headed. That, however changed somewhere between high school and college. Somewhere between Brian and Michael.

At some point, I got it into my head, that being a meek girlfriend, with something to loose was how I was going to be. Only, that didn't just settle in relationships, it settled into my interpersonal relationships on many levels as well. As me how I feel about something, and I became likely to tell you what you wanted to hear, not what I really thought. As me to do something I didn't want to do, and I started to say yes, despite the fact I didn't want to. When, in the past, I simply would have said no.

Anyhow, I feel like this other person came into my life, and began eating at my soul. I stopped setting my limits, and allowed myself to be twisted and turned, and prodded, and soon lost myself.

I've been that lost self for a little over 10 years now, and Today, I am saying no more. There are so many things I let go by, unsaid. I walk by and see so many events I'm not comfortable with, and instead of doing something about it, I walk on by. Why? Because I'm afraid of getting hurt? Not really. Because I'm afraid of being yelled at? Being disliked? Dealing with confrontation? That would be more like it.

So, instead, I take on this passive aggressive behavior that drives me nuts. I let things build until I feel like I'm choking, then fall into a crazy depression for day, all the while feeling this heavy load on my chest.

Life, just isn't worth doing that anymore. It's time I start respecting myself. Taking charge of my life, and being the confident, sure footed happy person I as once-a very long time ago-known to be.

It started today, my ex-boyfriend. I let out everything I had left unsaid during our relationship. Unloaded every thought, every feeling, everything I felt I needed to say in order to move on. Surprisingly, he responded. The conversation went on for about two hours, but I finally got out of my system everything that I felt needed to have been said, and it felt great. Not great to make him feel bad, but great to finally get all that pent up emotion and all those thoughts and the resentment out in the open.

So, I am creating a new goal for myself. The first, is to regain my confidence and self worth. The second, is learn how to disagree in an articulate manner, and the third is to learn to handle conflict with class." Not sure how I'm going to learn to do this yet, but I will.

Somedays I really don't feel like a lady

I think one of the most important things about growing up-or raising children.-lets go with raising children. Is knowing that you're raising a young lady or young man, rather than a child. I think that helps to instill a bit of confidence in a child. And sometimes I find that confidence lacking in me.

More and more lately I find myself staring in the mirror and asking myself who am I really, and what is it that I'm meant to do with my life. And more and more, I find myself thinking that I am a lost child in this really big world, who has not idea where to go. So, I seek comfort rather than seek confidence.

I've started taking risks, started a grown up job, but still don't feel very grown up. It doesn't help that I've gained 20 lbs since I moved here and no longer fit into any of my work clothes. Yes, as shallow as it may sound, clothes for me instills confidence. I love clothes, because it's like playing dress up, what you're wearing gets to say who you are that day.

So, I think now that I'm in the habit of making my bed, and am going to school and meeting a few of my new years resolutions, it's time to start something new. I think I shall start treating myself to a pedicure and manicure once a month. First step to being a lady, is looking like a lady. I'll work on acting like a lady as soon as I figure out what one is supposed to act like.

A Pig Skin Sunday

So those of you who are all about American Football ought to be proud of me. This weekend, I sat through my first entire football game. Yup, I actually watched it from start to finish. And, I'll admit, I even got into it there for a little bit.

Not knowing much about football, I decided to root for Arizona. This was purely due to the geographical location of the team. After all, it's close to home. So, I watched the game and drank, and realized at some point that in my 29 years, I had never attended at Super Bowl Party. So now, I can say that in my first year in NY I attended my first Super Bowl Party, and I had a lot of fun. The host-Matt, was great. His friend's were good company, and the food everyone brought was YUMMY! The only downfall was that I turned out to allergic to the beer I brought.

LAME! I've been trying to get into beer drinking because it's a lot less expensive than wine and the mixed drinks I'm accustomed too, but it hasn't done me any good. I've had an allergic reaction to the last few mixed drinks and beers that I've tried, so maybe it's a sign that I should stick to what I'm used to. (HA, the adventurous life loving side of me shall never give into the monotony of it.)

Back to Football. The commercials weren't as good as I remembered them, but there was a monster or something like that commercial that I thoroughly enjoyed, because I felt like I could actually relate to it. And, I also like the Denny's one. Although it wasn't new, I felt like it was perfect for the targeted audience.

