I resolve ...

 I've been thinking about the New Year and what to "resolve" or more specifically, what  are all the things I want to make different in my life. 

Will 2011 be the year I:

Get an apartment on my own? Add a kitty or two to my one person family? See my family more often?

 I have this friend who grew up playing sports and she lives by the code of decorum teams and the athletic life has taught her, so she's always having us make goals. My three girlfriends and I will sit at dinner and she'll pop up with "OK, so what are your goals for the week?" It's a tedious process because it's almost like saying it out loud makes you act on it, since you know at least three other people in the world will call you out if you slack off. I love it and hate it. In sports you are judged on your stats - so of course the more you points you score per game the more valuable you become. However, you can also gain credibility for at least shooting at the goal, but I'm committed to a sport that only has a finish line... 

There are a lot of things I've started in 2010 - becoming a writer is one of them, becoming a marathon runner, making peace with some of my relationships, etc.  Like any other race these have to come  full circle. So I think this year, I will resolve the following:

• Be happy 360 days a year
• Be a writer to my toughest critics
• Be a marathon runner
• Live in the moment and stop planning so much!

Great. Now I've told at least 30 people and 1 person in India, guess by this time next year I better make good on these.

A note for my dear readers; although resolve means to "clear away, reduce, break with" I suggest only making one of your goals this year a reduction and the other resolutions should add to your life - just something I learned you're more motivated to do something positive than negative!

Happy New Year, write to you soon. 

  

The Crystal Ball

What happens when people become painfully predictable? Like the finance idiot your best friend decides to give a chance to and turns out to be comparable to the gum you scraped off the bottom of your shoe. Or when you vow to wake up early to workout and end up sleeping in and still making it to the gym at 1:00PM because there was a Hallmark movie you just had to see? Oh, wait that last one isn't people, that's me.

Is being predictable bad or good? It doesn't seem to matter because you're going to do what you want anyway regardless of the red flags you see flying in your face. For example, if you know me longer than a week, you can predict that on Wednesday I will be grumpy before finishing two cups of coffee, every other day I'm approachable after  I finish one cup. But I guarantee you, even with this valuable insight someone will approach me Wednesday morning at 9:00 with some outlandish question. It's probably not that bad, but with a lack of caffeine ... not pretty.

Situations are predictable as well: like my good friend who is an account executive and the Time Warner scam. My friend lets Time Warner into her room to fix the cable and leaves him to make dinner in the next room. What do you think happened? Why would this be in my predictable post? You guessed it later that evening she realizes she is sans her ipod touch and officially a victim of petty theft in New York. Pretty predictable.

But I like people and situations that are predictable. I love nothing more than a controlled environment, I'm also someone who HATES change and short notice. I dated a guy once who was very "let it be, what will be will be, let's just go with the flow" ... needless to say we didn't work out because my need to outline and file things in my little world couldn't fit his fleeting and indecisiveness in the relationship folder.

Or my most recent version of the predictable predicament, my boyfriend announces that he might have a location change in his job. OH NO ... there goes my perfectly filed folder, so I made him have a discussion on vague pretenses and a lot of ifs, what ifs, and what happens when. All to satisfy my need to make sure I don't get caught off guard. It's a small way to convince my nervous nellie brain that at least I have a plan A, B and C.

Before you go condoning me as a control freak, hear me out. I love surprises like chocolate, flowers, nice gestures, happy coincidences. However, I also know a little too much heart ache and survival tactics for my age. I can't plan everything, but for right now, I'm in a bounce back and luckily, the imbalance in my life is taking a break so I can get my footing just right. Speaking of footing, I'm starting to train and build a base for the marathon in the Spring. It's funny, when you no longer have college schedules to predict your next move, you rely on other milestones ... like marathon number three (AKA NJ MARATHON YOU ARE GOING DOWN PT. 2).

Write to you soon! Happy Holidays!

And then there was the other shoe ...

I've confessed my secrets about being a nervous nellie and someone who is perpetually nervous or anxious. I even subtly mentioned about the checklist I run through when I leave my house or work every day. Keys? Check. Wallet? Check. Sanity ... eh? While, these nuances might be unique to double d, I've discovered a trend that many my age + can relate to...the idea of 'waiting on the other shoe to drop'.
Growing up has made me realize several things (too many to count) but most certainly I've come to the conclusion that in this transition period the elder call "the twenties" you live each moment as your last or in some situations become too scared to move because you are waiting for the other shoe. So many things about getting older is a perpetual waiting game, "will I get the job", "will I find my perfect apartment", "will I fall in love"? The essence of this waiting game is knowing there is something on the other side, and for you crazy dramatics it probably isn't half bad, but the point is when do you realize the shoe has fallen.
Not that I realize a shoe of mine has fallen, but I have come to find out that waiting is no way to live and we all do it. Trust me, I'm not going to end this post with "what's meant to be will be" because I hate that saying or "everything happens for a reason" -- someone come up with a better answer please. It's almost like, the shoe that drops is the one you were looking for anyway so you might as well put it on and keep on walking.
When you're older you have a better sense of being and the other shoe isn't about to drop. In fact the shoe has probably fallen, you've lost it, gave up, and found another pair of shoes that weren't suspended in mid-air.
But, I'm not at that age yet and I won't tell you my anxiety is any less realizing that this mentality will only last me another 7 years (or so). All I know is right now, I'm OK with not knowing and just living. I have two shoes on and if another one falls out the sky, I'm going to look around to see who it belongs to. 

Oh New York...

