Writers, Can’t live with ‘em, Can’t live without ‘em.

There is a constant fear when you know a writer; the fear that everything you do or say will later turn into a story.  The fear that any embarrassing move you make will be plastered around pages for people to see.  Your soul will be bare and you will be out there, in the public eye, naked and vulnerable.  If you think this is an over exaggeration, you have no concept of the internet or how what you say in a public forum resonates in the world forever.  Overly dramatic, you say? Well, this might be a small little blog, but it certainly gets a lot of traction; not just in the United States, but all around the world.  I may not have many ‘followers’ who subscribe (ie-other bloggers) but I do have a lot of dedicated readers…as my stats tell me.

My day job may be the farthest thing from writing as possible, but that’s because it is my hobby, my passion, something I love.  I want my work to be pure and fun and be my voice.  Writing is my outlet, but still, I am a writer. I repeat, I am a writer.  While this may just seem like an arbitrary statement, it actually has a lot more to do with my character than my profession.  Writers are Blessed with both a gift and a curse.  We are analytical creatures; which means we will tear apart everything you say five ways to Sunday, until we find an underlying gem in what you indirectly said.  Yes, this seems a little crazy, but that’s what writers do, we can’t help it.  On the other hand, everything we say is carefully thought out, eloquent, precise and well planned.  That attribute alone can be a powerful tool, as we can either build you up with beautiful speech, or say the most hurtful insults that will not sting right away, but eat at you for days to come.

These are the liabilities with being friends with a writer.  I have been told I have an acid tongue, stringing the most eloquent lines together to purposely push the buttons of whoever scorned me.  While some people might see that as an insult, I took it as a testament to my amazing writing and diction skills.  I have a creative brain and knack for picking obscure but poignant words.  I try to use my power for the common good, but to err is human . . . Mildly joking, I never wrongly insult anyone, but God help you if you hurt someone I care about . . .acid tongue gloves are OFF!

But I digress. While many people are afraid of having their guts spilled for the masses over pages, I seldom write about people I am close with.  Much of my life/blog are an open book as far as good bar stories, terrible dates, and random thoughts, I do not put the intimacies of my life on here.  However, if you are with me and an amazing adventure, good story or horrible dates ensue, it is fair game.  You have been forewarned.  

I am on a 24 hour Champagne Diet

Now that the awesome Drake inspired title lured you into my blog, I will get into it.  With New Year’s Eve quickly approaching, I have had a lot to celebrate.  I have spent this past year doing a lot of soul searching and reflection in my own life, and as this year thankfully comes to a close, I figured I should sum it all up.

I have learned that life is a constant learning process, every day I learn something new about myself or the world.  Any time I think I have it all figured out, life throws me some kind of curve ball; good or bad.  This year I have met more amazing people and key players in my life than I have in any other year.  Someone whom I met at the beginning of the year as an enemy turns out to be one of my closest friends now; that came as a complete shock to us both!  Another person I met as a drunken acquaintance[1] turned out to be someone promising.  Life is always funny like that, when you don’t expect anything, something big comes along.

On the same side of meeting new people, I have learned that it is okay to let go of old people.  Just because you care about someone and have known them for years, does not mean that they will always be that same person.  Everyone grows up and sometimes two people do not grow in the same direction.  That is okay.  The best and most positive thing you can do is respect that friendship enough to let it die with dignity.  If someone is no longer a good friend or a positive influence in your life, it is okay to let go.  You don’t have to tolerate people’s negativity and bologna just because you love(d) them.  That is an important lesson I have learned this year; you cannot be mad at people who don’t know any better, but you don’t need to endure it.  This year I decided I will no longer accept negativity in my life.  Being happy is a choice like anything else, every day you have to choose to be happy, and I can’t do that with toxic people in my life.  So, unfortunately to them I say Bye Felicia[2].

This year has been insanely trying; life has set me up with more obstacles, tests, trials and tribulations than it ever has, and despite some slips and minor setbacks, I think I really rose to the occasion.  I have taken all these obstacles and made the best of it.  I used everything that came my way and learned from it.  Unlike 2009, I probably won’t look back on this year and say ‘it seemed hard at the time but look how much fun I had!!’ Instead I will probably say ‘holy moly was it difficult, but look how much I learned.’  This year’s quarter-life crisis set me up for an amazing come back, and I most certainly did. 

With a new zest for life, amazing new and strengthened older friendships, no negativity, and new relationships on the horizon, I look to 2014 with bright eyes and excitement.  I am positive that 2014 is going to make way for some of the best times of my life to come, because how could it not?  An arrow can only be shot by pulling it backwards; well after a year of being pulled backwards, I am sure I am going to be projected forward into something beautiful.  Good things in 2014, everyone!! And definitely more blogs!

Xoxo

-LC

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[1] Don’t ever go out for an all-day drink-fest and only eat a plum.

[2] Google it…you’ll thank me later.

Battle of the Sexes- Can guys and girls be ‘just friends’?

I have had this conversation a lot within the past few months or so, so I figured it was something worth addressing.  Can men and women just be friends? No tension, no awkwardness, no flirting, just a platonic friendship. 

Most men I talk to say ‘No. Men and women cannot be just friends; there is always some underlying sexual tension at the base of the friendship.’  Well, the neighborhood I live in goes against that 100%.  A good portion of my friends are male, and the same goes for the friends of my girlfriends.   It might be because we all have worked in bars for the past 10 or so years, but to us we do not see anything weird about having male friends.  Friends are friends, no matter their gender.  At least that’s how we (my girlfriends and I) see it.  I do think, mainly in my case, that it makes a difference because my friends are older.  My friends have always been older than me; some by a few years, some by more, but with most of my friendships, there was never a feeling of anything other than friends.  If I needed them there, they were there, if I needed a talk or a drinking buddy, whether I was single or not, they were there.  However, in my [then] newly single-ness I realized that some of my ‘friends’ were not on the same page of friendness that I was.  I wouldn’t have called them my closest male friends, but I certainly didn’t see anything more than a platonic relationship there.  Yet I have found myself in an awkward one-sidedly drunken conversation where I had to politely decline a drinking date invitation by someone I thought was just a friend.