Ok, well those are my ramblings for today. Have a good night everyone.

Dating

So, it's been over 6 months since I've been on a date, and I despite the New Years Eve thing, and my clamming up this weekend, I feel like it's time that I make an effort to date again. So, I was thinking about doing one of those dating websites, but it's not really me. So then I looked up speed dating, and that looks kind of expensive. So, I'm probably going to spend the next couple of months analyzing my options before I decide what I'll try next. I only hope that in that time I'll meet someone by accident. Seriously though, this drought is going to be the end of me.

I Love New York

Despite it's rugged exterior, and suck it up and deal with it attitude, I have started to fall in love with New York. The people here, really do care, they just go about it in a different way, but that's not what made me start falling in love with the city. It's the quantity of people and the seemingly endless possibilities to follow your heart that makes New York so special.

For instance, I have a co-worker who loves drama theatre. This week, he rented out a stage at the Y and Directed a Play that his friend wrote. The actors were pretty great, the play was intellectually humorous, and the small crows had a great time. He even had a stand up comedian for an opening act.

OMG! this guys was pretty funny. But, you had to be smart and up with current events to understand his jokes. For a minute there, he reminded me of David. His name is Gabe, and this quick witted handsome man came over to talk to me, and I did as I always do when I meet someone I like and clammed up. Foolish me. I can only hope to get passed this when my "one" comes along. The comedian/play combination was great though.

Lets see, what else. Oh yes, I love the exposure to different cultures I get on a daily basis. Seriously, why travel when the world comes to you. Don't quote me on that. Seriously, it's just that I have a feeling that I won't be able to afford travel outside of the United States for a year or two (and those of you who know me well, know that that would be enough to kill me), but the need to travel isn't so desperate when I'm surrounded by so many different languages and cultures on a daily basis. Makes living in New York a great adventure. I love it.

I love being in school surrounded by very bright people, and love that for the first time in years, I'm being forced to step up to the plate, and test my limits, for nothing more to stay afloat. Life's exciting, and scary, and fun, and full of un-familiar twists and turns-which makes me feel that for the first time in years, I'm actually living."

My Favorite Thing about My Housemates

My favorite thing about my housemates is how in love they are. My girl housemate has been out of town for a week. She came home today and her fiance (one of my guy housemates) was so happy to see her, it was too cute. He just snuggled right up to her on the couch, and his eyes had this stupid silly, sappy puppy look. It was too cute. To see him, you'd have thought the sun hadn't risen for an entire week, and was shining on him once again. I'm not even sure if these fragments are making sense. The whole point is, that I'm happy for them, and I am really happy to be around two people who are genuinely happy in love. It's nice for a change.

On another note, I played a couple of hours of soccer in the icy cold today, and it felt great. The sun was out, the field was wet, yet surrounded by a field of ice, and there was plenty of eye candy to go around.

Not only that, the river was glistening, and the sky was that shade of blue that it only comes by on a clear winters day. I love it. Life was perfect today. I love New York.

Sex is a conversation

So, I'm reading this book. And in it, there are a bunch of intellectual guys who are talking about sex. And one of the guys theorizes that sex is no different than having a conversation. It's a conversation without words, but a conversation nonetheless. Any takers on this? I'm interested in knowing what anyone out there thinks about this.

It's an interesting delima

So, my girl roommate is out of town and it sounds like the boys are taking advantage by watching a porn on the gigantic T.V. in the front room. The volume is up pretty loud and it just sounds like people going at it. I'm curious to watch, but am not about watching with them.

Meanwhile, I don't know what's going on with the neighbors above me, but it sounds like they might be making a movie of their own. I'm surrounded by crude sex tonight, yet I'm not really being exposed to any of it directly.


Sigh. Welcome to my life.

The Empire State Building is Red, White, and Blue Tonight

The Empire State building was standing proud tonight. Engulfed in Red, White, and Blue lights. A show of respect for out new president, and our country, I'm sure.

