I quit my job tonight. I walked out. A misunderstanding that I knew, no matter how hard I tried to dot all my "i"s,cross all my "t"s, and garnish all my drinks, would NEVER be forgotten. Dollars and cents are what we are there to make.... but in the end, it just makes no "cents" to me.
It makes no "cents" that incredibly fortunate owners can let money drive their every being. It makes no "cents" that they can feel proud about a business in which their employees are neglected the basic rights an employee deserves. It makes no "cents" to me that a human can make another human feel so small.
How could he laugh and point at me? How could he feel like a man and tell me it was ALL my fault? It didn't make sense to me.... and clearly didn't make "cents" for him.... and that is why he was driven to do it. It's as if every dollar bill lost was a leaf that had fallen from a tree that could never come back to life....
I have more sense to know that there isn't a cent in the world that could keep me in an environment where someone can make me feel like I am worth nothing. And for that very reason, I am more wealthy than he could ever dream of being. -M
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Sunday, December 7, 2008
O Tannenbaum
Ahhhh the holidays have arrived.... The streets are adorned with illuminated decor, the lamp posts blast familiar holiday tunes, the Salvation Army rings their bells in hopes of donations, the ice skaters visit the famous plaza to participate in New York tradition, the department store windows compete for the best holiday displays, light snow falls occasionally, and I have finally put up my tree....three times.
Three times, you ask? Yes. And it may not be the last....You see, I visited the corner lot on 31st avenue with my friend to pick out my Christmas tree. I was so excited to have my "When Harry Met Sally Moment" of dragging my tree home with my friend. I picked out the best tree I could afford after bartering with the tree lot guy. He was trying to sell me a 125 dollar tree with a 25 dollar stand. I quickly informed him that this aspiring actress/cocktail waitress would need a cheaper tree! I opted for the 50 dollar tree and the broken 5 dollar stand from Rite aid. It was missing one of the 4 screws. I knew we could rig it somehow.
The tree went up smoothly with the help of my tomodachi. We prepared for the ornament party complete with White Chocolate Martinis, Christmas karaoke, and an ornament exchange! After all carols had been sung, all ornaments placed, and egg nog, SoCo and Godiva Liquor had been consumed, we slept while visions of sugar plums danced in our heads.
This morning, I awoke from my cocktailing graveyard shift to a tree that looked as if tiny little logger elves had chopped my beautiful tree down. I scratched my head, and a small part of me regretted that 5 dollar discounted useless stand I had purchased from Rite Aid. I was screwed without the screw.
Not sure how to fix the 6.5' tree alone, I did my best to prop it up by getting on my knees and shoving my head deep into the branches to get to the trunk. I somehow needed to loosen the three existing screws and shove something sturdy in the fourth quadrant to support the trunk.
I adjusted the 3 screws and the tree actually seemed to stand quite securely. PHEW!!! I picked up the ornaments that had become victims of the unstable tree, vacuumed the fallen needles and happily sipped my coffee with holiday coffee mate.
I sat beside my beautiful tree, covered in ornaments collected over the years, watching Sandra Lee go way overboard with her table scape. Just when I thought all was well, my tree took another dive right before my eyes!!!!! I prayed nothing would break, stopped, dropped and rolled. When it was over I looked up, and the tree had fallen once again between my two couches. I looked around the house for something sturdy to wedge in the stand. All I could come up with was a face lotion box.
So, once again, I managed to prop up the tree, adjust the screws, and shove that box in the stand beside the trunk. I definitely was smelling the tree now. I got closer to my tree this year than I imagined possible!
So, after a second vacuum and ornament recovery, I picked the pine needles from my hair and thought of all my friends far and wide and who may get a little holiday cheer from the image of me and my first New York Christmas tree.
I wish all of you a wonderful holiday season. May it be full of spiked egg nog, carols old and new, friends and family, and of course sturdy trees and fully equipped tree stands. -M
Three times, you ask? Yes. And it may not be the last....You see, I visited the corner lot on 31st avenue with my friend to pick out my Christmas tree. I was so excited to have my "When Harry Met Sally Moment" of dragging my tree home with my friend. I picked out the best tree I could afford after bartering with the tree lot guy. He was trying to sell me a 125 dollar tree with a 25 dollar stand. I quickly informed him that this aspiring actress/cocktail waitress would need a cheaper tree! I opted for the 50 dollar tree and the broken 5 dollar stand from Rite aid. It was missing one of the 4 screws. I knew we could rig it somehow.
The tree went up smoothly with the help of my tomodachi. We prepared for the ornament party complete with White Chocolate Martinis, Christmas karaoke, and an ornament exchange! After all carols had been sung, all ornaments placed, and egg nog, SoCo and Godiva Liquor had been consumed, we slept while visions of sugar plums danced in our heads.
This morning, I awoke from my cocktailing graveyard shift to a tree that looked as if tiny little logger elves had chopped my beautiful tree down. I scratched my head, and a small part of me regretted that 5 dollar discounted useless stand I had purchased from Rite Aid. I was screwed without the screw.
Not sure how to fix the 6.5' tree alone, I did my best to prop it up by getting on my knees and shoving my head deep into the branches to get to the trunk. I somehow needed to loosen the three existing screws and shove something sturdy in the fourth quadrant to support the trunk.
I adjusted the 3 screws and the tree actually seemed to stand quite securely. PHEW!!! I picked up the ornaments that had become victims of the unstable tree, vacuumed the fallen needles and happily sipped my coffee with holiday coffee mate.
I sat beside my beautiful tree, covered in ornaments collected over the years, watching Sandra Lee go way overboard with her table scape. Just when I thought all was well, my tree took another dive right before my eyes!!!!! I prayed nothing would break, stopped, dropped and rolled. When it was over I looked up, and the tree had fallen once again between my two couches. I looked around the house for something sturdy to wedge in the stand. All I could come up with was a face lotion box.
So, once again, I managed to prop up the tree, adjust the screws, and shove that box in the stand beside the trunk. I definitely was smelling the tree now. I got closer to my tree this year than I imagined possible!
So, after a second vacuum and ornament recovery, I picked the pine needles from my hair and thought of all my friends far and wide and who may get a little holiday cheer from the image of me and my first New York Christmas tree.
I wish all of you a wonderful holiday season. May it be full of spiked egg nog, carols old and new, friends and family, and of course sturdy trees and fully equipped tree stands. -M
Sunday, November 16, 2008
The Fire Breathing Dragon
There is no reasoning with drunk people. There especially is no reasoning with drunk people in dark, crowded lounges with music so loud that reading lips is a prerequisite for employment.
It was a particularly slow night, but I was keeping busy with the few groups in the lounge I had been assigned to. My manager decided to throw the whole lounge at me convincing me I could handle it... encouraging me to breathe and focus, as if anyone could do such a thing in a crowded lounge bumping a mixture of trance and Greek club music. I made my route back and forth on the worn wooden floor through the lounge with my sticky tray, broken nails, liquor-saturated dupe pad, and coveted pens clipped to my tank top. I was ignoring the fact that my dogs were not only barking at me, but growling. I turned my watch to face the underside of my arm. I didn't want to know the time, because I knew the hands would be pointing to numbers that would greatly disappoint.
I made my way to one group that had been keeping me on my toes all night....and I don't mean sous sous.... I was ordered to bring martini after martini to the point where I felt I could even taste the vodka. I knew they would hit a brick wall, and unfortunately, I WAS that brick wall. They asked for the check, and I gladly brought it for them. Now, watching vodka heads try and sort out a check in the dark in a noisy lounge is definitely an interesting site. Usually, they throw a TON of cash in the card holder, or they just say F* it and throw a credit card at you. Then you have to babysit them to make sure they remember how to sign their name praying they leave a tip. But occasionally, you come across the especially drunk ones who cannot even process the idea of paying AT ALL for the mess they have put themselves in....
It was then that the fire breathing dragon emerged from her lair to attack the Broadway-aspiring cocktail waitress who had no shield to protect herself except for her sticky tray. The dragon was forced to pay for her friend's bill when her date had skipped out on paying for her drinks... At a 100 dollars, I can understand why the dragon may have been slightly annoyed at her friend, or even the lame date for the situation... but somehow, the blame was all put on ME! It was because I made her close her tab at the bar to get me her card to pay this bill. But it was my job to get this bill paid. Her fire of cursing words, physical pushing and yelling at me because SHE was from MANHATTAN really made no sense in the context of the situation. I sat there, surrounded by vodka heads, Greek trance pulsating through my head, and my eyes started to blur from the tears that had welled up from inside of me. I took a brief escape inside my head and wondered, how long will I have to deal with this? How did I get here? How can people be such monsters? When can I be in a show again? Will this moment give me the strength I need to give my next shot? And as the dragon continued to spew fire, I grabbed the credit card and pushed my way through the crowd, tray in hand, blinking the tears away, and paid the bill.
The dragon had won. My tray wasn't enough to protect me from her fiery words that burned deep into my heart. My tears were trying hard to put out the flames, but even they weren't enough. I am not sure why the stupidity of a drunk dragon monster affected me. But more than the burn from her fire, was the deep desire to escape and do what I really want to do, and the ever-present question of IF I will get to do it at all. Will the fair maiden be doomed to serve dragon monsters alcoholic fuel to their fires forever???
The answer to that is NO. I know this is only temporary and there is a light at the end of the tunnel, even if that tunnel has tons of twists and turns where the light is seemingly far away if there at all. So in the meantime, I will protect myself by carrying a larger tray and perhaps a pair of earplugs...to not only drown out the stupidity of vodka heads, but the horribly loud music as well. -M
It was a particularly slow night, but I was keeping busy with the few groups in the lounge I had been assigned to. My manager decided to throw the whole lounge at me convincing me I could handle it... encouraging me to breathe and focus, as if anyone could do such a thing in a crowded lounge bumping a mixture of trance and Greek club music. I made my route back and forth on the worn wooden floor through the lounge with my sticky tray, broken nails, liquor-saturated dupe pad, and coveted pens clipped to my tank top. I was ignoring the fact that my dogs were not only barking at me, but growling. I turned my watch to face the underside of my arm. I didn't want to know the time, because I knew the hands would be pointing to numbers that would greatly disappoint.
I made my way to one group that had been keeping me on my toes all night....and I don't mean sous sous.... I was ordered to bring martini after martini to the point where I felt I could even taste the vodka. I knew they would hit a brick wall, and unfortunately, I WAS that brick wall. They asked for the check, and I gladly brought it for them. Now, watching vodka heads try and sort out a check in the dark in a noisy lounge is definitely an interesting site. Usually, they throw a TON of cash in the card holder, or they just say F* it and throw a credit card at you. Then you have to babysit them to make sure they remember how to sign their name praying they leave a tip. But occasionally, you come across the especially drunk ones who cannot even process the idea of paying AT ALL for the mess they have put themselves in....
It was then that the fire breathing dragon emerged from her lair to attack the Broadway-aspiring cocktail waitress who had no shield to protect herself except for her sticky tray. The dragon was forced to pay for her friend's bill when her date had skipped out on paying for her drinks... At a 100 dollars, I can understand why the dragon may have been slightly annoyed at her friend, or even the lame date for the situation... but somehow, the blame was all put on ME! It was because I made her close her tab at the bar to get me her card to pay this bill. But it was my job to get this bill paid. Her fire of cursing words, physical pushing and yelling at me because SHE was from MANHATTAN really made no sense in the context of the situation. I sat there, surrounded by vodka heads, Greek trance pulsating through my head, and my eyes started to blur from the tears that had welled up from inside of me. I took a brief escape inside my head and wondered, how long will I have to deal with this? How did I get here? How can people be such monsters? When can I be in a show again? Will this moment give me the strength I need to give my next shot? And as the dragon continued to spew fire, I grabbed the credit card and pushed my way through the crowd, tray in hand, blinking the tears away, and paid the bill.
The dragon had won. My tray wasn't enough to protect me from her fiery words that burned deep into my heart. My tears were trying hard to put out the flames, but even they weren't enough. I am not sure why the stupidity of a drunk dragon monster affected me. But more than the burn from her fire, was the deep desire to escape and do what I really want to do, and the ever-present question of IF I will get to do it at all. Will the fair maiden be doomed to serve dragon monsters alcoholic fuel to their fires forever???
The answer to that is NO. I know this is only temporary and there is a light at the end of the tunnel, even if that tunnel has tons of twists and turns where the light is seemingly far away if there at all. So in the meantime, I will protect myself by carrying a larger tray and perhaps a pair of earplugs...to not only drown out the stupidity of vodka heads, but the horribly loud music as well. -M
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Far From Perfect
I walk down the sidewalk beside storefronts that deter me from entering. The wind rustles the trees and leaves detach to meet their siblings on the cement below my feet. The winter chill goes through my body and wakes up every nerve sending a multitude of identical messages to my brain stating: it's f*ing cold!
I make my way into the building that I call "home". The chipped paint and cracked tiles that once scared and disgusted me have become familiar. Climbing the three flights of stairs, although still a chore, is a relief knowing that my door is just minutes away.
I unlock the door to my 31st ave 1 bedroom and close it behind me, leaving the city on the outside, uninvited. The sounds of sirens, passersby speaking too loudly, and unmuffled cars still make their attempt to slither through the cracks of my unlocked windows...