So the city. I almost have a full year and a half under my belt so I thought I would do a recap. Still employed? Check. Still living with three roommates? Check. Still have a hot boyfriend? CHECK! Still weigh the same or less as this time last year? Check. Still love New York??
Luckily, the city hasn't jaded me too much, no matter how hard it tries. Someone from Time Warner stole my friend's ipod while fixing her cable. Another friend was walking down Lenox and had her phone stolen right out of her hand. Someone was shot at the new target that opened on 116th in El Barrio. Oh and let's not forget New York's finest that you see on television are NOT the finest at responding. You could have a dozen people in your apartment acting like vermin taking over space, being nasty and don't pay rent and the cops won't come unless you say someone has a weapon. Is being trifling a weapon?
But, don't worry, I still love running, writing, having coffee and dreaming of my future apartment in Tribeca.
However, even running in the city is an adventure with the characters you see or the petty crime you become a witness to. Let's take my 5 mile run today. I was running down Riverside listening to my ipod when a woman with a pretty large butt (yes, her butt is relevant in this story) ran passed me at what seemed like sprint speed so I assumed she was doing an interval work out and her walking interval was coming soon... I was right, unfortunately for this woman she walked into a gang of tween boys that began chasing after her with a basketball, marveling at her large bottom... They didn't try to rob her or anything they were just being NY annoying boys. Odd, but it's New York so I try not to be surprised with things. Next in the turn of events, when I rounded the corner I saw the little hoodlums waiting there and began to run next to me and try to throw the ball at my feet so I would trip. Clearly compared to the woman before me, my butt wasn't the object of affection, but seeing if they could make me fall was! Moral of this story, New York kids have nothing better to do than hood rat stuff with their friends.
OK, so New York is not all troubled kids, poop, roaches, rats, thieves, inconsiderate people, but it's a part of its lovable personality! I do love the parties, personalities, and the unattainable expectations everyone has of themselves and those around them. It makes you stay on your toes and it makes you feel like every day is on the edge of something better.
Oh New York, how I love thee...

Who owns your ego?

How many of you follow the advice of women magazines and leave post-it notes on your mirrors and doors to remind you that you are beautiful, strong and to have a good day? I'm curious on what the impact on your life is. Do you repeat this mantra on the way to the subway?

Or do the sketchy construction workers whistling and hissing after you suffice as an ego boost? Speaking to the latter, I would have to say that in the moment it makes me quite uncomfortable and the attention is unwanted, however, if they don't say anything you know you look like death...
But, do you tell yourself "self, you look like death today, you should probably spare the rest of humanity and stay inside" Or do you wait for one of your girlfriends to say "oh no, you look tired" before you cry and commit yourself to hibernation? No matter how much male attention women receive it's the women in our life that validate our beauty.

It raises the standard because women know what other women can do to improve appearances. Take for example female facial hair (thank goodness I was spared *knock on wood), some people bleach, wax, thread, or shave (YIKES) and guess who pointed this out to them ... no not their boyfriends, their eye brow technician! She carefully finishes your eyebrows and looks at you and says "lip too?" At this point you're probably humiliated and commit to spending 10 more dollars for a lip treatment.

Women criticize each other, nothing new, right? But more than this, our distinct sense of beauty standards also makes men subconsciously dress, act and react to please women.

Exhibit A: Boy goes to work. He typically wears slacks a white button down shirt and a tie, nothing fancy just an iteration of his standard interview get-up. Boy meets great looking, well dressed girl... The next day you can find him dressed to kill looking as though he fell out of a GQ magazine.

Exhibit B: Boy hates beer, he typically gets something fruity and pink when he goes out. His friends make fun of him for it, but he doesn't really care. Boy takes out girl and girl orders a Bud Light. Boy begrudgingly asks for two and sips the beer while trying to maintain his gag reflex.

Exhibit C: Boy dates girl. Girl cheats on boy. Boy commits himself to a life of never trusting women and sleeps around to avoid emotional connections. He becomes 45 unmarried and his hair line starts to recede as he still hits on 20 somethings.

Ladies, I think we have an unproclaimed power on our hands... Since men don't critique other men, we fill this void and can pretty much take credit for confidence and egos of the straight men in the world. Just so my male readers don't have a heart attack, reader beware!!! Once you have an impact on a man, the ever popular "can't change a man" comes into play. So, use your power wisely, but don't miss out on the rare chance to change his ways!

The Social Word

I'm pretty sure I was probably the last person of my generation to see "Social Network" so I hope I'm not spoiling it for any of you with this post. This was one of the most memorable movies I have seen in a long time... thought-provoking, intellectually stimulating and completely accurate in regards to understanding our generation. The movie centers around the idea of this social revolution, brought on by Mark Zuckerberg, which curtailed business values into what they are today. One of the happy coincidences of this movement has been the appreciation of language.
His story and the founding of facebook outlines our new business model and objectives that my generation has inherited. The movie mentions that there was a code of ethics inherently in business and that MZ was breaking all of these rules to create his company. Means and opportunity trump networking and impressing the big wigs. The thing about the good ol' boys is they can't  fathom reaching outside of their circle, now we're forming an entirely new circle or intricate web that is inherently social. Additionally, exclusivity has died. The importance lies in the amount of people you know and the depth of your network. And, we're forced to make more and more friends, while reading about people through the Internet without the commitment of actually getting to know them. What more do you need to know, their status on facebook or Twitter says all... Here's an example, the other day I found out my best friend from home just welcomed her nephew home, I texted her a congratulations with three exclamation points, because clearly the repeat punctuation means more. While this position might sound negative, it makes me happy that we are growing closer and closer to the English language and making sure we text what we mean and mean what we text.

Thankfully, this movement will finally show people why I've decided to commit my life to writing. The use of the language has never been more powerful. It has become incredibly transparent and as explicit as the 18th century novel. We're welcoming back a form of writing that connected people through the most distant circumstances. This writing is a way to understand the human connection in an era where we are all strangely connected.

So keep writing, texting and making nonsensical tweets ... as always, I'll write to you soon.

Nervous Nellie

You know how it feels when the bottom of your pants get wet in the rain? You come home and change clothes, but your feet still feel chilled to the bone? That happened to me for probably the first full year I lived in New York. I didn't want to buy rain boots and I thought walking 2 avenues in the rain wouldn't be so bad. Turns out it sucked, and now I can't stand that feeling. So I bought a pair of wellies and wear them whenever the chance of precipitation exceeds 40%. Problem solved. Now, imagine that cold feet feeling all over your body. No, I'm not complaining about the heat in my apartment (or lack thereof), but the literal drop in temperature through your body when you get scared.

Unfortunately, I get this feeling a lot, yep I'm a scaredy cat ... I refer to this as getting nervous. If you asked me I couldn't even tell you what makes me the most scared or anxious. In fact, I've gotten into a really bad habit of catastrophizing, which means making things far worse than they actually are. Here's an example, I went to Florida for a reunion with my besties last month and forgot a razor to shave my legs so I had to buy a different razor so I didn't look like a hairy beast on the beach. Anyhoo, all was fine until I got home and noticed these small pimple like bumps all over my legs. I freaked out. First, I thought they were bed bugs because for anyone that doesn't live in the city those things are real and run rampant! Next, I thought I had scabies, which are really gross looking. Oh and how could I forget falling out in the middle of work because web MD told me they might be small pox! Needless to say, they were none of the above and the craptastic razor I used was the culprit. I have plenty of these stories that my boyfriend and med school roomie can attest to. I think in sum anything that has unforeseen effects or multiple resolutions makes me nervous.