I, on the other hand have mixed feelings about this whole thing, or maybe my faith in our country just falters on the whole. Here's the thing. I'm really happy that we're getting a president that's coming in with these grand ideas, and who's willing to open the lines of communications to countries/people's we've denied an ear to in the past. Realistically, do I think we can accomplish everything he's setting out to do, no. But do I think it's worth a shot? Heck Yeah!

I was a little disappointed when watching the inauguration ceremony today though. I would have loved to have watched it at home, alone rather than with my co-workers. If they weren't talking during it, they were heckling at Bush or booing at him, which, despite the fact that I'm not a Bush fan, I found rather annoying.

I guess it's all about respect to me though. Do I think Bush was our greatest president? No, do I think he was our worst? Only history will tell, but he was our president. We, the people, voted him into office twice, and he lead our country, during trying times, and that demands our respect, regardless of whether we agreed with his policies or not. And honestly, I think we should be proud at the smoothness with which the transition has taken place this time around. I think if anything, Bush has actually shown class during this transition period-something we're not used to, I know.

Remember, that when Bush came into office, the previous administration was not nearly as gracious to him. Even though the elections were one of the worst and most controversial in our history, he was, in the end, named president elect, and we owed it to him to make a good transition. But instead, we were so angry about the election that we made everything difficult from the start. So he started on uneven ground, and I feel he's been struggling to get himself out from the start.

We may not want to believe it, but we the people had a part to play in his controversial presidency as well. After all, it's our job as citizens and voters to change the direction of politics on a state/local level, when we don't agree with the national level. So don't boo a president for doing what you see as being a bad job. Because he can only do a bad job if the vast majority let him. It's are responsibility to keep up with current affairs, to vote, and campaign for/against policies we agree or disagree with. If you weren't involved, boo yourself, not the president, because that's you failing to do your patriotic duty, and it's you failing yourself, your peers, your country, and your president. So, if your upset with public, national, and or international policies, make a difference at the local level, and respect the man, whether you like him or not, for leading one of the most powerful countries in the world for 8 years.

That being said, I think Obama is right to send out a message of hope to the world, and to state that he's stepping into office with a new approach--One of communication.

My favorite part of his speech today was when he said, "And so to all other peoples and governments who are watching today, from the grandest capitals to the small village where my father was born: know that America is a friend of each nation and every man, woman, and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity, and we are ready to lead once more. . .To the Muslim world, we seek a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect. To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society's ills on the West - know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy. To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist."I like the ideas of coming in and saying, "hey, were willing to work with you, despite our history, if you're willing to work with us." I mean, we've been closing out countries out for years. Refusing to listen to what they've got to say, raping them of their riches, and soils, and where did that get us?

Well, it got us 9/11 and the downfall of the economy and eight years of a very controversial presidency. Now, we have the opportunity to start new. To re-establish some of our broken relationships with other countries, and that's pretty exciting, but what's most exciting is that for the first time ever, the world is seeing us as a progressive nation. Yes, I did say "for the first time." Don't forget, we might be a country founded on the principles of the enlightenment, but we are also a country who's society was built out of social, political, and religious outcasts, we've made some pretty big mistakes, and now, we're showing that we're ready to make a change that will have an influence on the entire world, and that's something to be proud of.

Which leads me to my second favorite part of the speech. The part where he doesn't apologize for our past way of life, but at the same time tells us we have a responsibility to our planet, and we need to make some changes, but those changes don't me abandoning who we are. Because we do have it pretty good here, and we've worked hard to develop a nation and a country where people can have luxuries, and where almost any dream can become a reality. It's something to be proud of, and we should hold our heads high, and defend what's our, although, not at the expense of the world.


Sigh, ok, now that I ragged a little on the Bush haters, let me rag a little on the Obama haters. Here's the thing. Yes, I agree that the media hype over Obama has been out of control. They've raised him up to be this God-like figure, and I'm not so sure that's so good for our nation either. I mean, don't get me wrong. I think that the message of "yes we can," is exactly what we need right now. I'm just not sure that it's a good idea to make it seem like Obama's going to perform miracles. It just leads to swifter disappointment if things don't go as planned.

