A Strike of Lightning

Today I got my divorce papers in the mail. They were signed by the judge on 4/11/07....exactly two and a half years to the day that I left to start a new life........

A Strike of Lightening
November 7, 2006

Written for Adv. Creative Writing (Got an A in that class.)

When the lightning struck Emma the dagger like point entered through the top of her head and coursed through her body, discharging through the soles of her feet, and rooting her into the blacktop of the parking lot. Her blue Chevy Trailblazer shimmed in the summer heat as it reflected off the blacktop, making the truck look like a desert mirage sitting atop the flatbed truck.

A young male voice on the other end of the phone informed her that she would need to come out into the parking lot in order to remove her personal belongings from that very truck, as he was there to repossess it.

“What the fuck am I doing?,” Emma whispered aloud to herself as she stood there, the young man occupied with fishing her 500 bank deposit slips from above her sun visor, her CD carry case from the glove box and her umbrella from somewhere under the back seat.

Too shocked to even panic, Emma just stood there, hoping that no one from her office would choose this time to venture out to the parking lot. With that thought just barely complete a voice behind her said, “Hey, what’s the matter with your car? Why is it on a flatbed?”

“Ah…ah…I had trouble with the steering on my way in to the office this morning, so the mechanic sent a flatbed to pick it up,” replied Emma to Sara, the office receptionist, who often knew too much about other peoples business. Satisfied with that response, Sara went on her way, leaving Emma to glance uncomfortably at the repo guy, who was now standing next to her with all her car valuables in his hands.

“Here’s the number you can call if you plan to get your truck back,” he said, handing her his card along with her pile of belongings.

“Thanks. I’ve already called my husband and he’s taking care of it,” she replied, thinking back a few minutes to her hurried conversation with Anthony when she furiously whispered into the phone, asking him how this could be happening.

There was nothing left to do, but stand and watch the repo guy climb up into the cab of his truck and drive off with hers.

Emma could not allow herself to think about what had just happened. She knew that if she started to cry, she might never stop. In that short span of time, almost all her worst fears had manifested themselves in the form of a truck on a flatbed. Breathing deeply, she walked back into her office and pretended that nothing had happened. She realized that she’d become very good at putting things that bother her, away. Hiding them in dark corners of her mind, never to be exposed to sunlight or examined in any way.

“Are you picking me up from work?” she asked Anthony, calling him when she got back to her desk.

“Of course I am,” he responded. “I’m so sorry baby. I swear I thought I had it under control. I called the bank to arrange paying them. They never said anything about repossessing the car.”
Possibly in shock, his words were meaningless to her. It was almost as if he were speaking a different language, one that she no longer understood, nor realized now, that she wanted to invest any more time to learn.

Somehow, she managed to pretend that all was well and get through the rest of her day. If nothing else, work preoccupied her, allowing her not to think about what had happened. The lightning strike had numbed her. The flash, blinding her and making her feel as if she was no longer who she use to be.

At the end of her work day, she left at her usual time, walking out as if to get in her car, the one that was no longer in the parking lot. Instead, she got into Anthony’s car and could barely speak to him. He did nothing but apologize the entire way home. “I’m so sorry that happened to you,” he said, over and over again. Gazing out her window, not wanting to look at him, her only response was, “I know.”

What he didn’t know though, was that one of her greatest fears had come true, and she somehow survived it. What he didn’t know was that for years she worried about the possibility of loosing the house they lived in to foreclosure and in that one blinding flash of lightning, she realized that her house was just a house. It was a noose around their necks that just kept getting tighter with every day that passed. And what she also realized in that flash of light was that she no longer loved this man sitting next to her. That the years of constantly worrying about when the next shoe would drop had taken a huge toll on her and that she could no longer live this kind of life. A life of mortgaging, and re-mortgaging the house that she loved so much, of creditors calling so many times over the course of the day that no one in the house ever answered the phone anymore, and that his desire to never talk to her about money, or bills, allowing her to worry alone, had killed all that she ever felt for him.

Riding next to him in his car as he held her hand, all she could think about, was how she would ever end this. How would she walk away from a man she had known longer then she had not known him; leave this person who was the first love of her life, the father of her two children? How would she explain to others who never saw any indication of discord between them, that she was ending this 26 year marriage because she could not live the rest of her life, so desperately unhappy? How would she ever say the words, “I don’t love you any more,” or the words, “I don’t want to be married to you anymore?”

These were the thoughts that she had put away in that dark place inside of her. The thoughts that came spilling out, as if the door of an overloaded closet had been opened, letting everything fall out and onto the floor. Here they all were, scattered about the floor, only instead of things like old fishing poles, hats and gloves or shoe boxes, they were the random bits of her life over the past 26 years….laying there crushed and broken in front of her….shards of broken glass, reflecting her image back to her, an image that she no longer recognized.

Car dilemmas

As published in The Long Island Advance, May 17th, 2007

I dislike what I’ve come to refer to as “car dilemmas” and decided a while back that I don’t really want to be a car owner. Thankfully my car has so far been very reliable and overall has not given me much of a problem. That was until my most recent oil change though, when the mechanic had me stand underneath it and showed me that yes, I did indeed have an oil leak.

Cars are not my thing. I’m sure that if I wanted to be good with them, I would be capable of it. After all, I’ve reached a point in my life when I’ve decided that I can be good at anything I choose. Never having been one who liked getting my hands dirty other then in garden soil, cars are not something I would ever choose to be good with though. I can check my tire pressure and put air in if need be. I can check my oil and add that as well. Anything other than that, I’m not interested in knowing about. This is much to the disappointment of my father, who I’m sure would love it if I took more of an interest in my vehicle, and who will often say to me, “So, how many miles do you have your car now?” With me usually responding by saying, “Hmmm…I don’t really know.”

I want to say this is not a female thing but I suspect it might be. Most of my female friends do not have any great understanding or interest in how their vehicles work and I have yet to run into a female auto mechanic. Before you jump all over me, let me just add that I’m sure there are wonderful female auto mechanics out there in the world, they just don’t inhabit my particular corner of it.

So far I’ve had to get new brakes, tires all the way around and replace the driver’s side mirror. Not bad considering it’s a seven year old car that I’ve had for two years. Yet, add up the car payment, insurance, maintenance and gas, and in my estimation, I’m looking at half a rent payment.

My only concern regarding transportation is that I get where I need to go with the least amount of drama possible, hence my love of public transportation and my desire to relocate to New York City. All you have to know how to do is buy a Metro card, swipe it at the turnstile and be able to read a subway and bus map, or sometimes in my case, have someone reliable you can call who can give you directions.

Yes, I know that public transportation can be smelly and hot in the summer and in the winter being crammed into a subway car filled with germs may not appeal to some, and yet for me, it would a relief. No more having to pump gas using the slow speed because my particular vehicle does not like it when you pump the gas fast, causing the pump handle to click off every fifty-cents worth. No more having to look at the tires and wonder to myself “Does that one look low?” because I can’t find the tire gauge. No more having to think about replacing the timing belt when I hit 90,000 miles or having to get the book out to remember how to change the time on the clock.

Moving to the city is not something to do just because I want to avoid car dilemmas, but it is a factor. I drive, a lot, and I’m tired of doing it. I want someone else to do the driving for a while. I like the idea of sitting with a book or my iPod and arriving at my destination relaxed and well read.

Bargain books

I have got to stop buying books! Last year I donated about 40 of them to the local Good Will store, the same store that I just came home from and where I purchased a 20 lb copy of The Readers Digest Great Encyclopedia Dictionary for $1.99, in hard cover of course, and published in 1966.

All inclusive for $1.99 is Funk & Wagnalls Standard College Dictionary from A-Z, The Story of Writing, The History of English, Word Origins, Better Usage, Spelling, Punctuation, Capitalization, Grammar, Correspondence, Manuscript Preparation, and Pronunciation. Also inside are the Dictionary of Space, a Medical Dictionary, a Dictionary of Slang, Quotations from Reader’s Digest, First Names, Signs and Symbols, How to Find Information and Foreign Language Dictionaries in German, French and Spanish. How could I resist all that?

I wonder who this book belonged too prior to my coming along and finding it. Has it been sitting on a shelf in someone’s house for the past 40 years? How did it come to find its way to the Good Will store? Maybe in the same way that the Merriam Webster one that I donated to the same store last year got there, there was no more room on the bookshelf and it had to go. Or maybe something much more exotic happened…I might have to let my imagination run away with me at some future date while gazing at it on my book shelf.

In essence I have now replaced my old dictionary, with an even older one. I also have a new dictionary/thesaurus that I use too. It’s a desk version and does not weigh 20 lbs. When I’m not rushed for time I prefer to actually look up in the real book the word I need, as opposed to using the online dictionary. Tactile is so much more…. me.

Ever since my Costco membership lapsed I’ve been able to stop buying new books. Now I buy the old ones. I’ve substituted one addiction for another. I did however refrain from buying a copy of the Gulag Archipelago. I first tried reading that when I was 15. After leafing through it tonight I decided I probably wouldn’t like it any better almost 35 years later. But…….it was only $1.99. Bargain books, so very hard for me to resist.

I’m staying out of the Good Will store. After donating 40 books last year, I’m back up by more than half that. That said this really is a very cool dictionary.

Harry wants to know

This was published in The Long Island Advance - May 10, 2007

Well, Brian is once again vacationing in Arizona and I’m back for a few weeks. It’s been a while and I’m not quite sure where I left off. While thinking about what to write, I had a discussion with my friend Harry. Harry has repeatedly asked me why I don’t write about science, health, technology, politics or things of that nature, and then suggested that maybe I should write about why “I’m afraid” to write about those topics. I seem to be having a hard time convincing him that writing about getting a new life is the only kind of writing I feel motivated to do at this point, and that no, I’m not the least bit afraid to tackle other subjects. It’s just that currently I’m not doing so.

