Leaving On A Jet Plane

So 18 more days left in New York and here I am again at the brink of a new adventure. My critics and friends have all put in their share of advice. From "why are you leaving"' to "good luck" and "congrats". I even got a "your an idiot" which I thought was a little rude but still hilarious. My answer to it all is, if I can leave California I can definitely leave New York.

For that matter, I can say that I made it. I'm not running away, I didn't fail. I'm not lost or scared. I tackled New York like a trooper and I'm proud of myself. Not many people are strong enough to do what I did. I know some people think I came here out of weakness. All I can say to that is, that the secrets between my mind and my eyes are probably a lot more than most people in my life could ever handle. So I don't mind if they think I left out of weakness. I know the truth. Besides, they say if you can make it here...

I have a lot to look forward to, and a lot to reflect on. I'm more excited about whats ahead of me than anything I'm leaving behind. I figure, as long as that's true in life your headed in the right direction.

My Boyfriend Is Hawt

Things to Buy: 1) Camera

Cause if I had one, I could have taken my own pictures on New Years and that way I wouldn't have to wait till Mon got back from PA to see them..lol. Anyway, my New Years went something like this:

^The drunkness was kicking in close to count down

^D knows I make this face when other men try to touch me....lol

^Bartender and (special treat) my growing FRO.

Sometimes You See Mountains

I won't dare debate D on the topic of New York City. He avoids it like the plauge, while I feel like I've been born here; simple as that. I heard a long time ago that you either love New York or hate it. And I can understand why.

The streets are dirty, even on 5th avenue. The people are pushy and loud. The realities of New York are real and mean sometimes. Everywhere you look your vision is blocked by the towering skyscrapers. You can come to feel like the city is either your prison or your asylum. I spent a lot of days, especially the cold ones, trying to figure out what it is about this city that puts me at ease while for some it winds them up so tightly.

I gave notice to my job today, and let them know I would be moving to Houston with D. Congratulations were in order, and I finally felt good about a conversation that had made me nervous in anticipation.

After work, instead of walking straight to the subway, I took a detour around Penn Plaza. I stopped at the corner of 33rd and 8th and took refuge between the columns in front of the Borders building. The sky wasn't quite black yet; it had that freshly painted blue greyness that follows dusk. So I took it all in for a second. The blistering cold wind rushing into my hood. My fingers freezing up. The dampness on the sidewalk slowly becoming ice. The sidewalk traffic. The bumper to bumper taxis. The Vegas style lights of the stores and restaurants that lined the corner (McDonald's never looked so good). The background of buildings that seemed to lean up against each other, and their mother the Empire State building. The cracks in the city that let the rest of the world in, with a disappearing sunset, and just the slightest hint of a cascading mountain.

I might not miss the dirt or the smell of the last car on the subway, but I know I'll miss the skyline.

Best Quote EVER!

“You’re going to relegate my history to a month? I don’t want a black history month. Black history is American history…I am going to stop calling you a white man and I’m going to ask you to stop calling me a black man.”- Morgan Freeman

Think about it!

Goodbye Love...Handles

Over this past summer, I was proud to be at my ideal weight of 135 pounds (my ideal weight is actually 125-130 but I felt close enough). It had been a while since I was even in the same neighborhood as 130 pounds. I was in a new city and I had dropped two of the most fattening things a girl could ever own...a car and a boyfriend.

Delightfully, I was happy at this new size and I maintained it for quite sometime. Until came the Winter...which promptly brought with it the holidays...which entails dinners, chocolate, cake and other tenderly baked treats.

15 pounds later (or so I imagine, since I never weight myself), I'm about half way back toward the other direction (yes, I dropped about 30 pounds or so this past year...give or take). So It's time to get back on track. Which is why I just gingerly ate a measured cup of cereal, and am now working my way through 15 ounces of grapefruit juice (known to brake down fat cells). Which is also why I skipped the coffee this morning and opted for tea instead (ugh).

In the Winter, trotting 15 blocks or so to get to the museum turns into a $10 cab ride. The funnest thing to do is order in and sleep, and all the best activities are done indoors. Over the summer, aside from not being much interested in other men, even the idea of sex was too much to process. Getting hot and bothered in 105 degree, humid heat was the furthest thing from my mind. I stayed outside from 7 in the morning till 10pm at night on average, and on weekends sometimes I stayed out until the next day. Now, I get home and I'm pretty much wiped out. It's 30 degrees outside with a chance of snow....there IS no outside as far as I'm concerned.