So that brings me to my next point . . . The best explanation I have gotten was ‘it has to be a two way street,' meaning both parties need to agree that there is nothing there.  Though as 500 Days of Summer will tell you, guys and girls cannot just be friends, someone will always fall for someone, whether for a minute or for a lifetime.  Well I certainly do not take that stance in this argument, but I do agree with the two way street comment; in the sense that if one person has even the slightest bit of feelings, the friendship is probably not legitimate. 

Working in a bar for the past 7 years, I have met a lot of people and formed a lot of relationships through my trade.  Maybe they aren’t the strongest friendships, maybe they are just ‘bar friends’, but I still would refer to them as ‘my friend __.’  While I am wary of girls who ONLY have guy friends [if you can’t play nice with at least 1 other girl, you’re probably a horrible person] and guys who ONLY have girl friends [what are you trying to do, start a collection of prospects?] I do think it is healthy to have a nice mix of friends, only friends, who are both men and women. 

The Week I spent with my Mother.

Last month I went on a weeklong vacation to San Francisco with my mother.  This was not the first vacation we have been on alone together, nor is this the first time we have been on vacation together for a week, but for some reason this trip was different.  I have always wanted to go to California, it has been a dream of mine for my entire life and for some reason I just never made it out there.  Whatever the case, the timing wasn’t right or I never seemed to find the right company, my dream of California took a backseat as I traveled with friends and boyfriends to other states/countries.  This trip finally happening was a huge deal, and I couldn’t have picked a better travel companion.  I absolutely adore and idolize my mother, she is the most amazing person I have ever met in my life and she is certainly the strongest woman I know.  But, this is not just an idealistic daughter talking, I know a lot of my peers and people who have met her feel the same way.  Despite none of this information being a revelation to me, I still learned a lot about my mother and our relationship in that one week . . . probably more than she realizes.

My mother is a strong woman.  I repeat; my mother is a strong woman.  Not in the sense of physical strength or solely assertiveness, but the fact that she has overcome many situations and never sees the world jaded or differently because of it.  I always hoped to take that trait from her, and I really believe I do.  My mother navigated us through an unfamiliar city, which has its fair share of ‘undesirable’ neighborhoods, with confidence, ease and without the least bit of uncertainty.  As we went from neighborhood to neighborhood stopping at every wine tasting and little boutique we could stumble across, I realized I am much more like my mother than I previously realized.

While we went from place to place as per recommendations of my friends, my mother never questioned or complained, she just went with it and gladly got us there.  When I wanted to go stick my feet in the Pacific Ocean [for the first time ever] despite it being freezing outside and not beach weather at all, my mother was jumping in the ocean with me.  My mother didn’t judge the silly things I do, like splash freezing ocean water all over the place simply because I’ve never been outside the Atlantic, but embraced them and appreciated the rose colored way I see and love the world.  But it is more than her just valuing the way I see it, she also has the free spirit love for beauty of the world that I do.  We went to the California Academy of Science, and my mom stopped and enjoyed every exhibit we went to.  There was never enough information she could soak up, even as we were walking through the small gardens before the Academy, my mom read every statue and sign there was.  I love that about her.

One night my mother and I decided to take the concierge’s advice and try a restaurant in the ‘Little Italy’ section of San Francisco.  Well, what the concierge neglected to tell us was that it was more of a little pizzeria than a restaurant.  Nevertheless, it would be too rude to cancel our reservation, so we sat in the small pizzeria/restaurant at a table for two and browsed the menu.  Out of nowhere some portly, unkempt older man sits down next to us and proceeds to uncomfortably create conversation.  After not getting the hint that we were uninterested in conversing with a stranger who was jamming his dirty hands in our bread, chewing with his mouth open, and hacking up a lung while we were trying to eat our appetizers, he proceeded to move all his belongings from his original table and sit next to us for the remainder of our meals.  While the wait staff was getting quite the giggle out of this awkward encounter, my mother and I dealt with the intrusion the same way . . . more wine!

This was the very meal that made me realize how much my mother and I are the same person.  Despite being disinterested in making a new friend, she continued conversation and didn’t miss a beat or get uncomfortable.  As I sat there ignoring the interactions, I noticed a man with a little yorkie walked in and sat on the other side of us.  Our ‘girls night dinner’ has now become a circus attraction.  After playing with the little dog [I am a sucker for dogs] for a few minutes, the other man, let’s call him Egbert, now decided he too wanted to be in our conversation.  I then found myself trying to pay attention to my mother’s conversation with Mr. Pignati[1], which had now gotten friendlier after the discovery that Mr. Pignati is single, looking for love, and also interested in men. My mother’s new goal for the evening was to get Mr. Pignati to date and find love, after all, this was San Francisco, and no one should be alone forever!

That whole interaction was a scene I could see playing out for myself.  My Friends always laugh because whenever we go out, I make a new friend.  It doesn’t matter how creepy or bizarre the person is, I always have a good story, and apparently that is a trait I got from my mother!

Throughout our dinner, Mr. Pignati and Egbert became our dinner guests, albeit competing against each other for attention.  Egbert was an older man, skinny, covered in jewelry, long gray hair slicked back, motorcycle helmet in tow (although all I saw outside was a cheesy vespa) and this little female yorkie with a pink bow in here hair.  Much to my dismay and confusion, Egbert was not interested in men; he was just a 1960’s ‘free love’ kind of flowerchild.  Although I pride myself on being a free spirit, Egbert gave me the creeps and I would’ve much preferred to stay chatting it up with Mr. Pignati.  A few creepy comments from Egbert with retaliation from me caught my mom’s ear and she whipped out the ‘Brooklyn/Italian/Overprotective Momma Bear’ attitude.  Yet another realization that my mother and I are the same person, because I get that same kind of protective crazy when I feel my family[2] are being threatened [or just really annoyed.]