Reading about science, healthcare and technology are activities that I enjoy, and in no way do I feel qualified to write about them, other than from the view point of a casual observer. Since I am technologically challenged and would be lost without Mike, my computer guy, writing about technology is probably not going to be a topic I would attempt either, other then to possibly regale you with amusing stories about how little I know.

Right now I feel compelled to write about my observations of life from the soap box that currently belongs to me. That does not mean I don’t want write about Charlie Sheen narrating one of those conspiracy theory documentaries about how 9/11 was perpetrated by our government, or that I think about how prophetic Bruce Springsteen was when he said years ago at a concert, “Blind faith in your leaders will get you killed,” or that I love Stephon Marbury because his name is on basketball sneakers that cost $14.98 and are affordable for almost all kids. I have opinions about people like Condoleezza Rice and wonder why she has not been much of a supporter of women in general, let alone women of color, and I think about how much I like Nancy Pelosi because she is not a “well behaved woman,” and is in fact a great role model for all women. I think about a myriad of other subjects, but in this space I write about my own little world. And I write about it because other women have whispered their secrets in my ear and told me how they admire what I’m doing and how brave they think it is.

In some ways I feel as if I’ve become the poster child for middle aged women who find themselves in the position of having to create a new life from the ground up. Or even just for those who would never dream of taking a slightly different path to get where they want to go. And when other women tell me that they can relate, it makes me feel not quite so alone standing up here on my soap box and I hope, does the same for them as well.

Harry is good at throwing down the gauntlet and challenging me to reach a bit higher. Being challenged works for me. I have lofty goals and ambitions and I’m done being afraid to go after them. Actually, there isn’t much I’m afraid of anymore. I write as the spirit moves me. It’s not likely to be telling me that I should write about technology, other than possibly my new iPod, or about some science related topic. Right now these are the words I feel driven to write. Harry will just have to wait a while until I can get my act together enough to think about something other than what it’s like to stand on top of this particular soap box, and begin to write about new things. And I will, probably sooner rather than later.

Poor Paris

Paris Hilton thinks the governor of California should pardon her. Oh, my freakin' God. I really want to curse right now.

Poor Paris. My heart bleeds for her. Heaven forbid she should be held accountable for her actions and have to live with the consequences of them.

A new job and a medical drama....

This is the first opportunity I've had to document in this particular space that I HAVE A NEW JOB!!

Yes, after months of sending my resume out into the darkness of cyberspace, it's over! I finally gave up doing that and decided what I needed to do, was network with people that I knew. And wah-la...a new position in Woodhaven, Queens. I am so excited. I do however wish that my current job were not quite so stressful. It's been so crazy that I'm having difficulty thinking.

Then there's the fact that next week I need to have my gall bladder removed. Like I need to add that little medical drama to my "to do list" prior to starting a new position. I was hoping to spend a few days in Florida visiting JoAnne....and instead I'm going to have to sit home for a few days and recover from surgery. I'm going to will myself to be one of those people who makes a fast recovery. Really....there is no other choice.

I can't wait to start apartment hunting......

more music

"The miles are getting longer it seems. The closer I get to you."
Home by Chris Daughtry

"Then I CRASHED into you. And I went up in flames. Could've been the death of me. But then you breathed your breath in me.

Then I CRASHED into you. Like a runaway train. You will consume me, but I can't walk away. Somehow I couldn't stop myself. I just wanted to know how it felt. Too strong, I couldn't hold on. I'm just trying to make some sense. Out of how and why this happened. Where we're headed there's just no knowing."
Crashed by Nina Ossoff, Dana Calitri, Kathy Sommer and Chris Daughtry

A Dominatrix and Jell-O

A friend of mine's girlfriend lives across the hall from a Dominatrix. According to Ron she's quite sweet except to her clients, who aren't looking for sweet. She has a cage in her living room that some of them spend time in. My, how this life of mine has changed. Could I ever have imagined knowing someone who knows someone who lives across the hall from a Dominatrix? Colorful is how I would describe it.

And although not related to the above topic in the least, I've been thinking about Jell-O. What food group do you think it falls under? Or maybe it's not a food at all. A number of years ago there was a show on TV about a group of aliens who come to earth to observe how we live. It was really funny and John Lithgow was their leader. I can still remember the episode where they discover Jell-O and it terrifies them. It stands out as one of the funnier TV moments I can ever remember.

Nancy Pelosi

Soooo....not a well behaved woman.

And I just love her.

Much better choice as a role model for women than Condoleezza Rice is.

Love comes....

Even though I "claim" to not believe in things like horoscope readings...this is part of mine for April:

"Romance, then, is rich with passion and complicated by a struggle to push past your own fears. In many ways, it's better to dive in now, going too far too fast, rather than tiptoeing into a relationship. Love comes when you're brave and bold, and your heart is strong enough to handle it." Jeff Jawer

I'm still trying to decide what I think about this.

And one more thing....today I would be married 29 years, only the clock stopped 3 years ago. My divorce is almost final.

March Christmas Trees

Today is March 29th and there is still a 7-1/2 foot, fully decorated Christmas Tree standing in the middle of the living room in the house I'm living in. It's not my Christmas Tree though, so taking it down is really not an option, much as I would like too. It was even plugged in and sparking in all it's glory last weekend when I had a birthday dinner for my mother.

I suspect the tree might still be standing there when the air conditioners are turned on. It's a good bet that my brother plans to just leave it up indefinitely. Sort of like those people who carry their trees, decorations and all up to their attics, cover them, and then carry them back down a year later, plug them in and they're ready to celebrate. Only in his case you don't bother to carry it anywhere. It'll just stand in the living room all year long until people like me just stop looking at it and start to pretend it's not there.

Oh...it's also 2 PM and the Christmas Carol Clock hanging in the kitchen just chimed "Hark the Herald Angel Sing." I've decided not to remove the clock until the tree comes down.

Jed and Charlie

I’m having a difficult time believing that Charlie Sheen is Jed Bartlett’s son. And yes, I do realize that Jed Bartlett wasn’t really our President, but over the past six years or so, there were many times when I wanted him to be…. and maybe even a few when I pretended it was so.

While driving to work this morning I heard on the radio that Charlie Sheen is narrating one of those “conspiracy theory” documentaries that would like us to believe that 9/11 was perpetrated by our government. (Probably the same bunch of people who want us to believe that we didn’t land on the moon, or those that say the Holocaust did happen either.)

Imagine all the “secret preparation” that would have to go into planning that. I, for one, can’t believe that something of that magnitude could even remotely be kept a secret by our government. Nor could I ever imagine a reason why our government would want to do something so horrific….. although I’m sure the makers of the documentary will have a theory. And not having any desire to know what it is, I’ll just have to remain in the dark.

I wonder what Jed Bartlett thinks about his son being an idiot…..

Starbury

Those of you who know me know that I am not a sports enthusiast of any kind. Once in a while I’ll watch a NY Mets game, but otherwise, I avoid sports pretty much like the plague. And yet I have to ask…..how cool is Stephon Marbury, Point Guard for the New York Knicks? Of course this is a rhetorical question since I would not be writing about him if I didn’t think he was very cool. And prior to watching 20/20 on TV last night, I only had a passing acquaintance with his name (and I really have no idea what a point guard is.)

There’s a lot to be said about a man who has a social conscience and who gives back not only to the community that he came from, but to others as well.

“He has been named to The Sporting News list of 'Good Guys in Sports' three times. He was one of the highest donors to the NBA Player Associations Katrina Relief effort, donating 1 million dollars to the effort. He currently has 7 barbers on hire in Coney Island giving free haircuts to neighborhood children.

Recently, Marbury partnered with Steve & Barry's to promote a line of shoes and clothing bearing his nickname, ‘Starbury’. Understanding the pressure that inner-city kids face to spend $150-$200 on footwear sold by other companies such as Nike, Reebok, and Adidas, his line of shoes will sell for $14.98. He will be wearing these shoes on court for the entirety of 2006-07 season. Marbury is not being paid to endorse the shoes, but will be compensated based solely on how well they sell. Now, Marbury has promised to give out a free pair of Starbury ones to every high school varsity basketball player in New York City.” (Wikipedia)

Barbers….the man has barbers on call to give children haircuts. And, he wears the basketball sneakers on the court that have his name on them, that only cost $14.98.

According to Starbury, no basketball sneaker is going to “make you run faster, or jump higher,” whether it cost $200 or $14.98. When an expert shoe designer was asked to cut apart and analyze the expensive shoe vs. his shoe, there was no discernable difference…imagine that? All reason enough for me to take up watching Stephon Marbury/Starbury and the NY Knicks play basketball.

If I’m going to watch a sport, Stephon Marbury is a darn good reason to do so. And for no other reason other than to just watch him run up and down a basketball court in a pair of sneakers that inner-city kids can afford too.

All At Once

I love song lyrics. They're like poetry for me. I have a few songs posted on here, all that have some sort of meaning for me. This is my current theme song.

All At Once
By The Fray

There are certain people you just keep coming back to
She is right in front of you
You begin to wonder could you find a better one
Compared to her now she's in question
And all at once the crowd begins to sing
Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same

Maybe you want her maybe you need her
Maybe you started to compare to someone not there
Looking for the right one you line up the world to find
Where no questions cross your mind
But she won't keep on waiting for you without a doubt
Much longer for you to sort it out
And all at once the crowd begins to sing
Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same

Maybe you want her maybe you need her
Maybe you started to compare to someone not there
Maybe you want it maybe you need it,
Maybe it's all you're running from,
Perfection will not come
And all at once the crowd begins to sing
Sometimes We'd never know what's wrong without the pain
Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same

Maybe you want her maybe you need her
Maybe you've started to compare to someone not there
Maybe you want it maybe you need it
Maybe it's all you're running from Perfection will not come
Maybe you want her maybe you need her
Maybe you had her maybe you lost her to another
To another

Bi-polar Susan

I've noticed that this web blog is a tad "bi-polar" again lately. By that I mean one post is of the "up" variety and the next, is maybe not so up. I have to start working on that. The Drama Queen appears at times when certain things are going on in my life and she just has to have her say....no matter how hard I try to silence her. I've stuffed her mouth full of chocolate covered marshmallows as a means to shut her up, but so far, it hasn't done any good. She can still type.


