What can I say… I love a good meme.

Whether it’s the ‘hide ya kids, hide ya wife’ guy, or my dear, dear Sweet Brown (LORD JESUS IT’S A FIRE!!), I embrace all the weirdness of the internet.  

Don’t even get me started on the ‘goats yelling like humans’ videos.  I could watch them all day.  Actually, I think I may have. 

But a few months ago, I stumbled across a new internet fad.  A sad (er, angry?) looking feline affectionately known as… Grumpy Cat.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeee!!  LOOK AT IT!

The thing is, I don’t like cats.  But I feel a special connection with this little lady (yes, Grumpy Cat is a girl — even better!).  Maybe because I’ve been called ‘grumpy’ a few times in my life…. 

On the left - me at my nursery school graduation.  And as you can see… beaming with joy.

Grumpy Cat has grown to become my animal soulmate; we are a kindred spirit and we share a common bond: we are both cranky and have an adverse reaction to joy and positivity. We also hate mornings and we like to complain.  A lot.

Oh man.  I get you, Grumpy Cat.  I totally get you.

So today’s post is dedicated to my favorite thing on the internet right now, and quite possibly, my favorite thing on the internet EVER.  

I’ve never related to another person or thing so much in my entire life.  Ya know, it’s almost like we’re the same person….

“I had fun once.  It was awful.”

Approximately 6:05 pm:  I’m in the locker room of New York Sports Club, changing into my gym gear.  And that’s when I hear it.

It’s faint, and at first I can’t tell who it’s coming from, but I’ve clearly identified what the sound is.  HUMMING.  

Someone in my vicinity was humming.  While in the gym locker room.  It lasted for the entire time I was in there, and I went from noticing it, to being mildly irritated, to getting really annoyed….. to nearly exploding in a fit of rage and smashing the culprit’s head against a locker.

But… I digress.  That little humming episode got me thinking about a little thing called Gym Etiquette; AKA the unspoken rules that members should all follow when working out in a public place around other human beings.  It’s kind of an unnatural and awkward situation — you’re in a building with a bunch of sweaty people operating heavy machinery, making weird faces while in unflattering positions — so it’s important that we all adhere to certain rules and guidelines to make it a better experience for everyone involved.

Ladies and gents, I bring you… Gym Etiquette 101.  

Too Much Nekked-ness.  Not to sound like Patsy Prude over here, but, girls? Your blase attitude when it comes to nudity is making me (and several others, I’m sure) extremely uncomfortable.  It’s one thing to get undressed and changed in a normal fashion while in the company of others, but it is quite another to be bee-bopping around the locker room like you’re in a nudist colony.  I’ve seen girls standing in front of the mirror; applying makeup or blow-drying their hair STARK naked, and I’ve seen them standing in the middle of the room organizing their handbags, having casual conversations, or bent over while lotioning their legs.  

(Fellas: before you get excited at the visual of this… think less Heidi Klum and think more Lena Dunham).  

This reminds me of a Seinfeld episode where Jerry dated a woman who was perpetually in the nude, and while his guy friends expressed their jealousy, he pointed out that there are a number of things women do NOT look attractive doing sans clothing.  One example?  Struggling to open a jar. (Ew).

That said, be comfortable with your body, ladies.  You don’t need to change in a bathroom stall or while awkwardly trying to cover yourself up.  But MAYBE, just maybe, you could refrain from practically doing lunges without your damn clothes on.  

Hygiene. Sigh.  I can’t believe I actually have to say this.  Would you guys mind showering?  Daily?  Wearing deodorant, perhaps?  I get it; we don’t all smell like daisies after a workout sesh, but if you’re clean BEFORE your workout, the chances of you smelling like rancid garbage AFTER your workout are slimmer.  I’ve literally left my machine or area because someone near me smelled so bad, and unfortunately it’s very difficult to work out while holding your breath.  

Oh, and do us a favor and try to refrain from bodily functions.  

Don’t Hover.  Oh, you want this machine I’m on?  You can pretty much guarantee that if you hover or stand too close while watching me, I’m only going to take longer.  And if I’m in one of my moods?  I’ll probably stop and stare right back at you with a look on my face that says, “IF YOU DON’T WALK AWAY I WILL LITERALLY STAY ON THIS MACHINE UNTIL THE GYM CLOSES.”

Same goes for the water fountain.  If I’m using it, and you want to use it next, just stand a few feet away and wait.  If I can see you in my peripheral and you’re too close, again, I will drink so much water that my entire body will explode.

Mind Your Business.  When I’m on a cardio machine (treadmill, elliptical, etc.) I will often use the attached television, depending on how I feel that day.  Sometimes, I’ll notice that the person working out next to me chose NOT to watch their television — but instead, has decided to watch mine.  Have you ever been on the train and felt someone reading your newspaper or book over your shoulder?  It’s extremely uncomfortable and annoying.  Listen, lady, if you want to watch TMZ, put it on your own damn TV.  We’re not friends who are hanging out on my couch watching a show together.  Knock it off.

Similarly, don’t look at my machine to see how fast I’m going/what resistance level I’m on/how long I’ve been on it.  We are not participating in some kind of gym race, and I don’t want to feel like you’re judging my running speed.  Which yes, I’m aware, is slow.

Don’t be a Creep.  Guys, that’s for you.  We’re not interested.

Don’t make those gross grunting noises, either.

Bad Phone Behavior.  Contrary to popular belief, updating your Facebook status does not burn calories.  Taking up space at the gym when all you’re doing is scrolling through Instagram or sending long emails is pissing everyone off…so please, put the phone away.

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See guys, this isn’t so hard!  Just follow these few simple rules and you won’t be the person at the gym that everyone hates.