I crawl into my bed and sit buried in the white comforter that brings little comfort to the headache. I grab my laptop and consider what is bothering me. I begin to write about leaves and 31st ave.... and of course, replay recent events in my head as if my conscience were a priest in my own private confessional.
I am far from perfect. I am very good at making mistakes...almost too good. Actually, I am perfect...perfect at being imperfect. If you know me well enough, then you know why I tend to make these mistakes. So I apologize to all of you who have been involved in some of these unfortunate and usually embarrassing moments in my life. I thank you for taking me as I am... -M
I make my way into the building that I call "home". The chipped paint and cracked tiles that once scared and disgusted me have become familiar. Climbing the three flights of stairs, although still a chore, is a relief knowing that my door is just minutes away.
I unlock the door to my 31st ave 1 bedroom and close it behind me, leaving the city on the outside, uninvited. The sounds of sirens, passersby speaking too loudly, and unmuffled cars still make their attempt to slither through the cracks of my unlocked windows...
I crawl into my bed and sit buried in the white comforter that brings little comfort to the headache. I grab my laptop and consider what is bothering me. I begin to write about leaves and 31st ave.... and of course, replay recent events in my head as if my conscience were a priest in my own private confessional.
I am far from perfect. I am very good at making mistakes...almost too good. Actually, I am perfect...perfect at being imperfect. If you know me well enough, then you know why I tend to make these mistakes. So I apologize to all of you who have been involved in some of these unfortunate and usually embarrassing moments in my life. I thank you for taking me as I am... -M
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Oil of Olay
I don't mean to go Cher on all of you, but do you ever wish you could turn back time? And, if you could turn back time, what are the things you would try to change? And if you did try to change something, do you think it would affect the ultimate outcome? Sometimes, I wonder.
I wondered it today when I was working on my schedule, and I saw all of the days in the month I had already lived. Days that just weeks ago, I had so been looking forward to. Days that now left me with a sickening feeling in my stomach. Days that seemed like empty boxes with numbers in the top right corner like inmates in cells lined neatly in a row inside of a jail..... if I could go back, where would I be today? Would we still be talking? Hell, maybe if I went back, I wouldn't even have met him at all.... I wonder.
We all know no one can turn back the hands of time... well, maybe with the exception of some claims from certain skin care regimes. So I suppose the key is to make the future exactly what we want it to be so we don't feel the need to go back and change anything.... again, another impossibility....
Maybe a good skin care regime IS the answer... because at least that way, you can still look good as you face the unexpected.-M
I wondered it today when I was working on my schedule, and I saw all of the days in the month I had already lived. Days that just weeks ago, I had so been looking forward to. Days that now left me with a sickening feeling in my stomach. Days that seemed like empty boxes with numbers in the top right corner like inmates in cells lined neatly in a row inside of a jail..... if I could go back, where would I be today? Would we still be talking? Hell, maybe if I went back, I wouldn't even have met him at all.... I wonder.
We all know no one can turn back the hands of time... well, maybe with the exception of some claims from certain skin care regimes. So I suppose the key is to make the future exactly what we want it to be so we don't feel the need to go back and change anything.... again, another impossibility....
Maybe a good skin care regime IS the answer... because at least that way, you can still look good as you face the unexpected.-M
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Can't We Still Be Friends?....
No. We can't.
Why the hell do men in my life want to still be friends when they have decided we weren't good enough to be lovers? I don't understand it, and I never will.
So you're saying that I was good enough to be emotionally connected with you?... that you could depend on me?...that you saw traits of honesty, devotion, compassion? I had a good sense of humor? ...that we could both have an amazing time together (except in the sack of course)?...that you could talk with me when something was on your mind?...that your friends enjoyed my company too?...that through thick and thin, you knew I would always be there to stand beside you?
Well, those are certainly qualities I would like in a friend....AND a lover! I know I posses all of those qualities. My friends have told me so. I can see why you would want to hold on to me. But guess what? I don't have a history of sleeping with my friends. I never have, and I never will.
And there's just one important thing to point out to all of you out there when considering a partner... With time, physical attributes will inevitably fade. So, you may want to reconsider your long-term priorities in a relationship... -M
Why the hell do men in my life want to still be friends when they have decided we weren't good enough to be lovers? I don't understand it, and I never will.
So you're saying that I was good enough to be emotionally connected with you?... that you could depend on me?...that you saw traits of honesty, devotion, compassion? I had a good sense of humor? ...that we could both have an amazing time together (except in the sack of course)?...that you could talk with me when something was on your mind?...that your friends enjoyed my company too?...that through thick and thin, you knew I would always be there to stand beside you?
Well, those are certainly qualities I would like in a friend....AND a lover! I know I posses all of those qualities. My friends have told me so. I can see why you would want to hold on to me. But guess what? I don't have a history of sleeping with my friends. I never have, and I never will.
And there's just one important thing to point out to all of you out there when considering a partner... With time, physical attributes will inevitably fade. So, you may want to reconsider your long-term priorities in a relationship... -M
Friday, October 10, 2008
The Prophecy
Last night I had a strange dream. It was a dream that for once in my life made perfect sense to me.
I had a dream I was on a cruise ship. We were all standing inside on the uppermost deck near a staircase. Everyone seemed to be evacuating. But I was the last to get off. Just then the ship slowly started tilting to the left. I knew the ship was going to fall over, and we were going to sink. But there was no apparent reason for the sinking of this ship! I desperately started to look around the area for the nearest exit. I knew I would have to swim out, but was unsure my last breath would be enough to get me out of the ship and away from the suction as it sank into the sea. I kept gasping for air in the hopes to get the biggest breath possible. Our ship was sinking and I was terrified I was going to drown.
Before I knew the outcome of the dream, I woke up, facing my blank white wall and slowly opened my swollen eyes. I remembered the reality of my situation. And then I remembered the details of my dream: a ship sinking fast, before it ever had the chance to sail away into the sunset leaving me to catch the last precious breaths of air before drowning.... how prophetic. -M
I had a dream I was on a cruise ship. We were all standing inside on the uppermost deck near a staircase. Everyone seemed to be evacuating. But I was the last to get off. Just then the ship slowly started tilting to the left. I knew the ship was going to fall over, and we were going to sink. But there was no apparent reason for the sinking of this ship! I desperately started to look around the area for the nearest exit. I knew I would have to swim out, but was unsure my last breath would be enough to get me out of the ship and away from the suction as it sank into the sea. I kept gasping for air in the hopes to get the biggest breath possible. Our ship was sinking and I was terrified I was going to drown.
Before I knew the outcome of the dream, I woke up, facing my blank white wall and slowly opened my swollen eyes. I remembered the reality of my situation. And then I remembered the details of my dream: a ship sinking fast, before it ever had the chance to sail away into the sunset leaving me to catch the last precious breaths of air before drowning.... how prophetic. -M
A Dedication
As I wipe the tear-crusted makeup residue from beneath my bloodshot eyes from yet another hurtful disappointment, I look in the mirror and face the woman in front of me. She stares back with a determination that fills me with a motivation I have never felt before....a motivation I clearly was lacking....a motivation that I deeply needed...a motivation, that without the help of others, would be nonexistent.
I would like to take the time to say thank you. Thank you to those of you who I thought were my friends, but could not stand beside me in my darkest hours. Thank you to those who lead me to believe things that were untrue in order to get close to me and then drop me. Thank you to those who have spoken ill of me when my back was turned. Thank you to those who have laughed at me when I have discussed my dreams and desires. Thank you to those who never believed in me. Thank you to those who thought I would never make it here. Thank you to those who thought it was okay to say hurtful things to my face when I was most vulnerable.
Thank you for letting me trust you all. And thank you for letting me down. For it is all of you who have become my fuel. You have become the fuel to my fire. You are the rapids in my river; the accelerator in my car. You are the reason I want to prove you all wrong.
Thank you to those who have also been dedicated and true to me. Thank you to those who encourage and support all that I do, mistakes and accomplishments. Thank you to those who lend an ear even when they do not want to listen. You are the foundation of my house. You are the air with which I breathe. Without all of you, my life would be empty. And I thank you for keeping me alive.
As I wipe the tear-crusted makeup residue from beneath my bloodshot eyes from yet another hurtful disappointment, I grow stronger. And with my new found strength, I will persevere. -M
I would like to take the time to say thank you. Thank you to those of you who I thought were my friends, but could not stand beside me in my darkest hours. Thank you to those who lead me to believe things that were untrue in order to get close to me and then drop me. Thank you to those who have spoken ill of me when my back was turned. Thank you to those who have laughed at me when I have discussed my dreams and desires. Thank you to those who never believed in me. Thank you to those who thought I would never make it here. Thank you to those who thought it was okay to say hurtful things to my face when I was most vulnerable.
Thank you for letting me trust you all. And thank you for letting me down. For it is all of you who have become my fuel. You have become the fuel to my fire. You are the rapids in my river; the accelerator in my car. You are the reason I want to prove you all wrong.
Thank you to those who have also been dedicated and true to me. Thank you to those who encourage and support all that I do, mistakes and accomplishments. Thank you to those who lend an ear even when they do not want to listen. You are the foundation of my house. You are the air with which I breathe. Without all of you, my life would be empty. And I thank you for keeping me alive.
As I wipe the tear-crusted makeup residue from beneath my bloodshot eyes from yet another hurtful disappointment, I grow stronger. And with my new found strength, I will persevere. -M
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Perspective
I opened my faux wood blinds and peered out my unlocked window of my Astoria apartment. A blanket of gray covered the morning sky as if the sun had decided to sleep in on this Saturday morning. I glanced to the right and saw the famous skyline that stared back at me like an opponent in a duel. I sighed, and remembered how excited I had been to rent this apartment when I had seen its view. And now, all that could come to mind was how difficult it was to afford this small space I called home. My perspective had greatly changed over the past four months....
I plopped myself back on the couch and reached for my coffee. I rubbed my feet, still sore from last night's work. I had been relieved to be let go early. The night had been slow. I couldn't remember the last time I had come home before 2 AM on a Friday. I wondered if I would ever have a weekend night free from the necessity of work again...
In my own small universe, the difficulties that challenge me here on a daily basis are exhausting, intimidating, frustrating, annoying.... I never thought it was going to be easy, but admittedly, I suppose I didn't think it would be this hard either.
Trying to put things into perspective, I considered a series of recent experiences on the subway....
A few days ago, I rode home on the subway from Brooklyn. It was a rainy day, and I had decided to venture out late, and now, all I could think about was getting home. After a few stops, a skinny, short, man boarded the subway car dressed all in black. His clothes were dirty and the fedora on his head looked as though it had seen many changes in the seasons. He carried a small suitcase and a beat up electric guitar over his shoulder. The suitcase housed a small amplifier for the traveling musician. The train began to move and the man began to play. As he sang his own version of, "Knocking on Heaven's Door", I could see that he had no teeth, and perhaps by the sounds of his voice, was a heavy smoker. His hat, his suitcase and his guitar may have been his only worldly possessions.... at the completion of his song, I was compelled to give him the little money housed in my wallet...
A few stops later, on that same train, an old lady, hunched over, pushed a baby stroller filled with knick knacks and draped with garbage bags full of recyclables. Covered in baggy mismatched clothes and starring at the floor, she shuffled in small slow steps through the subway car, singing in an almost inaudible fashion. I tried not to stare at this poor woman, but the pity that welled up inside of me took control of my eyes almost ordering me to look. As she neared my seat, I could finally make out what she had been singing. In a gospel-like song, she sang a lyric similar to, "If you can't pay your bills, TELL HIM WHAT YOU WANT... if you can't find a job, TELL HIM WHAT YOU WANT... if you can't pay your rent, TELL HIM WHAT YOU WANT, because Jesus....." and her voice faded away into a mumble as she shuffled away from me. I wondered how this poor and seemingly homeless woman could possibly find the heart to give people advice on how to get what they want or need...
Finally, I was waiting for my train to take me back home after a class in the city. Starved and exhausted from dancing for the past two hours, I gulped my vitamin water and eagerly awaited the takeout I had just purchased for my late lunch. A man approached the wooden subway bench where I had decided to wait, and I glanced up at him. He was an attractive clean cut business man with somewhere to go and probably someone to see. Then, out of the corner of my eye, something shiny caught the florescent light of the subway station. I looked down and noticed the artificial limb attached to his left arm. The hook that was his hand had caught my eye. I looked down at my own hands as they held my purse and my lunch. I considered how I complained of carrying trays of drinks deep into the night....and then considered how lucky I was to be able to do so.
I got up to reheat my coffee. With my two able hands, I poured the coffee, and carried it back to my cozy couch in my Astoria apartment overlooking the famous New York skyline. I rubbed my sore feet again, and I felt lucky that was my only ailment. Things really weren't so bad... I was sure there were plenty of people that not only would admire me for the risks I was taking, but also would wish they could be in my shoes... even if they were tightly strapped.
Just then, the sun peaked through the clouds and light filled my room as if the universe was giving me a gentle nudge to get up and get going. Grateful that I was reminded to keep things in perspective, I started my new day, in this relatively new place, with a fresh and new attitude. -M
I plopped myself back on the couch and reached for my coffee. I rubbed my feet, still sore from last night's work. I had been relieved to be let go early. The night had been slow. I couldn't remember the last time I had come home before 2 AM on a Friday. I wondered if I would ever have a weekend night free from the necessity of work again...
