Battle Scars & Broken Nails

Tonight I took a nice long refreshing shower. And before that shower I did something I haven't done in a while. I stared at myself, stark naked in the mirror for a solid 10 minutes. I examined myself thouroughly. The tattoos, the surgery scars, the eyeliner that had found it's way to the creaces in the corners of my eyes. As unflattering as I'm sure W Magazine would find my reflection I thought it was beautiful. I saw a deccisive, funny, intellegent and talented young woman. I saw every inch of my imperfect self and admired the fact that I have someone who loves those inches as much as I do. My kinky hair and my crooked index finger, whose nail I broke packing boxes.

It's a simple matter, liking yourself, but it seems to be the hardest thing for most women to actually do. We are the abstract in a world of realism. Most of us walk around completely convinced that the woman we painted on that morning is exactly who we are. Then, when it all comes off; the weave, the make-up, the wonder bra...we feel inadequate. Well at my young age, I'm hardly an expert at self acceptance or esteem, and I can freely admit there are quite a few things I'd like to improve about myself. But I do know that we are not what we see in the mirror alone. And if we place too much value on looks, then we'll find at the end of the day or the end of our youth that we have nothing about ourselves to be proud of. Looking in the mirror and seeing more than shapes and colors is the mark of a woman who knows the truth in beauty.

Vegetarianism: Day 2

OK, so today I had soup again...

I need some recipes or I might not last....

Finally Convinced

I happened upon a video today that I've heard about time and time again. I sat through it and by the time it was over, my face and the front of my shirt was wet from tears.

So I'm making a commitment today and hopefully hence forth, to never eat meat again. No cow, no chicken and no pig. I'll only use cage free eggs, and I'll always eat fish (cause I love sushi).

It sounds silly, because it's a dramatic change to make after watching a 12 minute video, so take a look for yourself and see if it doesn't spark a change in you as well:

CLICK HERE TO WATCH: WARNING, THIS VIDEO IS VERY GRAPHIC

On the lighter side....this will be a very interesting little adventure...

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.

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.

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!

NBC canceled Lipstick Jungle...the show I first scoffed at then became addicted

to via Hulu (http://www.hulu.com/) and found to love and adore.

I'm so sad.

Productivity= The Burn Before the Crash

I've been pretty productive this week. Between keeping my home life in order, posting on my beloved bloggy-blog, juggling final projects in two classes, working a busy day at my day job and throwing in a new night job for good measure, all while keeping a long distance relationship going and preparing for our future... I have to say I'm not quite overwhelmed. I slip in homework where I can fit it, even if it means shoving a sandwich in my face while typing up part of my essay at work. I've been managing to get everything done and even fit in a quality-time phone call with my Grams (which is hard to do since I can't email her and there is a 3-hour time difference.)

The only thing that singes my pantie lace is the fact that every time I seem to get my life in order...JUST A LITTLE...right when I'm feeling like I can handle this whole adult thing....something catastrophic happens that not only derails me, but totally annihilates my motivation. I'm not talking your average issue, like an argument or a checking account mishap, I'm talking about something major...like a serious ailment, or getting fired, or getting cheated on. Something that kidnaps my focus and throws me back to square one in one single swipe.

I'm treading lightly.

So I'm hoping that this post, my very own little shout out to the winds of the universe, serves as an intentional JINX to that whole scenario. I'm begging the "schedule gods" and the "relationship gods" and the "health gods" and whatever else is out there to please be cool. Just let me have this long enough to prove to myself how awesome I really am. Give me till the end of the year...

...I can handle disaster a whole lot better when D is there to catch me.

Ugh...Subway...Ugh...Monday

This morning I left brisk fully in time to catch the early train. I stepped on and found a seat quickly. I pulled out my borrowed copy of 'Promenade of the Gods' by Koji Suzuki (author of 'Ring') and settled back into it's mysterious story plot. I didn't expect much disturbance (aside from whats typical in my commute; crowded train, occasionally giving up a seat for the elderly lady or pregnant woman..) when at the VERY next stop a rather large woman- scratch that...a rather SHREK -like, Ogre-esque, Man-woman- got onto the train and decided to set her sights on the seat that was as yet unoccupied between myself and another girl. Since this was the 3 train, which has bucket seats and not a smooth bench like the 4, terror caught my eyes as almost as if in slow motion I watched the lady shift her purse to the front and sit down forcing me to slide over onto the ridge between the two seats next to me. "Ashley, why didn't you just move to the next seat over?" I'm sure your asking this most obvious question. Well, see occupied in the next seat over was HALF THE ASS of another larger than life individual, a man about my age who probably stood about 6'4" and well over 350lbs. I was left with two halves of two chairs and the ridge between them gently sodomizing my ass crack with every bump and turn of the train (not to mention I had on tights so I was sliding around like a hockey puck.

