Friday, June 25, 2010

Miracle on Grass

Though I am not one to be patriotic, I certainly felt emotional watching this and it did give me some sort of hope or happiness, that maybe this country can pull together and pull ourselves out of this mess. If we can bond over a soccer goal, we must be able to do something, anything, better.  And for all the American soccer haters out there, suck on this!

Monday, June 21, 2010

Summer Solstice

After much hesitation founded on intimidation
I decided to meet my friend Lindsay at Cadman Plaza for a yoga lesson, a moment of reflection for mother earth, a celebratory gesture to Summer Solctice, and also some spiritual prayers regarding the oil spill.I told my friend yesterday that I wasn't sure if I wanted to come because I was intimidated.
I blamed it on yoga, but the truth is it was the meditation and spirituality part of it. Also, the idea of doing yoga in a park was somewhat terrifying. But I forced myself out of my comfort zone and went.
When we first set up our mats, I was paranoid about my bag. What if someone just runs by and takes it? The only real thing of value in my wallet is a few dollars and my monthly subway pass but still I was nervous to sit in a park with my eyes closed. But I did it, and as Lindsay guided me to listen to all the different sounds surrounding me, I actually forgot about my bag and for a moment really sunk into the soundtrack of New York: A motorcycle, honking, footsteps, birds, rumbling from a distant train, a few guys playing soccer. I decided to just let go of all my insecurities, because that is what they really were-afraid of being looked at I suppose, and I really tried to focus. And I have to say I got a lot out of it. It was nice to step inside myself for a moment and then outside of myself and become a part of the world again. I have been following the oil spill and it has depressed me to no end. So much that the other day I turned the BBC off and picked up a Victoria's Secret catalog instead, even though I felt filthy doing it. And though I am not one to pray and have lost my belief in religion, it was nice to think of the oil spill and ask the universe to show me how to be more appreciative of the earth and pay more attention to the life surrounding me.
Even though our session was cut short due to mosquitos, I found myself leaving a little happier then when I came and though I spend a lot of my day being quiet, there was a different silence that I went home with. A silence that was serene. I found myself wanting to make myself dinner as opposed to buying it. And even though we only have eggs in the house, I made a kick ass omelette. So, a big thank you to my friend, Lindsay, and a super big Happy Summer Solstice to everyone.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Atlantic City

AC met every expectation I had.
I went for one night which was plenty.
Like Vegas with a beach.
Like Vegas, you cannot stray from the strip and if you do, the casino will ironically make you feel safe.
There is a reason I should own a pretty, sexy dress & heels even though I am not 23, and I don't go to clubs. (Put that one on my "to-do" list.)
Hangovers will be suffered. Dunkin Donuts will only enhance its effects.
A shot of whiskey is never a good idea after midnight.
It is important to be silly and even more important to completely cut lose.
Like Vegas, it is more about the party you bring than the town you're in. Although the town makes fun a lot more easy.
Pack bandaids.

Sunday, June 13, 2010


the world cup has begun and so far i have tried to watch almost every match
that will change with the start of the work week
since all three matches air between the hours of 7:00am- 4:00p.m.
But I am hoping I can watch some on my computer at ESPN or
anyway, today i had an incredible day
lots of house cleaning but then mike and i made nachos, cracked open a cold beer,
and watched the germany vs australia game
a sunday afternoon does not get much better than that
watching soccer i can literally feel my heart jump with certain plays, goals, blocks, passes
and i'm reminded of how much i love this sport, what it was for me as a kid
and then why i left the sport just before college
but i am so grateful it came back into my life
even if i act like a lunatic
it makes me want to get back to the "mental" kind of player i used to be
i was the kind of player that could lose my cool but then just pump that energy back into my game
now i just lose my cool
there is a discipline in soccer, a grace and finesse
it is a sport with elegance
and watching these pros reminds me that good sportsmanship isn't just good manners
but a part of the mental game of soccer
without a good head about you, the game is not soccer,
its just a chicken coop.
so cheers to you amazing players around the globe and the ones playing in South Africa, too.
this beer is for you.

