Love

Valentines day. My favorite day of the year. That statement was a joke of course. I hate
Valentines day really. Well, "hate" is a strong word, I don't give it that much notice, it just annoys me a bit. Not because I'm a bitter lonely heart or anything, but I hate being told that I should be loving by the restaurant/retail/greeting card/floral industries. Love and being loving should be inherent, not manufactured, but I guess it's harder for some of us than others.

My ex used to make me feel like Valentines day was everyday. I miss that. I never realized when we were together how loving he was compared to other men. He always made me feel special, pretty, cute, intelligent,funny, beautiful, loved. No one else has ever made me feel those things all together since him. Even now, when he looks at me I still see it in his eyes, that adoration and appreciation, respect and caring for me as a human being. I was crying thinking about it last night but then I realized that I was being silly, that I should be smiling that I had that. And that I am loved by a few wonderful people out there.

Tomorrow on Valentines day, I will be spending the day with a very special person. We will be shopping, eating and smoking that delicious hookah that I'm currently addicted to. Fun stuff. As the years have passed, I've come to realize that love comes in many different forms and there really is no one form that is more important or valued than another no matter what society tells us.

There is the love of a parent for a child. A friend for a friend. A family member for a family member. Even between co-workers from sharing experiences and spending so much time together. This might sound kooky (I am a bit kooky FYI, sue me) but as I get older I feel more love inside me than I have felt in the past. Maybe I'm more in tune with it or I'm more giving and open to it? There are people that I meet, who touch me in meaningful ways and I keep them in my thoughts and try to send positive feelings in their direction. It's nothing that they are even aware of, nothing that I broadcast or get kissy and demonstrative about. I just think to myself, "that is a good person, I hope they go through life protected and with as little pain and suffering as possible". To me, that is a sort of "love" for my fellow human being.


I just laughed at the thought of giving people who I feel love for those little Valentines that school kids give out to each other. Do they still do that? I remember that like it was yesterday. I was liked but I was the fat awkward girl. None of the cute boys gave me those little cards. If they did, there was always a hidden message that insulted me like a picture of a cute piglet or something. Kids can be so mean. Anyway, I just imagined giving those out to the people I have fond feelings for. Like my news stand guy. Super nice human being. Always smiling, always has a positive comment. If it's snowing badly he will say "ahhh, we've been lucky, this is not bad at all" or, "it is so beautiful, do you like the snow?" We always greet each other warmly with "hello my friend!" He even brought me back a bottle of perfume from Egypt after he went to visit family because I always complimented him on his scent when I bought my papers from him. Who does that? He did. And for that, I think he's just a kind hearted, considerate person who deserves good thoughts. I'd love to give him that little "I choo choo choose you!" valentine with the locomotive train on the front like I posted above, remember that one? Isn't it the cutest? Of course, being from another culture and country he would surely think I was 1.)insane 2.)coming on to him, and I do not want to go in either of those directions with my friend.

I just feel lucky to be loved period. When my mom was alive, she always gave me a Valentines day card and I her. It always made me feel special and lucky. I know I will never feel that kind of love again and honestly, I don't expect to. No one ever loves you like your mother and don't you forget that because she won't be around forever. I don't think I'm ever going to feel the way my great romantic love made me feel with anyone again relationship wise but that love was just the tip of the iceberg for me. If I do not experience it again, I'm OK with it. I'm trying to re frame this into being grateful that I did have that special, intimate love even if it wasn't forever. Maybe that's a gift that not everyone finds. I did find it so I can look back and say I know what it feels like and how happy it made me. And who knows, maybe someone will be brave enough to love me again like that and I them.

Do I sound wacky and new agey today? Maybe I do but I just wanted to express what this "holiday" made me think about. Guess it's not such a bad holiday after all if it provoked such thoughts eh?

Whatever you do tommorow I hope you enjoy yourself and reflect on the special people in your life, not just your romantic partner if you have one.

That's all for now.

Bad boys bad boys, whatcha gonna do?

So it's been a pretty exciting couple of days here I must say. I am now convinced that the universe is telling me that my destiny lies in law enforcement or a relationship with a cop.