Did I miss any other gym faux pas?

As a self-proclaimed book nerd; I’m always looking for new things to read.  

While perusing GoodReads for the next novel, memoir or biography that I could order for my Kindle, I stumbled upon a book — well, it’s an essay, really — called ‘Here is New York’ by E.B White.  Only 58 pages long, it was published in 1949 and it’s considered to be a famous “love letter” to New York City.

I was sold.

I read ‘Here is New York’ in about two days, and one thing that struck me right away is how so many things about my beloved city were once so drastically different, and yet so much has remained the same, 64 years later.  The author describes the city in such beautiful and accurate detail (the good AND the bad), and often notes all the changes that have taken place since he had visited Manhattan as a child.  

The essay got me thinking.  What is it about NYC?  The pride and hubris that comes with this city is larger and more powerful than any other place in the world.  Although I had grown up in a town in Long Island that’s only about 40 minutes away from Manhattan, I didn’t come here often as a child.  Field trips, sure.  The occasional Broadway play or heading to see the tree at Rockefeller Center at Christmas?  Yeah, I did all that.  But I didn’t really get a taste for the Big Apple until I graduated college and started working here, playing here, and quite frankly; loving it here.

I immediately knew it was where I belonged.  Unlike some, I loved the hustle and bustle, the chaos, and the fast-paced nature.  I loved the lights, the sounds, and the tall buildings.  I loved the culture, the different and unique kinds of people, and the liberal and accepting nature of the island.  I loved often seeing and running into famous and notable people.  And years later, those are all of the things I still love about this place.

I’ve worked in Manhattan for about nine years (with some small little breaks in there) and have lived here for almost four.  I often find myself walking around and thinking to myself, I can’t believe I actually live here. It’s easily one of — if not THE most — famous cities in the world, and I get to reside in it.  So many people dream of coming here; of making something of themselves here, or even just getting the chance to visit, just once.  And it’s never lost on me that I am able to write down “New York, New York” as my address. 

There’s a reason there are countless songs and television shows and movies either written about or taking place in NYC.  I’m not hearing many songs written about Albuquerque, New Mexico or Omaha, Nebraska.  No offense to those places.  

The truth is, people write and sing about New York for a reason.  It’s a remarkable place and something that I’m truly proud to be a part of.  One of my absolute favorite parts of living here is the fact that you never need a plan.  Just walk out your door, and go.  Excitement and adventure will find you.  

…………………………………………………………………………..

I know that New York isn’t for everyone, though, and that not everyone shares the same love and affection I have for this town.  It isn’t perfect; it can be a tough and scary place, and I do understand why some people would NOT bode well here.  Sometimes I get to see it through other people’s eyes when out-of-towners come to visit, and it’s not always the glamorous, luxurious place you see in movies.  Sometimes, it stinks.  Literally and figuratively. 

Living in New York means being in a relationship with New York.  There are ups and downs, highs and lows, and love and hate.  

But in the essay ‘Here is New York,’ E.B White describes why New Yorkers put up with the things we do.  I’ll let him explain:

Mass hysteria is a terrible force, yet New Yorkers seem always to escape it by some tiny margin: they sit in stalled subways without claustrophobia, they extricate themselves from panic situations by some lucky wisecrack, they meet confusion and congestion with patience and grit — a sort of perpetual muddling through.  Every facility is inadequate — the hospitals and schools and playgrounds are overcrowded, the express highways are feverish, the unimproved highways and bridges are bottlenecks; there is not enough air and not enough light; and there is usually either too much heat or too little.  But the city makes up for its hazards and its deficiencies by supplying its citizens with massive doses of a supplementary vitamin —- the sense of belonging to something unique, cosmopolitan, mighty and unparalleled.  

This was written 64 years ago… and yet I couldn’t have said it better myself.  

And it’ll happen once again

You’ll turn to a friend

Someone that understands

And sees through the master plan

But everybody’s gone

And you’ve been there for too long

To face this on your own

Well, I guess this is growing up

—Blink 182

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First off, I apologize for quoting Blink 182. 

However, this song kept popping into my head when I thought about writing this post, and going back to that theme I love so much:

Growing up.

It’s a part of life, right?  I can’t pretend that I’m the same person I was five years ago; hell, I might not even be the same exact person I was one year ago.  But when you turn 30, it starts to become painstakingly apparent how much things are changing around you; and you can’t do shit about it.  

In our early 20s, life is about fun.  Careless, irresponsible fun with reckless abandon.  We go out too much, stay out too late. poison our bodies, do things we probably shouldn’t, and live for our friends.  Everything is sporadic and adventurous, and there’s always a story to tell the next morning. 

We realize this lifestyle can’t last forever, though, and things change once we hit our mid-to-late 20s.  Now we actually have to care about our jobs, being responsible, and taking care of ourselves.  Many of us tend to get into serious relationships, which calm our lifestyles down a bit.  We’re still going out and having fun, but maybe not as often.  We spend more time at home or with our families, and even start to enjoy the once foreign concept of ‘relaxing.’  

But then, something happens. We get even older, hit that awkward crossroad age of 30, AND. THINGS. CHANGE.  Like, a lot.

Long gone are the days where you sporadically call up your friends and say “wanna do something tonight?!”  Instead, we make plans weeks in advance, entering reminders into our Smartphones and Google calendars; treating our social encounters like business meetings.  Everyone’s busy and all over the place, so group get-together’s take months to plan.  If they even get planned at all.  

Most friends are now married and that doesn’t really change anything, but then the babies come flying in.  You look around at gatherings with friends and instead of just seeing the usual scene:  beer bottles, red Solo cups and little white balls (hehe) for beer pong, you’ll see a few NEW items added to the mix: baby monitors, sippy cups and diaper bags.  If your friends with kids even come out at all.