In my own small universe, the difficulties that challenge me here on a daily basis are exhausting, intimidating, frustrating, annoying.... I never thought it was going to be easy, but admittedly, I suppose I didn't think it would be this hard either.
Trying to put things into perspective, I considered a series of recent experiences on the subway....
A few days ago, I rode home on the subway from Brooklyn. It was a rainy day, and I had decided to venture out late, and now, all I could think about was getting home. After a few stops, a skinny, short, man boarded the subway car dressed all in black. His clothes were dirty and the fedora on his head looked as though it had seen many changes in the seasons. He carried a small suitcase and a beat up electric guitar over his shoulder. The suitcase housed a small amplifier for the traveling musician. The train began to move and the man began to play. As he sang his own version of, "Knocking on Heaven's Door", I could see that he had no teeth, and perhaps by the sounds of his voice, was a heavy smoker. His hat, his suitcase and his guitar may have been his only worldly possessions.... at the completion of his song, I was compelled to give him the little money housed in my wallet...
A few stops later, on that same train, an old lady, hunched over, pushed a baby stroller filled with knick knacks and draped with garbage bags full of recyclables. Covered in baggy mismatched clothes and starring at the floor, she shuffled in small slow steps through the subway car, singing in an almost inaudible fashion. I tried not to stare at this poor woman, but the pity that welled up inside of me took control of my eyes almost ordering me to look. As she neared my seat, I could finally make out what she had been singing. In a gospel-like song, she sang a lyric similar to, "If you can't pay your bills, TELL HIM WHAT YOU WANT... if you can't find a job, TELL HIM WHAT YOU WANT... if you can't pay your rent, TELL HIM WHAT YOU WANT, because Jesus....." and her voice faded away into a mumble as she shuffled away from me. I wondered how this poor and seemingly homeless woman could possibly find the heart to give people advice on how to get what they want or need...
Finally, I was waiting for my train to take me back home after a class in the city. Starved and exhausted from dancing for the past two hours, I gulped my vitamin water and eagerly awaited the takeout I had just purchased for my late lunch. A man approached the wooden subway bench where I had decided to wait, and I glanced up at him. He was an attractive clean cut business man with somewhere to go and probably someone to see. Then, out of the corner of my eye, something shiny caught the florescent light of the subway station. I looked down and noticed the artificial limb attached to his left arm. The hook that was his hand had caught my eye. I looked down at my own hands as they held my purse and my lunch. I considered how I complained of carrying trays of drinks deep into the night....and then considered how lucky I was to be able to do so.
I got up to reheat my coffee. With my two able hands, I poured the coffee, and carried it back to my cozy couch in my Astoria apartment overlooking the famous New York skyline. I rubbed my sore feet again, and I felt lucky that was my only ailment. Things really weren't so bad... I was sure there were plenty of people that not only would admire me for the risks I was taking, but also would wish they could be in my shoes... even if they were tightly strapped.
Just then, the sun peaked through the clouds and light filled my room as if the universe was giving me a gentle nudge to get up and get going. Grateful that I was reminded to keep things in perspective, I started my new day, in this relatively new place, with a fresh and new attitude. -M
Friday, September 19, 2008
The Jockey
I refuse to beat a dead horse. In fact, I refuse to beat much of anything unless it involves eggs....
This horse is obviously dead, and I am going to walk away from it. I will not give it a funeral, I will not ask God, "Why?? Why did you have to take it from me???" I will not prepare an emotional eulogy in its memory. I will not blame myself. And I will not miss it, or spend any more time thinking about it. After all, how can you miss a horse you were never able to ride?
I take that back... I rode the horse way too quickly, and that is precisely what was the problem. The horse stopped and kicked the bucket, and I went flying head-first into the mud. It happened so fast, I barely knew what had gone wrong. Never start with a gallop... always a trot. A new horse can't take it that fast... No matter how well you think you ride.
No, I will not beat a dead horse. There are just too many stallions in this world...-M
This horse is obviously dead, and I am going to walk away from it. I will not give it a funeral, I will not ask God, "Why?? Why did you have to take it from me???" I will not prepare an emotional eulogy in its memory. I will not blame myself. And I will not miss it, or spend any more time thinking about it. After all, how can you miss a horse you were never able to ride?
I take that back... I rode the horse way too quickly, and that is precisely what was the problem. The horse stopped and kicked the bucket, and I went flying head-first into the mud. It happened so fast, I barely knew what had gone wrong. Never start with a gallop... always a trot. A new horse can't take it that fast... No matter how well you think you ride.
No, I will not beat a dead horse. There are just too many stallions in this world...-M
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Designated Dialer
We've all done it. We've all been there. We've all opened our bloodshot eyes in the morning, still drunk, remembered it, and covered our faces with our hands and regretfully wondered, "WHY!!!!!?"
Yes. The "drunk dial" is one of those monsters that invades our fingertips after one too many. It has become so much easier to accomplish these days. Since the dawn of cellular telephones and personal computers, the frequency of drunk dials has multiplied exponentially. Now, with an address book in your phone, you don't have to remember someone's number when you're drunk. Hell, you don't even have to remember their name! Your phone takes care of that for you. Just hit a button, and you are free to spew all the stupid things out of your drunk mouth that you won't remember in the morning. If you keep some form of tact, you may just drunk text: A form of drunk dial, which similarly cannot be undone, but somehow makes you feel slightly better because the person didn't have to listen to your slurring. Then of course, there is always the drunk myspacing or facebooking. That is quite possibly the worst form of drunk dial. Not only does your dialee get the unfortunate message, but so do all of your friends AND their's. You spend the entire morning re-reading the messages wondering how they may be interpreted. You search the internet for ways to delete them when you know you can't. Like maybe facebook added a new feature while you were partying last night?
WARNING: Drunk dialing is habit forming and not recommended for regular use. Can lead to serious anxiety, heart palpitations, and in some rare cases can cause depression. Please contact a friend immediately if symptoms occur.
Did I drunk dial last night? Yes. Did I drunk dial the night before last? Yes. Will I drunk dial tonight? Quite possibly. -M
Yes. The "drunk dial" is one of those monsters that invades our fingertips after one too many. It has become so much easier to accomplish these days. Since the dawn of cellular telephones and personal computers, the frequency of drunk dials has multiplied exponentially. Now, with an address book in your phone, you don't have to remember someone's number when you're drunk. Hell, you don't even have to remember their name! Your phone takes care of that for you. Just hit a button, and you are free to spew all the stupid things out of your drunk mouth that you won't remember in the morning. If you keep some form of tact, you may just drunk text: A form of drunk dial, which similarly cannot be undone, but somehow makes you feel slightly better because the person didn't have to listen to your slurring. Then of course, there is always the drunk myspacing or facebooking. That is quite possibly the worst form of drunk dial. Not only does your dialee get the unfortunate message, but so do all of your friends AND their's. You spend the entire morning re-reading the messages wondering how they may be interpreted. You search the internet for ways to delete them when you know you can't. Like maybe facebook added a new feature while you were partying last night?
WARNING: Drunk dialing is habit forming and not recommended for regular use. Can lead to serious anxiety, heart palpitations, and in some rare cases can cause depression. Please contact a friend immediately if symptoms occur.
Did I drunk dial last night? Yes. Did I drunk dial the night before last? Yes. Will I drunk dial tonight? Quite possibly. -M
Friday, September 12, 2008
"Patience is a Virtue"
She awoke in her usual groggy state and wondered why her internal alarm clock had no "off" button. The feeling of jetlag minus the jet was overwhelming, a desire to sleep without success, and realized it was a symptom of her new temporary career. Serving drinks to drunks deep into the night was not glorious by any means. But it was her ticket to get her where she needed to go. She would put up with it for now. She would forget the events of her last weekend that drove her to tears and one step away from walking out the door. She would keep her head held high, and in her thickening skin, she would continue to do what she needed to do.
"I could sleep more," she thought. "Or, maybe…." She hopped out of bed, excited at the ideas flying through her head of how she would spend her coveted few hours before returning to the place that barely paid her bills. She threw on her unused bikini beneath a sundress. She packed a small lunch so as to save money, grabbed a beach towel, a fashion magazine, some sun block, and headed toward the subway. She certainly was not going to squander her precious time away in her bed when it could be spent enjoying the gorgeous Sunday morning in Central Park.
She rode the subway solo, sitting on an orange seat and thought the color scheme of the cars was extremely outdated. She read the back of a newspaper that a woman was holding across from her. She glanced out the window as the train slowed through the tunnel noticing the lit portions surrounding scaffolding and was fascinated with the idea of mole-like people that called the subway tunnels their home. Her iPod played music that seemed to underscore the experience perfectly. Clutching her purse close to her body, she shoved her wallet to the bottom to be safe, snapped the purse shut, and starred at the floor and put on her "New York" face.
The train pulled in to 5th Ave. She so wished she had the money to fully take advantage of the famous avenue, but knew that wasn't what was important. She was healthy, moderately happy, and ready for her impromptu picnic, even if it was alone.
She exited the subway and plowed through the tourists who seemed to walk with blindfolds over their eyes. She appeared to be a REAL New Yorker, walking with a purpose, but in actuality, she had no clue where she was going to have this magical picnic. She barely knew the park in all of its expansiveness... but was assured that some small patch of grass awaited her company.
She found the pond with ease and decided to sit beneath the tree in the shade. She had intended to get sun, but changed her mind when she considered the wrinkles that she had overanalyzed in the mirror a few days before. She placed her towel neatly on the grass, sat down, grabbed her magazine, and happily turned up her iPod.
As she ate her lunch, she glanced around at her fellow park goers. Tourists traded places as they posed and prepared for the perfect picture. Couples strolled hand in hand and latte in hand. Mothers pushed strollers with a parade of toddlers behind them. Dogs happily ran about the grass always obediently returning to their best friend for recognition and she sat alone on a beach towel that reminded her of a time earlier in her life that she barely even knew anymore.
Two beautiful things happened just then. A family decided upon the same area for a picnic. As the mother and eldest daughter chose the place behind the very tree she had chosen, the younger children played tag as if they were the only ones in the park. She watched them and remembered a time when she would play with her brothers in a similar fashion. Just then, she caught eyes with the toddler who had barely escaped her brother's grasp. She smiled at the little girl. The toddler toddled closer to her, with a large smile on her face and the brother watched as little girl approached her. When the toddler reached the perimeter of her towel, she stopped and held up her tiny hand, and she did the same, touching her, palm to palm. It was hard to imagine that her hand had been that tiny at one point in her life. She said goodbye and smiled at the mother as the brother carried the little girl away.
For a brief moment, she longed to be a mother. She also longed to be a child again....
As she finished her lunch, something caught her eye in the small patch of dirt beside her towel where the little girl had approached her. She looked closer and realized it was a penny that had been buried for who knows how long. She wondered who had left her this lucky penny. She reached over, dusted it off, and thought to herself that this could be the very penny, the very thing, which could bring her the fortune she needed to help her succeed in New York.
For a brief moment, she saw herself taking a bow on a Broadway Stage. She also saw her family in the audience applauding her success.
She laughed to herself for her belief in superstitions and threw the penny into the bottom of her purse. She glanced at her watch and knew that it was time to head home and get ready for work. She was happy she had taken the time to be spontaneous. Otherwise, she would have missed the experience with the little girl, and may never have happened upon the lucky penny.
As she traveled home to Queens, a place that did not have any semblance of royalty, she considered the two experiences in the park. Her dreams of success in her career and for a family were in the forefront of her mind. They seemed worlds away, especially as she rode away from Broadway…alone in a subway car. But she was fortunate enough to have been born with the virtue of patience. That, paired with determination, would make anything possible. She smiled, and decided to look forward to what was to come. -M
"I could sleep more," she thought. "Or, maybe…." She hopped out of bed, excited at the ideas flying through her head of how she would spend her coveted few hours before returning to the place that barely paid her bills. She threw on her unused bikini beneath a sundress. She packed a small lunch so as to save money, grabbed a beach towel, a fashion magazine, some sun block, and headed toward the subway. She certainly was not going to squander her precious time away in her bed when it could be spent enjoying the gorgeous Sunday morning in Central Park.
She rode the subway solo, sitting on an orange seat and thought the color scheme of the cars was extremely outdated. She read the back of a newspaper that a woman was holding across from her. She glanced out the window as the train slowed through the tunnel noticing the lit portions surrounding scaffolding and was fascinated with the idea of mole-like people that called the subway tunnels their home. Her iPod played music that seemed to underscore the experience perfectly. Clutching her purse close to her body, she shoved her wallet to the bottom to be safe, snapped the purse shut, and starred at the floor and put on her "New York" face.
The train pulled in to 5th Ave. She so wished she had the money to fully take advantage of the famous avenue, but knew that wasn't what was important. She was healthy, moderately happy, and ready for her impromptu picnic, even if it was alone.
She exited the subway and plowed through the tourists who seemed to walk with blindfolds over their eyes. She appeared to be a REAL New Yorker, walking with a purpose, but in actuality, she had no clue where she was going to have this magical picnic. She barely knew the park in all of its expansiveness... but was assured that some small patch of grass awaited her company.