Yesterday, I was on my way to work, skipping up the subway steps running toward the turnstile to jump onto the train that I could hear above. As I made my leap into the station a cop yelled out "MISS STOP OVER HERE!" I was a little taken a back by that but I obeyed and did as I was told. It seems that I was chosen at random for a search in the......*cue to dramatic music* WAR ON TERROR. Yep, lil' ole me. My bag was rifled through, my laptop was scrutinized and then, then the fun part. I was patted down and in a really professional gesture, my hair was tousled. I made a comment to the guy who did that "I'm having a hard time believing that hair tousling is standard procedure." He smirked. That was my excitement for the day. Oh and BTW, my freaking Weight Watchers point finder calculator came under scrutiny and I had to explain what it was. As soon as the words "Weight Watchers" were uttered that guy looked at me like I was a crazy female on some crazy diet. I think that above all else, that erased any suspicions that I was a threat to our nations security. (Unless of course, Al Quada has "at work" meetings).

Everyone I mentioned it to asked me the same thing, "What did you do?" as if I actually did something suspicious to warrant the search. I didn't of course. I have been responding to that question with "I was guilty of being hot in the third degree". Here in NYC, cops can basically do whatever they fancy under the guise of protecting us from terror threats. I'm not complaining, I'd rather have them paying attention and all but it was kind of disruptive to be caught up in it a bit.

My cop theme continued today when I went to the Dr early this AM to find his office in complete disarray and everyone freaking out. Turns out, they had been robbed overnight and they just got there before me. I walked in and they told me what the situation was and within minutes guess who was buzzing the door? Yep, you got it. THE COPS. 4 of them this time, in full investigative mode. I sat there with another older lady waiting calmly for things to subside so we could have our appointments but I couldn't help being amused at it and the fact that this was my second experience with police in as many days. More of them arrived and at one point there were 8 of them milling about. The candy dish on the counter was a hot destination for them and one of them started chatting me up. Oh and by the way, I was pretty satisfied with myself that I did not turn to that candy dish for stress relief especially when the guy came in to dust for fingerprints. Thanks to my self control there, my crime ridden past shall remain a secret. Take that "Americas Most Wanted"/John Walsh.

Oh and ladies, let me tell you, this is a PERFECT example of why you should always wear a tad of makeup and make an effort when you're leaving the house. This really was one of those "you never know" situations. I was feeling pretty relieved that I had the sense to dab on some concealer and blush and gloss up my lips before I ran out. The best part was when the cute one who was flirting with me told me to lay down and play dead so they could make a chalk outline like on CSI, it was so romantic. Moments like this really are golden aren't they?


That's all for now :)

Yoo Hoo!

I know, I know...where have I been? I'm sorry, on the very off chance that you come here regularly to read I have been a bad blogger/person and not posting over the last week or so.....reasons why?

1.)I've been tired beyond belief AGAIN and worried that my stupid iron levels are falling. Going to the Dr tom to get checked out.

2.)I have another blog that I've been writing short entries on daily and I'm talked out. Yes, believe it or not, I'm talked out.

3.)I will be writing here this weekend and still love you all (if anyone even exists out there and is reading this).

4.)I have lost 12 pounds (so far, 10 more to go)and am trying to fulfill my prophecy to be a sexual goddess and it's taking me away from the computer more than I would like.

5.)I just had a baby.

6.)I just won the lotto.

7.)That is me to the right.

If you can guess which of these statements is untrue, you will win my undying respect and devotion. I may even change your diapers when you get old and need to wear them. Be good and see ya in a day or two! xoxoxo

A Tribute to Omar

I decided to become an Occupational Therapist after my mother passed away and I was trying to make sense of why I was here in this world and what my purpose was. It was at that time that I decided to make my existence matter in some small way. I wasn't blessed with material riches and I probably never will be. Frankly, while I wish I was more comfortable than I am it really doesn't matter to me as much as feeling right with myself and who I am as a human being matters. My job rewards me on a daily basis. Every night I feel like it was worth my getting out of bed and going out into the world. Helping others make sense of their situations really helps me make sense of mine so it's really a win/win thing for me. If I die poor materialistically but rich in spirit I will consider my life a great success.