(I tend to write when the spirit strikes me, and usually that's over the head with either the happy or sad stick........ and sometimes, it's a club.)

Sitting in a train station

For such a large train station, the Jamaica Station has a very small indoor waiting room. The waiting area itself has just three ticket windows and one bench that sits against the far wall and that can hold only four people, a few automatic ticket vending machines and a little alcove where one can buy a paper or magazine and some snack items.

Sitting on the bench against the wall after her job interview in Queens, she watched a couple who were on the other side of the room as they stood waiting for a track to be posted. And while watching them, she saw herself and Harry as they stood in Penn Station three weeks ago. This couple, considerable younger than she and Harry but not teenagers, looked like they belonged together. And yet she knows full well how deceiving looks can be. To those observing her and Harry a few weeks ago, they too probably looked like they were together. And yes, in so many ways they were during those moments in time, and yet in one or two fundamental ways, they remain worlds apart.

She sat watching as the young woman, long dark hair and black coat, stood right next to the man she was with, and watched as their body language spoke volumes about them. She watched as they leaned toward each other, always seeming to drift into one another space… or as one hand would blindly search for the hand of the other and then hold it in a way that seemed so sweet to her. His arm would circle around her waist and he would run his hand up and down her back. She knows what all that feels like. She can close her eyes and feel Harry’s hand in hers, or his arm around her. And if she keeps her eyes closed she can feel Harry’s mouth on hers and remember what he tastes like.

She has observed Harry and herself as if strangers were looking at them, similar to the way she is watching the couple in front of her. She has this ability to look at them from afar, in an out-of-body experience kind of way. She first did this when they sat on the subway together, traveling to their respective train stations almost two summers ago, after their trip to the Museum of Natural History. She watched their reflection in the window of the subway and saw two people who looked as if they belonged to one another, and yet they did not. They held hands, they lightly kissed, and they did not talk much. She didn’t know how difficult it was going to be to say good-bye to him. Every parting with him has been difficult and she wonders if he struggles with the good-bye’s as much as she does? If she knew when the next “Hello” would be, maybe the goodbyes would not be so hard.

While closing her eyes for a moment to think about all these things, the couple she was watching disappeared. In her imaginary world, she sees them sitting next to each other, holding hands, traveling to who knows where, but the important thing for her is that in her mind, they’re together. Unlike she and Harry, who stand in train stations with their arms around each other, waiting until it’s time to kiss goodbye, and she, wanting so badly to know when the next kiss “hello” will be.

The apartment in my head....

This is in my vision book. Yes, I know....some of you are shaking your heads....and I don't care. I'm a firm believer that if you can see it, then it can/will happen.

I can see the details of my new home in my head…..cozy, subdued lighting that reflects the warmth of the rose quartz color of the walls I plan to paint my bedroom…that beautiful pinky/purple/dark lavender color that you can sometimes see when the sun is setting. The beautiful bedding on my bed, heaped with pillows, bookshelf headboard overflowing with all my favorite books. A print of The Young Martyr, by Paul Delaroche, serenly floating in the water and hung above my bed. (Yes, she’s dead, but she’s very peaceful and beautiful.) Plush scatter rugs around the room, a large wicker chest at the foot of the bed, storing the flannel sheets and extra blankets that I can’t fit anywhere else as closet space is very limited.

In the kitchen I can see the stainless steel measuring cups and spoons from William Sonoma sitting on the granite counter top next to the peach or plum kuchen I will be making because friends are coming over to visit. The white kitchen cabinets and stainless steel appliances in this vision, reflective of all the online apartment hunting I’ve done on Craig’s List. On the wall above a small kitchen table I’ve hung my Max Moran print of “Joy’s Deli,” and when I look up at it, it’s cool that I know *the Joy* who this deli is named after. The picture an ever present reminder of my not to distant past working with the *real Joy* and not in a deli I might add.

In the living room I can see sea shells, a clump of barnacles and a star fish sitting on top of the dark wooden book shelf I got from Paul and Brooke at our yard sale, and in one corner, the white wooden rocking chair with a tapestry throw in a garden design, draped over the arm of it, and where I sit to read, or talk on the phone……a standing floor lamp with a stained glass shade right behind it. The walls of my living room are painted a sienna color, or possibly even a sunflower yellow. Who would have thought that I, a person so drawn to cool colors, would want to paint everything in shades of warmth? An, apartment size sofa that opens up to become a bed, sits on top of an Oriental area rug that covers the warm hard wood floors that exists throughout this place that I live. (I need the sofa bed so that I when my various family members come to visit, they have a comfortable place to sleep…comfortable places to sleep are a must in this life of mine.)

This is a 1.5 bedroom apartment. The .5 part is an alcove space that doubles as an office/reading area for me. A nice size overstuffed chair in a floral pattern, with an ottoman sits catty cornered looking out the large door way into the living room. Sheer white curtains are hung from the doorway on a heavy white wooden rod and are tied back on either side with lengths of ribbon. Against one narrow wall is a small desk, just big enough for my laptop and crammed with pads of paper, pens, pencils, and my Oxford American Desk Dictionary and Thesaurus, because I can’t spell, yet if I have time, I love to actually look words up, as opposed to using spell check.....

This is as far as this particular vision has progressed. I think there might be a fire escaped outside the kitchen with a pot of geraniums on it. I've bought the floor lamp and it's not stained glass, but it's really nice and I love it. It's going to stay in the box for now. And...Target should be delivering the two sets of book shelves I've ordered any day now. They sort of look like ladders...the shelves narrow at the top and getting progressivly wider as you reach the bottom. They too will hang out in their boxes until I can unfold them in this apartment.

The Secret...again

Tonight I actually watched the movie The Secret. Now I'm completely jazzed and hopefully it will last. My new writer friend Ron thinks it's all psychobable...but not me. I love this kind of stuff.

I realized after watching the movie that although I'm good at visualizing what I want, I worry too much, or think too hard about how it's going to happen. What I need to do is turn that around and visualize it all, as if it has happened.......and feel how wonderful it is!

So, I'm making a Visualization Book. It already exists in bits and pieces. I'm just going to put it all in one spot so that I can see it in a concrete way. I'm going to include the paint samples of the colors I'm painting my apartment, pictures I'm cutting out of the Pottery Barn catalog of the table and bed I want and all the other things I'm working to achieve.... including ideas for a book or two. You never know what will happen.

Of course I have to find the perfect book to put this in. It can't be just any book....after all, it's my new life we're talking here. I have a few that I carry around to jot things down in, but they are way to small to contain this big life I want.

100 quotes from "The Secret"

WOW...this is two blog posts in one night! I'm not sure who I got these from. These quotes came in an email to me and I suspect that they were sent by my friend Jonathan...the same friend who recently sent me the web link to the movie. I actually tried to watch the movie online tonight, only to have it keep stopping. I've decided to just buy it on DVD. However, I do think it's just a little odd that I stumbled upon this Word Doc. tonight while searching for something else. Odd in the sense that not two hours ago I was trying to watch the movie...and here....I have 100 quotes from it. Maybe I attracted this....hmmmmm....

100 quotes from "The Secret"