A few glasses of wine and champagne down, our entrees and desserts finished, and memories to last us a lifetime, my mother and I departed the restaurant.  I do not remember that dinner just because two creepy old men were trying to scam on me and my mom, but I remember it because my mother and I sat in a quiet boring little restaurant and had ourselves a party, making tons of new friends.  We had the entire kitchen staff out talking to us, the owners of the restaurant and their family telling us their story, and of course our two dinner guests from other tables.  Much like myself, my mother is a people person and brings the party wherever she goes.  There is no reason in living a boring life, especially when you can make every mundane activity interesting.

I couldn’t think of anyone better to be so similar to other than my mother.  She absolutely is my best friend; She understands me, knows why I am the way I am, and appreciates me.  Now, it can be argued that these are just traits of being a mother and feeling that way about your children is natural, but the admiration, understand and appreciation is reciprocated, which isn’t always the case between paternal and offspring relationships.  One simple weeklong vacation meant more to me than could’ve previously been predicted, and will be filled with memories I hold for a very long time.

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[1] This name has been changed to protect said portly man’s identity, and yes, it is from a book.

[2] Friends are family too

A Year in the Dark, Don’t call it a Comeback.

This week marks the one year anniversary of one of the East Coast’s greatest natural disasters of our time, Hurricane [et. super storm] Sandy. Growing up at the very end (on the water) of Breezy Point/the Rockaways, we always joked that the peninsula wouldn’t survive a natural disaster, as it is extremely vulnerable, but we never thought it would actually happen. 

Breezy and Rockaway were our own little slice of heaven; close enough to the city that it was easy to get to but far enough away that we were not overrun with tourists; a beachfront community where neighborhood ties go back generations and the cure for anything is to sit on the beach and watch the waves, no matter the time of day or season of the year.  Our beach culture was something a lot of people couldn’t understand just through the news coverage alone; it was something that was ingrained in our souls, the very fiber of our beings fed off the feeling of sand under our feet, the hot kiss sun on our skin and the smell of ocean in our noses .  We were a tightknit community where everyone knew each other, kids stayed out playing manhunt in the street or skateboarding around, you work in the same places you hang out in, you get your first job young and summer days are spent unquestionably at the beach no matter how hungover or tired you are.  Life is just different there.  It is a secret little paradise in an ever bustling city.  The one thing we get to keep quiet and to ourselves, New York’s best kept secret.

Any time there was a tragedy, our town would band together and console one and other.  It didn’t matter if the tragedy was nationwide, if they knew you personally, or if maybe it was just a fellow townie in need, you would never be alone.  This was the kind of town I grew up in.  There was always someone there when you needed them, even if you couldn’t thank them by their name.  Our little peninsula and its cohabitates were put in a time capsule, right out of something like Meet the Beavers, where everyone is so polite and every parent scolds you on your manners regardless of if you’re their child.  The friends you make when you are little are the friends that your children will call aunt or uncle, and that is just the way it goes.  Our peninsula was forgotten to be existed by all the world, unless it was our St Patrick’s day parade, in which every Politian felt the need to come down and kiss our babies, as if they do anything for us.  We don’t need you coming to our side of the world for your photo-ops; where are you when the sea was swallowing our town whole?

Everyone lost something when Hurricane Sandy blew through; possessions, homes, memories, security, everything.  But the residents of Breezy Point, The Rockaways, Howard Beach and Cross Bay lost something most great to us . . . our innocence.  Not only were we now without homes, the daily comforts we took for granted and countless priceless belongings, but we were now exposed.  Our private, safe, quiet little hometown was now plastered all over every newspaper, television screen, or any other platform it could be.  Our private oasis was now destroyed and open for everyone to see.  A place no one has ever heard of was now shown around the world at its very worst.  Yet, like we always do, as the true underdog town that we are, we rose.  It was a hard thing to come back from, that Sandy, but we are resilient, we are durable, and one thing is sure about our peninsula is you can never keep us down for long because you can never shake the sand from our souls.  While living on a beach front community always comes with its dangers, there is nowhere else we would rather call home. The violent and moody mistress of the ocean will always sing our name, calm our soul and carry us home; we are strong. 

Where have all the butterflies gone?

Apparently my full blown quarter life crisis has engulfed every aspect of my life and is now spilling over to my blog.  As this is the case, I will continue my ‘quest for love’ theme with this blogticle[1].

Here is the thing, despite being a self-proclaimed cynic, I do very much believe in love.  I have been in love; I have felt it, seen it, been swallowed and blinded by it; I have given my all to someone and them to me.  Yet, like anything else, I think it is extremely hard (a part time job really) to keep in it’s truest form; and unless both parties are really committed to it, life sometimes gets in the way [2]and ruins it.  That is not to say I believe that all love is the same or that it is the same for everyone, just that the past love I have experienced, I have not felt in a long time.

That got me thinking, what happened to that ‘butterfly feeling’?  What is that, you ask?  Well basically that is a very fairytale girly way to define the undefinable term of love.  When you meet someone that you would like to pursue romantically, the hopeless romantics are usually like: ‘well, do they give you butterflies?’

I should take a brief moment to say I meet a lot of people on a weekly basis.  I am very friendly, personable, I make it a point to be the icebreaker in most situations; I pretty much have that ‘southern hospitality’ happiness that most New Yorkers are missing.  As much as I am a cynic about me finding love, I am absolutely in love with the world and the beauty in every day.  So I put myself out there and meet a lot of different people, but mainly [at least from my end] it is solely platonic.

Now that that’s out of the way, back to the point.  I have been in love where from the second I saw that person there were butterflies making me feel like I would float straight ahead until I smacked right into them and introduced myself.  Yes, I know how amorously silly and unlike me that sounds, but it is true.  While that feeling didn’t last, being as life and personalities get in the way, that is a feeling worth missing.  So when people ask me if I get butterflies, I mourn that time.  I miss feeling uncontrollably enamored by every little thing my love interest does. 