I click with the adult population and that is who I treat but every once in a while I get a referral for a pediatric case and this is how I met little Omar. I always cringe when this happens. I am not a pediatric therapist and I'm really not a kid person. Did I say I am not a kid person? Yeah, I'm really not. I am an only child and my cousins were all much older than me. I never babysat, I've never really been around children a lot. I don't dislike them at all but I have no skills to call on when I'm around them.

The minute I met Omar, I was completely captivated. Enchanted. In love. I wish I took a picture of him so I could show you how adorable this boy was. He had the hugest sparkly brown eyes I've ever seen and his smile was infectious. Just looking at him made me happy. He and his family were Spanish speaking so I always had my translator Miguel with me when I visited Omar. Miguel was in love with him too. He used to just give him dollar bills to play with and keep. When Miguel would ask "are we going to see Omar today?" I knew it was serious love.

Omar's family was poor. They lived in a basement that looked as if it was meant for storage. The floors were concrete, it was chilly and damp but Omar's mother seemed to make it a home. This family was so poor, he didn't really have any toys. I had to buy some for him to play with so we could do our activities together. Even with all these hardships, there was more love and warmth in that home than any 5th avenue penthouse I've been in and I've been in quite a few. It was obvious that he was adored by his family. His brother and sister, Mother and Father. They all seemed to light up around him. Even the physical therapist who was on this case with me said to me "I have a son, and I think my son is cute but Omar, Omar is REALLY cute!"

Omar was the first child that ever made me think about having one of my own. I used to think about him and his struggle with his illness and his spunky little spirit when I complained about stupid things. No matter what he was going through he tried so hard to be "normal'. He would run to the door and open it for me when I rang the bell. He would play with me when I could tell he was tired. The entire time he laughed and smiled and lit up the room. He was a magical child. He was in and out of the hospital quite a bit but before Christmas he was improving and looked wonderful.

Today, Miguel and I were driving on his block and Miguel turned to me and said "I wonder how Omar is doing?" Just as he said this we came to the building and there was a large poster board written in Spanish. His picture was above the writing. I felt a surge of nausea when I realized what this was. Omar died last Friday night at the age of 4 of complications from a brain tumor. To say that I am heartbroken is an understatement. Miguel, tough Dominican man that he is, turned to me and we hugged and both broke out into uncontrollable sobs. I have never been affected by the death of one of my patients like this before and a lot of them have died on me. I've been to a lot of funerals and seen people come and go but this, this was something I have never experienced before. The rest of my day today was a haze. I don't even remember how many times I've cried and I'm still crying right now.

I thought a lot about all of this and speculated in circles to try and make sense of it. There is no making sense of something like this. One of my patients who is in her 80's told me she wanted to die and has had enough and I kept thinking to myself, how unfair is it that this beautiful child was taken and someone who doesn't want to be here and has lived a long life is still hanging on. No ones life has more value than another, we simply can't pick and choose who stays and who goes nor should we be able to but it's such a hard thing to take and I'm having trouble processing this one. All the platitudes like "he's in a better place" etc etc are making me very angry right now. If I feel this devastated I cannot even begin to imagine how his mother must feel. I wanted to go to his funeral tonight but I knew better than to do it. Just thinking of him makes me lose control, I cannot imagine seeing his tiny lifeless body and how that would impact me. The thing is, I am sure that his family will take this like most faith based Latin families I have dealt with along with way. They will go through a terrible time but they will call on their faith and trust that their Omar was needed by God and he was too good for this world. They will always have a seven day candle burning with his picture nearby, his favorite things around and his favorite drink on the table. That will be a constant till that day his mother leaves this world herself. She'll probably never pop a pill to cope, she will more than likely pray and devote herself to her remaining children and her husband. Sure, I'm speculating but in her I saw a selflessness and a dedication to her family and her God and that is what fulfilled her. She had her purpose and was happy with it.