1. We all work with one infinite power.
2. The Secret is the Law of Attraction (LOA).
3. Whatever is going on in your mind is what you are attracting.
4. We are like magnets - like attract like. You become AND attract what you think.
5. Every thought has a frequency. Thoughts send out a magnetic energy.
6. People think about what they don't desire and attract more of the same.
7. Thought = creation. If these thoughts are attached to powerful emotions (good or bad) that speeds the creation.
8. You attract your dominant thoughts.
9. Those who speak most of illness have illness, those who speak most of prosperity have it, etc.
10. It's not "wishful" thinking.
11. You can't have a universe without the mind entering into it.
12. Choose your thoughts carefully; you are a masterpiece of your life.
13. It's OK that thoughts don't manifest into reality immediately (if we saw a picture of an elephant and it instantly appeared, that would be too soon).
14. EVERYTHING in your life you have attracted-accept that fact-it's true.
15. Your thoughts cause your feelings.
16. We don't need to complicate all the "reasons" behind our emotions. It's much simpler than that. Two categories-good feelings and bad feelings.
17. Thoughts that bring about good feelings mean you are on the right track. Thoughts that bring about bad feelings means you are not on the right track.
18. Whatever it is you are feeling is a perfect reflection of what is in the process of becoming.
19. You get exactly what you are FEELING.
20. Happy feelings will attract more happy circumstances.
21. You can begin feeling whatever you desire (even if it's not there)-the universe will correspond to the nature of your song.
22. What you focus on with your thought and feeling is what you attract into your experience.
23. What you think and what you feel and what actually manifests is ALWAYS a match - no exception.
24. Shift your awareness.
25. "You create your own universe as you go along" Winston Churchill
26. It's important to feel good ( ( ( (((good))) ) ) )
27. You can change your emotion immediately-by thinking of something joyful, or singing a song, or remembering a happy experience.
28. When you get the hang of this, before you know it you will KNOW you are the creator.
29. Life can and should be phenomenal-and it will be when you consciously apply the Law of Attraction.
30. Universe will re-arrange itself accordingly.
31. Start by using this sentence for all of your desires: "I'm so happy and grateful now that…."
32. You don't need to know HOW the universe is going to rearrange itself.
33. LOA is simply figuring out for yourself what will generate the positive feelings of having it NOW.
34. You might get an inspired thought or idea to help you move towards what you desire faster.
35. The universe likes SPEED. Don't delay, don't second-guess, don't doubt.
36. When the opportunity or impulse is there-ACT
37. You will attract everything you require - money, people, connections-PAY ATTENTION to what's being set in front of you.
38. You can start with nothing-and out of nothing or no way, a WAY will be provided.
39. HOW LONG??? No rules on time-the more aligned you are with positive feelings the quicker things happen.
40. Size is nothing to the universe (unlimited abundance if that's what you wish). We make the rules on size and time.
41. No rules according to the universe-you provide the feelings of having it now and the universe will respond.
42. Most people offer the majority of their thought in response to what they are observing (bills in the mail, being late, having bad luck, etc.)
43. You have to find a different approach to what is through a different vantage point.
44. "All that we are is a result of what we have thought" - Buddha
45. What can you do right now to turn your life around?? Gratitude.
46. Gratitude will bring more into our lives immediately.
47. What we think about and THANK about is what we bring about.
48. What are the things you are grateful for?? Feel the gratitude-focus on what you have right now that you are grateful for.
49. Play the picture in your mind - focus on the end result.
50. VISUALIZE!!! Rehearse your future.
51. VISUALIZE!!! See it, feel it! This is where action begins.
52. Feel the joy-feel the happiness! :o)
53. An affirmative thought is 100 times more powerful than a negative one.
54. "What this power is, I cannot say. All I know is that it exists." Alexander Graham Bell.
55. Our job is not to worry about the "How". The "How" will show up out of the commitment and belief in the "what."
56. The 'How's' are the domain of the universe. It always knows the quickest, fastest, most harmonious way between you and your dream.
57. If you turn it over to the universe, you will be surprised and dazzled by what is delivered-this is where magic and miracles happen.
58. Turn it over to the universe daily-but it should never be a chore.
59. Feel exhilarated by the whole process-high, happy, in tune.
60. The only difference between people who are really living this way is they have habituated ways of being.
61. They remember to do it all the time.
62. Create a Vision Board-pictures of what you desire to attract-every day look at it and get into the feeling state of already having acquired these desires.
63. "Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life's coming attractions." Albert Einstein.
64. Decide what you desire-believe you can have it, believe you deserve it, believe it's possible for you.
65. Close your eyes and visualize having what you already desire - and the feeling of having it already.
66. Focus on being grateful for what you have already-enjoy it!! Then release into the universe. The universe will manifest it.
67. "Whatever the mind of man can conceive, it can achieve." W. Clement Stone
68. Set a goal so big that if you achieved it, it would blow your mind.
69. When you have an inspired thought, you must trust it and act on it.
70. How can you become more prosperous?? INTEND IT!!
71. "Checks are coming in the mail regularly," or change your bank statement to whatever balance you desire, and get behind the feeling of having it.
72. Life is meant to be abundant in ALL areas.
73. Go for the sense of inner joy and peace then all outside things appear.
74. We are the creators of our universe.
75. Relationships: Treat yourself the way you desire to be treated by others-love yourself and you will be loved.
76. Healthy respect for yourself.
77. For those you work with or interact with regularly-get a notebook and write down positive aspects of each of those people.
78. Write down the things you like most about them (don't expect change from them). Law of attraction will not put you in the same space together if your frequencies don't match.
79. When you realize your potential to feel good, you will ask no one to be different in order for you to feel good.
80. You will free yourself from the cumbersome impossibilities of needing to control the world, your friends, your mate, your children.
81. You are the only one that creates your reality.
82. No one else can think or feel for you-its YOU-ONLY YOU.
83. Health: thank the universe for your own healing. Laugh, stress free happiness will keep you healthy.
84. Immune system will heal itself.
85. Parts of our bodies are replaced every day, every week-etc. Within a few years we have a brand new body.
86. See yourself living in a new body. Hopeful = recovery. Happy = happier biochemistry. Stress degrades the body.
87. Remove stress from the body and the body regenerates itself. You can heal yourself.
88. Learn to become still-and take your attention away from what you don't desire, and place your attention on what you wish to experience.
89. When the voice and vision on the inside become more profound and clear than the opinions on the outside, then you have mastered your life.
90. You are not here to try to get the world to be just as you desire it. You are here to create the world around you that you choose.
91. And allow the world as others choose to see it, to exist as well.
92. People think that if everyone knows the power of the LOA there won't be enough to go around. This is a lie that's been ingrained in us and makes so many greedy.
93. The truth is there is more than enough love, creative ideas, power, joy, happiness to go around.
94. All of this abundance begins to shine through a mind that is aware of its own infinite nature. There's enough for everyone. See it. Believe it. It will show up for you.
95. So let the variety of your reality thrill you as you choose all the things you desire and get behind the good feelings of all your desires.
96. Write your script. When you see things you don't desire, don't think about them, write about them, talk about them, push against them, or join groups that focus on them-remove your attention from 'don't desires'… and instead place them on 'do desires'.
97. We are mass energy. Everything is energy. EVERYTHING!!!
98. Don't define yourself by your body......it's the infinite being that's connected to everything in the universe.
99. One energy field. Our bodies have distracted us from our energy. We are the infinite field of unfolding possibilities-The creative force.
100. Are your thoughts worthy of you? If not - NOW is the time to change them. You can begin right where you are right now. Nothing matters but this moment and what you are focusing your attention on.

Dinner with Harry

I went to dinner on Friday night in Manhattan with Harry, who I am so very drawn toward. We have danced around each other since July 2005. He has drama, and in a far different way than mine. And yet, I can’t help wanting to be with him. It’s very difficult to know, deep down in your soul, that someone really should be with you, only to also understand that it may never actually happen.

Harry notices things. Immediately he noticed the little diamond on the side of my nose and then commented on my hair color. We see each other so infrequently that I’m amazed he even remembered what my hair looked like, let alone noticed that it was a little different in color. He pays attention to things that I’ve said or written, and then asks about them. The key words here are “pays attention.” How nice to have someone hear and see you. It’s one of the most amazing things that has happened to me in the past few years….to have this remarkable man see me and to know that I too, can see him.

Harry and I had dinner at a Thai restaurant and I managed to eat the entire meal with chopsticks. I’ve realized that if you’re going to live in the city, then you have to master the art of eating with two wooden sticks. And I did it! And it was fun. We took our time, we shared an appetizer and two entrée’s and even ordered chocolate soufflé to share for dessert. We both love chocolate and yet the most appealing thing for me was the fact that it was going to take a half hour to make. One more half hour, spent sitting across from Harry.

After dinner we walked down 7th Avenue, through Times Square and all the way to Penn Station. Walking with Harry feels right. It feels as if he has always belonged next to me. Either holding hands or my arm though his, we walked right next to one another with him singing an old Supreme's song as we navigated the crowded Friday evening sidewalk. And I tried hard not to think about the “saying good-bye” part. Even though he promised that we would see each other sooner, rather than later.

The “good-bye” part….always sweet and poignant in so many ways. Feeling his arms around me, feeling his mouth on mine and having such a hard time letting him go….not knowing what, if anything, will happen for us next….and yet for the first time, receiving just a little tiny bit of encouragement from him in the form of four words.....

“Maybe I’ll surprise you,” he said.

Please, please Harry….surprise me.

The paint on my walls

While in Home Depot yesterday to buy ice melt, a bag of potting soil and a flower pot in which to put the soil, I took a stroll through the paint department. I found the color paint I am going to paint my bedroom walls in my new apartment…..the one that I don’t have just yet. I know it’s coming. I’m visualizing it all the time. The paint is called Pink Sunset and it’s beautiful and looks just like it sounds. I can see it on my walls right now. I’m going to tack this little paint sample along my doorway so that I can see it as I go in and out and continue to visualize this one room in my life… the way that I want it to be.

V-Day

I am not having a good day. Why would V-Day three years later, have any effect on me? I started anticipating trying not to pay attention to it yesterday. It was never really a big deal when I was married, so why should it be one now that I’m not. I imagine it’s just my overall feeling of discontent.

This was my day today:

*My normal half hour drive to work took almost an hour due to icy road conditions. I hate to drive in ice and snow.
*While working in my lovely office, with my candle warmer nicely warming my Warm Vanilla Sugar scented candle, I detected a weird, foreign smell, yet could not exactly place it. I ventured out into the main part of the office to find one of the women who works for me cleaning up three piles of dog poop. She has taken to bringing her dog to work from time to time. It is a very relaxed office atmosphere, but I am now drawing the line. (This is not like bringing one of your children to hang out for few hours because school is not in session or the baby sitter canceled. We are very accommodating that way.) Her explanation was, “he must be nervous.” After she left, I somehow managed to step in a very small spot that she missed and get it on my very nice pink sneaker. I then had to go outside in the wind, rain and slush in order to get it off my shoe.
*The highlight of the day……going next door to get a piece of pizza with one of my co-workers, and the owner, a lovely Italian gentleman, giving each of us a red rose. Right now it’s in a glass on the windowsill in the kitchen.
*Another highlight of the day…..having the agency close at 2:15 due to weather.
*While sitting on the couch earlier with my laptop, having the brother that I live with, ask me not to sit there after 9:30 because I’m right above his bedroom and I’m disturbing his sleep. This from a man that you have to constantly repeat things for because he didn’t hear you. What the f*** is this about?! I sit on the couch, typing on a laptop. I am not talking on the phone above him, I am not watching television. I am sitting and quite honestly barely moving, other than to get up, unplug and relocate myself to my room around 10. Do you have any idea what it’s like to always have to be “in your room?” I have got to get a place of my own to live in. Where I can sit quietly on a couch at night without someone complaining that I’m making too much noise!! This really has me freaked out and sent me back to the want ads…to no avail again tonight.
*Walking into the bathroom and finding yet another pile of dog poop, this one left by my niece's dog who was upstairs running around and felt the need to take a crap. At least he did it in the bathroom. My second encounter with dog poop in one day.
*Retiring to my bedroom at 7:00 to find that my TV is no longer working. This is the point at which I was ready to cry. It’s not as if I watch a lot of TV. Quite honestly, I use it as background noise and I do like to watch the 11:00 news. And now I can’t. I will have to suck it up and call someone to come in a fix the damn thing.