She found the pond with ease and decided to sit beneath the tree in the shade. She had intended to get sun, but changed her mind when she considered the wrinkles that she had overanalyzed in the mirror a few days before. She placed her towel neatly on the grass, sat down, grabbed her magazine, and happily turned up her iPod.
As she ate her lunch, she glanced around at her fellow park goers. Tourists traded places as they posed and prepared for the perfect picture. Couples strolled hand in hand and latte in hand. Mothers pushed strollers with a parade of toddlers behind them. Dogs happily ran about the grass always obediently returning to their best friend for recognition and she sat alone on a beach towel that reminded her of a time earlier in her life that she barely even knew anymore.
Two beautiful things happened just then. A family decided upon the same area for a picnic. As the mother and eldest daughter chose the place behind the very tree she had chosen, the younger children played tag as if they were the only ones in the park. She watched them and remembered a time when she would play with her brothers in a similar fashion. Just then, she caught eyes with the toddler who had barely escaped her brother's grasp. She smiled at the little girl. The toddler toddled closer to her, with a large smile on her face and the brother watched as little girl approached her. When the toddler reached the perimeter of her towel, she stopped and held up her tiny hand, and she did the same, touching her, palm to palm. It was hard to imagine that her hand had been that tiny at one point in her life. She said goodbye and smiled at the mother as the brother carried the little girl away.
For a brief moment, she longed to be a mother. She also longed to be a child again....
As she finished her lunch, something caught her eye in the small patch of dirt beside her towel where the little girl had approached her. She looked closer and realized it was a penny that had been buried for who knows how long. She wondered who had left her this lucky penny. She reached over, dusted it off, and thought to herself that this could be the very penny, the very thing, which could bring her the fortune she needed to help her succeed in New York.
For a brief moment, she saw herself taking a bow on a Broadway Stage. She also saw her family in the audience applauding her success.
She laughed to herself for her belief in superstitions and threw the penny into the bottom of her purse. She glanced at her watch and knew that it was time to head home and get ready for work. She was happy she had taken the time to be spontaneous. Otherwise, she would have missed the experience with the little girl, and may never have happened upon the lucky penny.
As she traveled home to Queens, a place that did not have any semblance of royalty, she considered the two experiences in the park. Her dreams of success in her career and for a family were in the forefront of her mind. They seemed worlds away, especially as she rode away from Broadway…alone in a subway car. But she was fortunate enough to have been born with the virtue of patience. That, paired with determination, would make anything possible. She smiled, and decided to look forward to what was to come. -M
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Gasping for Air
Two nights have come and gone and I can now calmly say I have come to the next important decision in my journey.
It was my first night on the floor in the lounge. I would be cocktailing on my own for the first time. I scurried across 31st Ave at 6:30 to the place that decided to give me a chance... My dad had sent me a brand new wine key, the best of the best, for good luck and I had my 25th anniversary pen in hand to remind me how I got here. I was all set and I was feeling seriously sick to my stomach. How could I be so nervous to serve alcohol? I tried so hard to pretend I was back in A-616 hosting one of my parties...
The night began slow, as usual. I was on my own in the entire lounge because of 3 call-ins. I successfully managed my one table, carrying my tray, smiling, chatting, serving, using the computer, and actually having a bit of fun. It wasn't a big sparkly dress and a tiara, but it was something.
When midnight rolled around, all hell broke loose. I began to panic. Is it hot in here??? I was slammed with a full lounge and one table of 25 some-odd students all ordering individual drinks. I ran around from table to table trying to keep the orders straight in my head. I felt like I was choking and GASPING FOR AIR!!! The lounge was finally split between me and one other girl. My tables kept me on my toes. I barely had a chance to spit out the gum I had been chewing for the last 7 hours. After a few wrong inputs, and spillage on a patron, and a spiky heel dug into the top of my bare foot, I finished the night folding napkins and helping to count and divide tips. I left at 5:02 am in the pouring rain to run across the street to my bed that I so desired.
* * * * * * * * *
The next day, I returned to the familiar hostess desk. I couldn't deny I was slightly relieved to be in the protective hostess bubble again after my cocktailing debut. The night had an odd air about it. Whether it was the impending thunderstorms, or the fact that one of the owners was in one of his most fowl moods, I don't know. Even my partner could feel the tension in the air.... Our boss took over the desk unexpectedly, ordering us both to do various tasks... It was an odd Saturday. We made it through the majority of the night with few bumps....until 2 am came.
I was told by my GM to do one thing, and the owner to do another. A perfect example of "too many cooks in the kitchen". Trying to satisfy both, I asked the GM to take over my current task while I briefly did the other, and he agreed. When I returned to relieve him, I was greeted by the fowl owner who proceeded to "rip me a new one". As he yelled at me, I went inside my head and couldn't help but wonder, "What the f&^% am I doing in this stupid F&^%ing restaurant anyway?" I guess this is what you get from an "under-the-table/no break" job. All I could imagine were my amazing managers in the land of the rising sun who would never raise their voice, even in a confrontational situation. There was such an apparent lack of respect and it disgusted me. When he was through, I ran to the bathroom and began to cry. I felt as though I couldn't breathe...I was GASPING FOR AIR... and I looked at myself in the mirror and hated the Mandy I saw. I didn't hate the girl, I just hated the situation I had put her in... It was in that one moment of reflection, that I decided and promised that girl it was over. I would quit my job.
With one hour left, I finished my duties as the hostess extraordinaire with tears in my eyes, makeup on my cheeks, as the drunk Astorians stumbled out of the establishment.... . There really was no way to stop it at this point.... I cried as if my eyes needed to empty all the water from my body....
* * * * * * *
If New York were a person, it would be the bully that wouldn't leave you alone in grade school, but secretly had a crush on.... It would be the one cocktail that would drive you to the point of vomiting, but that you wanted so badly. It would be the dog that was so cute you insisted on petting it, but then bit your hand..... but as easy as it is to see it in these lights, I prefer to see New York as the mountain that takes a lot of courage and strength to climb, but when you do, the view from the top makes it all worth it in the end. I know I am going to get there, even if I am GASPING FOR AIR. -M
It was my first night on the floor in the lounge. I would be cocktailing on my own for the first time. I scurried across 31st Ave at 6:30 to the place that decided to give me a chance... My dad had sent me a brand new wine key, the best of the best, for good luck and I had my 25th anniversary pen in hand to remind me how I got here. I was all set and I was feeling seriously sick to my stomach. How could I be so nervous to serve alcohol? I tried so hard to pretend I was back in A-616 hosting one of my parties...
The night began slow, as usual. I was on my own in the entire lounge because of 3 call-ins. I successfully managed my one table, carrying my tray, smiling, chatting, serving, using the computer, and actually having a bit of fun. It wasn't a big sparkly dress and a tiara, but it was something.
When midnight rolled around, all hell broke loose. I began to panic. Is it hot in here??? I was slammed with a full lounge and one table of 25 some-odd students all ordering individual drinks. I ran around from table to table trying to keep the orders straight in my head. I felt like I was choking and GASPING FOR AIR!!! The lounge was finally split between me and one other girl. My tables kept me on my toes. I barely had a chance to spit out the gum I had been chewing for the last 7 hours. After a few wrong inputs, and spillage on a patron, and a spiky heel dug into the top of my bare foot, I finished the night folding napkins and helping to count and divide tips. I left at 5:02 am in the pouring rain to run across the street to my bed that I so desired.
* * * * * * * * *
The next day, I returned to the familiar hostess desk. I couldn't deny I was slightly relieved to be in the protective hostess bubble again after my cocktailing debut. The night had an odd air about it. Whether it was the impending thunderstorms, or the fact that one of the owners was in one of his most fowl moods, I don't know. Even my partner could feel the tension in the air.... Our boss took over the desk unexpectedly, ordering us both to do various tasks... It was an odd Saturday. We made it through the majority of the night with few bumps....until 2 am came.
I was told by my GM to do one thing, and the owner to do another. A perfect example of "too many cooks in the kitchen". Trying to satisfy both, I asked the GM to take over my current task while I briefly did the other, and he agreed. When I returned to relieve him, I was greeted by the fowl owner who proceeded to "rip me a new one". As he yelled at me, I went inside my head and couldn't help but wonder, "What the f&^% am I doing in this stupid F&^%ing restaurant anyway?" I guess this is what you get from an "under-the-table/no break" job. All I could imagine were my amazing managers in the land of the rising sun who would never raise their voice, even in a confrontational situation. There was such an apparent lack of respect and it disgusted me. When he was through, I ran to the bathroom and began to cry. I felt as though I couldn't breathe...I was GASPING FOR AIR... and I looked at myself in the mirror and hated the Mandy I saw. I didn't hate the girl, I just hated the situation I had put her in... It was in that one moment of reflection, that I decided and promised that girl it was over. I would quit my job.
With one hour left, I finished my duties as the hostess extraordinaire with tears in my eyes, makeup on my cheeks, as the drunk Astorians stumbled out of the establishment.... . There really was no way to stop it at this point.... I cried as if my eyes needed to empty all the water from my body....
* * * * * * *
If New York were a person, it would be the bully that wouldn't leave you alone in grade school, but secretly had a crush on.... It would be the one cocktail that would drive you to the point of vomiting, but that you wanted so badly. It would be the dog that was so cute you insisted on petting it, but then bit your hand..... but as easy as it is to see it in these lights, I prefer to see New York as the mountain that takes a lot of courage and strength to climb, but when you do, the view from the top makes it all worth it in the end. I know I am going to get there, even if I am GASPING FOR AIR. -M
Monday, August 25, 2008
The Unthinkable
It has finally happened. What we NEVER EVER thought could possibly happen. The Karaoke Queen has met the self proclaimed Karaoke Champion.
It happened late after work. It was 3 am, and my new friend and I decided that late night consumption of New York style pizza was a necessity. We walked a block down Steinway to the "other" Broadway. Taxis and private cars shuttled the intoxicated home, as we approached the joint on this Saturday night now turned Sunday morning.
We grabbed our super-sized slices of cheese pizza and sat around the corner from the register for some privacy to discuss what girls need to talk about at 3 am after a long night and week of barely surviving the city. About halfway through the slice, two guys walked between our table and the tables surrounding us in the rear of the joint. One was carrying a guitar case and bid us a good evening. He told us he was going to serenade us.
Great. A serenade at 3ish in the morning from a greasy, long-haired man when all we ever wanted was a greasy piece of pizza and a gossip sesh of two commiserating girls trying to sty afloat in NYC. Well, being a performer, I had to give the guy some credit. He must really love his music to play beyond his shift for two girls scarfing down pizza in a dirty Astoria pizza joint.
I turned to him and listened intently, and decided a beer was a perfect partner to me in this most unexpected of situations. I watched him play his guitar with such conviction. He began to perspire, and with his eyes closed he sang with such passion, I could only admire his devotion to this free performance. He was far from my favorite voice, but there was something about the way that he delivered the song that made me want to hear more.
We clapped for his song, and after some idle chatter, I came to find out he was a "Karaoke Champion". I now knew why I felt a kindred connection to this strange guitar man. Fate had brought the Karaoke Champion to the Karaoke Queen in the late night and early morning of a pizza joint in Queens...
This was yet another moment in my life where I had to take a mental picture. We decided to stay for a few more songs. The owner of the joint, also a musician, shared some music as he borrowed the guitar and the strange guitar man used the table as a drum set.
As we finished our pizza, and they finished their song, we gathered our things and walked out of the joint and said goodbye. Dawn began to fill the sky and I walked home to 31st ave. I was disappointed that my night's sleep was shortened, but at the same time, I was so thankful for the encounter. There really is never a dull moment.-M
It happened late after work. It was 3 am, and my new friend and I decided that late night consumption of New York style pizza was a necessity. We walked a block down Steinway to the "other" Broadway. Taxis and private cars shuttled the intoxicated home, as we approached the joint on this Saturday night now turned Sunday morning.
We grabbed our super-sized slices of cheese pizza and sat around the corner from the register for some privacy to discuss what girls need to talk about at 3 am after a long night and week of barely surviving the city. About halfway through the slice, two guys walked between our table and the tables surrounding us in the rear of the joint. One was carrying a guitar case and bid us a good evening. He told us he was going to serenade us.
Great. A serenade at 3ish in the morning from a greasy, long-haired man when all we ever wanted was a greasy piece of pizza and a gossip sesh of two commiserating girls trying to sty afloat in NYC. Well, being a performer, I had to give the guy some credit. He must really love his music to play beyond his shift for two girls scarfing down pizza in a dirty Astoria pizza joint.
I turned to him and listened intently, and decided a beer was a perfect partner to me in this most unexpected of situations. I watched him play his guitar with such conviction. He began to perspire, and with his eyes closed he sang with such passion, I could only admire his devotion to this free performance. He was far from my favorite voice, but there was something about the way that he delivered the song that made me want to hear more.
We clapped for his song, and after some idle chatter, I came to find out he was a "Karaoke Champion". I now knew why I felt a kindred connection to this strange guitar man. Fate had brought the Karaoke Champion to the Karaoke Queen in the late night and early morning of a pizza joint in Queens...