That’s where my nerves kick in.  Am I too old for butterflies? Does that feeling exist in your adulthood?  Are all my butterflies dead?

I like to think that many ‘mid to late twenty-somethings’ find themselves in the same predicament.  While these questions do make me nervous, it is solely because I would like to know that I do have that mysterious counterpart out there; made just for me and unfit for anyone else.  My idea on marriage is that you should have someone you want to travel on your journey through this life with; they shouldn’t be something you need.  There is a difference.  Too many people get married because, well, they’re (insert silly age limit here) and that’s what they should be doing; settling down.  But the thing with settling down is, you shouldn’t have to settle!  There should be butterflies and spark and a desperate necessity to want to talk to the same person all the time.  Not a dependency, but a happy confidence and feeling of being complete now that you have met them.

That’s what I think finding your spouse should be about.

I know several people that found this.  Some people may call them the lucky ones, but I like to think that they just refused to settle until the universe introduced them to the person they were meant for.  I think too many of us miss opportunities at the ‘real deal’ because we get nervous or scared about being alone and jump into the next relationship that presents itself.

 I am not that person. 

In this period of self-exploration and selfishness, I have realized that I love being alone and taking care of myself.  Don’t get me wrong, I love being a girlfriend and sharing my life with someone else, but all too often I have given my all to someone who just didn’t understand how to fully and healthily reciprocate.  For that, I am thankful.  I am thankful to have had this opportunity to get to know, find and love myself and really find out what I want in life.

I don’t need ‘butterfly love’, I don’t even necessarily want it, but I do deserve it.  That is what I will wait for.  The love that clouds your brain and stops all other thought processes, the kind that makes you stare at your phone waiting for them to call, the kind of love that makes you feel like you’re not yourself when they aren’t around, and the kind of love that despite always wanting that person around, you are both confident and respectful enough to explore life on your own. 

For this reason, I will have hope that my butterflies will be revived, one day, by someone who deserves it.  In the meantime, I will continue to post silly blogs dissecting the very allusive emotion of love, and I will enjoy taking care of myself.  Because really, this is the only time in our lives where we get to be utterly selfish . . . isn’t that something worth preserving and taking your sweet time to enjoy?

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[1] That’s a blog article

[2] How does life get in the way? Well, that is a rather naïve statement.  People get older and grow, and it sometimes two people grow to travel two different paths.

Progress, NOT Perfection.

About three months ago I started a 'Beach Body' program called Turbo Fire.  This is a 5 month intense cardio program, which I personally describe as similar to shadow boxing.  The program puts you on a 6 day, 5 month, workout program and specific healthy diet.  It is not so much of a diet as it is a clean eating routine.  As I have already practiced clean eating, I read the diet manual and recipes several times and use some of theirs but mainly stick to my own.

I have noticed, while I may not be losing as many pounds as I would like, my body looks different and most importantly I feel different.  I feel my stomach does not get upset or bloated after eating, I have more energy; yes, my muscles are sore, but I do feel more accomplished and energetic on a daily basis.  On the days I do not work out (I usually schedule my ‘rest day’ around whatever day I am busiest and won’t be home) I feel unaccomplished and lethargic. 

Doing intense workouts on a daily basis has drastically improved my life.  While I am not where I would like to be as an end result, I know I am gladly on my way.  Too many people don’t want to put the time in to get the results they want.  The problem with expectation is you get discouraged when you do not see the results you want in your [irrational] time constraint.  I know the results I want will take me the 5 months, and considering I have tailored the plan to fit my schedule/life style, it may even take me a little bit after that.  Yet, that is the thing with ‘working out’ and having a fit, clean routine; it is not just a phase or something you do sometimes, it is a lifestyle.  Once you make the commitment to work out and be fit, that is a lifestyle change, it is not something you do temporarily or periodically.  It is a life commitment. 

I am perfectly happy to make my life revolve around being fit, because I know, while I was not overweight before, there are more benefits to being fit than the scale can hold.  In my [almost] 3 months working out I lost about 10 pounds.  Some people may be discouraged by this, but I know how I’ve gained a lot of muscle, my body looks different, I feel different, and I am even in a better mental state.  There are so many benefits for working out if you drop your expectations of being ‘skinny’ and just aim to be healthy.  I don’t want to be skinny.  Skinny is dangerous, people get skinny by skipping meals and eating the wrong things.  I just want to be fit; I want to eat right and feel right and have muscles and released endorphins.  That is my expectation for working out, to have a well-deserved sense of pride for my accomplishments.  You just have to remember that your body, like everything else, is a constant work in progress, perfection is unattainable.

If anyone is looking for a good program to start an intense workout commitment, definitely check out Turbo Fire[1].  Chalene really knows how to make classes fun and even though you are watching a tv screen, she somehow manages to motivate; which I never thought was possible with a workout DVD.

And remember this KEY RULE about working out . . . Exercise releases endorphins, endorphins make you happy, and happy people don’t go around shooting their husbands.  They just don’t[2].

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[1]  Program can be found here: http://www.beachbody.com/product/fitness_programs/turbofire.do?code=SEMB_GOOGLE_TF&gclid=CKmS4YLPyLkCFUhk7AodzVcAXg

[2] If you haven’t yet guessed it, this is from the movie: Legally Blonde

The day the earth stood still

9/11/01 is a day that rings out in everyone’s memory; I remember where I was when I heard the news, what I was wearing, where I went, and all the calamity and the surreal fear that ensued. Even though, as a nation, we could not fully comprehend why these tragedies happened or where we would go from here, as a society, New Yorkers clung together and made the best out of this we could.