Thank God the day is almost over. I’ll read. I don’t imagine that much more can happen, or not happen as the case may be. I hate when I feel so pissy. It’s happening a lot lately. People are going to stop reading me if I can't get back to being just a little more entertaining.

Happy Wednesday everyone…..

Mired in Mud

I feel so stuck! It feels as if I’m standing in the damn doorway, not able to step one foot forward as they’re both mired in thick, dark mud…all the way up to my ankles. I should be happy to have made it to this new doorway………

Frustrated with what I’ve begun to feel is a useless waste of energy…… sending my resume’ out into the darkness of cyberspace, never to be seen again…. I can’t believe I could have worked this hard, and traveled so far from my old life, only to have to stay right were I am! And yes, this is probably a momentary laps in faith in myself and unless I weep and wail a little bit, and write and post about the weeping and wailing, I can’t get myself back on track.

I hate this. I don’t doubt my ability to do a great job somewhere new…. I have more than enough confidence about that….I hate that the looking is so difficult though. I agonize over writing the cover letters and know that they are probably not up to the standards that my friend Miles would like them to be. No wonder in one day, all I can get out is three of them. (Miles could get anyone to hire him to do anything, if he really wanted to based upon his cover letters alone.)

I wrote four cover letters today, one of which I couldn’t send since it can’t be directly emailed and has to go through the NYU website. And instead of linking you from the jobs search website, to the position you want to apply for at NYU, you end up on their main job search page, where you can’t find the damn job when you look for it. Not to mention that your resume’ does not download onto their website in any from that is acceptable to me. It was of course the job I was the most interested in too.

I’m not sure what to make of this. Is it a sign to just give up on NYU because being able to apply only through their website in this convoluted way is frustrating? Or does it mean I’ll be on the phone to them tomorrow, trying to figure out how to find the damn job posting and then trying to apply in the manner that they want? I hate the idea of having gone though all of that, possibly to only have my resume’ passed by because there weren’t enough computer generated matching words in it for the job I was applying for.

I’m not good at this “having to sell myself business” and I don’t want to do it. I want to think that if I believe “single-mindedly” enough, it will happen. It will happen because I’ve worked hard to make it happen and because I deserve to have it happen. I just need to moan and groan, and weep and wail about it because I’m not having any fun doing this…and because I’m impatient and want this bigger life to happen…..that’s really what this is about. My need to dive into the deep end of the pool, right now.


These are two of my most recent favorite “Daily Tips of the Day:”

Happy endings come from listening to that little voice inside your head -- some call it the whisper -- about what matters to you most.

- Jerry Porras Stewart Emery Mark Thompson, Best Selling Authors, Success Built to Last


Make an affirmation that whatever brings passion, enthusiasm, and inspiration to you is on its way. Say it often: It is on its way, it will arrive on time, and it will arrive in greater amounts than I imagined. Then look for even the tiniest clue that will help you be a vibrational match with your affirmation. You'll get what you think about, whether you want it or not!

- Dr. Wayne W. Dyer, Best Selling Author, Inspiration, Your Ultimate Calling

I listen to the little voice in my head all the time…and I guess I’ll just have to trust that whatever is on it’s way…. will arrive….. and maybe it’s just not time yet. I can’t say that I feel a whole lot better about any of this… yet I know it will pass.

And at least we can all be thankful that I’m not writing about Valentine’s Day. But then again, there’s still time left for me to do that…

Packing boxes

I have to mentally stop packing up my belongings. My desire to relocate my life at times overwhelms me and looking around I again find myself dissatisfied with how slowly this new life is progressing. Once again, I am back at the beginning. Having accomplished the “finishing of school” my head is all wrapped up in what’s coming next. The ink isn’t even dry on the diploma that has yet to arrive in the mail, and I find myself disappointed that the very first interview I had since finishing school (and that was not even for a job I really wanted) did not pan out. All because my head already had me moving.

This is where over planning your life is a burden and has been something that until just recently, I’ve been able to keep in check. I have boxes that I’ve never unpacked since moving here, knowing that this was a temporary home for me. I have boxes that I have recently packed….filled with belongings that are non-essential in my life right now, and yet will be needed in my new home. But, I continue to want to pack it all. To clean out, throw away, wrap, pack and store. I look at everything around me and think, “Hmm…do I need that? Can I pack it in a box for moving day?”

I’ve been buying “stuff” for my kitchen…. and packing it. Wrapped in paper in new boxes are the tea kettle from my son, a vegetable peeler and garlic press, the stainless steel measuring cups and spoons from Williams- Sonoma that were a gift from my daughter this Christmas… a colander, some wooden spoons and other items that I know I will need, especially if I decide to do some cooking.

And how about furniture? I don’t really have any that I can pack. I don’t really have any, period. Instead I cruise the Internet and the many catalogs that I get, looking for items like dining/kitchen tables, not knowing if I’ll even have room for a table! I found one that I completely covet and am so tempted to buy. To buy and keep in a box, or however it arrives, for moving day. For a time I though that was a crazy idea. I have however decided to go with my very good friend Susan’s theory that you have to visualize where you’re going. The “if you buy it, it will happen” theory of living life. One of the problems I have is that I can visualize this apartment that I don’t have, right down to the color of the paint on the walls. Which is why I… so….long…. to pack.

Intellectually I know all the things that I want, will arrive. It’s waiting for that time to come that I struggle with. And here I am, back at the beginning and finding that once again, it’s all about patience…which in my case, is not a virtue.

It always amazes me how writing about things that I struggle with helps me to see them more clearly. Maybe now I can stop wallowing and just get on with the task of cruising the job sites, looking for the position that has my name written all over it….. and stop perseverating on packing boxes

Bruce on WAR

“In 1985, blind faith in your leaders, or in anything, will get you killed.” These words were spoken by Bruce Springsteen just as he launched into the Vietnam era protest song, “WAR,” by Edwin Starr. Although not originally written as a war protest song, it was adopted by college students in the early 1970’s and became an anthem, along with many others of that time.

How prophetic was Bruce twenty years ago? I wonder if he remembers saying those words. Never one to consider myself an activist, I can’t help but feel that we were *blindly led* into this war by George W. and his cronies. In this new life of mine, I have a lot of opinions, some that people will agree with, and some not. Partially it’s our fault for believing his line of bullshit. Traumatized by 9/11, with our grieving psyches collectively sucked into this administrations web of lies, many of us bought the bullshit. I did, at least for a short time.

“The next time they’re gonna be looking at you and you’re gonna need a lot of information in order to know what to do,” said Bruce. Well, it’s not us that they looked at, it’s our children.

Memorial Vigil Mourns 3,000 Deaths

January 7, 2007
The Long Island Advance

This was written by me and published in the LIA as a news story. I've added an additional comment in blue.

“Not One More Death, Not One More Dollar,” were the words sent out last week by the Long Island peace groups in order to invite others to mourn with them the 3,000 men and women of U.S. Armed Forces, who have died in Iraq since the beginning of the war.

Last Saturday, as dusk slowly blanketed Long Island, a candlelight vigil was held from 4:00 to 6:00 PM at the Armed Forces Plaza, outside the H. L. Dennison Building in Hauppauge. The vigil was sponsored by The Long Island Veterans for Peace, Suffolk Peace Network, Pax Christi Long Island, and Code Pink LI, along with other local peace groups.

Memorial vigils and peace rallies are being held across the Nation in order to remember the 3,000 men and women who have died between March 2003 and December 4, 2006, and whose numbers have now exceeded those killed on 9/11.

On a hillside in upstate New York a women plants small yellow flags that can be seen by passing cars, each one symbolizing a lost life. The women of Code Pink Long Island write those names on pink ribbons and tie them all together. 3,000 is just a number, until one actually sees in a concrete way, what 3,000 really looks like.

“We felt it was essential to have a memorial for the 3,000 who have died in Iraq in this so called war on terror,” said Thomas Brinson, a Viet Nam war veteran and head of The Long Island Veterans for Peace, Chapter 138. “It’s a sad benchmark in this illegal, inhumane and unnecessary war.” Brinson also said that many believe "One man's terrorist, is another's freedom fighter." I had never quite looked at it that way and think there might be some validity to that statement.

Standing along the inner edge of the plaza were the women of Code Pink. Code Pink is an International grassroots organization of women who want peace, with 250 Chapters in the United States and Europe. “The name Code Pink is taken from the color code alerts that are used by the government when terror warnings are posted,” said Loretta Gallion of Hauppauge. Gallion was there with women from East Meadow, Holbrook, Melville, Huntington and Syosset. “We march in parades, wear pink feathered boas, and do banner drops from highway
overpasses, anything to call attention to who we are,” Gallion added. It was two members of this organization who spent months writing the names and ages of all who have died, on the pink ribbons used at this memorial. “If we don’t stand out, we don’t get seen,” said Judi Gardner, a member of the group. The women of this chapter of Code Pink will join others in Washington D.C. on January 27th in order to participate in a much larger peace rally that will be held there.