This was yet another moment in my life where I had to take a mental picture. We decided to stay for a few more songs. The owner of the joint, also a musician, shared some music as he borrowed the guitar and the strange guitar man used the table as a drum set.
As we finished our pizza, and they finished their song, we gathered our things and walked out of the joint and said goodbye. Dawn began to fill the sky and I walked home to 31st ave. I was disappointed that my night's sleep was shortened, but at the same time, I was so thankful for the encounter. There really is never a dull moment.-M
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Unknown World
She woke up especially thirsty. It could have been the 2 am homemade pizza she ate before bed with her bottle of light beer, or the general lack of water with which her body had been deprived over the weeks. Slightly sore from dragging her groceries home 3 blocks the day before, she rubbed her shoulders to find relief and wished she had someone there to do it for her. The residual emotions from her strange dreams put her in a distracted mood. She grabbed the nearly empty water bottle that had tipped over the night before as she had stumbled to bed, rubbed her eyes and tried to remember what her dreams had been about. She flopped back into her disorderly bed, and stared at the blank ceiling. Flashes of her dream were playing back in her mind like a disjointed slide show.
She saw darkness. She saw people gathered around a car. She remembered the need to evacuate. She remembered that a storm was coming, a very large storm. She remembered being very afraid.
As she kicked the sheets and comforter off of her, she staggered to the coffee maker. She decided to get up, knowing full well her body desired more sleep. But she didn't want to go back into the nightmare.
As she hastily scooped her breakfast blend into the filter, she wondered why her dreams were so constantly filled with fearful moments and feelings? Where were the amazing dreams in which she did not want to wake? What could these nightmares be trying to tell her? What could they possibly signify?
She ate her cereal and drank her artificially sweetened coffee as the memories of her dream slipped away into her subconscious like a chest sinking to the bottom of a dark and deep sea. It was just another one of her bad dreams, and soon she would forget about it, just like all of the others.
But somewhere, deep inside of her, she wondered whether all of these twisted stories and experiences were memories from another life? Were they actual experiences her soul had once lived through? Were they messages from a divine source? Or were they merely just a collection of the everyday exposures of the modern world strung into a story that seemingly made no sense?
She knew her questions would never find their answers. But she hoped that tonight, there would be a different story...a different dream... She looked forward to the unknown world that awaited her. -M
She saw darkness. She saw people gathered around a car. She remembered the need to evacuate. She remembered that a storm was coming, a very large storm. She remembered being very afraid.
As she kicked the sheets and comforter off of her, she staggered to the coffee maker. She decided to get up, knowing full well her body desired more sleep. But she didn't want to go back into the nightmare.
As she hastily scooped her breakfast blend into the filter, she wondered why her dreams were so constantly filled with fearful moments and feelings? Where were the amazing dreams in which she did not want to wake? What could these nightmares be trying to tell her? What could they possibly signify?
She ate her cereal and drank her artificially sweetened coffee as the memories of her dream slipped away into her subconscious like a chest sinking to the bottom of a dark and deep sea. It was just another one of her bad dreams, and soon she would forget about it, just like all of the others.
But somewhere, deep inside of her, she wondered whether all of these twisted stories and experiences were memories from another life? Were they actual experiences her soul had once lived through? Were they messages from a divine source? Or were they merely just a collection of the everyday exposures of the modern world strung into a story that seemingly made no sense?
She knew her questions would never find their answers. But she hoped that tonight, there would be a different story...a different dream... She looked forward to the unknown world that awaited her. -M
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Progress?
Left Tokyo...Moved to New York...found an apartment...acquired a stalker - ditched a stalker...found a job...got a coffee maker along with all of my belongings that were in storage in California...told wine-buying pinky grabber how I felt and shut that door... had a great night with a hot Italian bartender...who further commissioned me for a "trisome" with a hot blonde (declined the invitation)...took new head shots...started to study Pilates on the reformer...got cable TV...installed a custom designed pantry for my closet...installed faux wooden blinds...had my NY debut singing karaoke in front of drunk Broadway performers...went on my first blind date...got promoted...chopped my hair...
What on Earth could be next?
I really hope it involves singing, dancing, and or acting.... since that is why I am here! I miss you all and hope you are living fabulously....-M
What on Earth could be next?
I really hope it involves singing, dancing, and or acting.... since that is why I am here! I miss you all and hope you are living fabulously....-M
Actions Speak Louder Than Words
I was brutally reminded today that actions speak louder than words. My ears are still ringing....
Wine-buying pinky-grabber decided blogs ago to jump off the face of the earth.... I guess my pinky didn't make that much of an impression. In my frustration, I kept him off the face of the earth with no chance of rescue or return be deleting him from my life. In true facebook-stalking fashion, he re-requested me, and it was in this instant that I decided to write him a message on how I truly felt... so he called to tell me why....
Now, my sister has always told me... "Don't ask why. Do you really want to hear the reasons? Is it going to make you feel any better?" Well, when you don't know the reasons, you always assume that hearing them is going to make you feel better. And perhaps, you imagine that he won't give reasons... he'll actually say he didn't realize you were feeling that way and ask you out again!!!
The fact that he wasn't calling me or asking me out should have been a serious indication.... Did I really need to hear why? I guess I did, otherwise I wouldn't have written him an email....
I know the true reason I was hanging on to WBPG.... he is HOT. But there is so much more to an amazing man than his physical attributes. I want to admire him for everything he does and has done and wants to do. I want him to want to call me, and grab my pinky when I drink wine (or tea). I want him to be attractive, of course.... but attractive can come in more than just a physical package. Sense of humor, intelligence, respect, and honesty can all contribute to attraction. I am completely aware that my focus with men needs a serious shift..... Otherwise, I may be in for a ton of let downs and guys going M.I.A. from Earth....
I know there is someone out there for me... and I cannot wait for him to truly appreciate my useless pinky, incessant singing and dancing, my affinity for wine and cheese, my fascination of the paranormal, my tendency to cry when emotional or watching a sad movie, my amazing family, my need to own a Maltese puppy, and my crazy dreams of success in New York City....-M
Wine-buying pinky-grabber decided blogs ago to jump off the face of the earth.... I guess my pinky didn't make that much of an impression. In my frustration, I kept him off the face of the earth with no chance of rescue or return be deleting him from my life. In true facebook-stalking fashion, he re-requested me, and it was in this instant that I decided to write him a message on how I truly felt... so he called to tell me why....
Now, my sister has always told me... "Don't ask why. Do you really want to hear the reasons? Is it going to make you feel any better?" Well, when you don't know the reasons, you always assume that hearing them is going to make you feel better. And perhaps, you imagine that he won't give reasons... he'll actually say he didn't realize you were feeling that way and ask you out again!!!
The fact that he wasn't calling me or asking me out should have been a serious indication.... Did I really need to hear why? I guess I did, otherwise I wouldn't have written him an email....
I know the true reason I was hanging on to WBPG.... he is HOT. But there is so much more to an amazing man than his physical attributes. I want to admire him for everything he does and has done and wants to do. I want him to want to call me, and grab my pinky when I drink wine (or tea). I want him to be attractive, of course.... but attractive can come in more than just a physical package. Sense of humor, intelligence, respect, and honesty can all contribute to attraction. I am completely aware that my focus with men needs a serious shift..... Otherwise, I may be in for a ton of let downs and guys going M.I.A. from Earth....
I know there is someone out there for me... and I cannot wait for him to truly appreciate my useless pinky, incessant singing and dancing, my affinity for wine and cheese, my fascination of the paranormal, my tendency to cry when emotional or watching a sad movie, my amazing family, my need to own a Maltese puppy, and my crazy dreams of success in New York City....-M
Monday, July 28, 2008
The Ride For Your Life
Have you ever blurred your eyes in the gym? It is hysterical. You see all of the fuzzy-looking bodies of all shapes and sizes going up and down on large machines that don't go anywhere...
It occurred to me the other day at the gym as I blurred my eyes and giggled at all of the fools (like me) who paid 64 dollars a month to ride these machines that the whole notion of a gym is ridiculous! Usually when you go for a ride in a car, on a roller coaster, or on your significant other, you are having fun! But the gym is another story. And with the exception of the jacked dudes and body-obsessed women, we all know the moment we step out of the gym we blow it by drinking all night long or ordering a pizza as soon as we get home....
Hating every moment of my ride on that elliptical machine, I decided I needed to find a way to make the 64 dollars worth it!!!! Maybe un-blurring my eyes and enjoying the view was the key. Maybe divorcing cheese, hummus and wine would work? Maybe finally downloading some new tunes would liven up my workout? I wasn't quite sure....
Tonight, as I sip my Corona Light post Mac 'n Cheese I realize I have lost some of my will power. OK. I have lost most of my will power. There are several factors that play a role in the loss of will power.
1) No boyfriend - Now you would think this would be impetus to maintain a sexy bod.... when in actuality, you know no one cares what you look like and no one will see you naked. (Unless you get drunk at boutique sales with hot bartenders)
2) No Cooking Utensils - I only have 1 frying pan until my things arrive from California. Do you know how difficult it is to cook a well balanced dinner with only a frying pan??? (I mean, you saw how I made my coffee!!!!)
3) Every Restaurant/Grocery Store/Liquor Store Delivers - One of the most magical things about living in New York is the fact that you can order take out from virtually anywhere!!!! This is VERY DANGEROUS and very TEMPTING!!!!
4) Moving to New York - Anyone who makes any major move or change will definitely depend on food and alcohol for comfort at times... Who am I kidding? I depend on food and alcohol most of the time! Just today I had a picnic in Central Park followed by pre-job hunting mimosas at Tavern on the Green, then a beer accompanying the application process at a bar which shall remain nameless....
So basically I am throwing 64 dollars in the trash. I fully admit that. I know what I want to look like, and it isn't what I saw in the dressing room mirror today!!!! I am going to start to enjoy my ride at the gym. I am going to make some changes. I will continue to make the pilgrimage to the mecca of treadmills, ellipticals, stair masters, and weight machines in the hopes to have the bikini bod we all dream of having. But more importantly, I want to keep this heart of mine beating for as long as I can!!! After all, underneath all of the aesthetic desires in our brains, the heart is what is is all about in the end.... in the gym, and in our life. -M
It occurred to me the other day at the gym as I blurred my eyes and giggled at all of the fools (like me) who paid 64 dollars a month to ride these machines that the whole notion of a gym is ridiculous! Usually when you go for a ride in a car, on a roller coaster, or on your significant other, you are having fun! But the gym is another story. And with the exception of the jacked dudes and body-obsessed women, we all know the moment we step out of the gym we blow it by drinking all night long or ordering a pizza as soon as we get home....
Hating every moment of my ride on that elliptical machine, I decided I needed to find a way to make the 64 dollars worth it!!!! Maybe un-blurring my eyes and enjoying the view was the key. Maybe divorcing cheese, hummus and wine would work? Maybe finally downloading some new tunes would liven up my workout? I wasn't quite sure....
Tonight, as I sip my Corona Light post Mac 'n Cheese I realize I have lost some of my will power. OK. I have lost most of my will power. There are several factors that play a role in the loss of will power.
1) No boyfriend - Now you would think this would be impetus to maintain a sexy bod.... when in actuality, you know no one cares what you look like and no one will see you naked. (Unless you get drunk at boutique sales with hot bartenders)
2) No Cooking Utensils - I only have 1 frying pan until my things arrive from California. Do you know how difficult it is to cook a well balanced dinner with only a frying pan??? (I mean, you saw how I made my coffee!!!!)
3) Every Restaurant/Grocery Store/Liquor Store Delivers - One of the most magical things about living in New York is the fact that you can order take out from virtually anywhere!!!! This is VERY DANGEROUS and very TEMPTING!!!!
4) Moving to New York - Anyone who makes any major move or change will definitely depend on food and alcohol for comfort at times... Who am I kidding? I depend on food and alcohol most of the time! Just today I had a picnic in Central Park followed by pre-job hunting mimosas at Tavern on the Green, then a beer accompanying the application process at a bar which shall remain nameless....
So basically I am throwing 64 dollars in the trash. I fully admit that. I know what I want to look like, and it isn't what I saw in the dressing room mirror today!!!! I am going to start to enjoy my ride at the gym. I am going to make some changes. I will continue to make the pilgrimage to the mecca of treadmills, ellipticals, stair masters, and weight machines in the hopes to have the bikini bod we all dream of having. But more importantly, I want to keep this heart of mine beating for as long as I can!!! After all, underneath all of the aesthetic desires in our brains, the heart is what is is all about in the end.... in the gym, and in our life. -M
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
A Very Lethal Combination
I discovered something extremely dangerous that I want to warn all of you about.
Shopping + Alcohol + Hot Italian Guy = A very expensive credit card bill and a make out sesh with a hot Italian
Two weeks ago, I had meandered Steinway Street in the hopes to find some cute and affordable dresses for work. I was doubtful after wandering through what seemed like thousands of really cheesy and trashy stores that housed clothes fit for a playmate. It was then I stumbled upon a tiny boutique where I was welcomed by Doria. Now, for those of you who know me VERY well, you will know why this was very appropriate. I now had a new reason to love Doria.... not only was it my favorite plate of food at Saizeria, but it was my new favorite wanna-be designer. And she had a boutique within walking distance to my apartment!!!