I do think, however, that all you haters out there, who booed when he took his oath, and are sending Obama hate e-mail to me, need to take a step back and give him a chance. You know, his victory was pretty much a land slide, which means he deserves your respect. Give the guy a chance. Stand by him and trust him, and give him the chance to prove himself. Then, if he fails to meet your needs, do what your patriotic duty calls for you to do,and get involved in politics. Follow current affairs and vote at the local level. Vote people into office who's views align with yours, and vote him out in four years, but don't walk around booing and hating. It just makes you look stupid and hateful.


Sigh. . . .
Enough about that. I'm so tired of writing I'm not even sure anything I said up there makes sense. But, I wanted to say that today was also a very exciting day for me for another reason. I was pretty excited because it was my very first day of graduate school, OMG! And I've already started to learn so much. I'm taking this Into to Marketing class for publishing, and the professor is awesome. He's teaching us Marketing from a product perspective-like a real marketing class, instead of a book perspective, which is pretty exciting. The workload we have is medium, and the assignments are very practical. I can already see how this class is going to help me do better in my job, and in life in general.

More on that tomorrow. For now, have good night. And happy President Inauguration Day!

Literature that Started as a letter, and Surviving Carbon Monoxide Poisoning

I started writing this letter, and realized that the bulk of this was going to turn into a blog anyway, so I cheated and cut and pasted the body of this letter into this blog.

Yup, why not, it'll catch you up on my life anyway.


My roommates and I survived Carbon Monoxide poisoning last night. All four of us slept through the alarm. Thankfully our upstairs neighbors heard the alarm go off and called the landlord. It looks like the levels weren't out of control. Turns out our chimney fell in, so we are without warm water and heat until 9 0'clock tomorrow morning (I don't know how the two relate), if things go as planned. And here I sit, afraid to sleep, because I'm afraid that I won't hear the alarm go off again.

That's about the most adventurous things that's happened this week. Then again, it's only monday, so what does that say about the rest of the week? If things go as planned, I start graduate school tomorrow. I'm a bit scared about that too. Sounds like most everyone in the class will be about 5 years younger than me. I'm afraid they're going to be savvy too. I'm excited at the prospect of getting back into learning mode though.

So lately, I've been getting back into the french literature stage. I love Alexander Dumas-even though it takes me a year to read most of his books--so I decided to try out his son. I read this book called Camille-or Lady of the Camellias. Despite the fact that it's one of the most pathetic love stories I've ever read, I absolutely loved it. Now I'm on the lookout for the live performances of it. (sh. . .it's my newest obsession.)

Since I finished that book I decide to stay in the love story/literature mode, so I've started reading Lady Chatterley's Lover. So far, I'm not sure what to think about the writing. I'm not as drawn into the story as I first imagined I'd be, and frankly, the characters are somewhat annoying, but we'll see how I feel when I get further into the book. Next book I want to read is Dona Barbara. I'm still watching the Spanish soap opera version of the book, but the more I read into the social critique, the more I want to read the book myself. So, off the library I shall go, in hopes of finding a decent English translation of the book.

Links to my Current Soap Opera Obsession
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doña_Bárbara
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HEG9QMJM1Q4&feature=related
http://msnlatino.telemundo.com/novelas/Dona_Barbara/
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rOPRKKnNiL4&feature=related

Camille-The Lady of the Camellias-by Alexandre Dumas (son)

Camille, also known as the Lady of the Camellias, by Alexander Dumas (son) hows now because one of my favorite fun reads. I have a thing for French authors who could have used a good editor, like Alexander Dumas (father) and Victor Hugo. There's something about these books and their critique on government and society, that draw me in like nothing else I read. But, the thing about all of these books is that they're difficult reads for me, and it always take me 6 months to a year to finish most of their books. (5 months to get half way through them, and one week to a month to finish the second half-that's usually when the story gets too good to put down.) They're addictive, like a soap opera, but I have to pace them out, because the writing and history is overwhelming and causes me to think to much.

Recently, however, I discovered this nice little book called Camille, and I fell in love with it at first chapter. It's a ridiculously easy read for the time it was written in, and I must say that the translator, Sir Edmond Gosse, is fantastic. I couldn't tell whether or not its abridged, but it doesn't matter. This pathetic little love story worked it's way into my heart, so much, that I think it'll be one of those books I read read throughout my entire life.

