One is silver and the other gold?

Does anyone else remember that girl scout song:

Make new friends, but keep the old,
One is silver and the other's gold,
A circle's round and has no end that's how long I want to be your friend.

Anyone? Well, when I was in Troop 1046 with my Dad as the troop leader, we sang this song over and over. With a simple solution for friendship, what happened to this mantra?
Fast forward from elementary school to high school, when every third person made fun of me for one reason or another and there's my Dad telling me "Dani, you'll only really have two good friends, everyone else can fall by the wayside" (My Dad's two friends are: Dr. Lee, my dentist and hmmm not sure I ever knew the second one). With a segmented high school with the popular and the cool groups, thinking you'll live your life with only two friends and not 10 was devastating.
Circa 2011 and almost two decades after learning this sing-song and the true two rule, friendship is replaced with networking and filtering your true thoughts for the sake of professionalism. I mean really, for same sex relationships what do you say: "ok nice meeting you, are you my friend now?" Don't even think about boy/girl friendships, one of you probably has different intentions and if you don't then someone will probably foster them. 
It's like learning to make friends all over again, this time without the luxury of competitive cookie selling.

Throw back - Senior Year Cedar Point

Don't get me wrong some things Stay True, I still have my two, and they are still gold.

Abajo? Or Going Up?

I live in Washington Heights, which means I daily regret learning French throughout my academic years. I have a good friend that consistently translates for me; reading signs posted in my building, helping me tell my hairdresser to hurry because I have another appointment -- the usual interactions. Although he never forgets to mention that I need to learn Spanish and that I can't keep just nodding in agreement when people speak to me that I might unknowingly sign myself up for modern-day slavery. And then I rationalize - I imagine it's like a foreigner getting dropped off in the middle of Harlem and trying to understand what people are saying: "Yo, 'ey cuz.. whatido" or "wheredeydodat at"... they don't really need to know what they are saying to move along in their plans - and they don't think twice about it. Why should I?

But this is the Heights, there's so much going on around you, you WANT to know what's going on. Ironically, I've never seen the musical "The Heights", but I recently attended an event for the New York Beacon (a Harlem paper I occasionally freelance for) and they were honoring a Dance Company, where the performance featured the 2008 Broadway cast from The Heights. They performed: $96,000, which to anyone that has not see the play, this is a story of what each of the residents from the Heights would do if they won $96,000 from the lottery. It was a great number and it accurately described the neighborhood I live in, believing $96,000 could get them into a higher echelon, some place they only imagine on TV or in the movies but definitely outside of the hood -- no spoiler alert here, go see the play and then take a trip to Washington Heights and report back. You'll see.

 While, I've adapted survival techniques for living in my Dominican saturated neighborhood and learning that some of the events that happen are typical and some just hood-rich, I just watch and listen, or politely answer caliente to just about any question I'm asked in passing (my best guess is they are talking about the summer heat wave).

I've learned this neighborhood is an acquired taste -- you go to sleep to merengue music (or are woken up by it) and walk outside to short Dominican women selling mangoes in plastic bags, it has personality and the rent is cheap - so I'll stay, save up and I'll learn a few more words in Spanish - tal vez...

Fairytales for all!

In a perfect girl world, the most magical, romantical fairytale includes: a boy, an unrecognized love that grows over the course of 2 hours (movie time, 6 months real time), the epic fail of that love and then a male realization that he's almost lost the best thing he ever had. For years, no wait decades - this fairytale has manifested itself into the "happily ever after" syndrome that women dream of. We also tend to evaluate the success or failure of each relationship based on where the relationship falls in this ebb and flow.
But then, imagine this fairytale, with Justin Timberlake... cinema gold.

OK OK, this is not only because I'm an obvious NSYNC fanatic (closeted owner of the Justin Timberlake No Strings Attached marionette doll); the new movie "Friends with Benefits" was absolutely charming. A unisex romantic comedy, even the males in the audience (bf included) didn't feel like poking their eyes out throughout the movie. The perfect "one-size fits all" romantic-comedy naturally plays into the ebb and flow of the fairytale, but it also becomes a punctured story with jokes, witty comebacks and a peek into the real life of relationships. To every hyperbole it starts off with some truth and this movie is no exception.
The most obvious reveal is the boy/girl relationship and expectations, for example:

Partial Truth reveal no. 1: In the movie, Justin is closed off - not shocking if you date anyone in the 21st century. The reveal is as a girlfriend no matter how close she thinks she is to her boyfriend she always thinks and feels like he should tell her more. While he might consider family tragedy to be none of her business, she's always hurt when she didn't know.
Partial Truth reveal no. 2: Boys will hook up with the crazies no matter what density of attractiveness. Girls, will always upgrade (unless she's a bottom feeder). MK - chose a doctor, JT - chose a random from the bar.
Partial Truth reveal no. 3: Girls do not share. The inevitable moment when the girl becomes jealous and the boy becomes surprised and drops the whole "oh we aren't dating" line. 

There were plenty, but this blog will not submit to spoilers.

Justin has an air about him that seduces women and makes men want to be him. So in essence, a male digestible fairytale includes some truths as a nod to the brotherhood and still follow this trajectory onto happily ever after; where they find the person just past the end of their nose, and end on Day 1. You can't really see where things are a year later, which explains why there are never sequels to romantic comedies. I guess the morale of this tale is it's all about the moment, the submission to happily ever after, the love, and the fruition of a fairytale (and now I will put away my: I believe in LOVE button).

Weight A Minute

Every girl has their fitness or weight issue. Mine? Happens in cycles, I'm a runner so naturally if I'm signed up for a race my endorphins are flowing I'm working out regularly, eating right and feeling nonchalant about grabbing extra toppings at 16 handles. What happens on the down turn? My poor boyfriend gets his dose of crazy. So on this occasion of a downturn my roommate unbeknown to me broke the weight in the scale automatically adding a full five lbs to your true weight. So, there I am a week before I'm suppose to be in a bikini, just finished a hefty cup from 16 handles and I weighed myself. In typical fashion I waited before my shower (can't have clothes weighing me down) and there it was... a number I've never seen before. I walked into the room face covered from a combination of tears and shower mist and I wallowed to my boyfriend about canceling the trip - an expensive non-refundable trip, clearly I wasn't thinking rationally. Luckily my honey let me rant rave and then explained to me the scale was broken, he had tried it earlier...

I'm not the only one with extreme measures. I had a friend who pledged to go on a survivor diet - she picked the hottest week in the summer where she did nothing but drink warm tap water for that week and sit in the hot sun. I guess re-enacting being on a desert island makes sense if you have convinced yourself your naturally small frame is morbidly obese.

That's the other thing, my friends have a tendency to exaggerate their features. Bloated stomach becomes a prognosis for lap-band or trying on pants after they come out the dryer equals neurotic stints at the gym on the elliptical. See ladies, pretty illogical when you read it in print.
So how can we change? What can I say to convince an entire sex that creating routines around dieting and what not to eat plans only makes for an interesting brag session with the girlfriends and that being skinny is only relative to who you are standing next to. Probably nothing, but let's face it the only person who really cares about how well you fit in a size 2 is your friend in a size 0 and she probably hopes they are a little too tight, but I digress...
I decided to impart this knowledge on health, beauty and dieting to my dear readers that I discovered while figuring out my own lunacies: scales can be broken, jeans can shrink in the wash, but you'll never look your best thinking you are already at your worst. Hopefully, this should get someone through their next stint, don't be so hard on yourself, objects appear larger in mirrors anyway :)