I watched my town, which lost 29 people alone [businessmen and women, firefighters, volunteer firefighters] breakdown in the chaos and mourn.  But I also saw this same town, now missing mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters and neighbors, band together and comfort each other the best way we all knew how.  There were vigils, ceremonies, bagpipes and sing-alongs, there were quickly executed fundraisers, and mass efforts to find our missing . . . ‘missing,’ we all knew they weren’t missing, they were stolen, ripped from our arms and taken from us.  Yet we still clung, clung to hope, clung to faith and then eventually, clung to their memory. 

While as an adolescent I visited these memorial sites often, sat in solidarity on the beach gazing at the empty hole where our Twin Towers used to rule the sky, I know more about that day now, 12 years later, than I did then.  I knew my neighbors were never coming home, I knew somewhere there were children who would never meet nor remember their parents, I knew there were brothers and sisters who would never see their siblings again; yet it wasn’t until years later when I moved out of my town and into a new, equally as tightknit one, that I met these ‘somewhere people.’  I was able to put a face and a name to the tragic lives I only knew existed out there.  I met girls and boys my age who lost their siblings and their uncles, and while this event changed all of our lives, their lives were dictated and shaped by it. 

This tragedy was something that affected all those who lived through it, who saw the events unfold.  No one was safe from it’s impact.  To this day whenever anyone says ‘September 11^th’ even just referencing the specific day of the year, not the 2001 events, chills run down my spine.  We are all different from seeing those events, but some people, many whom I call friends, have to live with the differences.  Their differences aren’t just emotional distress, but voids in their everyday activities.  Normal life milestones are bittersweet as they suddenly have loved ones missing from the festivities.  It is for these people and all those we lost, that my heart breaks.  I will never be the same after 9/11, but I know so many families who are altered forever. 

I wish my gift to them could be peace of mind, but that is a naive notion.  You never get peace of mind from something like this; you just go through the forward motion, because time stops for no one.  We should not just remember the 2,977 people that perished that day; the 343 firefighters, 23 police officers, 37 port authority officers, 2 paramedics, or the 1,000 ill stricken first responders that have since perished, but we should remember the families that were left behind to pick up the pieces.  We should not only save our remembrance for the anniversary of the attacks, we should always keep those people in our hearts and minds.  They should be a constant reminder that life is too short, we never know when our last day will come, so we should make every effort to let the people in our lives know how much we love them, know how much of an impact they have on our world and remember that no matter what, you are better for having one more day with them.

I know I wouldn’t be the same person I am today without the people in my life, and I am sure they know that.  I know I think about those 3 thousand people on more than one day a year and I know that many of their stories and the stories of strength of their resilient families have shaped my life in more ways than they may realize.  In times of extreme tragedy, the beauty of strength, hope and grace was found.  We find strength with every new day, we hope for better tomorrows, and we find grace in the behaviors of others while we stumble. 

I will leave this blog off with one of my favorite lyrics.

‘Wherever time may take you in your life, remember this was beautiful.’

Serendipity—it’s not like the movies.

Like stated in previous blogs, I am a cynic.  I am probably a horrible girl; all the ‘rom coms,’ ‘princess movies’ and ‘chick flicks’ I’ve watched don’t reassure me that love will find me, it just reassures me that life is not like the movies! When all my friends talk about soul mates, serendipity[1], love at first sight and things being ‘meant to be,’ well I just know that scenarios like that are completely unlikely.  I do not believe in love at first sight, the jury is still out on soul mates, and as far as things being ‘meant to be’ and serendipitous, well, I feel like that is really just an opinion.  Sure, maybe the universe is bringing you to someone, but if BOTH parties do not see it, then one of you is a creep and the object of your love gets weirded out and does not want to be near you.

A few weeks ago I went to a concert with my friends in the city.  We were all looking forward to it, and being musically inclined, we knew to stand in the middle of the floor instead of going up close.  As we were all standing there waiting for the headliner to begin after the opening act I noticed someone in the crowd that looked very similar to my college roommate’s friend.  After some gawking I realized it was not him, but I did find myself in an ‘eye flirtationship[2].’ Shortly after we made googley eyes at each other, the concert started and he preceded to the front while my friends and I firmly planted ourselves in the best acoustic area, the middle.  Several weeks later I was futzing around on one of my many social media accounts and stumbled across him.  I remember saying ‘wow this kid looks familiar, probably can’t be the same person, that is TOO random.’  But I decided to message him and ask if he was the kid from the concert and how he is; usual pleasantries. I mean, he was a good looking kid, and clearly this was an opportunity, so why not be friendly? The few friends of mine I shared this ‘ironic’ encounter with (both men and women, by the way) decided that it was the universe specifically getting us together.  As if, for some reason, we were meant to meet and fate was having us meet again to make a move this time.  Although I do not agree with this at all, who am I to not jump on an ironic situation; for the main reason that I know I will have a good story to tell later[3].

After messaging back and forth, then taking the conversation to text, we discovered something . . . He looks like my college roommate’s friend because his TWIN BROTHER went to my college.  Apparently us having so many connections (a la- 10 degrees of Kevin Bacon) was creepy and our quick flirtationship ceased and desisted abruptly.   You see, even if the universe does [and I’m not saying it does] bring two people together; they need to both be open to seeing that fact.  If they are not, then it is just a missed opportunity and a chance encounter.  I was slightly bummed out by this fact; not for the reason of missing a cosmic connection (insert eye roll here), not even for the fact of it turning into more, I think I was most disappointed by the fact that, while I do pride myself as a cynic, I still hold a tiny bit of hope for things like ‘destiny’ and ‘true love’, and that is not an idea most males my age are open to. 

Romance, like chivalry, is a dead art.

While there may be no counterpoint for me that also holds out hope for these naïve notions, it was nice to see that there may be some cosmic pull drawing people together.  I am beginning to learn that, unlike the movies, destiny and soul mates aren’t always referring to your love life.  My destiny lately is career oriented, and I love that.  As for soul mates, I am sticking to that being the group of friends I have in my life, that I know were put there for a big reason.  As far as the ‘love’ aspect of my life, maybe it will happen, maybe it won’t; I have far bigger things to worry about than pulling up my horoscope and mapping my days around when it says I will find love.  The best part of where my journey is taking me now, is that I am extremely positive and happy in my everyday life.  Live a life so amazing that it will only attract the best people.  That will bring around a serendipitous person. J

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[1] A situation happening by luck, as if it were meant to.