With all of the warning and caution signs MTA puts up for it's passengers...all of the "DO NOT LEAN ON DOOR" signs and "NO FOOD OR DRINKS ALLOWED" signs...WHY on earth don't they have a "IF YOU CAN'T FIT, PLEASE DON'T SIT" sign visible? Of course I'm not discriminating against those who eat 30 meals a day, that's totally their business. However when it forces me to be molested by the subway train seat through 15 stops for 45 minutes, well then it becomes MY problem.

I am griping because of this, and because it's Monday and because I'm tired and crampy and because this is precisely what a blog is for.

Happy fucking Monday.

Deafening Silence

My room is mostly quiet. The only time I ever watch movies or stream from the internet my headphones are on and my room is left behind. Then when I take the headphones out of my ears all I can hear is silence. Tonight I actually heard my food digesting. Heard it sloshing and turning like the rinse cycle. It made me realize just how deserted the space between my bedroom window and my head actually is. I even talk to D in silence. All that can be heard is my incessant clicking on the keyboard and my breathy exclamations when he writes back something funny (which is often). Then I step outside my apartment and I'm invaded with sound. I feel like two different people. I can't wait to be one again.

Paper Made of People

I think I was one of those kids who always had to be challenged. When the room got quiet, and my mother's crumbling attempts to entertain me finally tired, I would bounce around the living room on my tippy toes and ask a thousand questions.

So I grew up to become the kind of woman who asks a thousand questions and thirsts for something else to tire me. Every time I press myself, I've been able to rise to the occasion. Walking out, showing up, flying away and coming back are four of the most important things I've ever done in my life. And each step brought me to my knees in ways I couldn't contemplate surviving. But after being broken down, then jumping with my eyes closed shut, and holding my breath while the bubbles surfaced I always seemed to find my air. To the point where I almost look forward to drowning a little bit.

ON A TOTALLY UNRELATED TOPIC

These days, loneliness has taken on a new meaning. It's not like I don't have any friends. I'm either at work or chillin with Tia (and her new man, we'll call him "Ant") or Etienne or my room mate Monica. Throw in a second gig, and the occasional show or lounge and I have to admit there are very few moments of boredom. Plus it takes little to amuse me these days...

...But by "loneliness" I mean missing familiarity. New York is familiar to me, but in a different way. In a way that speaks to my new skin, and not to my long term memory. I was on the train the other night coming home from Manhattan; watching one of the back cars on the 4 train empty with every stop that passed. It was just me and this sleepy old guy for a while. He was thin with tissue paper skin and dusty faded eyes. His khaki fisherman hat reminded me of my great grandfather Henry, whom I barely knew and don't quite recall if he ever even wore that kind of hat. For a second we shared several passing glances; the kind you exchange when your trying to observe someone without letting them on that your paying attention. I was in the middle of wondering how old he was, when he held my glance long enough to expose a weepy smile that then faded slowly back into a firmly held line. It was just a second, but in that second I realized my mother was right; people don't smile as much in New York, at least not to strangers. But when the old dude smiled at me (or strangely...laitly...when anyone does) I was half filled with warmth and half with sadness. That which is familiar to me is miles away. Many, many miles away. The stretch of shops near Merit Lake in Oakland, the hills you pass on the drive up to Sacramento that my sister and I always used to think were really dinosaurs hidden under blankets of wild white-brown grass...

...When an old man who smiles at you on the train almost brings you to tears, you know it's time for some familiarity.

T.G.I.F.

I'm happy the weekend is finally here, and I can scratch one more day off the calendar. Even though it's rainy outside and I have no rain coat (at least not with me). I'm happy that I can sleep in tomorrow and still get to be productive. I'm happy that tonight I'll come home tired and ready for sleep. Mostly, though I'm happy that D is finished with his project at work that has been sucking the fun out of him lately. He can finally get some sleep and be his cheerful self again. Yay!

The After Glow

I'm feeling awfully patriotic today....and for someone who is NOT patriotic, that's a pretty astounding feat.

History Has Been Made

We not only have the first Black President....
We also have a just plain fucking awesome President.

Happy Vote Day!!!!

Hello November...

Being so far away from "home" always feels worse when things get a little crumby. Like when some loser fuck-tard steals your debit card info and decides for go on a $27 shopping spree. I'm sure my cell phone bill money went MILES for those Nazi bastards (anyone rude is a Nazi, that's just how I see the world). It just feels more like a Monday when my family is all the way in California and my sweetie is all the way in Houston.