Seeing how these people live and their love for one another despite their struggle to survive and make a place for themselves made me remember my own rocky childhood. My mother went through a lot but she managed to create stability and teach me so much. I don't think a lot of parents do these things anymore like they should. Families rarely eat together anymore, so many people never learn to respect others and they are so self centered it amazes me. I was forced by my Mother to do volunteer work. I was pissed at the time but I grew to love it and it really shaped who I am today. Even though I'm sitting here typing on one I think as wonderful and essential as computers are they have created the death of many real life social interactions and activities. People seem to be turning inward more and more and relying on pills and e-relationships and it's really sad and creepy to me.

I'm trying to see a lesson in this and it's really hard but right now I'm realizing that this little angels life had such great value in the short time he was here. He taught everyone who came into contact with him very valuable lessons. He showed me that wisdom and courage can come in very small packages and that life should be appreciated for the gift that it is because it is a waste to give into unhappiness and negativity. Why do that when life can end at any moment? It's too precious to take for granted. Knowing Omar has changed me for the better. I thought of him before today quite a bit and now I will continue to think of him and the graceful way he lived his young life and the priceless lessons he taught me and everyone who came into contact with him.

Rest in peace Omar xoxoxoxox


That's all for now

Fit for a King

Public eaters. You know them, they are the people who are teetering around with their muffin/coffee/piece of pizza/fried chicken leg/ice cream cone...all the while oblivious to everyone around them. At least that's how it is here in NYC. Public eating, especially a meal is one of my biggest peeves. (My other big peeve is people who clip their nails in public, yes there are a lot of them but that is for another time to discuss). I used to work with a woman who once pointed out that in Washington Heights (uptown Manhattan) everyone seems to be walking around eating a single serving snack sized bag of chips or cookies and drinking a blue beverage. Now that I work in that neighborhood I see she definitely was not kidding.

Public eating is really at it's most disgusting on the subway.There is nothing worse and more stomach churning than sitting next to a guy who is dumping hot sauce on his fried chicken and inhaling his fries while you are just trying to get where you need to go unscathed. It's even worse if this person is standing near you or over you as you sit and you then have the added pressure of worrying about this person's meal landing on your lap. Once a guy was sitting across from me eating a McMuffin during morning rush hour. He was munching away, he looked completely normal in his suit with his briefcase. What I am about to tell you next will make your hair stand on end. He dropped his McMuffin and it went open faced on the FLOOR of the subway car. He then picked it up, each piece and put it back together and ate it! A woman actually screamed "NO!" A few people turned their heads and there were several OMG's murmured. It was truly disgusting. True story.

Yesterday a woman sat next to me and whipped out a bag that actually smelled pretty good. She then proceeded to eat french toast sticks from Burger King. As she ate them she dipped them into a container of white frosting. It was pure junk and I knew it but that smell was killing me. I do not eat fast food. I refuse to. I have not had it since I was about 15 and I was on an away trip for school and I had to eat it. I'm not an elitist snob, I love fries and burgers on occasion but I really hate fast food. I tastes artificial, rubbery and just horrible. I want to cry when I've had it, it makes me feel like I've just given up and am telling my body and soul to fuck off. So where was I? Oh yeah, the french toast hussy. Wow, that smelled good. Those delicious little bastard toast sticks were tempting me to eat crap but I was able to resist. It smelled so good that I actually made my healthy version of french toast this morning for breakfast.

This past fall/winter I was forced to become a public eater. Yes, it's true. I'm not proud of it but I had no choice. I was very ill and I had weekly Dr appts for my treatments every Friday at 9 am. Afterward I had to immediately get on the subway and go to work. The treatments made me really sick. There were times when I was in the chemo room with the other patients and I would lose it in front of them and they would give me crackers to stop the nausea. The plebotomist used to go out and buy me a roll to eat because he knew what was coming. I decided that I needed to eat something after the treatment so I made a habit of stopping at a good deli right at the foot of the steps to the subway. I would always get the same thing. An egg and cheese on a roll and a water. I had no choice but to eat it while in transit. I will tell you that eating in public was really uncomfortable for me. It was akin to people watching me go to the bathroom. I have no idea how people do it by choice and how they can have a full out meal like that involving a fork, knife, condiments etc. I always felt slightly ashamed doing it and classless, but it was either that or be really ill so away I went with it. I would occasionally notice someone staring and I wondered if they were thinking what I usually thought about public eaters. I wished I could actually explain but I just tried to get it down as quickly as possible and move on.