For someone to be so nervous about everything, NYC doesn't seem like the best place to live, but living here you become desensitized to things that should scare the crap out of you. Homeless people on the train, witnessing petty crime, black lip liner... It's all just a part of the personality of the city. I hope to never be a victim to these (especially black lip liner), but I've been told if you talk to yourself while walking down the street people leave you alone. That's the thing about NYC, you watch your back and learn to find the quickest exit, because you don't have time to catastrophize over the minutia of the city, especially since the next freak of nature is around the corner. The only thing that I do ruminate over in relation to the city, is the number of SVU episodes filmed in Washington Heights...

Reality ... really embarassing

I had a rough week. Innocently, walking out of the subway a bird pooped on my hand, this was the first in a sequence of unfortunate events. Anyone that says a bird pooping on you is good luck, has never had bird poop on them. The day proceeded to go down the proverbial crapper and I went to sleep hoping and praying for a better day. The good thing about a bad day is, tomorrow is bound to be better. I have found one sure way to bring up your spirits: the cure? Indulging in reality shows! I love watching random strangers make poor life choices to make me feel better.  I watch people duke it out on the jersey shore over a can of self-tanner or  people burying themselves in trash (which they became emotionally tied to). But, there are two shows I can't bear to watch: Teen Mom and Bad Girls Club. Teen Mom, the title is self explanatory on its ridiculousness so I'll dive into the other nonsensical entertainment show: Bad Girls...

This show is appalling, but on a small scale the relationships can be seen in real life. In the "bad girls" house you can harass a girl by throwing anything at her: milk, water, vodka, beer, BLEACH! All because you didn't like the way she looked at you -- it's fine, because there are producers to intervene when things get out of hand. It's sad because the dramatized (unnecessary) fights that happen are just hyperbolic versions of female relationships.  Take for example the ever popular "I don't like her, because I just don't"... I'm sure there are women that can admit to this or have been subject to such reasoning. However, since we live in the real world, women have to resort to subtle and snide ways to humiliate each other. This discrete battle royal is almost worse than television prompted drama because social decency doesn't allow you to retaliate, so you hold in that anger plotting for your moment to make a dig. 
I'll be the first to admit I'm not up to date on my women studies, but I'm pretty sure part of the movement was for women to band together and stop bringing each other down. In principle it's great, I'm all for it, but in practice it doesn't happen that easily. There are so many different elements that divide female relationships and yet, some things about women are predictable across the board.
As an example, the historical need to over-preform just to be on par with your male counterparts. (And sorry Black women -- you will need to over achieve in regards to your male counterparts as well as your racially opposite sisters.) I'm not going to pretend this will ever be any different or that our predictability and differences will harmonize into a real life sisterhood, but I would like to note the following:
1. Women (of all races) tend to live their life in hopes of making a permanent mark on history. Stop trying to write history, what has happened is unchanging, you have a better chance of changing the future.
2.We don't live in a scripted reality, and be thankful, we haven't been forced into a real life "bad girls club". We still have common decency and social norms that prohibit bleach from being thrown.
Oh, and a kind and smart woman told me number 3: "bird poop comes off easily"!

Tracing outside the lines

I read a review in the New York Times for Ntozake Shange's newest novel "Some Sing, Some Cry". If you haven't read Shange's work, you should. She's a celebrated playwright, whose scripts are also fascinating and intriguing novels. Her newest novel, which I'll report back once I read, is a story through 7 generations of Black women. The critic from the Times explains in her review that the voices of the women become merged together and this complied with what she calls "soap-opera drama" takes away from this critical exploratory of the Black woman's life through history... We'll see, if this is true.

I'm very excited to read this novel because it's a topic that I've always enjoyed to read and write about. I have read many novels that are written for/about/ and by Black women. In many novels the reader can feel a tension in the narrative through the character's need to define themselves as a woman and as a person of color. Often this is reflective of the author's struggle and balance to be viewed as a voice in the literary canon as well as maintain authenticity to the Black community.

Authors create characters that can exist in both worlds, but the identity of the Black character, becomes generalized in an innate bias lens the reader has with Black novels. Since the Black community is viewed as a whole, anytime you read a book or novel about them the identity markers disappear and the individual character is lost. It's interesting because when you read books like: "Eat, Pray, Love" or one of Emily Giffin's series,  as a reader you don't gather the characteristics of the heroine and make a general list that would explain the Caucasian race, so why do readers do this with Black novels?

One idea that I've considered is that the Black woman is diverse in personality, vitality and spirit, but  Black women hurt from the same pain. It's consequences and life situations that bores this burden of being so unique, yet so categorically similar. This ties back to Shange's novel that traces through generations one underlining pain that feels so different in each woman. This could cause a blur of identities. Some might say, "aren't all women like this? Don't we all have the same hurt?" I can definitively tell you, NO.

Black women deal with an internal struggle -- accepting the self with a stake in two worlds; essentially, she has to trace a picture of herself outside lines that are already drawn. The structure looks similar, but can exist on its own with just enough space to be different.

How much is that worth?

First I would like to say I appreciate a solid ad campaign as much as the next writer, but Mastercard your priceless-ness is becoming affordable. How can a person living in New York miss the ad campaign painting the subway and bus stations asking consumers to "sign up for a priceless New York experience". At its beginning,  the ad campaign had what Malcolm Gladwell would call 'stickiness'; the ability for culture to pick up a concept or fad and embed it into society as a way of life, but frankly times have changed and anything built with adhesive can fall off with the heat from the next hot slogan.

Maybe it's the whole process of becoming an adult, but I've learned everything costs something. The most sacred relationships can be torn apart by monetary value. It makes you think, what are you worth to someone? Do you ever turn down an expensive dinner or drinks out because it's the end of the month or pay day is too far away, and you think "it's not worth it". To give kudos to the ad campaign, these moments are priceless -- put it on your Mastercard!