After being taken through the shop by her two gay assistants, I purchased two moderately-priced dresses that I adored!!! I was so excited to find my "diamond in the Astoria rough".... When I checked out, Doria invited me to her private sale the following weekend.
Sunday had arrived. I was exhausted from working the night before, but I managed to drag myself from my bed to get ready for the private, invitation-only sale at the boutique. It started at 1pm and I barely had time to grab a quick bowl of cereal before I left 31st Ave in Astoria. I walked down to the boutique in the intense humid heat of New York summer. In a blue terry cloth Juicy dress, I was completely drenched in sweat and cursed myself when I realized I had passed the store a block ago. I turned around and finally found the boutique. They had covered the windows with silk curtains. I found myself on the guest list and walked inside. There were a handful of ladies and girls wandering around. I was greeted by Doria and her gay entourage with a kiss on the cheek....Oh ya, and the Hot Italian Bartender....
I told myself, "No more than two glasses of wine, and do NOT spend the money you don't have!"
I was able to fend off the alcoholic refreshments for the first few minutes... (God, he's Hot) I wandered the boutique in search of more unique pieces and dressed for work. There were several jewelry designers there in addition to a camera crew for a local network. I found a few things to try on, and decided to purchase them. But first, I would have a glass of wine, and wander around for round two in case I missed anything.
Now, round two was accompanied by my wine. The two dresses that I had decided were too expensive from round one somehow found themselves in a dressing room with me. All the ladies were encouraging the purchase of these new items as they simultaneously proceeded to get drunk with me. The camera filming the reveal of the adorable dresses enhanced my liquid courage...I twirled for the camera, took a gulp of wine, and added them to my pile of things to purchase.
Somehow, I realized that my glass of wine was magically staying full. Hot Italian's Job was to keep us drinking, and he did his job well....
Round three consisted of a significant buzz and a look at the jewelry...not to mention Hot Italian picking out dresses for me to try on. Now, who can resist that??? I put on this gorgeous white, backless dress suitable for a date or a night out and everyone demanded it was made for me. The Hot Italian commented, "I hope you wear that dress when I take you out for dinner...."
**Gulp**..... of wine.....
Well, I think we all know how this story ended. Four hours later and after several drunk dials to friends in my excitement (you all know who you are), I walked out of the boutique with some great and unexpected purchases.... (ALL work related I can assure you.... with maybe the exception of that white dress!!!) I also was walked out by the HOT Italian where he proceeded to say goodbye to me the only way Hot Italians know how....and I am not talking "Ciao"!!!!
So the lesson learned? When in the company of wine, champagne, cute clothes one sale, and gorgeous men, prepare yourself.....with a credit card and some breath mints!!!! -M
Shopping + Alcohol + Hot Italian Guy = A very expensive credit card bill and a make out sesh with a hot Italian
Two weeks ago, I had meandered Steinway Street in the hopes to find some cute and affordable dresses for work. I was doubtful after wandering through what seemed like thousands of really cheesy and trashy stores that housed clothes fit for a playmate. It was then I stumbled upon a tiny boutique where I was welcomed by Doria. Now, for those of you who know me VERY well, you will know why this was very appropriate. I now had a new reason to love Doria.... not only was it my favorite plate of food at Saizeria, but it was my new favorite wanna-be designer. And she had a boutique within walking distance to my apartment!!!
After being taken through the shop by her two gay assistants, I purchased two moderately-priced dresses that I adored!!! I was so excited to find my "diamond in the Astoria rough".... When I checked out, Doria invited me to her private sale the following weekend.
Sunday had arrived. I was exhausted from working the night before, but I managed to drag myself from my bed to get ready for the private, invitation-only sale at the boutique. It started at 1pm and I barely had time to grab a quick bowl of cereal before I left 31st Ave in Astoria. I walked down to the boutique in the intense humid heat of New York summer. In a blue terry cloth Juicy dress, I was completely drenched in sweat and cursed myself when I realized I had passed the store a block ago. I turned around and finally found the boutique. They had covered the windows with silk curtains. I found myself on the guest list and walked inside. There were a handful of ladies and girls wandering around. I was greeted by Doria and her gay entourage with a kiss on the cheek....Oh ya, and the Hot Italian Bartender....
I told myself, "No more than two glasses of wine, and do NOT spend the money you don't have!"
I was able to fend off the alcoholic refreshments for the first few minutes... (God, he's Hot) I wandered the boutique in search of more unique pieces and dressed for work. There were several jewelry designers there in addition to a camera crew for a local network. I found a few things to try on, and decided to purchase them. But first, I would have a glass of wine, and wander around for round two in case I missed anything.
Now, round two was accompanied by my wine. The two dresses that I had decided were too expensive from round one somehow found themselves in a dressing room with me. All the ladies were encouraging the purchase of these new items as they simultaneously proceeded to get drunk with me. The camera filming the reveal of the adorable dresses enhanced my liquid courage...I twirled for the camera, took a gulp of wine, and added them to my pile of things to purchase.
Somehow, I realized that my glass of wine was magically staying full. Hot Italian's Job was to keep us drinking, and he did his job well....
Round three consisted of a significant buzz and a look at the jewelry...not to mention Hot Italian picking out dresses for me to try on. Now, who can resist that??? I put on this gorgeous white, backless dress suitable for a date or a night out and everyone demanded it was made for me. The Hot Italian commented, "I hope you wear that dress when I take you out for dinner...."
**Gulp**..... of wine.....
Well, I think we all know how this story ended. Four hours later and after several drunk dials to friends in my excitement (you all know who you are), I walked out of the boutique with some great and unexpected purchases.... (ALL work related I can assure you.... with maybe the exception of that white dress!!!) I also was walked out by the HOT Italian where he proceeded to say goodbye to me the only way Hot Italians know how....and I am not talking "Ciao"!!!!
So the lesson learned? When in the company of wine, champagne, cute clothes one sale, and gorgeous men, prepare yourself.....with a credit card and some breath mints!!!! -M
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Barking Dogs
Confessions of a newly-trained New York hostess....
When I entered the realm of the food and beverage industry, I knew it was going to either take some serious ladder climbing to get to the big bucks.... or I could lie about my experience for the money positions, or get into a certain "position" for the money.... I opted for the honest, non-prostitutional route.
But at times, I have my moments of doubt....
Under the table pay to some people is advantageous...especially if they are illegal immigrants or without a work visa. For me, it means I have more work to do when it comes to taxes and when I want to actually be paid, I have to find the time to trek to the office to ask for my money. Awkward. It also means the management can set whatever work conditions they like, such as: 8 hour shifts without a break, dressy attire (which means uncomfortable shoes for us), and no stool or chair to sit in behind our podium. The foot pain is almost unbearable!!!! My dogs are seriously barking!
Being the new girl in a venue that necessitates 4 hostesses on a busy night, I am definitely the "go-to bit%$". As the "go-to bi%$" I do what everyone else tells me to do. Then, when something goes wrong, somehow all heads turn to me as if it is my fault when I had just completed someone else's order!
It is always fun to make friends in a new workplace, right? The bartenders and waiters are great! But when they come up to you in their comfortable shoes and complain about their shift when we know they are making a SH*&-load more money, it kind of makes me want to scream..... right in their ear.
So, I find myself on the brink of many things. Watching my funds deplete to chase this crazy dream of mine, I can see why people will do ANYTHING to get where they need to. I am definitely feeling the pressure of the big move. I am beginning to contemplate certain jobs that I never had imagined. It is all about survival. I am but a minnow in a sea of sharks. But this minnow is gonna just keep swimming! And in the meantime she will go on the hunt for the ever-elusive comfortable AND cute pair of shoes! -M
When I entered the realm of the food and beverage industry, I knew it was going to either take some serious ladder climbing to get to the big bucks.... or I could lie about my experience for the money positions, or get into a certain "position" for the money.... I opted for the honest, non-prostitutional route.
But at times, I have my moments of doubt....
Under the table pay to some people is advantageous...especially if they are illegal immigrants or without a work visa. For me, it means I have more work to do when it comes to taxes and when I want to actually be paid, I have to find the time to trek to the office to ask for my money. Awkward. It also means the management can set whatever work conditions they like, such as: 8 hour shifts without a break, dressy attire (which means uncomfortable shoes for us), and no stool or chair to sit in behind our podium. The foot pain is almost unbearable!!!! My dogs are seriously barking!
Being the new girl in a venue that necessitates 4 hostesses on a busy night, I am definitely the "go-to bit%$". As the "go-to bi%$" I do what everyone else tells me to do. Then, when something goes wrong, somehow all heads turn to me as if it is my fault when I had just completed someone else's order!
It is always fun to make friends in a new workplace, right? The bartenders and waiters are great! But when they come up to you in their comfortable shoes and complain about their shift when we know they are making a SH*&-load more money, it kind of makes me want to scream..... right in their ear.
So, I find myself on the brink of many things. Watching my funds deplete to chase this crazy dream of mine, I can see why people will do ANYTHING to get where they need to. I am definitely feeling the pressure of the big move. I am beginning to contemplate certain jobs that I never had imagined. It is all about survival. I am but a minnow in a sea of sharks. But this minnow is gonna just keep swimming! And in the meantime she will go on the hunt for the ever-elusive comfortable AND cute pair of shoes! -M
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Coffee From a Sock
OK... Can't a girl buy a Melitta one cup mug topper thingie to make her coffee in the morning??? "The 'bucks" was depleting my bucks and it was about time I reverted back to my good 'ol cup with flavored coffee mate.
I have literally searched far and wide in Astoria for a single mug topper thingie which I now know is called a "Cone Manual System" invented by Melitta Bentz herself in 1908. But alas, my search has ended up fruitless....or cone-less.
So the other day, I was at my local grocery store, wandering the coffee aisle. I decided once again to search through the filters. There MUST be a "cone manual system" hidden somewhere on this shelf! For the second time, I came across this packaged butterfly net looking thing. It had a picture of a steamy cup of fresh coffee on the front of the package. It seemed about the circumference of a coffee mug. "But how the hell do I use that", I wondered? I stood in the aisle holding the net-like object and hypothesized that if I could just shove a filter in there, I could hold i above my mug and make some coffee without a grind-y mess! And considering I had no kettle, I would have to manually ladle the water into the net. It seemed like such a process, but I bought the net, and some filters, and my favorite coffee mate. I was now ready to make my coffee... somehow.
The next morning, I woke up and put some water in my one and only frying pan. I opened the net, and realized it resembled a sock. The sock hung from the net handle and I shoved a filter in the bottom. It quickly occurred to me that this new coffee brewing process was not hangover friendly. After spilling grounds everywhere while trying to scoop the coffee into the filter at the bottom of the sock, I grabbed my ladle. The now boiling water was about to become my coffee. I ladled some water and poured it into the sock. I peaked over the edge of the mug and saw it drip into the mug. "It's working!" After about 5-6 ladles of water into the sock, I had a fresh cup of coffee plus a little bit of a burn from splashing, boiling water.
I am not sure what Melitta Bentz would think about my contraption coffee maker. But I now have a means of having that cup in the AM which has become such a ritual for me. I am willing to do what it takes to have that cup of coffee...whether it is surrendering to "The 'Bucks" or brewing from a sock. -M
I have literally searched far and wide in Astoria for a single mug topper thingie which I now know is called a "Cone Manual System" invented by Melitta Bentz herself in 1908. But alas, my search has ended up fruitless....or cone-less.
So the other day, I was at my local grocery store, wandering the coffee aisle. I decided once again to search through the filters. There MUST be a "cone manual system" hidden somewhere on this shelf! For the second time, I came across this packaged butterfly net looking thing. It had a picture of a steamy cup of fresh coffee on the front of the package. It seemed about the circumference of a coffee mug. "But how the hell do I use that", I wondered? I stood in the aisle holding the net-like object and hypothesized that if I could just shove a filter in there, I could hold i above my mug and make some coffee without a grind-y mess! And considering I had no kettle, I would have to manually ladle the water into the net. It seemed like such a process, but I bought the net, and some filters, and my favorite coffee mate. I was now ready to make my coffee... somehow.
The next morning, I woke up and put some water in my one and only frying pan. I opened the net, and realized it resembled a sock. The sock hung from the net handle and I shoved a filter in the bottom. It quickly occurred to me that this new coffee brewing process was not hangover friendly. After spilling grounds everywhere while trying to scoop the coffee into the filter at the bottom of the sock, I grabbed my ladle. The now boiling water was about to become my coffee. I ladled some water and poured it into the sock. I peaked over the edge of the mug and saw it drip into the mug. "It's working!" After about 5-6 ladles of water into the sock, I had a fresh cup of coffee plus a little bit of a burn from splashing, boiling water.
I am not sure what Melitta Bentz would think about my contraption coffee maker. But I now have a means of having that cup in the AM which has become such a ritual for me. I am willing to do what it takes to have that cup of coffee...whether it is surrendering to "The 'Bucks" or brewing from a sock. -M
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
"I Don’t Think We’re in Kansas Anymore..."