It's a story about or courtesan, who's young a beautiful, and dying. She falls in love with this young man, and at first refused to give up her way of life for him. So, she lives as a courtesan, refusing to accept payment from her true love, while prostituting herself to others in order to maintain her lifestyle. But, eventually she falls so in love with this guy, Armand, that she decided to sell and pawn everything she owns to pay off her debt, and start a new, humble life with Armand. The couple is at the highth of their happiness, and have just found a flat to move in with together when Armand's father comes to town and tries to convince Armand that this love is nothing more than a fling, and bound to fail. Armand, young and in love, and happy refuses to give up his love, and is willing to risk his relationship with his father to live with this courtesan. So, the father speaks to the courtesan behind Armand's back, and convinces her to leave Armand for the sake of the family. See, Armand has a sister who's ready to wed, but the family of the man she wishes to marry refuses her because of Armand's actions in Paris-living with a courtesan, letting her sell off everything thing she owns to live with him, which is unacceptable to society. The courtesan decides to make herself a martyr, and pushes Armand away, in a very cruel fashion for the sake of his sister. She dies poor and alone. Without any true friends, and Armand doesn't find out the truth until it's too late.

The story is beautifully written, and tragic. The characters, Armand in particular, are pathetic. But through these pathetic creatures, we get a very clear look of the life of the courtesans-women who can not be wife, nor bother, nor sister, just a women owned by the men who keep her. It's sad really.

The only think about the book is that it ruined my love of the movie The Moulin Rouge. At first, I thought that story line of a young courtesan who falls in love with a young poet, but is bound by her old life never to be free was pretty original. It's one of my favorite things about the movie. And the director's and writers take make it seem that way, but now, I think the writers saw one of the plays based on this story, or read the book and decided to write a movie script inspired by this story. I'm sure it's not the case, but I think that there's too much coincidence between these to stories for that not to be the case. Namely that in both stories, the courtesan is made to drive her lover away, and dies of consumption in the end.

Let Married Men Be

I love my soccer group, I really do, but some girls need to watch it, because they're out to cause trouble. Since moving to New York, I've joined a meet-up soccer group that I really enjoy. The atmosphere is pretty laid back, and everyone is pretty friendly. Friendly, not flirty, which is where some people need to learn the difference.

Here's the thing about the guys that we play with. The vast majority of them are very attractive, true gentlemen, oh and married or in very serious relationships. They are really nice guys who go out of their way to make everyone feel included, and keep us laughing when they can tell we're having a bad day, or tell us the truth when we're having an off day. It's like a family away from family, and it's really nice. But then there are the girls who mistake this friendliness for something else, or maybe they just feed off male attention, I don't know. But it's really annoying when the group is out together and they and their friends insist on putting some of these guys in an awkward situation.

Like, the other night, one girl in particular, insisted on getting too close to one of these guys. He would step away, and she would lean in closer. He would then move away and unwrap her hands from around his neck, and she would just put them back around him and lean closer. Eventually one of the guys or other girls would walk over and "save" him from this awkward situation, and he would turn around and say thanks to his rescuer, but it didn't stop the girl and her friend from moving on to her next target--usually another married man on the team. Where the same scenario occurred.

The guys were pretty classy about the way they handled the situation, but the point is that they shouldn't have been in that situation to begin with. You could tell they were annoyed, after all, guys should be able to go out with their guy friends, or a group of friends without having to deal with these "temptresses," trying to cause trouble

Sigh. . , I used to think that it was guys, more than women who went out looking for those situations. (Those of you who know my history will know why), but now I'm not so sure that's true. And it's not just because of this particular situation. There are other's too.

Like I have this good friend, who had a pretty big crush on another one of my friend's husbands. The two women were friend's themselves, and both married. But the one, was tired with her husband, and started to come on to the other friend's husband, and actually went as far as asking the friend how she'd feel if she slept with her husband. (did you catch all of that) My friend was like WTF! As was everyone else, but she didn't care. She, the one friend didn't care. All she saw was a man who was nice to her and automatically assumed that he wanted to sleep with her.

