Happy New What?!

Sorry my blog family I have forsaken you toward the end of last year. I started a transformation at the turn of the new year. During the last two weeks of December, my boyfriend and I moved back into the city. With the help of the foreclosure gods, we came to the decision that we would give up our home for something more affordable. It was a struggle, but we are starting to emerge from the pit of uncertainty and defeat we put on ourselves. We are realizing what may seem like the worst thing in the world may be what you needed all along. Our household will dust off the shackles of debt and poor living choices and will find ourselves victorious in the end. It is horrendous taking a three bedroom two car garage and condensing it into a two bedroom apartment. We are not very happy about the lack of privacy and the shared living space, but we know this is a step that we must take to be where we want to be.

It is a new year and most of us make resolutions. Most will break the resolutions and in a month reach for that cigarette or eat that piece of cheesecake or let the treadmill become a dusty clothes dryer, so why put ourselves through the frustration? I look back every year and say, "Damn, just think if I would've been steadfast to my resolutions?" This year I have vowed not to take part in the resolutions ritual. I've vowed that the changes that I want to make now and in the future will not become a burden. I don't have to be a slave to my own convictions. I can flub up, look in the mirror and feel that I am not a disappointment.

You're Never Promised Tomorrow

Last night while stuffing my face with marble cake with chocolate icing...a definite no-no, I saw a news blurb on the death of 32 year-old actress Brittany Murphy. Of course I spit out my cake when the broadcaster said she died of full cardiac arrest. She left behind a husband and a cast of family and friends. The L.A. coroner is unsure, but it is told that the arrest is due to natural causes. Of course it will take a while for toxicology and other autopsy results to come back.

NATURAL CAUSES!!! How does a 32 year-old woman die of natural causes? It hits home because I am 31 years-old. We don't know when it is our time. We don't know how we will go? We just need to remember to live life to the fullest. We need to tell the people that we love that we love them everyday. Live, love and dance like there is no tomorrow.

Here is my homage to Brittany. A friend and I were reliving a great Brittany moment, "Rolling Wit the Homies" last Friday before her untimely death. Rest in Peace, Brittany. I hope that you found peace and thanks for sharing your life and craft with others.

What You Won't Do...

Someone close to me just found out that the man she loves has lied to her...once again! She will forgive this person and continue to let him slide in and out of her life. See...that is how you come to the realization you "fell" in love with a person. Love makes you do some ludicrous shit! An otherwise stable person will lose all scruples when under the influence of love.

I remember times when I "fell" in love. Bending over backwards to make this person your world and he can't even call you when he promised. Running and completing his every whim; only to be waiting two hours at Houlihan's alone because he stood you up once again. You surrender your body, mind and spirit to this person leaving you empty and weak. You confront the person in regards to his ill treatment, he twist your words and get angry at you. You  now apologize to him because you are convinced it somehow is your fault. The relationship is the world's tallest and fastest roller coaster, when you're up...it's fucking great. When you're down...the hurt cuts to your core. But you are in love and scared to be alone.

Bobby Caldwell's song, "What You Won't Do For Love", sums it up very nicely:

What you won't do, do for love

You tried everything
But you don't give up
In my world only you
Make me do for love
What I would not do

I finally woke up one day, tired of the pain and tears. I realized I deserved so much better. His actions were not made from love. I weened myself from the drug of "falling" in love. I relapsed many different times and with different people, each rehab session becoming harder to work through.

I once heard an acquaintance of mine say you never "fall" in love; when you fall you get hurt. He is right...I still have the scars.

(photo from photobucket)

The Art of Reinvention

Over the past few months I've been seeing a therapist. No, I'm not crazy; I just wanted to get feedback from someone who's not invested in my life; someone who can give an unbiased opinion. At one session I compared myself to a building. I wanted to demolish the building down to the foundation and reconstruct myself. I've gone through life using building blocks and tools from other's buildings; the mortar and brick of religion, the nails and rods of other's worry and pain. Now that my building is almost complete, I see nothing of myself. My therapist was astonished by my epiphany. Her face brightens as she questioned how I would deconstruct 31 years of my life and rebuild from the aftermath.

People go through renovation periodically. Harper's Bazaar had a great article in its new January 2010 issue on reinvention. The article focused on celebrities and designers like Madonna (the master of physical reinvention), Marc Jacobs and Karl Lagerfeld. These individuals took their physical appearance and molded themselves into the symbols they are today.

A major renovation of self is displayed by the ex-escort gone columnist, Ashley Dupre. The escort of former New York Governor, Eliot Spitzer. She has transformed herself, with the help of the New York Post, from madam to sex and relationship columnist.

I am starting my journey of reconstruction and renovation, but how does one renovate themselves internally?


http://www.nypost.com/p/news/local/spitzer_babe_answers_4duaVqTCJHA38suGawuaiM

Invictus

I had to learn this poem and recite it in front of my seventh grade class. This poem is always on my mind. It feeds me when I am hungry. It picks me up when I am down. Funny how things never leave you.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley

Through the eyes of a child

Begging and pleading, my three-year-old niece pulls my arm as she sees the colorful wonder before her. The excitement bubbles out of her small frame. Unable to contain herself, she jumps in place as she looks at the six foot mouse come from his safe haven. Other children start to run to the mouse with lightening in their steps. Screams of pure bliss fill the restaurant. Cameras are flashing as adults try to capture the innocence of this moment. That moment when joy makes the world stand still.

My niece starts to shout at the top of her lungs. She is unaware that her mother had to beg Peter and rob Paul for this occasion. She doesn't see the pain of society's woes that awaits past the balloons and out the front doors. She is oblivious to war and hate. She can't contrast life and death. She doesn't know about politics or religion. All she sees is a six foot mouse and children clamoring to get his attention.

As I look around at this one point in time, I remember to cherish all of her childhood moments. Trying to see what she sees; trying not to realize that happiness can be fleeting.

"AUNTIE...can we go play now?"
"Yes, my love, let's go play."