Unfortunately, people and credit cards have limits. People are considered valuable by the contribution we can offer. Additionally, since we are also a comparative culture you can always find value in how the person measures up relative to something else. Even a relationship is subject to this price branding. Love is the eternal supply and demand example. If you give someone all your love and the demand for it isn't there, you lose. And the reverse rings true -- if you demand love from someone and they don't have enough to give you, you lose. Is there a 401-K for love? The love with a spouse, love one, sibling or parent ... Can you store all the love that you have with someone in the event you have a falling out? In which case you'll have a fund that you can draw from stocked with memories and evidence of that once solid love? Now that would be something to invest in!

Speaking of investments Mastercard, I beg you let the ad giant come up with something new for you in regards to a new ad campaign ... Use the promotion of giving away a priceless experiences in New York as a PR initiative. I'm surprised there wasn't a change in direction especially with today people are putting a price on anything! Unfortunately, nothing is priceless but maybe you could take a spin on the priceless concept, and tell consumers : Yes. It's worth it.

Two Faces in the mirror

I know. I know. It's been a while since I've written you ... the thing is, I've been struggling to concentrate my thoughts into a coherent piece for you to read. There have been a few ripples in the pond these last few weeks (to say the least) and pretty much my mind has been completely saturated with thoughts the only thing I could viably say I was feeling was confused. 

And on top of everything, my Internet and cable was turned off for like a week (don't ask); I was restricted to watching episodes from Sex and the City. Does any one else wonder why Darren Star's portrayal of New York, lacks people of color? The closest thing they come to are cab drivers and they don't have sex in the city - they live in Brooklyn. Frankly, all popular TV shows are like that or the women of color are asexual. Grey's ... Dr. Bailey - you can't see her as sexy, Christina Yang, she's too angry and focused to be sexy. The thing is I think women of color are too sexy for TV. That's right, we have too much to offer and some writer from a top tier journalism school has yet to figure us out. 


OK, OK, so you tell me to watch Girlfriends? First the show was canceled by popular demand and second I refuse to believe that every black woman can be classified within the following stereotypes; too hood for prime time TV, successful and non-marriage material, the light skinned confused one that doesn't know what she wants so settles on not settling, and finally the pretty one that loves herself too much she realizes no one can match her.  Are these women the mirror TV show of Sex and the City "in living color"?? Or is the whole premises of female television founded in the underline fairy tale of happily ever after? I'm not going to even mention the abomination of Lifetime movies. *Although as a side note, I have been known to watch one or two on a hyper sensitive weekend...

 And if you for a minute  take this theory of women television to be true, wouldn't the male counterpart of Sex and the City be ... Entourage? In this television fantasy the men never marry, or commit to anything, except making themselves better. At the end of each fantasy the women get to be with their men and men fall deeper in love with themselves. I agree that as a form of vicarious living this is true.

 The female characters being a identification point for ourselves. However, I fall victim and witness to  women in our real lives letting them become saturated with men and the thought of men or dating or marriage or a combination of this list. Here's a real life example, I knew a girl in college who's boyfriend was in medical school her fourth year. Every Thursday night in preparation for his visit she would give herself a bikini wax, deep condition and a manicure/pedicure. On a day to day basis she was always drop dead gorgeous, but I couldn't help but wonder if one Thursday she would forget one of her primping details and he would notice...? Honestly, how truthful and substantial is a relationship if her week was built off growing enough hair to wax on Thursday...


I know as women we aren't all like my friend from college, nor do we embody the "Carrie, or Joan" from the characters on women television; but again, I point out that for both men and women the characters allow us to see the value in feeling accomplished in the eyes of another AND ourselves.

When you look in the mirror you have two faces looking back you (no you're not drunk) but you're seeing yourself as in your simplest form. This is the person that knows they pick their nose or purposefully slams dishes in the morning out of spite for their still sleeping roommates. The other face is you of course, but it's the person you want people to see. No one wants people to know that they have a checklist by the door of things to remember before leaving the house. Or the blemish that is harder to hide, when left uncovered would reveal why you hate mother's day or tell the story of why  your prayers never change because you still have hope for people in your life that have failed you.  The combination of these perceptions makes you your own, the sacrifice or giving into one of these parts loses the whole. Although you successfully hide these things from people it's all apart of one. I journey to say first see yourself in the simplest form stick with her (or him) for a while, before primping and putting makeup on the other.

Now, for a special note to my male readers: love your lady as much as you love yourself... who knows you might find someone that loves you even more than you do.

Write to you soon ...

"Our dreams are made out of real things" -Jack Johnson

 The movie Inception ... must see, but only if you plan on not sleeping for the next week! Christopher Nolan's take on the dream world is shocking and somewhat invasive (I won't spoil it for those who still need to see it). But it got me thinking about  the concept of your reality being a dream; and the inability to differentiate between what's real and what is a dream. I admit I am a person that dreams deeply; so when I do dream I often wake up disoriented or frazzled trying to dissect what was true and what was part of the dream.

Anyway ... think about it - our world, our beliefs or thoughts of our lives are all hyperbolic or idyllic translations of a truth; and if we define our world off these truths then what becomes of our reality?

Then there is this idea of following your dreams, making them a reality and again the transition from dream to reality becomes fuzzy. If you are chasing a dream ... and even catch it, when did you stop dreaming and start living? I mentioned this when I first started writing to you, my dear readers: I remember dreaming of living in New York, working, playing in the city and enjoying life; but I can't put my finger on when I exactly stopped dreaming. There are some pieces of the dream that are still waiting to be fulfilled and some (like my apt in the heights) that were not in the dream at all.  It's all very interesting ...

But let's not give Christopher Nolan all the credit for visualizing this concept. Anyone else out there remember, Shakespeare? A Midsummer Night's Dream, the epilogue to the audience: 

"If we shadows have offended, 

think but this, and all is mended:
That you have but slumbered here,
While these visions did appear;
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream..."

Again, another example of a creative mind developing a "scripted reality" from layers of the same dream.

So after all this, here are my thoughts:  Your life is a series of captured "dreams". They lose their element because they are captured and forced into being real life. This is why you sometimes need to get away, take time to let your mind relax, wander and get back to a place that feels like the truth; and back to the dream you were chasing. Because real dreams (oxymoron, i know) are things you will always chase because they can't be captured and placed into social norms or cookie cutter images of life. Bottom line, my dear readers, let your dreams live in their own world and catch up to them only to remember what your truth really can be.