It was my first night in my city apartment. I couldn't wait. I had spent all day waiting for the two items I needed delivered most: a bed and an air conditioner. It was 10:00pm and finally my new queen-sized bed arrived. I dressed it with my new Ikea sheets and couldn't wait to get to bed! The air conditioner worked hard at cooling down the once vacant apartment. Set at a steady 60 degrees Fahrenheit, I was surprised at how well it was keeping my entire apartment cool. I could only afford one unit. I dreamed of the day I would be able to afford a luxurious condo with central heat and air....
My stomach grumbled, and I knew it was time to head to my corner grocery store for some staple items. I proudly walked down the street of my new neighborhood. I felt so New York-y! I wandered the aisles in an attempt to find the necessary items to fill my fridge, but it became evident that even if I did decided to cook something, I'd have nothing to cook it in, nothing to stir it with, nothing to eat it on, and nothing to eat it with.... I sighed, bought some milk and crackers, and decided to order a pizza.
As I walked home with my groceries, I was disrupted by a man's voice. "Excuse me!" "Excuse me! Can I help you carry your groceries?" He was an unassuming man. Clean cut and clean shaved, he appeared to have come from work wearing a button down shirt and tailored pants. "No," I replied. "Thanks, but I like the exercise." He continued, "Do you live around here? I live on Steinway." The ever-so-brief and surfaced conversation continued until we reached the corner. It became very evident to me at this point that this man could potentially be a stalker.
"What's your number? Can I call you?? What time do you come home every day? Where do you work???"
I scurried across the street to place my pizza order. I had almost lost my appetite from the odd encounter, but ordered anyway to take some time before getting home. As I left the pizzeria, I realized, he could be anywhere watching me. He could see where I would walk. He would see where I lived.
And he did.
The past week had been a crazy mix of job hunting, basic apartment furnishing, friend outings, wine drinking, and boy figuring....oh ya, and plunging for those of you who read regularly. Every day I loved my new surroundings more and more as if my dreams were one step closer than yesterday. I had completely forgotten about the strange and overly-forward man who had followed me home from the corner store that first night.
Until today.
I had just had the most amazing afternoon with my friend. After a movie, early dinner with wine on an outdoor patio, vintage and 99 cent store perusing, it was time to head home to 31st ave. I said goodnight and popped in my iPod. I walked home on my normal route, and couldn't wait to shower have a "goodnight glass" of red and surf my new net. I was so hot, and was relieved to remember I had left the air running. As I approached my gate, I saw a young boy playing while his father watched in amusement. I smiled to myself and pulled out my keys. I thought to check my mail, but didn't want to take the time. Little did I know it was a good thing I didn't.
As I went to close the locked door to the building, I looked down to the handle and closed the door firmly checking that it had locked. When I looked up from the handle and through the window of the door, there was that very man, standing directly in front of me on the other side of the door. It was as if he had magically appeared in an instant. He must have been waiting. He must have been watching.
I panicked and in shock turned immediately for the stairwell. I ran up the stairs so quickly that I tripped and fell as if in a dream when you cannot escape the monster that is chasing you. I ran and looked down hoping he hadn't gotten through the door. I opened my apartment, locked it behind me, and started to cry.
After much thought, and advice from friends, I called 911 to report this suspicious man. The police came, took the report, and now I am left here to ponder all the ways I can make myself more aware and more safe. This is not Lafayette, California. It is not Irvine or Newport Beach. It is not Shin Urayasu. And it is not Disneyland.
With my new awareness, I will leave my apartment tomorrow. With my new awareness, I will still live life the way I had intended. I refuse to let fear be a road block on my life's path. But don't get me wrong, I will not be ignoring any caution signs on that path any more!!! It is definitely better to be safe, than sorry. -M
My stomach grumbled, and I knew it was time to head to my corner grocery store for some staple items. I proudly walked down the street of my new neighborhood. I felt so New York-y! I wandered the aisles in an attempt to find the necessary items to fill my fridge, but it became evident that even if I did decided to cook something, I'd have nothing to cook it in, nothing to stir it with, nothing to eat it on, and nothing to eat it with.... I sighed, bought some milk and crackers, and decided to order a pizza.
As I walked home with my groceries, I was disrupted by a man's voice. "Excuse me!" "Excuse me! Can I help you carry your groceries?" He was an unassuming man. Clean cut and clean shaved, he appeared to have come from work wearing a button down shirt and tailored pants. "No," I replied. "Thanks, but I like the exercise." He continued, "Do you live around here? I live on Steinway." The ever-so-brief and surfaced conversation continued until we reached the corner. It became very evident to me at this point that this man could potentially be a stalker.
"What's your number? Can I call you?? What time do you come home every day? Where do you work???"
I scurried across the street to place my pizza order. I had almost lost my appetite from the odd encounter, but ordered anyway to take some time before getting home. As I left the pizzeria, I realized, he could be anywhere watching me. He could see where I would walk. He would see where I lived.
And he did.
The past week had been a crazy mix of job hunting, basic apartment furnishing, friend outings, wine drinking, and boy figuring....oh ya, and plunging for those of you who read regularly. Every day I loved my new surroundings more and more as if my dreams were one step closer than yesterday. I had completely forgotten about the strange and overly-forward man who had followed me home from the corner store that first night.
Until today.
I had just had the most amazing afternoon with my friend. After a movie, early dinner with wine on an outdoor patio, vintage and 99 cent store perusing, it was time to head home to 31st ave. I said goodnight and popped in my iPod. I walked home on my normal route, and couldn't wait to shower have a "goodnight glass" of red and surf my new net. I was so hot, and was relieved to remember I had left the air running. As I approached my gate, I saw a young boy playing while his father watched in amusement. I smiled to myself and pulled out my keys. I thought to check my mail, but didn't want to take the time. Little did I know it was a good thing I didn't.
As I went to close the locked door to the building, I looked down to the handle and closed the door firmly checking that it had locked. When I looked up from the handle and through the window of the door, there was that very man, standing directly in front of me on the other side of the door. It was as if he had magically appeared in an instant. He must have been waiting. He must have been watching.
I panicked and in shock turned immediately for the stairwell. I ran up the stairs so quickly that I tripped and fell as if in a dream when you cannot escape the monster that is chasing you. I ran and looked down hoping he hadn't gotten through the door. I opened my apartment, locked it behind me, and started to cry.
After much thought, and advice from friends, I called 911 to report this suspicious man. The police came, took the report, and now I am left here to ponder all the ways I can make myself more aware and more safe. This is not Lafayette, California. It is not Irvine or Newport Beach. It is not Shin Urayasu. And it is not Disneyland.
With my new awareness, I will leave my apartment tomorrow. With my new awareness, I will still live life the way I had intended. I refuse to let fear be a road block on my life's path. But don't get me wrong, I will not be ignoring any caution signs on that path any more!!! It is definitely better to be safe, than sorry. -M
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Taking The Plunge....
If I can offer one piece of advice for all of you out there, always have a toilet plunger on hand.....
You all are aware of a little thing called Murphy's Law? ("Whatever can go wrong will go wrong, and at the worst possible time, in the worst possible way"-Wikipedia) Well, I am quite familiar with this particular law in my life. I feel as though Murphy is laughing at me somewhere saying, "I told you so!"
I am pretty sure no New York experience would be complete without an disaster in the bathroom of your new apartment. But did it HAVE to happen the morning HE decided to stay the night?
I snuck out of bed to get my morning routine done in order to to give him the time he needed to get ready for work without me being in the way. I flushed the toilet using my ever-so-absorbant Charmin super soft T.P. and hopped in the shower. I couldn't wait to see if he wanted to grab some coffee together or maybe even some breakfast before he left.
I started to condition my hair and I heard a loud dripping sound that was in no way related to my shower... "Uh oh" I thought.... As I peaked out from behind my shower curtain, to my total horror, my entire bathroom was flooding and flooding FAST. As my purse started to float away and my clothes for the next day were now saturated with toilet water, I panicked and realized it was 8:30 in the morning, I had a guy in my bed, my bathroom was flooding, and I didn't have a plunger. His alarm would be going off soon, and I had to act fast! FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU*%!!!!!
I threw on a hat over my non-rinsed conditioned hair and a juicy suit sans underwear and ran downstairs to the local grocer. He spoke little English and as tried to show him "plunger" in sign language, I realized that not only was I NOT getting the point across, but the gesture looked just a bit sexual! Imagining the water rising, I ran to the corner Rite-Aid Pharmacy and asked for a plunger. "Sorry hun, but we don't carry them." In total and utter desperation to prevent any further embarrassment, I asked for the Rite-Aid manager. After being paged over the sound system, the manager reluctantly approached me.
I realized was about to ask a man I didn't know to lend me his plunger. And I did ask him. And he gave me one. (Thank God) And I ran home to take the "plunge" but not in the good way, I can assure you.
All the while, he slept soundly in my new bed furnished by Sleepy's covered in soft white bedding surrounded by brand new pillows... and I threw every towel I owned on the floor along with some clothes and tried to mop up the mess. With my pants rolled up to my thighs, I mopped, and squeezed it outside the window, mopped and squeezed, mopped and squeezed.... oops... I may have mopped and squeezed on to someone below. This was just another victim of my overflowing disaster.
Finally, the bathroom was relatively back to normal, but not before he had peaked his head in the bathroom only to see me wringing out one of my towels. Trying to explain this situation to someone you're trying so hard to impress is just...well...awkward. I mean, toilets overflow from time to time. It's just that no one really wants to surmise just WHY a toilet has overflowed, especially with someone you are starting to date. And with that, he left my house, and left me with the discomfort of sheer embarrassment.
Well, to be honest, I am not sure if wine-buying pinkie grabber will be back to 31st Ave in Astoria. And seeing as how I try to keep my eyes and ears open for signs, maybe he's just not supposed to. Maybe my toilet was trying to tell me something?
In an effort to see the toilet "half full", I realize that I will be the proud owner of a brand new plunger, just what ever city girl is dying to have! -M
You all are aware of a little thing called Murphy's Law? ("Whatever can go wrong will go wrong, and at the worst possible time, in the worst possible way"-Wikipedia) Well, I am quite familiar with this particular law in my life. I feel as though Murphy is laughing at me somewhere saying, "I told you so!"
I am pretty sure no New York experience would be complete without an disaster in the bathroom of your new apartment. But did it HAVE to happen the morning HE decided to stay the night?
I snuck out of bed to get my morning routine done in order to to give him the time he needed to get ready for work without me being in the way. I flushed the toilet using my ever-so-absorbant Charmin super soft T.P. and hopped in the shower. I couldn't wait to see if he wanted to grab some coffee together or maybe even some breakfast before he left.
I started to condition my hair and I heard a loud dripping sound that was in no way related to my shower... "Uh oh" I thought.... As I peaked out from behind my shower curtain, to my total horror, my entire bathroom was flooding and flooding FAST. As my purse started to float away and my clothes for the next day were now saturated with toilet water, I panicked and realized it was 8:30 in the morning, I had a guy in my bed, my bathroom was flooding, and I didn't have a plunger. His alarm would be going off soon, and I had to act fast! FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU*%!!!!!
I threw on a hat over my non-rinsed conditioned hair and a juicy suit sans underwear and ran downstairs to the local grocer. He spoke little English and as tried to show him "plunger" in sign language, I realized that not only was I NOT getting the point across, but the gesture looked just a bit sexual! Imagining the water rising, I ran to the corner Rite-Aid Pharmacy and asked for a plunger. "Sorry hun, but we don't carry them." In total and utter desperation to prevent any further embarrassment, I asked for the Rite-Aid manager. After being paged over the sound system, the manager reluctantly approached me.
I realized was about to ask a man I didn't know to lend me his plunger. And I did ask him. And he gave me one. (Thank God) And I ran home to take the "plunge" but not in the good way, I can assure you.
All the while, he slept soundly in my new bed furnished by Sleepy's covered in soft white bedding surrounded by brand new pillows... and I threw every towel I owned on the floor along with some clothes and tried to mop up the mess. With my pants rolled up to my thighs, I mopped, and squeezed it outside the window, mopped and squeezed, mopped and squeezed.... oops... I may have mopped and squeezed on to someone below. This was just another victim of my overflowing disaster.
Finally, the bathroom was relatively back to normal, but not before he had peaked his head in the bathroom only to see me wringing out one of my towels. Trying to explain this situation to someone you're trying so hard to impress is just...well...awkward. I mean, toilets overflow from time to time. It's just that no one really wants to surmise just WHY a toilet has overflowed, especially with someone you are starting to date. And with that, he left my house, and left me with the discomfort of sheer embarrassment.
Well, to be honest, I am not sure if wine-buying pinkie grabber will be back to 31st Ave in Astoria. And seeing as how I try to keep my eyes and ears open for signs, maybe he's just not supposed to. Maybe my toilet was trying to tell me something?
In an effort to see the toilet "half full", I realize that I will be the proud owner of a brand new plunger, just what ever city girl is dying to have! -M
Monday, June 30, 2008
Signs
Once again I find myself drinking another grande non fat no whip mocha in my friendly neighborhood Starbucks in Greece away from Greece, Astoria New York. I partake in the 2 hours of free internet with the purchase of a Starbucks card because I still have no cable or internet. I ponder all the things I need to get done before I start my new job tonight... and slowly I realize they will not fit into my small time frame. Just as I look up from behind my macbook, a tiny san sai (3 year-old) walks past the window with her father. Dressed in a colorful tank top and walking quite independently, she looks to me sitting in the window and I smile. She smiles back brightly with her beautiful blue eyes looking up to me and waves as three year-olds do... I just know it is going to be a great day.