This morning a man sat across from me and he pulled out a fancy bag from Petrossian, the caviar purveyors. He then revealed the hugest pastry turnover I've ever seen. I don't know what was in it but he devoured it and his beard was loaded with crumbs afterward. I was mesmerized. Every time he moved crumbs would dislodge. I was wondering if this really huge giant shard that seemed to be front and center would ever take flight. For as long as I shared the ride with him that bad boy did not break free of it's beard lined prison . I wondered if he went to work at the health food store like that or went to his weight watchers meeting like that or met up with his wife who prides herself on him eating only her food looking like that. The thought kinda cracked me up. Other people read their papers or play with their phones or ipods and I focus on observing people doing strange things. Go figure, guess I'm just as strange as them.

That's all for now :)

The Coolest Guy On The R train Is........

All Jazz classics, not even holding onto a pole or anything. What a supahstah!

Here's some "random" for ya in keeping true to my description of this blog

In keeping with the random nature of this post, I did a random picture search and this sexy pic of the legendary Chuck Norris is what came up first. Aren't we lucky? It sort of makes me feel like he is kicking my ass and telling me to quit being so whiny and annoying and snap out of my funk. I rather like it.

Here I go again, in a tizzy and over what? Nothing has really changed at all in my life yet my perspective has. Do you ever get like this? It's a weird shift, kind of like there is a fault inside me and the rumblings of my emotions are my own personal earthquake. I'm OK for a bit and then I get these mini aftershocks of self doubt and negativity. I don't know why this happens and it's scary when it does. I'm a really big thinker. I over analyze everything. And I ponder, and ponder and ponder. I can take a situation and deconstruct it and see the elements of it in ways that most people do not. This is a special skill I have but it is not always a healthy thing.

Someone mentioned "Emotions Anonymous" the other day. I laughed at it but lately I think I really need it. I read a quote that went like this today "I want to live life with intention. " I really thought about that because it really struck me. Being back on my healthy eating program again has helped me restructure my way of thinking and my outlook on my life. Since NY's day, my actions have all been deliberate and related to a goal or plan that I have to improve myself and my life. I have been living my life with intention in this respect and it has really been working. Why don't I do this in every area in my life? I don't know. It has also done something else that I wasn't expecting. It has made me really feel everything super intensely. You see, food was/is my drug. Eating helps me numb my feelings, the bad ones in particular. I noted today that I have cried 3 times in two days and after feeling confused as to why I am so emotionally shaky, I realized that I am not using food as my coping device anymore. One of my favorite expressions is "face your stuff, don't stuff your face". Basically this is where I was failing and not eating when I feel hurt has been like ripping a band aid off my skin very slowly and deliberately. It hurts like hell but once it's off I guess I will be able to heal much better than keeping it on my wound forever, you know?

A wise person made an analogy that I felt like I myself could have made. She was talking about driving home through a fog and she said "the drive home this afternoon was all in fog, and it was symbolic of my life. I can't ever see too far ahead, so I have to go slower than I want. Things appear magically out of the "thick" air that I wasn't expecting. Every now and then there is a clear patch when everything is fine, then POOF, the fog, indecision, doubts etc. set in." I couldn't have said it better myself. She basically summed up how I have been feeling lately. The funny part is, I have been doing better than I have in years lately. I should be full of pride and feel like I am on the right track but for some reason I insist on beating myself up and feeling "not good enough" and full of doubt about myself again.

I have absolutely no idea why I am telling you any of this. I haven't written in a week and I just wanted to pop in I guess. Maybe someone else out there is feeling this way and reading this might help. Or maybe not. As I get older I feel better and better about myself. I do like this part of aging. I think I just need to treat myself as I would treat others and stop beating myself up over my flaws and weaknesses and if it is something the I can change I need to "live it with intention". I also need to remember that while I cannot change or control events or some situations that I have not been a party to creating, I can certainly control my reactions to those situations and that in itself is a victory.

That's all for now :)