Whoa.

You’ll even start to notice how some people who once participated in the social debauchery of your past are now MIA.  Bars, parties?  Ain’t nobody got time for that anymore! (OK, I’ve officially MURDERED that quote, by the way).  Sure, it’s sad when friends disappear, but such is life.  People not only grow up, but also grow apart.

But don’t be alarmed my little kiddies; being in your 30s isn’t so bad.  This is a part of life; we have to constantly evolve, adapt and change when it does.  I think it’s just become grossly apparent in the past year or so that I’m not ready to fully ‘grow up.’  There’s a part of me that wants to milk my youth for all it’s worth; to enjoy every moment, and damnit… to still have fun.  And that I do.  

I kind of enjoy the divide of having friends on opposite sides of the spectrum; those who are legitimate adults who do adult-like things, and those who still like to revert back to their 20s.  I like to think I have a little of both qualities, so I can play either side.  

It makes me laugh to myself, though, when I hear that some of my friends are excited that they found the perfect back-splash tile for their kitchen, and here I am, excited that I scored Bruno Mars tickets.  They’re online during the day researching new washing machines, and I’m on clothing websites.  They trade recipes and discuss elaborate meals they’ve cooked, and I go home and eat scrambled eggs for dinner.

Friends make these grand declarations of really big life decisions they’ve made; “I think I’m ready to have a baby.”  I announce, with the same amount of thought behind my decision, “I think I’m going to cut bangs.”

But, hey — I wouldn’t trade the life I have for a second.  It’s the perfect dichotomy of 20-something fun, mixed with grown-up activities and responsibility.  One Saturday I might be out until 3am, and the next week I’m home, falling asleep to Saturday Night Live.

Sure, I read articles on CNN and I’m up on current events, but I also religiously check ‘Suri’s Burn Book’ and watch Catfish on MTV.

Matt and I went to brunch with my cousins (complete with unlimited mimosas) for three hours this past Sunday, and then went to Macy’s and bought a new iron since his broke days before.  Look at that!  The perfect blend of immaturity and adulthood!

I won’t lie to you and say that sometimes I don’t pine for the “old days,” and wish that my friends and I could go back to The Way We Were, but alas, that’s not how the world works.  

I guess this is growing up.

If you live in or around Manhattan, it’s essential that you partake in all the activities, history, culture, and unique experiences that this great city has to offer.  

Go to the museums, famous landmarks, parks, and bridges.  Take in a Broadway show or head to Lincoln Center for the Ballet.  Go to a taping of the Daily Show or a concert at BB Kings.  

Orrrrr, ya know, go to a restaurant where you eat in complete darkness, are served by blind waiters, and have no idea what you’re eating.

…Say what now??

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I’m still not quite sure how the hell she found out about this place, but when my sister-in-law Nicki sent me the link to ‘Dans Le Noir’ I *literally* laughed out loud at my desk at work.  After clicking the link I immediately stumbled upon this sentence:

“Dinner in the total darkness, guided and served by blind people, is a unique experience that changes our perception of the world by reversing points of view.”

You’re kidding, right?  What do you mean ‘served by blind people?!’  Like, BLIND blind?  Ray Charles blind?  And you eat in a pitch black room?? What the hell is this place?!

Needless to say, I love an adventure.

Fast forward one week later, and Matt, my brother Mike, Nicki and I were sitting at the bar at Dans Le Noir (which, in French, translates to ‘In The Black’) being instructed by a blind host and a man from Barcelona about how our night was gonna go down.  Waivers were signed, our personal belongings (especially anything that emitted light) were put in lockers, and we were told to select one of the four menus: White (Surprise), Red (“Land Animals,” AKA- meat), Blue (Seafood) or Green (Vegetarian).

Matt and Mike were brave and chose White, so I did too.  Nicki hates seafood, so she went with Red to avoid getting anything from ‘Unda Da Sea.’  The nice Barcelonian (not a word) man instructed us that while we won’t know what we’re being served, this ain’t an episode of Fear Factor, and we wouldn’t be dining on Cow Eyeballs or Flamingo Testicles or anything like that.  So, that was comforting.

He also explained how we all tend to ‘eat with our eyes,’ meaning we identify what our food is by seeing it, which then affects how we think it tastes.  For example, I can SEE I’m eating salmon, so that’s why I know it TASTES like salmon.  But, if I’m served salmon in TOTAL darkness and I can’t see it?  There’s a good chance I don’t have a clue WHAT I’m eating.  He told us that in the dark, people often think they’re even drinking red wine when it’s actually white, and vice versa.  Sounds implausible, but don’t underestimate the power of vision.

That said, what’s the deal with the blind waiters then?  Well, sure, it’s a way for the guests of the restaurant to get a feel for what it’s like to be in their situation, but even more important, it becomes an interesting role reversal where the blind server actually becomes YOUR guide.  They know what it’s like to be blind; you don’t.  They know their way around the restaurant; you don’t.  They know how to eat, drink, walk, work and get around without the luxury of sight.  You don’t.

Gives new meaning to “the blind leading the blind.”

Before heading to the dark dining room, we met our awesome and hilarious (and of course, blind) waiter Sam.  Sam gave us the low-down of how we were going to find our way to our seats: you’d put your left hand on the left shoulder of the person in front of you, and make a ‘human train.’  (NOT to be confused with a Human Centipede, which Matt grossly made a joke about.)

So, we began to move.  We made it through the big velvet curtain and BAM!  If you want to know what it looked like in the restaurant, well, here you go:

I’m. Not. Kidding.