Ah hah! The missing piece of the relationship puzzle.

To my dear female readers a piece of wisdom.

Since I have recently taken a step in my personal  history, my current relationship is the longest I've had ... ever. This step can be shocking - it's one of those "great I'm doing something right!" and then it quickly becomes, "crap - better keep doing what I'm doing" (while silently making a list of everything you've done successfully). Don't get me wrong - there are plenty of things that I haven't learned about the male species or my bf (who can attest to this). But, I'm going to give you a piece of advice I learned because I would feel selfish without passing this gem down. Be confident in yourself and your relationship. Easier said then done yes, but here's something a little easier: Relax. He loves you, or he really likes you (whatever degree you are at this point) let things move forward instead of analyzing every step of the way.

So, I've put together a few examples of commonly misconstrued quotes, along with girlfriend interpretation and actual meaning. This way next time you hear this you won't completely freak out!

Quote #1: "I just need a little space, I'm going to have a boys weekend"
Girlfriend interpretation: "OMG. He's going to break up with me ... let me freak out as much as possible and make him miserable; so if he is in fact going to end it he'll do it sooner out of annoyance. And if he doesn't then I would've ruined his idea that he wanted space and he withstands another one of my crazy illogical tests."
Actual Meaning: "I see my girlfriend all the time and I just want some time to relax and not worry about faking enthusiasm over blueberry picking. I just want to hang out with my friends."
*The interesting thing about this common misinterpretation is that guys NEVER freak out if there's a girl weekend in the making. In fact, they are encouraged! (Although, we can all admit that this encouragement is short lived, since women tend to get around each other - complain and consequently take whatever "new found" insecurities out on their boyfriends at first sight; but the initial intention of supporting a girls' weekend is good). Moral of this story,  ladies, let him have his weekend - if you are meant to be you have nothing to worry about, he's not going to cheat on you, he's probably going to do exactly what he says "just going to hang out with his friends".

Quote # 2: "What do you mean 'do I miss you' I saw you last night?"
Girlfriend interpretation: "WTF. How could he not miss me, we had such a good night last night and it's all I'm thinking about and I can't believe he doesn't even care enough to miss me already! I have all these emotions that I can't wait to share with him and all he can do is trivialize my feelings by putting a time stamp on them! That's the last time I share how I feel about him, from now on it's Closed up Christine for him!"
Actual Meaning: "I don't feel the need to tell you how much I miss you or think about you every minute we are apart. At this point by default I miss you because I like being with you, but not so much that's it's bubbling out of me to tell you. I can wait until tomorrow to see you - I won't die."
*In defense of most women who default to the girlfriend interpretation this can appear a little vague - but think about this if it was in the other extreme ... picture a boyfriend that couldn't bear to leave you and the moment he steps in his car and he's out of hearing distance (since he screams I LOVE YOU out of his car window down the street)  he's calling or texting you how much he misses you. That's no way to live, or love for this matter. Bottom line: Relax he misses you - and keep it interesting so it will give him something to miss you for.

Quote # 3: "Do you think we could just have a night in tonight?"
Girlfriend interpretation: "WHOA. Who does he not want to see out - he's hiding something, since he knows I've been planning this meet up with all my girlfriends and I want him to come. How could he spring this on me?! Great he's cheating...fml."
Actual Meaning: "I want to spend time with you. Just you."
*This is my favorite reaction because it's not just with nights out, it's the reaction that comes from girls with any activity that boyfriends do not seem overly enthusiastic about (like blueberry picking - who wouldn't want to do that??). Ladies, I know you love your girlfriends, but if your man wants to just hang out with you that's not something to complain about. In fact it's probably a good thing because it shows that he doesn't need to go out constantly aka consistently scope out the room for the next gf. Or he's probably trying to avoid that foreseen awkward situation where he's the only man in a group of 10 women - can you blame him?

Key Takeaways - trust. If you trust yourself and you trust your boyfriend you should be able to read between the lines a little better and not default to your crazy "OMG, he hates me" thoughts. Enjoy your relationship and the people you are becoming together, who knows if you stop being crazy you might have time to love a little more and let him love you better.

Thank goodness for pairs...

The greatest pair I can think of my shoes! And I was quickly reminded of this last night. Better than PB&J, bagels and cream cheese, Tiny and Toya (ok maybe not them).

After a grueling day at the office I went for a run with a friend and it had been a while since I hit the pavement. I neglected the ipod because I wanted to focus; I wanted to hear the steady beat of my feet against the ground. I wanted my mind to wander and dream... and it did. Then I was reminded what it's like to have a running buddy. I hadn't had one since training for my first long distance race in 2008, when I ran a 10 miler with one of my dearest friends. We were so good together because whenever I couldn't breathe or it was getting too hard, she would just say "you're doing a good job" and I would think - "self, you are doing a good job" (ok I don't address myself this way in my head, but for the purpose of this piece... go with me). I don't know if it was the elementary school teacher in her, or the genuine thoughtfulness that she had to inspire me - either way I'm grateful (though I'm confident it's the latter).

We found in each other true friendship because we made a team sport out of a solo activity and we had plenty of conversations on topics that can only strengthen a relationship. And then she graduated... and I generally ran on my own. I'll admit I resorted to counting to 8 in my head or trying to count how many people would wear green that day on my run. Obviously, it wasn't the same, however that was when I established my runs as a place of solace a true get away from daily stress and surroundings. I can always tell if I have a good run because I almost feel disoriented when I walked into my house - almost a complete out of mind experience. Oh, how I love my running!

Running puts everything in perspective. It's interesting the verb "to run" in our vernacular is often used as an action to signal the escape from something. Running has taught me to not only escape my bad day, but on good days it's taught me to run towards something. The sport has taught me to dig deep and that no matter how hard it might be, you can always go one more mile and get to the end. As most active people can tell you, this not only rings true to the sport, but also to life.

And my running shoes, well they are like the relationships that I've built. The pair I become with each relationships that makes me who I am. I think the true value of a friendship/relationship occurs when you can count on them to make you whole, when you only feel like half of yourself. It's the person who makes sure you are comfortable when you sleep because they know you'll be sore the next day. It's the friend who pushes you forward, but stays close to catch you. Each of my relationships add something to some aspect of my life; they make that part of me whole. You realize you're a pair when you cannot function without the other. Ever lose a shoe before work?? I'm sure you all have at some point; you have to put something on and if you have to pick a different pair - it just doesn't feel right that day. And that's when you know. Nothing feels right in that part of your life without them.