So instead, I will be dieting. Measuring...counting...portioning. UGH. But in 5 months (my goal), I'll be back down to a size 6, and sporting my $200 bikini (my reward for loosing it all) on a beach somewhere in Mexico with my favorite guy.

But for now....today....TODAY I'm fucking hungry.

Cake & Eat it Too

One of the best things about being a writer, and loving to do it is the ability to create stories. In my mind, I have always been able to conjure up even the most insane scenarios. My imagination has always been bright and vivid, so when I write fiction...it's pretty realistic.

Before me and D got back together, and I was shaking in my boots over the idea of loosing him for good. Just when the idea of being together was mulling around in our mouths again and we teetered on the edge of a cliff, I was about to break from the pressure. Sure, I was confident that D loved me, and that no one could touch that love. I knew he wanted to be together as much as I did, but what remained was the MOUNDS of effort and work we'd both have to put forth to make our relationship get off the ground again. Some men don't like to work that hard for love, some women don't either. So at the time, I didn't know if he thought it was worth it. I had to do something to settle my soul.

So, I grabbed my handy-dandy notebook and started imagining the conversation. Every word, every answer, every possible reaction. Right up until the final solution. Then I created two scenarios. One was D and I getting back together, moving into a beautiful house one day in Houston and getting married...having babies...being happy. The other was letting our love fall by the way side and staying apart. I imagined that I would move on...meet some artist as insane as I am...fall in love and get some ass-backwards shabby chic apartment in the Village. I read both scenarios over and over. Aside from being totally impressed with my writing skills and tearing up from the reality of it, I began to be OK. OK with the idea of having D, and OK with the idea of loosing him.

I settled in my mind that no matter what, no one would ever make or break me, not even those closest to me.

A month later we got back together, and scenario #1 was well on it's way into realization. Vivid as a picture.

No Longer A Fan of Lipstick

I was practically in tears when I found out that NBC was going to cancel one of my favorite guilty pleasures...Lipstick Jungle. Another creation of Sex and the City's Candace Bushnell was seemingly similar until I took a closer look one bored Sunday afternoon. I watched the entire first season on Hulu and then waited in anticipation as the second finally began. No sooner was I sunken into it's story line and complicated yet stylish drama when I heard the tragic news....

Well, it's been a while since I took in an episode, the holidays had me running ragged. Finally I took a second to watch episode 12, which is supposed to bring closure to a lot of hanging issues. Will Joe and Victory get married? Is there something between Niko and Griffin? And will Wendy and her husband break up over Shayne's scattered rock star dreams...??
WILL THEY??!!

WHO CARES!!! I was too focused on Brooke Shields GOD AWFUL Botox.... eeeshh!
Why do women do this to themselves?

PS: The worst news is, it's actually NOT canceled...just when I've decided to boycott.

Under-Cooked Boyfriends

There comes a time in every woman's life when she is forced to come to terms with the fact that her man is totally under cooked. Like a raw egg... or my favorite comparison; a zygote. A newly fertilized egg in the stages before human development.

If you are dating a zygote...please stop and put him back in the oven.

How To Survive Women

Being that I'm headed toward eternal partnership, and the fact that I am mildly compulsive in most capacities; I've been doing my reading on domestication. Everything from how to keep pet hair from becoming a problem to how to keep the spice in your relationship. However, it wasn't until today while clicking through Yahoo's latest relationship advice article and the realities of marriage, when I noticed something. Why are ALL the relationship advice geared toward how WOMEN can learn to deal or take care of their MEN??

I mean, yes, we are usually the ones who constantly check for and tug off the proverbial lint balls of our relationship. Tending and maintaining is in our very genetics. But lost we are not. Women have had the knowledge pounded into their heads for centuries that "you can't change a man" and to "stand by your man" and "if you don't give it to him, someone else will..." But where is that manual that teaches men how to get from day 1 to day 7 of their woman's cycle without suffering a severe eye injury? And how to REMEMBER those tedious things that they always seem to forget that mean so much to us (like anniversaries and special songs). Or how to let go of their fear of floral patterns and muted tones and let their woman decorate as she sees fit? These too are aspects of the male/female relationship that can either maintain the serenity of the household peace or drudge up an argument that usually lands the man in the guestroom/couch/doghouse.

I think there are a million and one things women have to get used to when living with a man; like toilet splatter, and 7 pairs of Nike Dunks left in the hallway. But there are also like a bizillion more things a man has to get used to when dealing with a woman, and the number only climbs from the point of child baring.

So my very plea...someone...someone with a really awesome publisher and book deal already lined up...please write a book (or several) addressed to men about how to keep US happy. Because in case no one has noticed...our guys could use the assistance.