Until you experience something like this for yourself, you really can’t properly explain it.  Once we all were individually shown to our seats, we had to rely on our four other human sense organs to figure out what the F was going on.  We learned how to pour ourselves water from a pitcher (Folks, that ain’t easy.  Let me tell ya.) and had to feel around for our utensils.  Have you ever tried to use utensils when you can’t see a damn thing?  OF COURSE YOU HAVEN’T.  And it’s goddamn impossible!!!!  

Once the first course arrived, we realized we had to dig in — no, literally, I mean with our hands — to feel around for what was on our plate.  You’d also attempt to use your sense of smell to determine what you were about to shove in your mouth as well.  And that’s when, quite frankly, shit got hilarious.  Conversations at our table sounded like this:

“OK, I just ate something cold and round… what is this?  Like a stuffed mushroom or something?”

“Yeah, I had that too.  It’s definitely a stuffed mushroom.”

<Side note: we found out later that it was NOT a stuffed mushroom.>

“What is the meat?  Is it chicken?  It might be chicken.  Oh wait, no, it might be steak.  Is it steak?”

<It wasn’t either of those.>

“What’s the jiggly thing on the lower left part of the plate?”

“What jiggly thing?  I don’t have a jiggly thing!”

“Guys, what’s the thing that’s like a mini thimble that you can stick your thumb in?!”

<Yes, that was me.>

“Hahahaha you stuck your thumb in something?!?!”

“I’m not gonna lie, Al — I stuck my thumb in it too.”

<Andddddddd that would be my brother.>

“ALI ARE YOU STILL THERE?”

“Yes, where the hell would I go?!  I can’t see shit!  I’ve just been concentrating on trying to refill my water glass.”

“Oh, crap, I definitely just spilled food on my shirt.”

“EW!”

“Okay I am totally eating spaghetti with my hands right now.”

“You just hit me in the head!”

“Are these meatballs?” 

“Sam?”

“Haaaaaa, Ali, I know you hate onions but I’m pretty sure that bread thingy had onions on it!”

<It didn’t.>

“Do you guys have your eyes open or closed?”

For 60+ minutes, we laughed like little schoolgirls, chatted with the other people at our table, and ate three different plates of mystery food, including dessert.  Sam also provided us with not only assistance but some comic relief as well — when Matt asked where he was at one point, Sam gave him a deadpan response: “I’m right here; what are you blind or somethin?”

I won’t divulge any details about the food we ate (they show you the menu after so you can identify everything) in case you ever decide to brave Dans Le Noir yourself.  I have to say, it was SUCH an eye-opening (ha!) and cool experience and I totally recommend that you go if you can.

Prepare to be terrified at first, then to laugh your ass off, and then be completely disoriented when you finally get to emerge back into the light (not gonna lie; it feels like you’re staring directly into a Solar Eclipse).

But Sam was right when he said, “You’ll go out to eat at other restaurants in the future, and I promise, you won’t forget about Dans Le Noir.”  

It’s true; it really was unforgettable.   

…but it’ll be nice to be out to dinner and NOT have to eat rice with my hands.

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http://newyork.danslenoir.com/

Motivation: the general desire or willingness of someone to do something.

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Where does motivation come from?  Whether we need it for dieting, chores, errands or activities - what does one have to do to get motivated?

I’ve been pretty vocal about how I feel about working out, and my disdain for the gym had made it very difficult for me to get there regularly.  I’d go a couple times a week, find it to be completely dreadful, and then stop going.  After a few days (er, weeks?) off, I’d feel guilty and then pick it back up again.  But I’d bitch about having to go, wish I was doing something — ANYTHING — else while I was there, and would then get annoyed when I didn’t immediately have a body worthy of being on the cover of Sport Illustrated Swimsuit edition.  

I’d feel crappy about this, so I’d try to find motivation in some cute, gimmicky way.  You know the deal; you go on Pinterest and ‘pin’ a bunch of workouts (OK, fine, you’re not actually DOING the workouts, but maybe it burns calories when you pin them?  All that mouse clicking?  No?) or motivational quotes. You buy cute gym clothes.  You see pictures of Jennifer Aniston in a bikini and instantly feel like an ogre and are inspired to change.  You give yourself a pep talk in the mirror.  “Listen, fatty, we’re gonna start going to the gym and eating right and that’s it!  No more excuses!” 

Maybe it works.  Maybe you work out for a day or two.  Maybe you go the entire week.  But does it stick?  If you’re me… no.  No it does not.

But something happened to me recently. One day, I brought my gym bag to work and completely changed my attitude.  I basically took on the mentality of the world famous Nike slogan.

Just Do It.

Don’t think about how the gym sucks, and how you don’t want to go, and how you’d rather be home eating microwave popcorn on your couch.  Just go.  Don’t even think twice about going, don’t have an internal debate about whether or not to go, and don’t make excuses.  Just f%$&*ing GO.  

I did it for one week, which then rolled into another week, and then another….. and now it’s been over a month of going steadily and without complaints.  OK, fine, there are SOME complaints.  

But overall?  I’ve actually started not minding the gym.  Or dare I say… liking it?  Once you start doing something regularly, it becomes a part of your routine and you don’t want to stray or break from it.  There are plenty of nights where I leave work completely drained and exhausted, but before I can start talking myself out of going, I find myself just walking into the gym across the street from my office without even thinking.  

We put so much thought and effort into all of our decisions; we over-think and over-analyze and overly discuss our every little move.  But all the time we spend doing that just deters us from actually DOING things.  We’re killing any shred of motivation we actually have, when the answer and solution is always pretty clear:  Just. Do. It. 

This doesn’t have to be related solely to the gym or working out, but it can pertain to anything in life we need or want to do.  Stop talking and thinking, and make your move. 

….What are you waiting for?