Then, almost as recently, I knew these two people who worked together. The one man had been in a very serious relationship for about 10 years, and the chick wasn't. The guy is friendly and flirty with everyone, but that's just the way he is. We all saw it as part of his friendly personality. Except for this one girl that was convinced that he was totally into her, despite the fact that he treated her the way he treated everyone else. So, one night, everyone in the group went dancing after work, and she totally started rubbing up and dancing against him in a very provocative way. He would move away, and she would get closer, and you could see he was uncomfortable, but couldn't seem to shake her off. None of us really thought about moving into help him, until she tried to kiss him. He left soon after that, not really knowing how to handle the situation. Eventually, rumor got back to his girlfriend about that night and it became a big to do. Lucky for him, there were enough of us there that night as witnesses that he didn't come on to her, and left when he felt the situation was out of his control, but she almost ruined a completely good relationship, and for what? For a possible night of empty sex?

Seriously, does any woman who breaks up a long term relationship or marriage seriously think that the man will ever take her seriously or as anything more than a piece of ass? Deep Breath.

Here's the thing. We're all human, and we're all at some point in time, going to be physically attracted to other people of the opposite sex (Someone other than the person we're with, or if we're single we might at some point be attracted to someone who's married or in a serious relationship). Unfortunately, that's just the way that life is. But we need to acknowledge that it's nothing more than a physical attraction, and move on. Respect that person and their relationship, and more importantly, respect yourself.

Walk away from trying to land that man as yours, and find yourself someone who can truly love and care for you, and who shall be faithful to you. Not someone who's already taken, who you like just because he's good looking and nice to you. Get it through your head. He's nice to you because he's a nice guy, not because he wants to get laid. Leave him alone, and move on.

Taking Chances Means Leaving Your Comfort Zone

There are some people in life who thrive on change. Who's constant change of being is comfort, but I think those people are few and far between. I'd bet that most of us prefer the comfort of knowing what to expect, than of the unknown. I mean, why not, it's safe right? For example, being in a hostile environment might seem safer than running away because at least in the hostile environment, you know what's coming. What actions trigger what reaction, and how to shield yourself-well, maybe.

But then, there's the real world. The one without the protective glass around it and the soft cushion of friends to catch you when you fall. And that world. . .well, let me tell you. . . that world is just plane scary. It's like one day, you're in a soft field of good smelling flowers, and the next, you're in a hot desert trying to make your way.

Why are we even talking about this? Because given the experiences of the last couple of weeks, I am scared to death. Here I am, in this big scary world, all on my own for the first time in my life, failing at something I should be really good at, and there is no one to catch me if I fall. And that, well that, can make me feel pretty alone. At least the upside is that failing isn't an option, so I need to turn all this luck around. Even so, I miss Jared more than anything lately, and I think it's because he represents the comfort of home.

I actually went home for the Holiday, and as usual, came back pretty depressed. It's nothing bad. It's nothing anyone has said, it's just where I'm at in life vs where most people I know are at in life. The bulk of my family and friends have married, and are starting their families. They have a routine life. Go to work, come home, take care of the kids, go to bed. As boring and mundane as that life sounds, it also sounds like the warmest and safest place to be. Life is predictable, routine, and leaves very little room for change. I look around and feel like everyone has moved on to the next stage in life (i.e. having children, buying their first home, and moving in with their significant others or getting married), when I'm still trying to figure out who I am, and that makes me sad. It makes me feel like crying, because it feels like most everyone has not only the support groups of friends and family that they grew up with, but also the person they plan to be with for the rest of their lives, and the children have not choice but to love and depend on them. My friends and family have moved on--become mothers and fathers, and I'm still wandering the world. Trying to figure out what I have to offer and discovering what it has to offer me, while dabbling with the idea of settling down, but never really taking the chance to do it.

So, I wonder around this world by myself, and it gets pretty lonely. I love my life, I really do. I love that I have no one to answer to but myself, that I'm free to do things on my own terms, and my own time, and mostly, I love my solitude and independence. I love that I can take off and travel just because I feel like it, without taking anyone else into consideration, but even that begins to loose it's luster. I'd gladly argue with someone over where and when we're going, if it would mean not having to go at it alone. The experiences don't seem as fun anymore, when you have no one to share it with. So, life is adventurous, but lonely. And finding a good balance is difficult. When things go bad, I want to run home and hide in the comfort of knowing what's coming, but the routine drives me so crazy, that I cant wait to come back to NY where everything is new, and the possibility of changing is undeniable. . . , and inspiring to say the least.