“We want to call attention to all who have died in Iraq,” said Veronica Fellerath, a member of Pax Christi who lives in Bay Shore. “I don’t think more killing is the answer. We need to find a peaceful solution and as soon as possible,” she added.

“This event is a testament to our commitment to change course in Iraq. We believe not one more Iraqi or U. S. soldier should be killed; not one more U. S. dollar should be spent sustaining war and occupation. Instead of adding more troops to Iraq, the U. S. should focus on diplomatic efforts and Iraqi-led reconstruction of their country,” said Sheila Croke, a Pax Christi member.

The air was warm and balmy as evening descended and the vigil began. There was no speech making and there were no politicians. All one could hear was the rustling of the 3,000 pink ribbons, each with a name and age on it, as the wind blew around them. All these ribbons, tied to a strand of rope that was hung from tree to tree around the Armed Forces Plaza.....and it was as if each and every one of the dead were there, silently watching as the peace groups circled the area with their signs and flags. Little by little their circle became larger and extended out, past the perimeter of the plaza and onto the grassy area between it, and Veteran’s Memorial Highway. Some stood along the road, candles lit, signs with the words “How Many More,” “3,000 + US Dead,” and “660,000 Iraqi Dead,” while passing cars sounded their horns, lending support as they drove by.

The young, the old and those in between, all solemnly marking the passing of this number to the beating of a drum, the wail of a bagpipe and the sound that could be heard above all else, the whispering in the breeze of the 3,000 pink ribbons. Ribbons with the names, James W. Cawley, age 41; Roderick A. Solomon, age 33; Patrick R. Nixon, age 31; Brian Rory Buesing, age 20; Eric Orlowski; age 26, Luis A. Perez, age 19; Tyler Prewitt, age 22; Mark P. Phelan, age 44; Omead Razani, age 19; and so many more, written upon them.

(It's too bad I can't post a picture of those ribbons....they were so very powerful.)

Love at first glance?

Published in The Long Island Advance, December 28, 2006 Edition


In my regular work world I supervise a department of eight women who primarily do social work with the developmentally disabled. In our office, it’s common to know about everyone’s drama. Not only is it drama, but life in our office has taken on a Soap Opera-like quality in recent weeks. And boy, are we sucked in, and possibly me more so than others due to my skeptical nature.

Internet dating seems to be the thing these days, what going to bars to meet people, or running into potential dates at work use to be. It’s sort of like blind dating, yet not quite. And for a number of the single women in my department, Internet dating gives them an opportunity to meet and date when working in a world that’s essentially occupied by women. And right now, one of our own is being courted by a cowboy from Oklahoma. This particular cowboy has been nudging her since summer, sending her an email here and there, attempting to engage her in conversation. According to her, his latest try was successful.

There’s this thing in Internet dating called “winking.” One can wink at another without having to do any sort of writing. Apparently he kept winking at her until she finally broke down, wrote back and said, “You live 1,400 miles away from me, why are you winking at me?” We were riveted at work to that little exchange as it lead to an actual conversation in the “real world.” A conversation that sent her running in the other direction and cooled the soap opera off for a few months. According to Liz, this was a man on a mission….a politically liberal guy, home grown in a red state and looking to escape to a blue one. She did not want to be the reason for anyone’s relocation. That was until three weeks ago. Persistence seems to be one of his character traits and it has apparently paid off, at least for now.

Three weeks ago, the cowboy sent an email forward which according to Liz got her dander up. She responded back, in a not so nice way and as a means to discourage his continued attention, although considering the fact that said attention only occurred once every few months, it wasn’t stalker-like behavior. Only what ended up happening was that the cowboy got his wish and found a way to engage her in a conversation. This was all he needed to do.

We work in a field where listening and talking is something that people do a lot of, so for him, getting the conversation going was a step in a positive direction. Liz currently is loosing her mind as the cowboy recently told her that he thinks he loves her. Me, being the skeptic that I am, chimed in by saying “That’s impossible. There is no such thing.” Although, according to the cowboy, “You can’t help who you love any more than you can pick your parents.” Apparently he has no problem waiting for her to come around to his way of thinking. And when talking to her and saying “This is too crazy,” you can almost see her thinking that in fact, maybe it’s not.

I suspect that it will be a little inconvenient to have to call in to my old job, from a new one in order to get the daily update. But, like any good soap opera, I may be able to wean myself down to just getting my update on a Monday and a Friday. And this is the question that I’ll just leave hanging in the air for now or at least until Brian vacations in AZ and loans me his column again. Do you believe that this new age version of “love at first sight is possible? And consider that “at first sight,” in this case, means love at the glance of an Internet dating profile, a whole bunch of emails and phone conversations. Feel free to chime in and let me know what you think, about this, or anything else you might like to comment on.

Christmas card slackers

Published in The Long Island Advance
December 21, 2006

Well, here it is, just a week away from Christmas and I have yet to write or send a card. Last year I was so much better organized and very excited that I found Christmas labels in Staples. I was able to go to the website listed on the package, download their label program and print out beautiful seasonal labels for my cards. And this year, unless a miracle happens the cards are not going to make it out of my house.

Back in October while walking through Macy’s, I began to wonder how we got into the habit of decorating for Christmas before Halloween had actually happened. Yes, it was the week before Halloween and Macy’s not only had the beginnings of Christmas decorations hung, they were lit too! In retrospect I should have gone home that very day and written out my Christmas cards. I could then have mailed them a few days after Thanksgiving and would not be sitting here, thinking and writing about them now.

I like sending Christmas cards. There are people who say, “Why send cards to people you never see?” Those are the people I like to send cards to the most. It’s this one, tenuous connection to others that may only happen once a year, but at least it happens. Writing out the cards gives me the opportunity to think back to all these people and remember what they mean to me. There’s my friend Cathy in Florida, who I worked with in the old Loft’s Candy Store on Main Street when I was in high school, or old friends of my parent’s who made it from their Christmas card list, to mine and who although I rarely, if ever see, remember with great fondness. I get to think about all of them, even if it’s only one time a year while writing out their Christmas card.

And this year I’m being a slacker. I have no idea how we went from September to December without my noticing it. Not only do I have the cards, the labels are printed and the stamps have been purchased and yet I have resigned myself to the fact that they’re not getting into the mail this year. In my old life I would have felt guilty for weeks about this, in my new one I’ve given myself permission not too.

My little 4’ Martha Stewart, pre-lit Christmas tree is decorated and sits in front of my bedroom window…with all the bags of Christmas gifts, still unwrapped and strewn around it. I have not baked one cookie or made one chocolate covered pretzel and the Gingerbread tree kit that I bought a few weeks back, is still in the box. I have yet to finish shopping, am not really sure what’s going to be on the menu for Christmas Eve dinner and have no idea what I’ll be wearing.

Here are the things I do know. I know the shopping will get finished, the presents will get wrapped, and we won’t suffer for lack of cookies or chocolate covered pretzels when we can go out and buy them. Between my mother and I, we’ll figure out what’s for Christmas Eve dinner and I’ll be able to pull something from my closet to wear, even if it’s a sweater with snowmen all over it. And, most importantly, the world will not end for my friends and family if they even realize that Susan did not send them a Christmas card this year.

In my head though, I’m drafting a New Year’s letter. Possibly it might say something like, “Happy New Year! During the time leading up to Christmas I was researching 17th-century witch trials in England and how they related to the play Vinegar Tom, by Caryl Churchill. Now that that part of my life is over and has been turned in, I can dig out my Christmas cards and get an early start for 2007.”

So, for this holiday season I’ll take a breath and wish you all a happy one. Be it Christmas, Hanukkah or any other celebration, enjoy, be well, have a safe and Happy New Year and for those who are like me, learn how not to sweat the small stuff all the time. I’m going to start practicing that soon, right after I get out the cards I want to start writing for next year.

Procrastination

Published in The Long Island Advance, December 7, 2006 Edition

I am a procrastinator and feel as if I should be standing in front of a support group announcing this fact. I vacillate between being either totally driven and focused, or completely unfocused and lackadaisical. This sort of behavior causes me a huge amount of stress and I often ask myself why I do it.

This very minute, as I write this piece, I am procrastinating the writing of two papers that are due in four days. Four days sounds like a long time to write two papers, and in fact would be more than sufficient if I didn’t have to have a day job. Having a day job significantly interferes with the writing that I would much rather be doing.

My mission when I awoke this morning was to get started. I’ve done all the reading which for me was the easy part, and the writing isn’t hard either and yet, I wait, and I wait, and I wait. Mulling over getting started and finding every conceivable excuse not to.

So, after waking up this morning I needed to spend minimally two hours sitting on my bed with my laptop, reading ever bit of news I could find. Then there were a few essential phone calls to make prior to actually getting moving. After breakfast I decided to sort laundry. My plan was to go to my parent’s house, laundry in tow, with my laptop and books, and start paper writing in between trips down to the washing machine. Since my parents are away I figured their house would have fewer distractions for me, allowing me to concentrate better. Well, I’ve made it over here, there’s laundry sloshing around in the washer and I’m writing about procrastination as a means to continue doing it.

Prior to actually sitting down at this table and opening up a blank Word Document I had to stop at 7-11 for coffee. Once I finally arrived here, I had to leave again so that I could bring a container of beef stew my mother wanted passed along to brother and sister-in-law, over to their house. I then had to stop back where I’m living….again, in order to find the first paper I had written for this particular class, on which I had jotted the notes about the second paper when last meeting with my professor. While running up and down the stairs, fetching these items, this little bit of writing hit me. What could I do? I had no other choice but to sit down and write it.

I often wonder how I can be a Virgo. Not one who really believes in the whole “horoscope thing,” I do recognize that I have many of those, over-planning, over-thinking, over-organizing traits that Virgo’s are known for, and yet they don’t carry over into all areas of my life. And this is certainly one area where I need those traits to kick in, or more like kick me in the butt to get me moving.