“There’s the kind of support you ask for, and the kind of support you don’t ask for, and then there’s the kind that just shows up.”  

—Carrie, Sex and the City

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

I’m that annoying feminist “I don’t need a man’s help” type girl.  You see me struggling with my heavy bag?  DON’T WORRY I’M FINE I GOT IT.  Notice I’m not able to open a jar?  JUST GIVE ME A MINUTE, I’LL GET IT.

I’m sure it’s frustrating for guys who have to date stubborn and difficult women like this (yes, I’m looking at you, Matt) but I pride myself on being strong, independent and self-reliant.

…Until Thursday night.  

I’ve talked about my debilitating migraines in earlier posts, and after suffering for them for most of my adult life, I’ve been able to manage them with slight changes in my lifestyle/diet and also prescription medication.  But everyyyyy once in a while, when things align just right (or, in my case, WRONG) I get a doozy of a headache that leaves me completely incapacitated.

Like Thursday night.

I woke up around 1am with an excruciating pain in my left eye/temple and an overall feeling of just general awfulness. I sat up in bed to take one of my prescription pills, and Matt took notice of a routine he’s seen way too many times.  Before I knew it, he was out of bed and back into the room with my ‘headache arsenal,” which consists of a big glass of water and an ice pack (with a small towel wrapped around it).

When that didn’t work, and I was up in agonizing pain for a few more hours, he got up again and came back with the heating pad.  

When that didn’t work, and the nausea kicked in, I found myself running into the bathroom and stuck my head in the toilet — only to realize, Matt was there, standing right behind me.  Around four hours had passed since I initially woke up with the Headache from Hell, and he was along for the ride…. whether I wanted him to be or not.

This joyful experience went on for several more hours (don’t migraines sound like a blast?) and every agonizing minute that passed, Matt was there to help, to get me what I needed, and to just be there.  When the ice pack got warm, he put it back in the freezer and came back with a makeshift version with ice cubes in a Ziplock bag.  When that eventually melted, he got another one.

At 7am, he grabbed my work Blackberry and drafted an email to my coworkers telling them that I wouldn’t be coming into work that day.  He then instructed me to try and sleep, and eventually, I did. 

Around 10am the next morning I woke up feeling migraine-free, extremely exhausted and as if I’d been hit by a mack truck.  When I emerged from the bedroom (looking a HOT MESS from the previous night’s adventures, might I add) Matt was in the kitchen and asked how I was feeling.  I told him I felt better, and thanked him for the terrible all-nighter he pulled for me.

“Of course,” he said to me, like it was no big deal, and then followed it up by saying, “Can I get you anything?”

As if he hadn’t done enough.

I’m a lucky girl, and I MIGHT just let him carry my grocery bags from now on.  Turns out, sometimes it feels good to be taken care of.

I’m on the pursuit of happiness and I know 

Everything that shines ain’t always gonna be gold…

-Kid Cudi

Wayyyyy back in 1776, the Founding Fathers of our country signed a little document called the Declaration of Independence.  Ever heard of it?  One of the most well-known phrases in that document — or perhaps the ONLY known phrase in that document — is:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.

Happiness, eh?  So does this mean that our government, along with granting us certain rights and freedoms, actually believes that the citizens of the US have an inalienable right to be happy?!  That’s certainly… nice of them.  

But how many of us actually DO pursue happiness?  How many of us actually feel we deserve happiness in our lives?

Sometimes I stop and think about life, and how we spend our time living it.  We are literally thrown into school at a young age and then once we depart from that chapter, we’re forced to work in some capacity (unless, of course, we are incredibly wealthy or say, the offspring of some overly successful and rich people).  So even though we were given this ONE life, and are constantly told to ‘live it to the fullest;’ we spend a majority of our time in places like school and the office, because… well, we have to.

Since we have no choice and in most cases need to spend our adult lives earning a living, where exactly does that happiness factor in?  Well, for starters, you should like your job.  If you love it?  Even better.  But I know and remember what it’s like to HATE your job, and since I spent about 50+ hours a week there, I didn’t feel the happiness that the Declaration of Independence told me I deserved.  

On the other end, not many people have to work every day of the week or for the entire day for that matter (at least I hope not) so perhaps the happiness part comes in during those times and moments that belong to us.  We don’t have to be anywhere and do anything — maybe it’s a weeknight or the weekend, or a vacation.  In those times, I think it’s important to do what makes us truly happy.  Hobbies, interests, shows, concerts, time with friends and family, pets, or travels.  We realize all too often just how short our time on earth really is: we lose loved ones or watch the news and hear about those whose lives have been cut short.  When things like that happen, we are faced with our own mortality and have to wonder — when my time comes and I look back on how I lived my life, was I happy?  Did I do the things I wanted to do?  Live the way I wanted to live?  

Going back to the working world, almost exactly nine months ago, I got a new job after being let go from the one I hated.  I quickly realized after a few weeks of working here that I was really fortunate, and immediately felt like I was filling a void that had been previously unfulfilled.  After years of working and either feeling very ‘eh’ about my job/position or straight-up DESPISING it, I finally learned what it’s like to feel, dare I say, happy?  I realized what a difference it made to feel happy at work, especially since I spent so much time there.  When I hated my last job, my only saving graces were the other things in my life that were great — friends, family, social life, etc.

I think it’s hard to find happiness in all realms of your life — but it is possible.  And, you owe it to a bunch of old Caucasian dudes with white hair who actually put it in writing that they want you to be happy.  So if you’re not gonna do it for you, do it for ol’ Thomas Jefferson.  

Coincidentally, as I was writing this post - I stumbled upon this picture on Instagram from an actual street in NYC:

After doing a bit of research, I then found a Facebook page that explained the movement and origin of the picture.  Apparently, happiness is very hot right now.  