Life Status-What We Do Today Gets Us Where We Want to be When We're Old

When we were young, my best friend and I used to joke around that one day he would be my rich financier. I was going to travel the world, volunteering for human rights organizations—fighting for causes that weren’t my own, and he would be the one to bail me out of jail when I got thrown in jail for picketing against the government or chaining myself to a tree. He would be able to do this because he was going to be a successful businessman who hung out with the high rollers.

When I wasn’t traveling the world, I’d be using his network of friends to organize huge fundraisers for these causes at home. Giving speeches, and putting together videos and slide shows that documented the good that the financers’ donations for people’s quality of life around the world. But then, I worked for the non-profit sector at home and was very disenchanted by the power politics and the complete lack of organization within many of these organizations. So, I left the sector and decided that from then on, I would focus on volunteering every now and then with organizations that worked to educate “under privileged ” kids. The point being, I’m not off traveling the world, living the hippie life-style and getting myself blacklisted with the government, but my friend is keeping his side of the deal, and is working his way into the life-style he’s always desired.

Take this past weekend for example. He and his girlfriend went to Vegas to celebrate the New Year. They were meeting a couple of friends out there, but when their plane landed, one of the first people they saw was a billionaire they’d met once almost a year ago. When my friend walked over to say hello, the man remembered him and offered them a ride to their hotel in his limo. By the end of the night and through their stay, they were eating at a $4,000 dollar table, and getting VIP treatment to event after event.

So, he’s doing his part of shaping his life by networking, so I guess that means I need to get my but in gear and start looking for a cause to believe in.

The New Year Disaster

Well, my first official day of the new year did not get off to a good start. I was awakened a little past eleven by an angry editor. The supply box with the new books, the banner, the posters, order forms, fliers, etc., did not arrive at the conference. There she was, setting up, and the stuff was missing. I wanted to cry. I’d already received a stern talking to the previous month, for things gone missing-my lack of organization and/or attention to detail. I’d stayed late last week going over everything to make sure that none of the mistakes happen again, and bam! The supply box was missing.

I threw on my clothes and rushed to work to figure out what happened and re-print all the missing order forms, flyers, booklists, and business cards, as well as gather up supplies-like our back drop and other missing signage. It took a couple of hours, but I was able to get most everything together and back in time to set up a decent looking booth before the doors opened. My boss called while I was setting up the missing items, but I couldn’t really read him. I called him later to update him on what I did, but felt awful, and am dreading going in to work on Monday to face him and everyone else. My editor was so upset that the people for Penn State (the booth next to us) commented on it. They went on to tell me that they were missing items too, and that it happens to every one, and were really good about helping me out. So that was nice, but I still felt awful. It's not like me to make these type of mistakes, but how can anyone know that when I'm so new?

Sigh, it wasn’t the best beginning to the new year, but at least we were able to avoid a disaster.

On a different note, the Italian guy phoned me today. He wanted me to meet him tonight or tomorrow, but I wasn’t interested. I was actually pretty disgusted when he ended the phone call by sending me “kissed.” “Kissed,” he said, “kisses, and see you soon.” Yuck! I don’t need to be babied. Attention is nice, but that was overkill. Sigh. . . It could just be that I was having a bad day, and didn't want to deal with a guy. Anyhow, now I have to call him and tell him that he's a great guy, which he is, but that I'm not interested. Sounds easy, but I don't like confrontation, and on top of that, there's a huge language barrier, but regardless, I'll call later this week and deal with it.

New Years in New York

Ok, so this is what I do when I'm bored. I write. And although the spelling and grammar are all over the place, you'll get to read a little bit of my life, and be thankful that you are no longer living the life of a 20 something single person.