I’ve been procrastinating long enough to recognize my patterns and I’ve come to learn over the course of attending “nontraditional college,” that I need structure. I am not one who the professor can hand the course outline to and say, “See you at the end of 15 weeks with the work done.” That has happened and believe me; I almost did not survive doing 15 weeks of work, in the space of two. That lesson I learned well.

Now that I have procrastinated yet another half hour away there are no more excuses left to put off writing about Jane Austin, so….I guess I should get started. Well, maybe I should check on my laundry first.

Guerilla Gardening

While lying in bed this morning, thinking, which is something that I’m really good at, I started to dwell on my old flower beds. The first year after leaving them in the care of someone else was an extremely stressful one for me, and I often found myself riding by them on a daily basis, becoming more alarmed with each trip down the street. Over the course of that long, hot summer, they had become sad and neglected and their condition just fueled the abundance of tears that I had been crying then.

I spent a great deal of time digging around in those flower beds and I loved weeding. Never a chore, like washing a floor or cleaning a bathroom, weeding was relaxing. My mind could wander where it wished, to think or not, whatever I desired. Weeding became a form of meditation, soothing, even though physical labor was involved.

Inheriting a love of gardening was a gift that my mother gave me. As a child I can remember wondering why she would want to be out in the heat of the summer, hot and sweating, and God forbid, getting her hands dirty. It wasn’t until I got older and had empty spaces around my house and yard that I was able to appreciated what growing flowers meant, and how they filled my life with beauty.

My flower beds started out straight and narrow and yet looking back I realize that over the years they gradually changed, as did I. Never one who liked things with hard edges, they evolved to become more winding and rounded and less severe. I liked them full and a little wild, lined with natural rocks or field stones, or just edged with a shovel to keep the crabgrass at bay. I was always looking for a place to plant something new, which often meant needing to dig another bed, pretty much running out of room in my yard as the years went by.

That first year after my house was sold I had a really difficult time coming to terms with the fact that the person who now lives in it, is not a gardener, and which truly is an understatement. Prior to going to closing I gave him a tour of all the plants in my yard, and tried to impress upon him the heirloom quality of some of them, and what they meant to me. Judging from the looks of things now, I’m sure he wasn’t listening. This experience has taught me that there are some people who should never own homes with yards or gardens. Sweeping off green tinted concrete is as close as they should ever have to get to yard maintenance.

Not being a gardener does not make one a bad person. It was just hard to watch as those beds became overrun with weeds that grew up past the dining room windows or watch plants that had been there for years, wither away to become brown and dead from lack of water. I often fantasized about becoming a “guerilla gardener,” sneaking over in the dead of night wearing a coal miner’s hard hat with head lamp, and secretly weeding and watering. I don’t think he would notice, and I do believe my old neighbors might appreciate the effort.

I’ve come to terms with this now though. I am not gardening anywhere at this point in my life. Maybe I’ll do it again and maybe I won’t. I’ll always have a pot of herbs or a geranium on a windowsill somewhere and can be content with that. Despite the fact that they are now overgrown and unloved, I remain hopeful that one day the gardens in my old yard will bloom in all their previous splendor, and will be lovingly tended by some gardener yet to come.

Val and The Italian Patio Boys

OK...here's the next column for the LIA. I'm going to stop counting them down now and just tell you that yes, this piece appeared in print in a real paper that people read.

There’s a brown, webbed folding chair that sits at the head of a driveway down on Park Street in south Patchogue. This particular chair use to belong to Val DeCarlo, a long time resident of Patchogue and a retired English teacher in the Patchogue-Medford School District. The DeCarlo’s lived in that house for as long as I can remember and moved to Louisiana last year to be closer to their daughter. It’s odd to see that chair still sitting there and I wonder if the new owners have left it on purpose, a shrine to one of the more fascinating people who has ever walked through my life.

It was not easy to get an A or even a B on a paper written for Val’s class, and yet, I somehow managed too, a miraculous feat for someone who would often cut math in order to sit in the library and write those papers the day they were due. (I do my best work under pressure.) I doubt there were many who ever showed up without their work done, as he was not a teacher whose bad side you ever wanted to experience. And, as intimidating as he was, his classes were always full because in spite of the fear, you couldn’t help wanting to be there. I read my first R rated book, “The Godfather,” in his Ethnic Lit class. He had the best stories to tell and to this day, I still wonder if he really lived them.

Over the course of my adult life Val would drive by the house I use to live in and he would wave or stop to briefly to say hello. Throughout those years I would stop once or twice a summer to talk with him as he sat in his driveway. He would pull out a spare folding chair from the garage and we would sit and have a visit, which in actuality was really more like a very intense chat.

I use to think of Val on those summer nights when my son and his friends would haul all the lawn chairs from our yard and place them at the head of the driveway, in front of our pock-marked metal garage door. There they would sit and visit with all their other friends who would pass by. I started referring to them as The Italian Patio Boys, my son being half Italian, and the whole “sitting around in the driveway, watching the world pass by,” becoming their patio. Val was the first Italian Patio Boy and this past summer was the first that I did not sit on a folding chair in his driveway at least once and visit.

There are no more Italian Patio Boys sitting in my old driveway anymore. They are all grown up and the driveway no longer belongs to me. It now has weeds growing up through the seams in the concrete and exists in a yard whose new owner gives little care or thought about it. And that is a story for another time.

On my last driveway visit with Val and his family, we talked about my “getting a new life” experience. In his old fashioned way, he assured me that I would soon attract a rich guy to take care of me, the thought of which made me laugh. The whole point I explained to him, was to prove that I could take care of myself, yet I’m not sure that I convinced him.

Val, his wife Ronnie and son Peter are people I will always remember with great fondness. I miss the driveway visits and yet, it makes me very happy to see that his chair is still there. I can still imagine him walking out to the driveway and settling down in it, watching the world go by and waiting for someone to stop and visit. And although he no longer lives here, he will always exist in my memories in a larger than life kind of way. Life changes, people move on and yet we still have the ability to keep those memories alive within ourselves. So, to whoever owns Val’s house now, thanks for keeping his chair there, allowing me to pass by and in my minds eye, still see him sitting there, reminding me not only of him, but also of my other Italian Patio Boys and the driveway they use to sit in.

An act of kindness

Today I had a dramatic, very invasive medical procedure done at my local hospital. I say dramatic because I’m a Virgo and we tend to have a streak of hypochondria that runs though us. For others it might have only been considered on the semi-dramatic side. I do try to keep my medical drama in check and yet we all know how well I handled that Thallium Stress test a few months back.

The procedure I had done today required that it be done under general anesthesia in the outpatient surgery department. Of course when hearing I need to be knocked out two thoughts ran though my head. First, this must be some painful test since you need to be unconscious for it, and second, I might go to sleep and never wake up again. For a week prior I tortured most of you who read this blog with these dire thoughts and do appreciate how patient you all were, while probably thinking, “Susan, please shut up about this already!”

I think that the whole idea of no longer having a “significant other,” in my life waiting in the waiting room for me, is what freaked me out the most. Certainly my mother is a “significant other,” in my life and I am most grateful to have had her with me. Yet, it’s not the same as having someone with you, who is your partner in all senses of the word. I know that I’m whining and I can’t help it. My friend Joanne went through radiation therapy for breast cancer, without her “significant other,” the bastard left her three weeks into her treatment. I have no right to whine about this as I cannot imagine what that must have been like, and yet, I do it anyway. And, I think that Joanne understands my angst about this and forgives me for it.

I adore the two main doctors in my life and both are women. My primary care physician has been known to hug me good-bye, which is not something any doctor I’ve even had, has done…and it’s nice. My “other doctor,” is more reserved, professional and business like. They have two very different bedside manners, and yet I appreciate them both for their care of me.

Today, while lying in the OR waiting for the anesthesiologist to put me under for the cervical biopsy I needed to have done, trying to do some Zen breathing so as not to cry because I’m a baby…. and was terrified and very anxious, my very professional gynecologist came up beside me and held my hand while I faded off into oblivion. I wonder if she has any idea what that meant to me?

Stuck in a Hallway - Lond Island Advance Column

This is my fourth guest column for The Long Island Advance. It may sound familiar to some of you who have been reading this blog for a while. It's the second "Stuck in a Hallway" piece, and yet, this is a bit different from the first....

I really dislike the expression “When one door closes, another door opens.” Especially when you’re really feeling like you’re stuck in a dark hallway with the door behind you almost completely closed, and you have no idea where the end of the hallway is, or if there will be another door once you get to it.

I was stuck in a hallway for long time. Probably close to a year. And it was dark and I had no flashlight or even a book of matches. In my case, a scented candle would have been nice, but I didn’t have one of them either. I had to start out walking down my hallway pretty much in total darkness. For about a year, I just stood…. still bathed in a tiny bit of light from that almost closed door, and when I finally started to move and got further away from it, the journey became more difficult, at least for a while. Gradually though, I started to see a glimmer of light ahead of me, and now, after two years I think I’m about ready to finally step through the door that I found at the end, and wow, does it look bright!

I did a lot of walking to get down this hallway and it wasn’t always easy. Patience was needed to accomplish this and it is not one of my virtues. I painted a bedroom, purchased a small amount of furniture, found a part time writing job, went back to school, bought a car, sat on my parents and my friend’s couches and cried, started going to the movies by myself, learned to balance my checkbook, went through a lot of boxes filled with stuff from my old life and had a yard sale, learned to smile at interesting people, joined a writing group, and have made a number of new, interesting friends. I will soon graduate with a Bachelor’s degree and have started interviewing on a quest for a new job that will hopefully allow me to swim in deeper water. Yes, it has been a busy year and a year that has finally allowed me to see the progress that I have made in very concrete ways.