So what are you waiting for?  Life is short.  Get Happy. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NvgzNEPhYQA

_________________________________________________

Happiness Here site: http://themazeking.com/

Well I never lived the dreams of the prom kings

And the drama queens

I’d like to think the best of me

Is still hiding

Up my sleeve

-John Mayer

————————————————————————————————————

Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion.  She’s All That.  Juno.  The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

What do all these movies have in common?  Well, first off, I watched all of them yesterday in my lazy and completely unproductive state — but also, they’re all movies about high school.

Ah, high school?  Remember those days?  Well, if you’re a random Tumblr user who happened to find my blog (trust me — there are quite a few) then chances are you are still in high school.  Hey kids!  (This is the part where I tell you, Billy Madison style, to never leave high school… “stayyyy, for as long as you can….”)

As I watched these movies yesterday, a wave of nostalgia hit me and I became a little sad and reminiscent of my high school years.  Ironically, though, EACH of these aforementioned movies depicts high school as a horrible, shitty, god-awful place; where bullies run rampant, ruining the lives of everyone around them.  The stars of these flicks are misunderstood, weird, quirky and/or nerdy.  And as a result?  Treated like absolute GARBAGE.

I have to be honest with you… I loved high school.  I had one of those great experiences that I look back on fondly, and even find myself missing occasionally.  Would I want to be 16 again?  Oof, no.  But I can’t help but smile and laugh when I think of all the good, fun, crazy memories of that time.

This movie marathon I participated in did make me feel bummed, though.  Bummed for people who dreaded and despised their high school years; felt invisible, felt like nothing, felt like no one.  Granted, my emotionally fragile state yesterday (read: PMS) made me overly emotional and retrospective, but it made me think about how many kids do NOT have it easy these days.  Back when I was in high school (yes, wayyyyyyy back in the 90s) we dealt with things like bullying — but it was good ol’ fashion regular shove-you-in-a-locker-or-give-you-a-wedgie bullying.  Nowadays, kids have to deal with THAT, along with cyber, social media, and text bullying.  Fun!  High schoolers are taking their own lives, bringing guns to school to retaliate against their classmates, and suffering from severe depression.

I’m here to say, though, that even though I had an enjoyable experience there… high school doesn’t matter.  Eventually we all get older, go our separate ways and do our own things, and no one will care what you did or didn’t do your sophomore year.  No one cares about your glory days on the varsity football team or the tiara you got to wear when you became Prom Queen.  Big deal.  Welcome to the real world: where none of that shit matters.  

Popular kids can grow up to be losers, skinny girls can get fat, athletes become out of shape, and the nerds can make all the money and end up with beautiful and handsome spouses.  Smart eventually becomes cool and a lot more useful in life than being a Jerk or a Mean Girl.  

When you’re in high school, you can’t comprehend anything past that exact moment in your life, and it’s all that matters.  As far as you’re concerned, your life will be over if you don’t kick it with the cool kids, or get attention from the cute senior boys.  

As I watched these movies from my couch on a rainy NYC Saturday, I couldn’t help but feel bad for people to had to endure similar situations to the Charlie’s (‘The Perks of Being a WallFlower’), Juno’s and whatever that chick’s name is from ‘She’s All That’ (Guys, that movie is terrible.  I’m embarrassed I watched it).  But I also wished there was a way to tell them, just like those popular videos circulating around YouTube, that it gets better.

And I know I might not be the best person to dispense all of this advice since I already admitted that I enjoyed my HS years, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m talking about.  Maybe you had or are having a tough time in school.  Maybe like me, you were fortunate to have a good experience.  Whether you’re still there or out a few (er, many) years, what matters most is the people we strive to be and eventually do become.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H1W2UddURXI

Monday morning.  President’s Day.  I SHOULD have off from work, but I don’t. 

I step outside my apartment building around 8:30am and immediately feel the biting, piercing cold.  I cross over 1st Avenue and within seconds I hear a quiet yet commanding voice: “EXCUSE ME!!!!!!!!!!“ 

I look to my right and there she is — a very old woman, sitting in her wheelchair outside of the senior center across the street from my apartment.  ”Can you give me a push?”  I look around and yep, I’m the only one there.  She is talking to me. 

I walk over to this woman, who is tiny and wrinkly like a little shriveled up raisin, and am prepared to move her wheelchair slightly for her.  Maybe the sun was in her eyes and she wanted to have her back to it.  Maybe she wanted to face a different direction.  I don’t know.  As I place my hands on the wheelchair handles she asks me where I’m going.  I tell her I’m headed to the subway.

“Perfect,” she says.

Whoa, wait.  Perfect?  Does this little old lady expect me to push her three avenues and three blocks to my subway stop?  And then what happens?  She’s getting on the 6 train with me?!  Where exactly is she headed?  I don’t want to commit to this.  I immediately look at a man in a janitor-type uniform who is sweeping around the area for guidance.  He shrugs.  

“HELP, let’s go - I’m FREEZING!!!!!!!!” she screams at me.  

IT IS WAY TOO EARLY FOR THIS SHIT.

It then immediately dawns on me that it’s totally strange this elderly woman is lounging outside on a freezing cold morning, unattended.  Is she a resident of this senior center and plotting her escape?  Am I her accomplice?  Even worse, is she some kind of scam artist?

I pictured me innocently wheeling this woman around the Upper East Side and then getting put in ‘cuffs for ‘Attempting to Steal an Old Person.’  And I assure you, I do not want an old person.  A puppy, maybe, but not an old person.  And ESPECIALLY not this one; she seems cranky.