New Years eve started out as any other day. Having flown home the night before, I was exhausted and slept in until noon, after which I only got out of bed because my stomach was demanding food. Once I had fueled up on a ham and cheese sandwich, I decided to send out some e-mails and texts to see who had planned anything exciting that evening. Some of my acquaintances were going to a huge party down town, but I just didn't have the energy for that. My aunts were staying in, and my uncle was going to a house party with his friends. The house party sounded fun, but I wanted to be in the city for my first New Years in New York, and wasn't looking forward to my uncle's overprotective antics on New Years Eve. (more on those some other day). So, I ended up meeting up with some people from Soccer who live in Greenwich Village. Brianna had invited me over for dinner with her husband and some other people from soccer, and I thought that sounded like just the right thing for me. (I'll admit, that Brianna's suggestion to set me up with her significant other's hot Italian friend, factored greatly into the decision. After all, It's been almost 6 months since Jared and I were officially over, and although he's already met someone new, I'm still pinning away. So I though it was time to pull my head out of the ground, and get myself a chance to meet someone new. So, off I went.)

The night was bitter cold, and the gusts of wind were so strong, that occasionally they blew me off the sidewalk and onto the road. It had snowed earlier that day, and the sidewalks were slippery. As I made my way to the subway I began to wonder if going out was such a good idea.

Lucky for me, the subways were running every five minutes so I didn't have to wait long in the cold.

I arrived at their house around eight to be greeted by Antonio taking out the trash. We laughed at the perfect timing, then we walked in to his place and introduced me to his handsome friend who also happened to be name Antonio.

I was pretty impressed with Brianna's choice in men for me, although we had discovered a few months ago that we have the same taste in men, so I shouldn't have been surprised. The evening started out pretty mellow and fun, but then they told me Michael was coming. Which is fine. Michael is a nice guy, but. . . do you remember Saved by the Bell? He's is to me what Screech is to Lisa. So he can be a bit annoying. When Michel arrived, Antonio (Brianna's significant other) told Antonio (friend) to pretend to be my boyfriend for the rest of the night, in order to ward off Michael.

But Antonio (Friend) took his roll pretty seriously. By this time, I'd drank about 3 glasses of wine, 1 double shot of rum, a coupe of lemon and orange shots, and a shot of Vodka. Needless to say, I was pretty drunk. Antonio tried to kiss me, and I told him he'd have to wait until midnight.

I'm not usually the type of girl to kiss on a first date, but it was New Years Eve. And I hadn't kissed someone in six months. And to be frank, I've been feeling a bit lonely. Some harmless attention from a hot Italian man wouldn't hurt right? I was wrong.

At midnight, we, the group, found ourselves at Battery Park. That's on the south end of Manhatten. It overlooks the bay and the Statue of Liberty. The night was freezing, but the sky was beautiful, and the fireworks were wonderful. They lit up the sky above the statue of liberty, and you could see the reflection in the water. Seriously, I don't understand why people hang out at Time Aquare when the real beauty of the night is on the water front. So I kissed Antonio, and it was nice, but meant nothing, and that was somewhat sobering. He kept trying to shove his tongue down my throat the rest of the night. And I humored him, at first, because it's nice to be kissed every now and then, but when he pushed for more, I got a bit defensive, pushed him off, and decided to go home. By this time, we were at a bar, and I had downed a couple of more shots of tequila. Simon had lectured me on how I was settling and showing a lack of respect for myself. And strangely enough, in my drunken state of mind, I decided to listen.

Antonio really wanted to take me home, but I insisted against it. I needed to get home safe, and alone, and needed time to think. So we parted ways, and I went home, although I fell asleep on the subway, and only happened to wake up at my stop by chance. I came home, showered, then curled myself up in bed, and fell asleep thinking that this new years was more fun than last years despite the fact that Jared wasn't here to share it with me.

I also realized that I don't know if I'll ever be ready to date in New York. Kissing a guy on the first date is hard enough. I know this wasn't a date, but I still felt weird kissing a stranger. Everything moves so fast here. It makes me wonder if dating is the same way. I mean, I've heard from some people say that you kiss a person on the first date, and sleep with them by the third, and that's well. . .a lot too fast for a girl like me.

I'd rather date the guy, get to know him, and kiss him when the moment feels right. Who cares if that's the first date, or the sixth or the eight, as long as it feels right, you know. And sleeping with someone. Well, that's another story all together. I mean, I know some of my friends think I'm old fashioned, but that's only for people I love. After all, I'm the most valuable thing I have, why should I give me away to just anyone? No, that's reserved only for love.