My room mate Monica and I are planning to have our own little sad version of Thanksgiving this month. With the prices of airfare shooting through the roof and neither of our families being "holiday-people", we have opted to save our money and make a feast of our own. We'll probably make some concoction from my favorite Caribbean cookbook, and have a big bottle of wine. We'll sit on pillows on the floor and listen to Shiny Toy Guns before heading out on the town. It will definitely mark my most unorthodox Thanksgiving I've ever had, but none the less it will be memorable I'm sure.

With my next visit to D a do-able 18 days away and the historical election in less than 24 hours, there is much to look forward to. In the mean time, I'm grateful that hot coffee is available to keep my frosty fingers company. I look forward to the leaves in New York continuing to amaze me with their slow transformation into golden brown and sappy red. I look forward to the snow that will surely come, and to it's tight encumbered crunching under my feet. And for the things to come after the new year.

Halloweeeeeeeen 2008!

My first holiday in NYC, and it wasn't all bad.
But why blog when you can upload photos.....

More to come soon!

Coupling

My friend Tia and I met after work to search for cloves, a small and rare obsession we have in common. We traipsed through the wind and rain up to 42nd street to a cigar shop just a block from the Lincoln Building. After that, despite the rain, we trekked on and detoured to Union Square stopping at a Cuban spot called Havana Central (YUM). We sat at a small table near the kitchen sipping Mango Mojitos and taking turns going on and on about our glorious men. D and I, the old pros I guess, after being in a relationship for 3 years even with a 5 month detour, not much tends to shake us anymore. Tia and her brand new baby-relationship still timid and full of newness. Just like that, something settled over the table, and I think it was more than just a mojito-and-sweet potato french fries-food coma.

We talked about love. The different kinds and the differences between them. How you can truly love someone, with all your heart and for some reason or another have to leave them behind. How real love, the kind that stays even after there's nothing new to talk about, always seems to gently simmer instead of boil. I think every woman wants to be swept of her feet. For some romantic idea to come along with flowers and say all the right things and know exactly how to treat her. The only thing is, that never seems to exist. Love is exactly what you make of it. If it's hurried it will be flustered, if it's passionate it will be dramatic, if it is dangerous it will be painful and if it's patient it will be long lasting. I've always been something of a thermometer, unable to hide how I feel at all, wearing my emotions on my sleeve, or so I'm told. The man who keeps me has to love a firecracker, and expect nothing less than to be loved deeply and daily. My heart is definitely in Houston.

Envy of the Mindless

Today a homeless man rode between cars through the tunnel to the next stop. I wondered what it would feel like to be that free. Free of shame, free of material need, although I'm assuming something griped him. His eyes were that kind of empty they can get when your vices get the best of you. Of course I would never want to ride between cars through the dark tunnels of the subway. To smell the dank wetness of New York's literal underground, and know that thousands of rats are hoping your ass falls off so they have something to munch on until the cops find you. But just to be that free, void of second thought. Openly insane, instead of keeping your strange thoughts to yourself like the rest of the humans. It's not like I haven't ever walked past a statuesque fountain and thought for a brief moment what it would be like to kick off my shoes and go traipsing through the shallow penny-ridden water. Right there in front of all the lunching business people, who would surely drop their turkey on rye in shock. There I would be splashing up water and singing "The Hills Are Alive". These are things we simple think, but do not do. And in that way, I'm jealous of those with fractured minds, who don't even have enough sense to know their crazy.

I Gotta Get Out of My Head- I've Lived Here For Too Long

I'm pulling myself out of this disgustingly over-ridden rut I've been in once and for all. I booked my plane ticket to go see D last night, and requested my time off to be with him for Christmas. I have so much to look forward to, that it's making me turn into a little blob of goo. Just waiting for time to pass, the faster the better. But instead of living IN tomorrow instead of FOR tomorrow, it's time I just plain snapped out of it. There are TAGS in my closet. TAGS!!! Unworn clothes, UN-ROCKED outfits beckoning for me to grab them, do something fun with my insanely short hair, rock some Vegas eyeshadow and hit the streets with my partner in crime. Well, break out the hot pink nail polish, cause I'm gonna shake my ass tonight. I plan on throwing back more than a few shots and then booking it home no earlier than 1am. The destination at large is the NJV (Not Just Vintage) fashion event tonight honoring the black men of Brooklyn. I have no idea why they are honoring them, other than the fact that, yes, Brooklyn has some of the most disgustingly hot black men I've ever encountered, but I'm always up for a fashion event. Keep an eye out on FUXfashion for the details, and the pics.

Having Too Much Fun Alone