I know the man with the broom has observed my encounter with Granny, so I call him over and explain to him that I don’t feel comfortable taking this random old lady for a joy ride, and that I don’t feel comfortable just leaving her, either.  She now changes her tune.  ”I HAVE TO GO TO THE FOOT DOCTOR!”  she demands.  OK, enough of this.

I head towards the senior center and barge into the front door to find a woman sitting at the front desk, conversing with a man who appears to be an orderly of some sort.  I begin to explain my situation.

“Hi, so there’s a woman outside in her wheelchair --“

“Yep, Francis.”  The woman at the desk interrupts me.  

“OK well she is asking me to take her somewhere in her wheelchair and I felt bad just leaving her —”

“Yes, I know.  She does this every day.  She actually can walk you know, she just doesn’t want to.  She’s fine, don’t worry about her.”

(WELL I HAPPEN TO HAVE A GOOD CONSCIENCE SO SUE ME)

“Uh, okay.  It’s also about 15 degrees out and she said she’s freezing, so…”

The woman turns to the orderly and says, “Bring her back in here, will ya?”  He obliges and walks me out, giving me the back story on my friend Francis.  ”She’s 100, you know.  She refuses to walk but she can.  She also always tries to get random people on the street to take her somewhere.”

Yes, I gathered that.  So as Francis was getting wheeled back inside, I said goodbye to my new friends and continued to my walk to the train — all while thinking to myself, I hope I drop dead before getting to that point in my life.

And for added measure, I made it to my subway stop (still frazzled from earlier events) to find a ton of signs everywhere:  ”NO LOCAL DOWNTOWN TRAINS TODAY. PLEASE WALK TO 59th STREET.”  (Which is another 10 blocks away).

So I took a cab, and entered a desolate, deserted work building — because every other company is off today. 

So that was my morning………………….. how was yours?

“The trouble with quotes on the Internet is that you can never know if they are genuine.” —Abraham Lincoln

—————————————————————————————————

I have many pet peeves.  More than the average person, I’d say.  I’m fully aware of this, and I gotta tell you — I’m fine with it.

But there’s something that’s really been grinding my gears lately, and it’s the misuse of quotations, facts and information on the internet.  

You’re all fully aware of my affinity for the World Wide Web; I’m obviously a fan and I think it’s one of the greatest inventions since the wheel.  But Jesus guys, would you PLEASE just research the crap that you repost on there??  You’re embarrassing yourselves.

I remember seeing a ‘Morgan Freeman’ quote floating around the web shortly after the Newtown Massacre.  Dozens of Facebook friends posted it, and I read through Mr. Freeman’s (alleged) opinionated statement.  Hell, I even pictured him reading it in his God-like, soothing, magical voice.

As I read it, I thought to myself: hmm, this doesn’t SOUND like something Morgan Freeman would say.  Not that I know him personally, but something seemed off.  It was such a sad and tragic event, and I felt like this particular statement was a bit insensitive and harsh.  

So I Googled it.

And it was a hoax.  

Similarly, my Facebook friends and fellow bloggers are LOVING themselves this ‘Bob Marley’ quote:

“You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She’s not perfect - you aren’t either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break - her heart. So don’t hurt her, don’t change her, don’t analyze and don’t expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there.”

Aww, that’s sweet.  But I’m a huge Bob Marley fan — I watched the 2+ hour ‘Marley’ documentary, have read countless articles about this fascinating man, and of course love his beautiful music and lyrics.  When did he give this famous aforementioned quote?  I don’t remember ever hearing it, and it’s definitely not a lyric from one of his songs.  Not to mention it doesn’t really sound like the quote of a man who had 13 children with several different women.  And those of us who have heard him speak in interviews know that he spoke with a thick Jamaican accent and had a rugged charm that does NOT exactly sound like this eloquent quote above.

So I Googled it.

And it was a hoax.  

This happens ALL the time — quotes from “Bill Cosby” (FAKE), Martin Luther King Jr. (SO FAKE), and other historical figures, celebrities and artists (FAKE! FAKE! FAKE!!!!!) — all being reposted by knuckleheads everywhere.

Today I saw a picture circulating around trashing President Obama for ordering flags to be flown at half-mast following the death of superstar Whitney Houston, but NOT for a Navy Seal who was recently murdered.

However, it was New Jersey GOVERNOR Chris Christie who ordered flags in Houston’s home state of New Jersey to be flown at half-mast.  Get ya facts straight.

So next time you find yourself perusing on the ‘net and find a quote or factoid or meme you really like and feel like sharing, maybe — JUSTTTTT MAYBE — you can do your homework and find out if it’s actually real or factual first.  

But don’t quote me on that.

……………………………………………………………………………………….

For your reference:

Morgan Freeman: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/12/17/morgan-freeman-hoax-newtown-school-shooting-statement_n_2315848.html

Bob Marley: http://blogs.houstonpress.com/hairballs/2011/05/the_truth_is_bob_marley_probab.php

Whitney Houston/Obama: http://www.snopes.com/politics/military/chriskyle.asp

Bill Cosby: http://www.snopes.com/politics/soapbox/imtired.asp

As you may know, the Northeast got pummeled with a blizzard yesterday/early this morning.  This snowstorm, warned by our local newscasters to be of epic proportions, was named after a fish from a kid’s movie:

This is the opposite of intimidating.

While those unlucky suburb dwellers had the unfortunate task of waking up to shovel and snow-blow this morning, us lazy city folk (as usual) didn’t have to do a damn thing.  

So, what does one do after a blizzard in Manhattan?  They go to Central Park.  

Central Park; a glorious place that is the heart of New York City, and yet doesn’t feel like a part of it at all.  A place with trees, grass, playgrounds, baseball fields, and something you’re not used to seeing in the concrete jungle: NATURE.