[2] A flirty ‘relationship’ in which you engage a potential love interest by making eyes at them.

[3] I rather have a ‘bad’ story (which ends up being good) than no story at all.  Make life interesting!

40 days. Or My monthly Challenge.

One of my friends is very religious, but also very spiritual.  She loves to constantly find new things out about herself, the purpose for which she is on earth, and how far she can push/test herself.  For this reason, she put herself up to a challenge; every 40 days she will try something new. 

Why 40?

Well in the Bible 40 is a reoccurring and significant figure.  It signifies a period of testing, trials and tribulations, yet always ends with enlightenment.  Also, science says it takes 40 days to break a habit, or in this case, create a new one.

Her first test was to stay off the alluring devil, Facebook, for 40 days.  Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but I don’t think I could stay off of it for 40 minutes of free time let alone for 40 days, so I’m out.  That being said, she passed that test and even after reactivating her Facebook, no longer feels the need to check it or be as dependent on it for entertainment as she used to be.   As much as I would love to say I’m not, I am totally a social media addict [as this blog can attest to.]  But I guess the first step to beating any addiction is to admitting it, right? 

My name is Gabrielle and I am addicted to Social Media.

 That being said, I cannot give up on it just yet; also because then what else would you good people have to read in the interim??

So that test is not applicable to me, on to the next one.  Her next test was to keep her hair up/pulled back for 40 days, as that is something she is not used to.  I hate my hair up and it doesn’t flatter me, so really what am I accomplishing by attempting that one?  Not that I want to take her experiments, but I am always up for something new to push myself.  That got me thinking, while picking up/letting go of something for 40 days is a great idea, it should really challenge or change you. 

Yesterday I had an epiphany; it was August 1^st and I was going to start challenging myself.  I’ll start with a month since that’s just easier for me to keep track of in my hectic lifestyle and doesn’t add as much pressure.  Back in March I got a ‘let it be’ tattoo because the song has always been close to my heart, and I also wanted the daily reminder to not get so crazy over things I cannot change.  Well, it’s been 5 months and I still let things get to me just as much as I always did. 

It’s not that I’m sensitive, because in most ways I am not, but I tend to take things to heart and get hurt or hotheaded on things that do not matter or because of people who are of no consequence to me.  That being said, in the past two weeks I have had several run-ins with people who make no mind yet it still left me irritated and ruined my night.  After a very convincing pep talk from my mother and my Fundip[1], I decided to just let it go.  That started my epiphany.  There are way too many real problems in this world, things that can go wrong, chance and circumstances beyond my control, that I do not need to give power to those people who really do not matter to me.  So that was my first monthly challenge, Ignore people.  Sure, that seems really easy and it doesn’t seem like a ‘challenge’, but for me it is.  And I know I will be better for it at the end of this month.  So let’s hope this and my mantra bring me some serenity in the next upcoming weeks . . .and forever since this is going to be a life changing project.

As I am on a 5 month intense workout program, working out and my health are some things I am really obsessed with and have been keeping on top of.  While they aren’t exactly ‘new’ in terms of this monthly challenge, they are important tests I am going to stick with.  That being said, I need more things to keep me on track for being a ‘zen’ person and constantly push my boundaries and try new things. 

If anyone wants me to write blogs about specific things, try something new and humiliate myself, here is the chance to tell me!!  I will be accepting all new challenges per month for a limited time, and since this month is more of an internal challenge to better myself, I would like to pick up some fun new challenge to test myself.

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[1] Fundip: A very honest and levelheaded friend of mine who, if you go against her, will leg lock you into submission until you calm down and see it her way.

Breakup. Breakdown.

In my 25 years of life, I have never had a bad breakup.  I have been sad, obviously, but I have never been devastated or crippled for a long period of time[i].  Earlier this year I went through a bad breakup; whirlwind romance, started quickly, madly passionate, strong connection, ended abruptly.  Although it was not my longest relationship, it certainly left me shattered and shaken to my core once it was over.  I felt like I lost my best friend, all the effort I put in was not enough and my future was suddenly a blank canvas, which always scared me.  I never didn’t have a plan in life; I was always working towards some goal, even if it didn’t pan out, I would just switch focus and would be just fine.  Yet this time, this time, I was left a little shell shocked. 

I have never been broken hearted for long, so this put me in a new spot.  It was February and my favorite celebratory month, March[ii], was quickly approaching.  As I was going through what most people go through in their late teenage college years, I acted in that kind of mindset; I put on my ‘big girl’ pants, head out and proceeded to ‘paint the town red' for a month, because ‘fake it til you make it’ seemed like grand advice.  At the end of a very eventful and fun month, I began to feel even sadder than I did before.  Apparently drowning your emotions in Green Bagels and Cider isn’t the best cure for heartache.  Alas, my friends, being the amazing support system they are, tried to distract me with conversations and fun new adventures for us to go on.  These are things girls do when their friends suddenly become single, they swoop in with fancy outfits and nights out or wine, makeup and movies, and I am lucky to have such amazing friends.  Yet at the end of the day (and several months later) I realized the best thing that really could help me was time alone; crying alone watching movies, drinking wine alone whilst crying and watching movies, doing laundry alone and whimpering about the oversized clothes that found their way back into my life, this was really what I had to go through all along.  Heartbreak is a rite of passage, and something I have always avoided.  Usually my ‘quick fix’ was to hold my head high, dance it out and carry on.  This time, that plan failed me miserably . . . or did it?