It’s hard to do this sort of personal writing in a small, local newspaper. In many ways it would be far easier to write for a much larger publication, which would feel more anonymous. It’s difficult to be an unknown when you are writing about what it feels like to get a new life and your picture and name appear above your writing, in the small town that you’ve lived in for your entire life. It makes writing the more difficult stuff, impossible. For me though, this is the only kind of writing that I can do right now. It sounds a bit self-centered, this writing that is “all about me,” and yet it really isn’t just about that.

In the short time that I’ve had to “write in my own voice” in this space that Brian Curry so graciously loans me, I’ve had the pleasure of talking to people who have read what I’ve written here, and who are able to relate to the experiences that I talk about. It’s reinforcing to realize that I am not alone in this “getting a new life” experience, and to have someone tell me that the words I have written have made a difference in their lives, is truly huge for me. Certainly we’re not talking major life changing differences, but subtle difference in the way people view themselves, where they are heading, and helping them realize that they can get there in one piece.

So, yes, in many ways this is all about me, and yet it is about so much more. If just one person reads this and realizes that although they may be stuck in a dark hallway now, that does not have to be the case forever, then my job for today is done.

Another Birthday

Today I am 49. It’s amazing what a difference a year can make. In the whole scheme of life one year is such a short amount of time, yet while it was passing it seemed so long. And now that it’s gone, it went by in a heartbeat.

The year between age 47 and 48, I spent crying. I cried the entire year and on my 48th birthday I was still crying. I can distinctly remember the three days prior, crying off and on, not feeling as if I had made enough progress in my quest to get a new life. Feeling frustrated and unhappy with where I was at. The day of my birthday I was either sitting in my computer chair, crying, or laying on the couch, crying, or laying on my bed crying, or driving in my car, crying. I wrote about all that crying last year in this very spot.

On my 48th birthday Jane happened to call me, not realizing it was my birthday….. and she listened to me sob about how I couldn’t stop crying. (It was the psychic twinkle thing that made her call me, that I’m sure about.) She sent me “Happy Birthday” flowers that very afternoon and they sat on the dinning room table where I live, long after most of them had died.

Last year was the year I wanted no birthday at all. No cake, no presents. Of course my mother was having none of that and we eventually got around to cake and some presents, but that was a few days after the birthday and by then, I had recovered and resolved to stop all the crying.

This has been a much better year! It has been a year with no real crying to speak of. It’s been the year when I’ve made all sorts of progress…..the kind that I can see. My biggest accomplishment has been school. This is the year that I will finish a degree started long ago. It’s been the 13 year Bachelor’s degree (with an 8 year break in the middle….what was I thinking!). And, with that degree, I can move on to look for a different career path to take….in the hope of being able to finally afford an apartment of my own to live in….. a home of my own…..I think that my 50th Birthday might possibly be even better….. At one time I dreaded the idea of ever being 50; to think that I might now actually be looking forward to entering my 50th year is more progress that I ever thought possible.

I am however, making a birthday resolution, similar to the New Year’s resolutions that people make and never keep. I do really try to keep mine and actually am somewhat successful at the whole resolution business.

A new friend that I made this past spring told me that one of the good things about me, is that I see the potential in people, even if they haven’t reached that point yet. She said that’s it’s a wonderful quality, yet at times does not work to my benefit. I have trouble letting go of those who have yet to meet the potential that I see in them. I need to let go of a few people in this new birthday year. I'm not waiting for them to "come around" any longer.

So, there you have it, another birthday, with a resolution to boot. And new plans being made. I wonder where I will write next year’s birthday blog from. I truly am hoping that it will be from some nice little apartment in NYC….. Only time will tell that story.

This is enough writing about a birthday for one year…….

A birthday present from my daughter...

For my 49th birthday my daughter took me to get my nose pierced. I’ve been wanting to do this for a while and for some reason, today seemed like the day to do it. It just felt like it was the “right day” to get my nose done. I can’t wait until it’s healed and I can get a little tiny diamond to wear in it. Of course my parents will be appalled. I am, however, entering my 50th year. If I want to have my nose pierced…then that’s what I’m doing. It’s not a tattoo!

Maybe I’m in yet another of these “life crisis” I seem to go through from time to time. Over the course of this past year I’ve had so few of them that I’m almost feeling normal again. Normal in the sense that my life feels like my own, like I recognize who I am. I think having a small diamond stud in my nose is part of who I’m meant to be.

When I called Erin at work this morning to relay my piercing epiphany, she was right there with me, having had hers done over the summer. I mentioned going tomorrow, on my birthday; she said we should go today. I think she was afraid that I might change my mind again if I waited until tomorrow. I made this decision at 9:30 this morning while sitting at my desk. There was no more debate. It was a done deal.

Yes, I do believe that I was meant to have my nose pierced. Radical for an almost 49 year old…yet it feels right to me. And it looks so cool!

I AM A NEW YORKER

We collectively mourn today, in varying degrees of separation. Those families who were directly affected "that morning" five years ago, loosing husbands, wives, sons and daughters, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, friends and coworkers....first responders, there to save others, and just ordinary people, trying to make a living.... who vanished into thin air...we can't feel the depth of the pain that their families experienced, yet we can understand it.

We can understand the anguish felt by emergency personnel who spent hour upon hour, days upon days, searching in the massive pile of smoking, pulverize rubble......their mission always to save....... and knowing that would not be the case.

We mourn in degrees of separation.....those who can still smell the burning jet fuel, or who walked the area of lower Manhattan, pictures in hand, endlessly searching for their lost loved ones. They mourn the most fiercely.

We mourn in degrees of separation....those of us who watched helplessly on our televisions...further removed, yet mourning nonetheless. No, we could not smell the smoke, nor *feel* the wailing of the sirens....yet we mourned too.

We mourn in degrees of separation.......those of us who live in tri-state area, but especially those of us who are New Yorkers. We mourn in a different way than the rest of the country. Just as those in Washington D. C. and in Pennsylvania, and all those with loved ones on four planes mourn. We collectively mourn together in a way that the rest of the nation cannot. Oh, yes...the rest of the nation mourns....but from further away....Separated by many degrees from the anguish that we, as New Yorkers feel.

The following was posted on My Space as a bulletin. The author is unknown....

I AM A NEW YORKER
-author unknown

I am a New Yorker. I was raised on Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and Rockefeller Plaza, the Yankees or the Mets, Jones Beach or Smith Point, or one of the beaches on the sound or the bay. I know the "THE END" means Montauk. Because I am a New Yorker.

I am a New Yorker. When I go on vacation, I never look up: skyscrapers are something I take for granted. The Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty are part of me. Taxi's and noise and subways and "get outa heah" don't rattle me, because I am a New Yorker.

I am a New Yorker. I was raised on cultural diversity before it was politically correct. I eat Greek food and Italian food, Jewish and Middle Eastern food and Chinese food because they are all American food to me. I don't get mad when people speak other languages in my presence because my relatives got to this country via Ellis Island and chose to stay. They were New Yorkers.

I am a New Yorker. People who have never been to New York have misunderstood me. My friends and family work in the industries, professions and businesses that benefit all Americans. My firefighters and police officers died trying to save New Yorkers and non-New Yorkers. They died trying to save Americans and non-Americans because they were New Yorkers.

I am a New Yorker. I feel the pain of my fellow New Yorkers. I mourn the loss of part of my beautiful city. But then I remember......I am a New Yorker.

And New Yorkers have:
Tenacity, strength and courage way above the norm
Compassion and caring for our fellow citizens
Love and pride in our city, in our state, in our country
Intelligence, experience and education par excellence
Ability, dedication and energy above and beyond
Faith--no matter what religion we practice.

Terrorists hit America in its heart but America's heart still beats strong. Demolish the steel in our buildings, but it doesn't touch the steel in our souls. Hit us in the pocketbook; but we'll parlay what we have left into a fortune. End innocent lives leaving widows and orphans, but we'll talk care of them, because they are New Yorkers.

Wherever we live, whatever we do, whoever we are. There are New Yorkers in every state and every city of this nation. We will not abandon our city. We will not abandon our brothers and sisters. We will not abandon the beauty, creativity and diversity that New York represents. And most importantly, we will never forget.

Becasue we are New Yorkers.

And we are proud to be New Yorkers.

Me and Gloria

For some time now, I’ve been wondering about Condoleezza Rice. Wondering why her name has all those e’s and z’s in it? Don’t they seem unnecessary? One each would certainly do. I’ve been wondering other things too though. Like why she never looks happy. Or why I’ve never heard her speak about women’s issues at all….even in the context that one might speak about women’s issues as a Secretary of State. Yes, it’s possible she’s done so and I’ve just missed it, but I read the news on a daily basis and don’t recall reading anything she’s ever said in this regard. And even when she’s smiling, she just never really looks happy.

However, she does play the piano well… and we can all assume that she’s a very smart woman, considering she is the Secretary of State. We, as women can be proud of that accomplishment. She does not appear to be one of those warm and fuzzy people though and she certainly does not seem interested in women’s issues. Here she is, this really smart woman, who seems so out of step with the rest of her gender.

Gloria Steinem is wondering similar things about Condoleezza.

New York Times Magazine, September 3, 2006, “All About Eve” an interview by Deborah Solomon (excerpt):

“Q: Is Condoleezza Rice and ally of women?
Gloria: I wish someone would write an article called ‘How Did Condoleezza Rice Get That Way?’ She’s so separate from the welfare of the majority of Americans and especially the female and African-American communities to which she belongs.”

How weirdly cool is it that Gloria is in her house thinking about this, and I’m in mine, doing the same thing? (And she looks damn good for 72!)