I’ve mentioned before how much I love the park, but I haven’t had the opportunity to visit the snow-covered version before today.  And I won’t even try to describe its beauty in words:  I’ll let you see for yourself.

I’m on the subway this morning.  As usual, it’s crowded.  I’m standing with my fellow commuters, shoulder to shoulder, and uncomfortably close.  

I start to feel someone’s eyes on me, so I look up.  A large black woman with a shaved head is staring at me.  Hard.

I look down.  Did I step on this woman’s foot when I got on the train and not realize it?  Is she now ice grilling me because she is plotting her revenge?  I briefly look up again.  Yep, still staring.  Now she’s talking to her friend about me.  

This went on for a few minutes, and I just kept doing that thing where you avoid eye contact while simultaneously checking to see if the person is still looking at you.  

Finally, I hear the subway speaker announcement: “This is 23rd Street.”  

Phew, that’s my stop!  Let me get off this train before this one-sided staring contest with Baldy escalates.  I go to exit the train and I feel someone touch my arm.  It’s her.  

OHMYGOD.

I look at her face, and that’s when she says it.

“I LOVE your shoes.”

…wait, what?

So, let me get this straight.  This woman was basically looking at me and trying to get my attention for nine whole minutes, just to give me a compliment?  NOT to kick my ass, as I had wrongly assumed??

I started to think back to those moments when a random stranger complimented me or just merely said something nice.  I recently was in CVS and the cashier told me she really liked my necklace.  A girl in the locker room at New York Sports Club complimented the royal blue blazer I was wearing.

Moral of the story?  I wear REALLY cute stuff.

Kidding!  The point of this is, some of us (read: me) have a fear of communicating with strangers and saying nice things to people we don’t know.  But a compliment goes a long way, and it makes people feel really good.  When my friend on the train told me she loved my shoes this morning, I instantly smiled and thanked her.  It was nice.

I’ll often see girls around the city whose outfits I love, whose hair I think is gorgeous, or whose shoes I, too, admire.  But I NEVER say anything.  I guess I feel like I’d come across as some creepy weirdo, but it’s not like that at all.  

These ‘random acts of kindness’ can go beyond just giving compliments to strangers; it can be something simple like smiling at someone, helping a person out in some way, or just simply TALKING to people you don’t know.  I admittedly can be the Queen of Anti-Socialism, and in public often just avoid and ignore EVERYONE.

I’m going to try and change my ways and become a bit more outgoing, kind, and complimentary to those around me that I’ve never met. And moving forward, I won’t assume that someone looking at me on the 6 train wants to murder me… and instead, might just want to say something nice.

…I don’t usually do this.  I’m not the romantic type, or the kind to profess my love publicly.

But I couldn’t hold it in anymore, and needed to tell the world how I feel about you.

I think about you all the time — from the minute I wake up, to the moment I fall asleep.

I rush home from work to see you, and spending time with you is easily the best part of my day. 

You make me laugh, you entertain me, you make me think, and you relieve my stress.

Admittedly yes… sometimes you make me mad, and even scared.  And in those rare moments, I do get bored of you.

I often think we spend too much time together.  But then again I can’t bear the thought of seeing you less.

I’ve loved you since I was a child, and my love has continued to grow stronger throughout the years.  

I can only hope that you feel the immense love I have for you, and just know how much you are appreciated.

My dear, sweet, television. <3 

Aside from the Beyonce concert Super Bowl this weekend, I had the pleasure of going to The Great White Way (also known as Broadway) to see ‘Annie: the musical.’  Ever heard of it?  If you haven’t, just stop reading now.  On second hand, just don’t read my blog at all!  Ever!

Sorry, where was I?  My mother, sister-in-law and I all went to the Saturday matinee to see the show, which was my Christmas present to them.  I had seen the movie countless times and was a fan of the songs (poor Matt had to listen to my rendition of “Tomorrow” for weeks leading up to this) so I knew I’d enjoy the show — I just didn’t realize how MUCH I’d enjoy it.

I was literally in awe of the Broadway actors and their enormous talent.  And yes, I had been to countless Broadway shows before — but it’s not every day you see a show that has CHILDREN performing in it.  Children, and a dog.  You guys, there’s a canine that has a starring role in a Broadway show.  What are you doing with YOUR life?

I sat and watched as the little girl who played Annie, a mere 11 years old — sang, danced, and acted impeccably, while stealing the hearts of everyone in the audience.

Holy crap!  When I was her age, I literally complained every time I had to go to dance class and had ZERO interest participating in school plays.  I dragged my feet to twirling practice and kicked dirt around on the soccer field during games.

I was even at one time selected to be in my elementary school’s Spelling Bee (no surprise there) and it made me so nervous that I threw up the morning of the competition and didn’t make it.

A real consummate performer, I was.

My point is, some people are just oozing talent and are BORN to perform.  They have this undeniable presence and it’s hard to keep your eyes off of them.  The day after I went to see ‘Annie,’ I had the pleasure of watching Ms. Beyonce Knowles AKA Sasha Fierce AKA Mrs. Sean Carter perform the halftime show at the Super Bowl.

A beautiful voice?  Check.

Killer dance moves? Check.

Amazing looks?  Check. 

Top-notch performer?  CHECK! CHECK! CHECK! 

I know I’ve written about celebrities and my fascination with them before, but the Kardashian’s, Snooki’s and Mob Wives of the world are not the kind of people I’m talking about here. It’s the entertainers who literally sacrifice anything that resembles a ‘normal’ life to travel around the world; entertaining strangers who get to watch them come alive on a stage. I am completely captivated by the Whitney’s, the Michael’s, and the Beyonce’s of the entertainment world.  

…And the dog from ‘Annie.’  He was pretty good, too.

Nice try.