Thursday, June 10, 2010


i sit down to write
and hours go by with nothing on the page
i decide to write, ink to paper, to see if it will help
like it did in the olds days.

i keep saying i don't want to be angry
that i'm not angry
and through my handwritten entry
i realize that i am very angry

she tells me i have a lot to be angry about
but i have no fight in me, i tell her
i am tired all of the time
and someone giving me the finger took the wind out of my sails

i am a house of cards
i am stuck in space and time
or maybe just a blank white screen
but either way, it's lonely out here

i go through the motions
i try to care, try to connect
and i find the only way i can is to post it publicly
on a blog
who is read by the people i should be reaching out to.

so maybe it is alright that i can blog
even though i cannot write.
"I've been living narrative that was not my own"
I keep telling myself that to make sense of my feelings.

but that poses a big dilemma when you have put
a deposit down on an expensive writing workshop
with no-fucking-story.
i am just beginning this narrative.

i write something about my Dad,
but it is more about how are relationship
changed with one sentence
"Maybe you're mother did it."

I write that it is as if I have been looking
through a kaleidoscope at the same damn image
and something came along and finally rotated it for me.
"the world is prismatic," senora tells me.

I wish someone had told me sooner.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

pretty damn good

"he looks happier than i've seen him in a long time"
"yeah...that's the mike i know," i say
his smile natural, open, like he is taking a breath of fresh air.
he is happy in movement
when in the process of moving his hands
building, creating, loving
i take a moment and drink him in
damn, he's cute
and i am overcome with gratitude
i am one lucky girl
and in between him reaching for a fork and handing me a fork
i feel this burst of warmth
and a renewed sense of confidence.
there are not many decisions i have made that i can say were the right ones
except for him
perhaps the only decision
and my heart melts when he smiles at me, fork in hand, under a sweaty baseball cap.
my life is pretty damn good.  

Monday, June 7, 2010


i tried to play soccer the other night
but i just got lost on the field
the heat like a cloak of suppression
choking the life right out of me.
i get beat again and again
and i wonder where my heart has gone
where my spirit is hiding
and i realize that i am alone out there
even though i came to play with my team.
the loneliness, the heat, the frustration
all roil to the top
in a swirl of perfectly fermented emotion.
i am looking for a fight
and i find one
but i find my bite is louder than my bark
and in the end, i am the one who leaves with my tail between my legs.
i want to care about something
but everything is exhausting
i want to play like my old self
without becoming my old self
just what exactly is involved in the process of growth?
they tell me i should talk about it
take notes
take time
be good to myself
and so i do.
but every time i move, it jumps all over me
and i feel myself collapsing under the weight of it all.
so i continue to go through some motions,
in case one day i will care again
and i will want these things in my life
even if it is a lonely soccer field and pages of bad poetry.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

just you and me, washing machine

i keep trying to write
but all that comes are bursts
of broken lines
or play by plays of scenes
devoid of emotion
or even worse
description of emotion.
i have these stories inside me
but i don't know how to get them out
and perhaps it is because they are too close-
they have always been too close.
so i begin reading a book
"the situation and the story"
and i realize that i am living in the situation
but i don't have the story yet;
the story i always wrote is no longer true.
i tried to read a three page piece I wrote a year ago and was turned off
by the anger and judgment  in the first paragraph.
was i always that naive?
or just that blinded?
i fill my time alone with tasks
to avoid sitting down and facing my computer,
to avoid admitting what i know now to be true-
that we were all wrong, but too damn scared to change it.
and all its left me with is this maddening cycle of regret, remorse, guilt, relief,
the relief triggering guilt and the whole damn cycle repeats
like a washing machine that has a load that keeps knock it off balance
soon, the machine might flood
and what will we do then about all those lost socks?
i tell my writing mentor that every night i sit down to write and all that is coming out is really bad poetry.
why change things now?