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

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

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

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

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

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