Sure you find your own solace and sure you can look within yourself for inspiration, but you cannot deny that extra push for that extra mile - the simply "you're doing great" can bring you to the finish line stronger.

I'll have a large fry with a side of cookies.

Boys and Girls: Have you ever heard one of your girlfriends say how many LBS she needs to lose and then she bakes a batch of cookies? Better yet have you ever eaten so much that you give yourself a tummy ache, cry on your pillow and vow to never do that again? Are you this girl? Is this your girlfriend?

If you answered yes to one or more of these questions, I propose the following advice: stop being crazy. Seriously ladies, nine times out of ten you are saying all this stuff and you're a size two. And more importantly your boyfriends do NOT want to hear it, telling your bff that you are fatty mc fat fat gets you nowhere fast. So here's to you skinny ladies - just stop. Stop thinking that you look like crap and realize that you are probably very attractive and chalk this episode up to PMS or some other super hormonal change in your life. I'll admit I do it too... interestingly enough I don't think it's for attention. I think making such a declarative statement forces you to take action and lose your 5 little pounds. But let's face it, it's still crazy and not recommended. Enjoy it while it lasts if you are in your twenties, your metabolism has not slowed to the pace of molasses so you are probably ok to eat that cookie dough in your fridge.

Furthermore, think about all the people who LOVE your curves, or rolls (jk) or whatever pleasantly plump figure enhancing aspect you have. And trust me, men do NOT like twigs for girlfriends. Think about it. Boys don't like Barbies at a young age why? Because they have no butt, stick legs and too skinny. And what do girls do? They love them, cherish them and hope one day to look just like them. This same dynamic translates into real life and an older version of these girls and boys. But, just remind yourself about those Barbies and where this left them - with NO MANS. All that plastic unrealistic skinniness gets you is packaged by yourself with only clothes that fit you.

So stop picking yourself apart, you are beautiful and lack of confidence never gets anyone anywhere. But you know what does...? The treadmill, so hop on, shut up and burn some kcals without complaining. Much love to my oh so crazy readers :)

"Be with me when I grow up"

A page from a young lover's diary:

All I want is to grow up. I don't want to dream, I don't want to love. I want to be logical and purposeful with each action that I make. I want to be responsible for my actions and I want to fall out of love and I would like every relationship to be filled with nothing but mutual consideration.

I want to be older. I want time to stand still and propel me forward so I don't have to act like a child and relish in my naivety. I don't want to see you as you. I want to have wisdom and I want to feel like I've done it all before. I never want to be scared, I want my nightmares to bring insight and I want my tears to come with joy. I don't want heart ache.

I want to be selfish. I want to earn that sense of entitlement that only comes with age. I want to feel like regret is not an option and that every action has an equal and opposite reaction... I don't want to feel indifferent.

As a matter of fact I want him to feel the opposite of everything that I want.

I want him to be young forever. I want him to dream of me and love me all over again - but since I am old I will not see how perfect we make each other. But he'll regret and he'll cry because he feels pain. I don't want that.

I know none of this will happen. I know we'll have to grow up together. I will ask him to and he'll say yes. And I'll stay as I am. I'll make choices without knowing the outcome and I'll choose to love him because that's all I want. And I'll ask him this: "be with me when I grow up and love me when I'm old so I can always be a child and love you for you".

Long time no blog

So my dear reader, there is much to report. I'll give you a snap shot and then into my thoughts. I ran a marathon - my second marathon, which was the second poorest life choice next to the first marathon. It was the hottest day of the year to that date, no shade, and half as many watering stations on the second loop. The best part was seeing my handsome bf at mile 9, 13, and 26.2!!! I also had a circle of friends that stayed and supported me through the entire experience (including my Dr. roomie).

Next - I had a death in my family. My cat (Kitty) of 13.5 years passed away May 28, 2010. It is strange the way we get attached to animals. Whenever I was sad, he would curl up next to me and his purring body on my chest would lower my heart rate, every time. I cannot tell you enough of the unconditional love he has given me. Will I get another cat? No chance. I cannot replace such an impeccable love in my life for a while.

Thirdly, Ding. Dong. The crazy is GONE! Yes, ladies and gentlemen that terrible girl has finally left my life (the one who stole my razor blades). She is just about the most horrible person I have ever met. I cannot even refer to her as a roommate because that would imply she was considerate when rooming with others. I never wish badly on people and I will not start now - I can only hope that she stays out of my life forever and that I never meet any one like that again.

And finally. JAMAICA. I spent a wonderful 4 days with my boyfriend and his family. I loved seeing the home that harbors this beautiful family. It might have been all the wine and warm Caribbean waters, but I really felt happy. I was reminded time and again that I was seeing the 'real' Jamaica. The economic gap was unreal and the poverty jolted me into the reality of life outside my little bubble. Per usual on day 4 I left behind this island for my normal bubble - filled with all things me: running, cookies, my lovelies, creativity, and pink. But you know what? My bubble is different. And I will not say that seeing poverty changed my life - I do live in NYC where I see poverty a lot, but I do appreciate my bubble a little more.

So here's the thing... Life is short - especially if you are a cat. However, it's not too short to run a marathon or spend your second anniversary in Jamaica.

It'll never be too late to call your dad and cry about your dying childhood pet. And he will never hang up until you are ready. Every step in a 26.2 mile race is closer than the last - now that might seem obvious, but you have NO IDEA how empowering that can be.

It never gets old to sneak kisses on a family vacation; and it feels like falling in love all over again when you realize "he is my happy". You can forgive but never forget and you have to understand your parents did not raise everyone. People are crazy and some want to just plain hurt you. You don't need them, they don't pay your bills. OH and never name your child after a state.

PS. I vow to blog more often - if you promise to read more. Write to you soon my dear reader.

Who runs this?

So I recently had a conversation with someone, (this party shall remain nameless), and this person claims, "a relationship is like the NBA franchise, men are the owners and women are GMs -- responsible for the day to day operations." Now, one might imagine if this came from my boyfriend that I would freak out, announce that I refused to be considered a back seat driver in our relationship and hang up. But I didn't. I had an epiphany, a light bulb moment, an 'ah ha!' moment. I felt everything go quiet around me, the lights seemed to be brighter and all was crystal clear -- ladies, WE run this!