The best thing about a breakup (and the ensuing breakdown) is that you get to build yourself up.  Like a phoenix you have no choice but to rise from the ashes and really get back to yourself from the ground up! Once I accepted the fact that this is the first time I am utterly alone in a while, I was able to get myself into a routine and make all the decisions I always wanted.  I picked up a workout routine, I was at a different position at work, I picked new colors for my house, started cooking the foods that best fit my schedule and dietary restrictions—this was all about me.  And anyone that knows me [or anyone in my family] knows how much I [we] like the spotlight[iii].  Many years ago one of my friends was reading Eat Pray Love and decided to paraphrase the following quote for me:

‘Someday you’re gonna look back on this moment of your life as such a sweet time of grieving. You’ll see that you were in mourning and your heart was broken, but your life was changing and you were in the best possible place in the world for it – in a beautiful place of worship, surrounded by grace.’

Now, as I have many things [like a job, family, friends and a mortgage] keeping me in the place that I am, I felt the book was a little . . . fictional for me.  Don’t get me wrong, it was a good story [for the parts of the book I actually read, before getting overwhelmed with her complacency] but I just felt I couldn’t really relate to it.  Again, that was years ago.  Now in my life, while still not running away from my problems, I understand a little more of what she meant.  All in the same month I ended a relationship, started a new position at work and completely overhauled my house ‘décor’ in order to gain some control back into my life.  While I was feeling a bit confused and overwhelmed, [I hate change. I HATE change], looking back now I realize I was in the best possible place.  No, that place was not India.  Instead, that place was just, hope.  I was standing smack dab in the middle of infinite possibilities; my life was a blank slate, I could do anything I wanted to.  And so I did.

Being as that was 6 months ago, I can now happily say that where I am may not exactly be where I want to be in the end, but I am so much happier and closer to getting there.  I am enjoying my journey of life and have really learned a lot about myself, my goals, my loved ones, and what I want from the world that I may not have previously known before.  All kinds of people have come in and out of my life over the years, but I am lucky enough to say the ones that have trooped it out with me from last year to this year are really the best.  They are troopers, veterans of life and soldiers of wisdom and fun; they are my backbone, my friends and my family.  I know they always have my best interest at heart, even when they have to fight me to see it, and they will be there when the lights go out and chips are down.  And for that, I am forever grateful.  I know the people in my life now will be there in 5, 10, 15 years, because, well, we’ve been through it all now and they can’t get rid of me that easily!

While this time period has taught me a lot about the company I keep, this time has also taught me a lot about myself.  I learned what I will tolerate in relationships, what I can compromise on, what I can’t, where I’m going in life and who would be a suitable fit to take that trip with me, what I deserve and most of all what I can’t live without.  Experiencing heartache and going on hilariously awful dates has really taught me more about myself than I could’ve known before.  Sure, I probably should have been taught this lesson in my younger years, since I am not new to the relationship scene, but my priorities have changed a lot from my childhood to my adulthood and my focus has greatly shifted.  I have learned that some issues are extremely important to me, such as religion or politics.  Those things have never really been a topic of conversation or issue before, but recently I am growing to realize that, obviously not everyone has the same opinion as me, that isn’t a new revelation, but also that I don’t think I could really be with anyone who’s views were so drastically contradictory to mine. 

But so it goes, life is always a learning a process; and just when you think you have gone through all the lessons life has to offer and it is smooth sailing from here on out, well, that’s just another lesson life is teaching you at the moment.

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[i] A long period of time being more than a week or so.

[ii] St Patty’s is designated to a MONTH of shenanigans, not just a day.   Don’t be an amateur.

[iii] This statement is a half joke….or a half truth. 

The internet is more scary than the monsters under your bed.

I needed an extra giggle in my life lately so I decided to revisit the world of online dating.  Let me preface with I have never and will never actually meet anyone from a dating site, but it is hilarious to see how the other half lives.  I feel like I lurk the internet to write these blogs just to save people, mainly from themselves [or their creepiness], and to give them a fighting chance and some insight as to what females are thinking.

First off, as we all know the whole ‘creepy’ angle doesn’t work.  There is no reason to only have pictures of every other body part except for your face, but clearly some people were raised by wolves.  Also, if you’re going to only have pictures of your six-pack or God knows what else, then don’t put in your profile how you are looking for a ‘sweet girl to take home to mom’.  Unless your mom also walks around with her goods hanging out, I am sure she will not appreciate any girl that is attracted to your raunchy pictures and uncomfortably lewd messages.

Not as obscenely in your face as the raunch[1] pictures, but ENOUGH with the gym pictures! Enough.  Everyone has them, I am unsure why, but everyone has them and it is really really unnecessary.  Mentioning in your profile you like to work out is good, taking a thousand pictures of you in the [empty] gym mirror standing in front of some machines flexing? Not so much.  Actually, it is just sad.  Sure, I may not look like I like to work out, but I do, and you know what? I actually work out! I don't just take pictures of myself in a gym.  If you still look good after your workout, then you did not workout hard enough.  If you look cute while going to workout, then you have an alterior motive.  I look like a banshee when I workout, and that is because I am there to burn calories and kick butt.  So, ladies and gents, that is where we stand on that.  Go to the gym and leave the camera at home; it creeps real gym goers out.

On the flip side, this also goes for uniforms, i.e. - FDNY, NYPD, Military, whatever.  Do not post pictures of you mainly in your uniform and then complain when you only get messaged by badge bunnies[2]. Let’s use a little thought here, quality people stick with quality people.  Ergo if you are being a trashbag[3], then do not expect to get the Queen of England, because that is not the vibe you are putting out.

As we have previously established in my other blogs, the internet is a ‘safe haven’ for people to act the way they would never act in person, and just be really creepy trolls.  For example, someone made a ‘dynamic duo’ profile and put up pictures and stats (insert eye roll here) for two different people.  That’s right, two people, one profile!  Okay, so obviously they are not looking for love on here [as if anyone would find it anyway] but really, do you need to be such a blatant pig? Clearly these people are desperate, and anyone that actually contacts them is equally as disgusting.