It made me think about all of the signs I have come across in my life. Do you ever tend to look at the clock at a certain time ALL the time? My perfect time is 1:21. Well, that number in general reoccurs for me everywhere. Whether is is an address I stumble upon when lost, a seat in a theatre, my change etc. It is actually the digits of my birthday. (December 1) Coincidence? I like to think it is some divine reminder of the importance of my place in this world. Just last night, in my moment of sleeplessness, I rolled over to grab my cellphone at exactly 1:21 am.
The other night, I was checking out a night spot for a potential job. I wanted to get a sense of the place before I applied for a job. My friend and I sat on the N train and gossiped about the day and the people around us. Just then, a girl stepped on to our car wearing a tank from the very place we were going to check out! I knew I was doing the right thing. AND after seeing the venue, I was convinced I DID NOT want to work there. Thank goodness I didn't apply first!
These are just a few examples, but the signs are everywhere! If you just open your eyes and your ears, someone is trying encourage us on our way! It could be a song on the radio that speaks to you perfectly in the context of that moment in your life. It could be a certain time on a clock. It could be a dream. It could be a little girl that makes you realize the world is truly a beautiful place and to waste time worrying or being afraid is only a waste of precious energy and time.
It is definitely going to be a great day! -M
It made me think about all of the signs I have come across in my life. Do you ever tend to look at the clock at a certain time ALL the time? My perfect time is 1:21. Well, that number in general reoccurs for me everywhere. Whether is is an address I stumble upon when lost, a seat in a theatre, my change etc. It is actually the digits of my birthday. (December 1) Coincidence? I like to think it is some divine reminder of the importance of my place in this world. Just last night, in my moment of sleeplessness, I rolled over to grab my cellphone at exactly 1:21 am.
The other night, I was checking out a night spot for a potential job. I wanted to get a sense of the place before I applied for a job. My friend and I sat on the N train and gossiped about the day and the people around us. Just then, a girl stepped on to our car wearing a tank from the very place we were going to check out! I knew I was doing the right thing. AND after seeing the venue, I was convinced I DID NOT want to work there. Thank goodness I didn't apply first!
These are just a few examples, but the signs are everywhere! If you just open your eyes and your ears, someone is trying encourage us on our way! It could be a song on the radio that speaks to you perfectly in the context of that moment in your life. It could be a certain time on a clock. It could be a dream. It could be a little girl that makes you realize the world is truly a beautiful place and to waste time worrying or being afraid is only a waste of precious energy and time.
It is definitely going to be a great day! -M
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Distracted
I took a small sip of my overly sweetened grande non-fat no-whip mocha and saw my pinkie politely up in the air. It made me laugh... I first imagined old fat ladies in lace-trimmed dresses having tea and crumpets on doilies with their pinkies in the air... and then I remembered how he had grabbed it and laughed at me last weekend as I drank the wine he had bought for me. I hoped he would call me today...
I know that I said previously that some distractions can be fun. Please don't get me wrong. They certainly are! The very reason we distract ourselves is to avoid the things we must do which usually are not nearly as interesting. Or, in some cases, we have to block out or ignore something that is too difficult to face head-on.
Distractions are like the tiny devil that sits on our shoulder. It can be incredibly difficult to find focus in the midst of his thick smoke. More often than not, I find myself inhaling the smoke in huge drags. But time is running out... I no longer have the luxury of putting things off until tomorrow. Today is the day, and that devil needs to take a leap.
I want to work professionally in New York. I want to be successful. I want to be independent. I want to love what I do....and eventually, I do want to fall in love. But that pinky-grabbing, wine-buying distraction is not going to to stop me from doing all of those things first....
...unless of course he calls me... ;) -M
I know that I said previously that some distractions can be fun. Please don't get me wrong. They certainly are! The very reason we distract ourselves is to avoid the things we must do which usually are not nearly as interesting. Or, in some cases, we have to block out or ignore something that is too difficult to face head-on.
Distractions are like the tiny devil that sits on our shoulder. It can be incredibly difficult to find focus in the midst of his thick smoke. More often than not, I find myself inhaling the smoke in huge drags. But time is running out... I no longer have the luxury of putting things off until tomorrow. Today is the day, and that devil needs to take a leap.
I want to work professionally in New York. I want to be successful. I want to be independent. I want to love what I do....and eventually, I do want to fall in love. But that pinky-grabbing, wine-buying distraction is not going to to stop me from doing all of those things first....
...unless of course he calls me... ;) -M
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Insomnia
I am two days late in returning my rental car. Why is my brain so clouded? It can't be the residual vicodin I took last week? Maybe it is life facing me full on like a flasher that won't shut his trench coat? Maybe it is being unable to unwrap my heartstrings from a certain someone I know is not healthy for me. Or maybe it is how I screwed up my chance at the job I came here to get? D. All of the above.
I have never experienced insomnia. Usually my bed is like Tylenol PM… (unless...) But the last several nights have been so restless and sleepless. I can only wonder whether someone is trying to get me to rethink my choices. Right now, everything is so blurry. My brain is like a kaleidoscope that won't focus. It is a broken eight ball that is stuck on "it's complicated". Yet and in the midst of all of my confusion, comparatively speaking, I am one of the luckiest people I know.
Believing in the cliché "what's meant to be will be" means accepting where you are. So I must be in the right place, right? My usual mantra is beginning to sound more and more like a huge band-aid. I just want to close my eyes and rip that band-aid off quickly so the reality of my situation won't hurt so badly. Maybe facing it eye to eye will help me focus on what needs to happen next. How can I get that kaleidoscope to form a beautiful combination of colors and patterns that are clear and crisp?
Well, truthfully, I don't know how I am going to do what I want to do and I don't know how long it is going to take me. But I do know that down the road, I will never feel a sense of regret for not trying, even if I get a little distracted along the way. Besides, some distractions can be a lot of fun if you know what I mean….-M
I have never experienced insomnia. Usually my bed is like Tylenol PM… (unless...) But the last several nights have been so restless and sleepless. I can only wonder whether someone is trying to get me to rethink my choices. Right now, everything is so blurry. My brain is like a kaleidoscope that won't focus. It is a broken eight ball that is stuck on "it's complicated". Yet and in the midst of all of my confusion, comparatively speaking, I am one of the luckiest people I know.
Believing in the cliché "what's meant to be will be" means accepting where you are. So I must be in the right place, right? My usual mantra is beginning to sound more and more like a huge band-aid. I just want to close my eyes and rip that band-aid off quickly so the reality of my situation won't hurt so badly. Maybe facing it eye to eye will help me focus on what needs to happen next. How can I get that kaleidoscope to form a beautiful combination of colors and patterns that are clear and crisp?
Well, truthfully, I don't know how I am going to do what I want to do and I don't know how long it is going to take me. But I do know that down the road, I will never feel a sense of regret for not trying, even if I get a little distracted along the way. Besides, some distractions can be a lot of fun if you know what I mean….-M
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Vegas
Yet another plane and another glass of wine finds me in the land of the free and the home of the brave. I am flying to a latitude and longitude that will hopefully help me forget what's on my mind for about 2 and a half days. Flying away from the coast, I quickly forget about the unemployment that hangs over my head. I forget about the two Davids that compete for a title that may win them a lifetime of fame. I forget about the fact that he hasn't called in two days. I forget the damage I did on my visa at Nordstrom today. I forget how scared I am to forget that mouse in the East.
Maybe I could win something? Maybe I could undo the damage from Nordies? Maybe I could meet the man of my dreams? Maybe I will get sun burned. Maybe I am procrastinating the inevitable?
We all make our own personal journeys to this mecca of lights and temptation. For me, it is an ever so brief visit with good friends and a chance to brush shoulders with lady luck. As my nearly empty plane prepares for a landing, I realize how happy I am. I am so happy to be seeing my friends. I am so happy to be heading to Vegas, even in this crazy heat. I am happy I sprang this bit of money to make this trip. I am happy period. And all in all, I think that says a lot. -M
Maybe I could win something? Maybe I could undo the damage from Nordies? Maybe I could meet the man of my dreams? Maybe I will get sun burned. Maybe I am procrastinating the inevitable?
We all make our own personal journeys to this mecca of lights and temptation. For me, it is an ever so brief visit with good friends and a chance to brush shoulders with lady luck. As my nearly empty plane prepares for a landing, I realize how happy I am. I am so happy to be seeing my friends. I am so happy to be heading to Vegas, even in this crazy heat. I am happy I sprang this bit of money to make this trip. I am happy period. And all in all, I think that says a lot. -M
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Playback....
After my fourth glass of wine, I reached into my bag and grabbed my digital camera. The pressure from the change in altitude made my ears pop, but also aided in getting the buzz going…..I took my usual cocktail of benadryl and wine, and I looked out the window to my right and watched as the tarmac crew prepared the plane for take off. The attendants gossiped a little too loudly in the galley, and I realized that over hearing a conversation and being able to understand it would soon become a normality for me once again. Back to the camera. The mixed nuts arrived. The iPod played a song that recalled a memory that made me smile. I went to playback mode on my cybershot. I viewed each moment caught on my memory card in reverse order. I rewound my life for the past six months. I laughed aloud at some pictures, and wondered if the guy next to me wanted to look. To see it all in reverse…knowing all that I know…feeling all that I felt and am feeling now brought tears to my eyes. I blinked to clear the tears away knowing that it all had only occurred in what seemed like a moment.
The attendant tried to make idle conversation as I pulled out one earphone from my iPod. The lyrics accurately reflected my feelings and I tried to make small talk with her. I looked around and realized that there no longer was anyone to laugh with me. My friends were gone and lost to this big world. He was an hour ahead of me flying through the air that was to separate us. It was just me myself and I alone on an airbus taking me to a place that now seemed more foreign than the foreign country I had chosen to live in the past 8 years.
I again glanced out of the oval window beside me. I looked down upon a mattress of clouds that seemingly supported the air with which I flew. This was the same air with which he had flown. It was the same air that would reach my friends all over the world. It was the same air in which my family would await my return. It was the air that was bringing me back to a life that would force me to say goodbye to people places and things that were held so dearly in my memory.
After a deep breath and a glance to see whether the lavatory is occupied or not, I decided to close my computer and get some rest. The playback ran through my mind as I closed my eyes to see the ever-changing design on the back of my eyelids.
I hope I can get some sleep tonight…or today… or whatever…..it is time to dream again... -M
The attendant tried to make idle conversation as I pulled out one earphone from my iPod. The lyrics accurately reflected my feelings and I tried to make small talk with her. I looked around and realized that there no longer was anyone to laugh with me. My friends were gone and lost to this big world. He was an hour ahead of me flying through the air that was to separate us. It was just me myself and I alone on an airbus taking me to a place that now seemed more foreign than the foreign country I had chosen to live in the past 8 years.
I again glanced out of the oval window beside me. I looked down upon a mattress of clouds that seemingly supported the air with which I flew. This was the same air with which he had flown. It was the same air that would reach my friends all over the world. It was the same air in which my family would await my return. It was the air that was bringing me back to a life that would force me to say goodbye to people places and things that were held so dearly in my memory.
After a deep breath and a glance to see whether the lavatory is occupied or not, I decided to close my computer and get some rest. The playback ran through my mind as I closed my eyes to see the ever-changing design on the back of my eyelids.
I hope I can get some sleep tonight…or today… or whatever…..it is time to dream again... -M
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
You Live, You Learn
A wise person once said, "You live, you learn." Or was it Alanis Morissette? Well, now more than ever I find those words flying through my head in an attempt to make me feel better. I have lived now for 29 years, 2 months and a few hours. I have learned a million things. But some things I will just never understand, no matter how hard they are to learn. Like, why do some people insist on being dishonest? And why do some people, like me, always end up believing them?
Living and learning.... it can seriously hurt like a bitch. -M
Living and learning.... it can seriously hurt like a bitch. -M
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Happiness Is.....
What is it that truly makes you happy? I can think of so many things that make me happy.....
An amazing piece of music, the sound of rain on my window, a karaoke room at the Oriental, spending time with family, a bouquet of fresh flowers, doria, riding a great roller coaster, Christmas morning, driving my beetle with the top down, playing with my nieces, performing on a stage, a bottle of red with picada, carving a pumpkin, Reeses peanut butter cups, fresh towels, Disneyland, practicing the piano, going to the movies, the ocean, my amazing friends, a sticky pic booth, my uggs, falling in love, giving a present, ordering pizza, waking up every day to a brand new day.....
I hope this blah-g finds you well.... and HAPPY!!!!!
-M
An amazing piece of music, the sound of rain on my window, a karaoke room at the Oriental, spending time with family, a bouquet of fresh flowers, doria, riding a great roller coaster, Christmas morning, driving my beetle with the top down, playing with my nieces, performing on a stage, a bottle of red with picada, carving a pumpkin, Reeses peanut butter cups, fresh towels, Disneyland, practicing the piano, going to the movies, the ocean, my amazing friends, a sticky pic booth, my uggs, falling in love, giving a present, ordering pizza, waking up every day to a brand new day.....
I hope this blah-g finds you well.... and HAPPY!!!!!
-M
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