Think about it ladies, while your man is going on and on about "wearing the big drawers" you GAVE him that sense of empowerment. Well some of us do... and in my expert opinion of being a woman, there are three types of women.

Woman number 1: the passive agressive, push over who definitely makes her man feel like a man because she has completely and utterly consumed herself with him. Not only does he feel like a man but he is numero uno in the relationship - no shared responsibility here. She's not weak (I hate this word), she's insecure, easily influenced and cares more about pleasing her man than herself or other important relationships. These women have sacrificed friendship, family members, and themselves for the false sense of security. Consequently, the men that attract these women are crazy in their own special way. They will stay with these women because they KNOW there are not very many other women around that will stand for being pushed around.

Woman number 2: the arrogant, 'I'm more woman than he will ever be man' type. These women are strong, likely successful, high expectations -- (reader, please note I did not use the word standards). These women are their own worse enemy. Because they deem themselves successful, they become their own standard; thus making ANYONE appear lackluster compared to them. Now, in regards to their expectations, they expect the world but refuse to give them the world in return. And here is the really confusing part, they expect to be taken care of (catered to etc.) but don't want to be. They want all the credit and the glory with none of the other person involved. So how are these women suppose to ever meet someone?

Woman number 3: THE woman. She's smart, sometimes tricky and only deceiving when necessary. She makes her man feel empowered, but holds all the keys (this is the woman in my undisclosed conversation). The real difference is she's the happy medium between these other women. She knows when to be a push over BUT knows how to stand her ground. She has her own faults, but admist all her craziness she can still be loved. Most importantly, she believes in pink... Pink, is the ever present little girl inside these women that wants her to be satisfied. Pink is happy, plain and simple. Pink is the romantic, magical illusion of love and life. I'll be honest, Pink is not realistic, but it's a belief and it keeps these women going and loving and enjoying life. Women who believe in Pink, are comfortable enough with themselves to be in a successful relationship.

I believe in Pink.

So now readers, what do you think? These women are pretty distinct, many women fall into number 3, but there are a few souls that are definitively categories 1 or 2. And to the men out there -- we might let you be the owner, but, know this - you don't have a franchise without us. Furthermore, if you get another GM she might run your team right into the ground. Happy Courting :)

Thick skin, hard heart, but a straw can break ya.

Does anyone believe in karma? Or do some people just have bad luck? It’s a topic disputed by most – and resolved by no one. Adults, children, friends are all people I’ve heard ask the same question “hey – didn’t God create sin?” No people. Our ancestors did when they ate the apple – free will blocks you from truly doing what’s good, because it gives you the choice not to, and most people choose the latter.

So is it the bad people that do these things to good people? Think about it… if something really terrible happens to you, who is to blame? Are you to blame for not preventing it? Or maybe it was a lapse in judgment, or trusting someone a little too much?

Someone close to me has been completely slighted by almost every one she trusted and she is certainly unworthy of it. When she tells me her latest story she typically ends them with: "don't piss on me and tell me it's raining!" Every day she deals with the emotional rebuild and conflicts of interests as she puts her life back together. Can you imagine day after day, putting your best foot forward, but secretly feeling like a stack of blocks built too high and just waiting for a slight tremor in the ground to break you apart? She knows the feeling of the phrase: “the straw that broke the camel’s back” because she has a stack of hay sitting tall and piece after piece gets added with more surprises and more distractions. But what can you do? You can’t take on her weight of the world or weight of the straw (just to keep the analogy going) and you certainly don’t care to be in her shoes. So all you can do is hope things will get better and pray… and that’s all she does too.

I think about her on my long runs and what if any thing I can do. But then I also look at the countless people I pass and wonder, “What’s her story?” Like on the train, when you see people crying do you ever wonder, “What the heck happen that was so terrible you couldn’t wait to go home to cry?” I’ll tell you – that damn straw just broke someone’s back. For the most part I don’t think people are weak, I think it takes a lot to break someone down… and even the strongest can be broken. And when they fall they fall hard.

But I’ll tell you something else, if you break down someone strong be ready for the rebuild – bigger, stronger, better than ever. And if you thought it took a lot to break them before, beware my dear reader, of the product you'll get after the rebuild.

Thou Shall Not Steal…

I often think if I lived during the olden days, I would be a proponent of the law: if you steal you lose a hand. I admit living in New York City, I feel very blessed that I haven’t been mugged. Moreover, I keep thinking of the idea that maybe people steal little things because they really cannot afford to pay for it themselves. Now I’ll admit I’m not completely innocent. Sure I’ve eaten grapes or cookies in the grocery store, or stealing a pair of my boyfriend’s socks (this is more of an “unknown taking” I like to think). I remember pretending I was asleep on the New Jersey Transit to get out of showing my ticket. One could say – I stole a free ride to Jersey. (I would argue that the NJT didn’t need that one $5.50 since their employees make upwards of 6 figures WITH benefits). Needless to say I felt bad and plan to confess the next time I’m in for reconciliation.

ANYHOO – stealing. Not ok. I’ll get to the point. I recently purchased razor blades for my Intuition razor (which if you buy these you know they are a pretty penny) and they come in packs of 4 refills. I immediately installed 1 into my razor and when I was in the shower the next day I noticed I only had 2 left. NOW, here’s the clincher – there is only one other person that I live with that shaves with these razors. So I’ve decided it’s either 1 of 2 scenarios. Firstly, I have a magical little fairy that steals razors so she can shave her hairy little legs OR my roommate has stolen my razor. Does she deserve to have her hand cut off? Yes… but not for that reason (fyi: she has increasingly made my life difficult with her antics). I do think she should have to pay me for the $2.87 (unit price of the razor blade) for its replacement.

While we’re playing this game of ‘who stole the cookie from the cookie jar’ (the ghettofied, Intuition Razor blade edition) I would like to eliminate the other suspects… Kitty: 13- year young, grey and white tabby, who both sleeps all day and lacks thumbs to do the deed. Roommate Number 2: who uses a Venus razor blade – and also has not been known to steal. Roommate Number 3: Venus razor blade user as well and understands my boundaries with borrowing and sharing personal items. All suspects have been questioned and none have recently posted an Intuition razor blade on ebay.com. Now that I’ve proven this first roommate is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, what do I do?