I have decided through diligent research that the users of this dating site can be broken up into the following categories: the horribly desperate [like the dynamic duo], people who live in their mom’s basement and will chop you to pieces on your first date, the painfully shy, the 1% of people who are actually looking for a relationship, the thirsty[4], and then people like me who just want a funny story (or in this case, blog) to tell.  While some people do find true love on internet sites like Match or eHarmony, free websites are more just to see who is out there . . . and let me tell you it is not a pretty sight/site.

If you need to have your default picture be a collage of yourself with a disclaimer ‘I have no Baby Momma Drama,’ well then life is not looking too promising for you.  Be a little self-aware of the image you are putting out there.  If you have a really weird ‘about me’ but then somewhere in there say how you are sarcastic and funny, okay then I will pray to the computer gods that all your profile was written in jest. 

I feel like this next bit needs to have it’s own paragraph because it is extremely important and not too many people really give it much thought . . . goes along with being self-aware of your image.  If you are only posting pictures of you smiling closed mouthed, constantly wearing a hat, or sunglasses, well then your profile is suspect.  The only reason to constantly hide your eyes is because you probably have a thyroid problem and you can see the whites all the way around them . . . get that checked out.  If you’re always wearing a hat, then I will assume you have no hair.  Granted, some people look AMAZING in hats and then take them off and just look ‘okay’, maybe you’re that person, but have at least one [recent] picture of you without a hat, otherwise people will think you are bald.  Same thing goes for never smiling with your teeth.  I happen to alternate between closed and opened smiles; I never know which I like more.  But, I am also very into hygiene and know important mouth cleanliness is.  So if you never smile to show your teeth, then assume people are going to look at you like George Washington and think you have wooden chompers of some sort.

Even if you are not on the internet, or would never date anyone from the internet, keep in mind the image you give off.  Not that I am really the most conscience of body language, but if you are smiling closed mouthed or crossing your arms, you look unapproachable.  Dating isn’t for everyone, it can be really awkward, so ease into it, go on some friend dates first.  But at least put yourself out there and be aware.  Not just of other people, but of how other people see you!   Not that you should care what everyone thinks, but just being aware of how people perceive the vibes you give off can go a great deal towards the perpetual battle of not dying alone with a bunch of cats.

Moral of the story, have a little [or a lot] of class and tact, but still try to have fun.

Good luck out there and remember, in the words of the great Pat Benatar:  Love is a battlefield. 

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[1] Abbreviated colloquialism for the term raunchy.

[2] Girls that are only attracted to uniforms/badges

[3] Colloquialism for classless mess

[4] Someone solely interested in physical advances

Freaky Friday

I am getting a little tired of the same old bar scene.  Yes, I said it; I am tired of the same local bar scene.  I live in a town that has a pub/bar/lounge on every corner; yet no matter which bar I go to, every weekend seems to just be one really long redundant night. Nothing ever changes, same bars (even when they’re not), same people, same music, same everything!!  Not being one for redundancy, and because I spent the previous weekend home, I wanted to do something a little different last Friday.  I decided to spice up my Friday night and go to a psychic.

Whether or not you believe in psychics is one thing, but no matter what, it is a good time and something out of the ordinary.  I have been to several psychics in my day; some have ‘the gift’, some are huge hoaxes, and some are just good at reading people and building from there [i.e.-see the show Psych.]  However, my mother, aunt and cousin went to a party where this psychic did readings and I heard good things, so I decided to go.   I went into this experience with a skeptical head.  I mean, the last psychic I went to was good, but she really didn’t give me too much to go on, but the two before that? Nothing! Nothing they said ‘came true’ and nothing they said I found particularly useful or funny.  But, this is for entertainment purposes and it gives me a conversation to have with my friends and to write a blog over, so onward I went.

The psychic I called was Dolly Deebs[1], who is a Brooklyn woman, straight shooter and really easy to talk to.  Not to mention, she is talented, affordable and really easy to work with schedule-wise.  She sits you down at a table and immediately turns on her iPad to record the (~)30 minute session.  Some psychics have you write while they’re speaking, or they write for you, this way you can remember all the information they are giving you.  Well, Dolly takes all the guess work out of that and records the entire session, which she sends you in email, so you can take every part of what she said and heed her advice when the opportunity presents itself. 

A friend and I went and we both thoroughly enjoyed Dolly’s reading.  Not all of it made sense to me right now, (hence the recording), and who knows if it will come true [as any one step can change your destiny outcome] but I really enjoyed listening to her and a lot of what she said made sense.  The few psychics I went to in the past had a lot to say, but Dolly was very different.  She was to the point, assertive, and really made you pay attention and believe what she was saying.  She had testimonials of other clients she has helped and it really made me all the more confident in her reading.  Dolly keeps the reading entertaining and fun despite being honest and sometimes not having the best news.  Just in her demeanor, the way she says things, and how assured she was in her own abilities, I was put at ease and began to have fun instantly, while still paying attention to what she was saying.

Dolly told me a lot of things that she couldn’t have possibly known, a lot of things I myself have forgotten.  While I cannot confirm that her future predictions have come true (as it is not the future just yet), the past and present she touched upon was pretty on point.

Regardless of if you believe in psychics, if just want to have a night out of the ordinary; you should contact Dolly, because you are bound to have a good story to tell! And for you, skeptics, who knows, you might be turned a believer!! I was never one to mess around with Tarot Cards or palm readings, because to me I find those are more traits you can learn and can make things up for, like what gypsies do. However, after sitting down with Dolly, I have a renewed faith.  I really enjoyed my reading with Dolly, she even went out of her way after the session to follow up via email and give me additional information. 

I would absolutely go to Dolly again, and, as you can tell from this blog, I recommend her highly. J

Schedule a psychic party or reading:

Dolly Deebs

Email: Dollyd0724@yahoo.com

http://dollydeebs.wordpress.com/

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[1] Psychic and Author of From Witch I Came.