And here is where my question comes in. Do I approach her with this accusation and ask for my $2.87 or razor blade replacement? Should I let this go – and say, “maybe she just needs it”? Or do I nullify that thought with “if you can’t afford it why would you buy arguable the most expensive razors on the market”? Where do you draw the line? If I let her get away with this who is to say she won’t steal something else, and isn’t theft the gateway crime into murder… ok that part was dramatic, but really she is a little crazy.

I’m open to opinions and I’d love to read your comments. And I’ll mention this last comment on the topic. Sometimes it’s not the situation itself that makes it bad, but the person who faulted you. Those people that you just don’t like out of principle and if they do something to you – it’s 10 times worse than if your best friend did the same thing. At which point, I have to ask myself and my reader to assess if the situation itself is worthy of any further discussion OR if I should just count my blessings that if this is the worse robbery I’ve been involved with to date (besides Caesar Diaz) –then I should be thankful. What do you think? PS. Thou shall not steal… it’s a commandment ya know.

What's for dinner?... neck bones and sauerkraut!

I really don't like neck bones or sauerkraut BUT wouldn't you know, that's what my Grammy made the first night I was home! I have this love for the South (with a capital S) that I just can't explain. What's even more uncanny is that my niece has picked up a slight southern twang and hasn't step one foot in the South. It's something cultural, certainly a way of life.

I have been know to say things like "dag, aw shucks now... etc" when I'm excited. However, I would like to make clear that I do not use such phrases as "righbackround 'dere" or "this is smaller than turtle balls" or my favorite "these gas prices are higher than a camel's booty". It's just amazing -- the warm comfort food with the abundant use of bacon grease and butter, I feel right at home.

And that makes me think, does tradition and culture make you feel at home and not the hometown itself? If these same traditions were to live in say DC, would it feel any different? OR does a best friend asking if Dennis is spelled with two Ns signify a good time at home!?
I have to say, going for a run around my old high school and tripping over familiar cracks in the sidewalk gives a sense of something that is irreplacable in a new city. So I guess my new home includes a run down riverside tripping over familiar crackHEADS and running pass horse poo in Central Park.

Don't get me wrong. I heart NY... it's by far one of the most interesting and liberating places I've ever lived. It's not the literally space that makes something feel like home, it's the people in that space. When my best friend came to visit NYC (yes the same one mentioned in the above) she feels like home to me and going out made the city feel like home. Friends and family from home are an embodiment of your past and bring out the person you are as your purest self. However, I've certainly met some people that I didn't grow up with that give me a sense of support, love and encouragement.

I'm thankful for all those that have come into my life (short term, or those here to stay). But more importantly I'm glad I've found people and blessed with the family I have that let me be myself and love me for who I am. AND they read my blog :)
Ya'll come back now ya hear... more things to say more entries to blog.

A loaf of bread, a container of milk, and a stick of butta…

Lists. I believe they are at the core of every good plan. You can control lists, by adding things to it and checking off completions. It’s all so liberating!

Despite my love of lists and organization, connecting the dots is not my forte. This is probably why I believed that an African man who called from a Maryland area code, but lived in Connecticut needed a $500 bed in Charlottesville, Virginia. Oh and let’s not forget, that this same African man called himself Caesar and asked me to send cash via a wire transfer – all from the Monopoly® money he sent in the mail.

Ok. Ok. Not the best idea, but you get the point. I like to think of this stupid decision in my life as the reason why I think things out and make lists!

Needless to say, I do well with list, not decision making in stressful situations. I had a checklist once when I was in high school, and it was a list of everything I wanted to do before I turned 25. I did a lot of them already 2 years to spare: I ran a marathon. I published an article. I learned a foreign language – and forgot it before I turned 25. I have a career. I learned I could have a relationship with God. I graduated college.I lost friends – and found a couple soul mates. This darn list went on and on…

And that’s when I decided get rid of the list (spontaneous, I know). I realized (and this wasn’t on the list) that I can’t plan every moment of my life, and I certainly can’t check off accomplishments and life’s lessons from a list I made when I was 16. I simply have to keep on truckin’. Life is the last thing that is planned, but this is why you have friends, and family, and a honnnneyyys to tell you they are proud when your plans succeed and you check things off the list.

AND that same list of love ones will tell you not to give money to Caesar because no matter what wiring money is not a good idea. (note to reader, this is never a good idea)

Seriously, these people are the ones to help you connect the dots, and if you’re a list person like me, you need people like that in your life.

To me lists help you remember, and love ones don’t let you forget.

Four Roommates and a cat

It is very odd how fast life passes by you. I remember complaining to my Dad about his infamous "you cannot wear shorts if it's below 68 degrees at 7:00AM." (Mind you, I grew up in Ohio, which means it was NEVER above 68 degrees in the morning. I was typically the ONLY person at school wearing a coat, hat and jeans in June). And now I complain about my toilet overflowing for the nineteenth time in two weeks. Meaning I've been through 2 mops, one pair of shoes, endless taunts from an annoyed boyfriend, and a curious old cat that thinks my bathroom has turned into a giant water bowl. At least in the past I had 2 sisters to complain to about Dad's rule, now I can't even get my super to answer his phone -- let alone his door.

We also had a plan to circumvent my Dad's rule, that's right; we packed shorts in our back packs and changed at school.

My toilet still overflows...

But hey, I'm living my dream in NYC with my cat (the four roommates, were never in my actual dream, but they each add a little something to my life). It wasn't easy getting here, I left lots of things from my old apartment to a dear true friend, who I will always refer to as 'my roommate'. Note to reader: we actually do not live together she is busy learning to save lives at med school in Virginia. Anyway, I sought to pack everything I could fit in my two door Beetle, with my cat in the front seat.

But that was just part of my journey here. I'm not going to spend my blog telling you about my past; I don't need to fill you in on the past, there are other things MORE EXCITING things that are happening now.

*That has to be true, isn't that why people have blogs? Otherwise, you just have an entire blogosphere filled with stream of consciousness writing.

I'm hoping to evoke something a little different. I can't guarantee I'll always entertain (or be witty) but I'll tell a story and get to a point; maybe if you are feeling really inspired, a moral. Happy following dear readers! I look forward giving you more entries!