I always knew it

You Belong in New York City

You're an energetic, ambitious woman. And only NYC is fast enough for you. Maybe you'll set yourself up with a killer career Or simply take in all the city has to offer.

What City Do You Belong In?

Disappointment

Sometimes the people who are closest to us are the ones who hurt us the most. I feel weepy today and it's really not any ONE thing, it's all of those things piled up together. Like the fact that I don't have overdraft protection and I'm getting screwed like a cheap whore by Citibank, it makes me really sad. The fact that I just sunk money from my savings into my checkings and it's still negative today because of FEES!! f*&^ fees! What the f*(%! How can you f*n charge me fees on the f*n fees! "F" that s&^#!
Yeah, so uhm-I'm kinda mad about that.
Then there is the whole thing with my nieces. I was supposed to see them this weekend but, now I'm feeling like my sister is going to cancel on me. You know, I've always wanted to be an Auntie in much the same way some women have always wanted to be mommy's. I've never pictured myself as the mommy. In MY daydreams, I'm always the Auntie. I give kisses and candy, I come bearing gifts. I buy cool clothes and give money for birthdays. This is what I do. I love it. I don't love when people let there own "ish" come between me and my girls. I haven't seen them in months. I just want to see my baby girls.
I think my mom is up this weekend. I haven't seen her in months either so it will be really nice to see her. I wish she was closer. I miss my mom.

Friday night

Friday I felt like the kid who gets picked last in gym class. No one wanted to play with me. It has been a long week and I wanted to go out for drinks. Heck, on short weeks I want to go out for drinks. I sent the e-mail early in the week to gauge interest, and I got a few bites. A few hesitant, "Sounds like a good idea" were in my inbox by the days end. "Sounds like a good idea" should always be read as, "I'm holding out to see what my other offers are" so I expected a few cancellations. I didn't expect to be begging for companionship on a Friday night but, that is what happened.
On Friday afternoon I sent out an ain't to proud to beg e-mail asking for some confirmations for the evening. I received two responses. They both wanted to do different things. Always one for an adventure I booked them both.
I met Chelsea and co-worker Kim immediately following the witching hour and we chatted about upcoming nuptials as we sipped on our happy hour specials. As the clock struck 7:00pm I rushed to meet Nikia for a showing of The Devil Wears Prada. We were too late, the next two shows that night were sold out. With our plans thwarted we did the next best thing, went to dinner. We went in search of a hole in the wall Italian place called Bianca. Nikia had read rave reviews and after a week long craving for lasagna we headed out in search for a little cheese and pasta. Deep in conversation as we headed down Broadway, we wound up passing Bleeker and had to make a u-turn and head back. Once arriving at Bleeker and Bowery we entered out final destination, Bianca. Bianca is a small Italian eatery designed to imitate your mothers dining room. Small tables are placed close enough together that if you pay attention you can hear your neighbors conversation. Dim lights and candles make for a romantic setting and the dishes displayed on the walls make you feel as if you've come home for dinner.
As we dined and chewed the fat (literally and figuratively) we talked of our presents and futures. Decisions that we're making and dreams that we hope to fulfill. When our stomachs were full of food and our mind of stories we said out goodbyes and made plans to do it again soon.
I'm so glad I begged.

Dilemnas

Jason to Me:

"How do I explain to my 60 something year old Trinidadian father that I can't do it tomorrow because I have plans with my girl and if I break them, I'm in the dog house?"

It wasn't just that she was being a good friend. She was, but it wasn't just that. It was that she was trying to assuage some of her guilt. She hoped the gods would see and hear her penance. That in this act of reaching out (while it was sincere) she could some how free her soul. Then maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't be kept awake at night hearing a heartbeat that years ago ceased to exist.

I grew up in out in eastern Long Island. Way east, near towns with names that are hard for you to pronounce. Names that once represented Native American tribes but are now markers of economic status. The distance in relationship to any given town tells the world what daddy does for a living. How well he's able to provide. Mommy stays home in most of these towns, it's just the way it goes.
As much as I never want to go back to live there. I miss what it has to offer. Falling asleep on summer nights with the windows open letting in the sound of crickets doing their thing. Catching fire-flies as a little girl and capturing them in clear glass jars, my own personal night light.
I love summer in the city but I yearn for summer in the suburbs. Walking bare foot in my yard, feeling the cool green grass beneath your toes and the taking in the scent of a freshly mowed lawn. I love that smell. Fresh cut grass is really the best smell. It reminds me of so many happy things.
The best is playing outside and smelling dinner as the scent of fried chicken cutlets with rice and vegetables comes through the kitchen window. Then mom would yell to us to come in and wash up for dinner once my dad returned from work. We always ate dinner as a family at the table together, mom, dad and the kids. I loved that. I want that for my future family. To much time is spent in front of computers and televisions. It's nice to come together and share and fight and be a family if only for 30 minutes a day.
I don't really see myself having a strictly suburban life. Suburbia is often devoid of diversity. I want my children to know how big the world truly is. It's hard to see that behind your chain link fence as you return from private school. I am also well aware that uptown, downtown and midtown have their own caste systems at work, as do all of the boroughs but, it's different. You can still visit a different caste and not feel shunned. It's more anonymous here, it's harder to judge a book by it's cover, old prejudices don't always fly.
I'm feeling nostalgic today I suppose. I want the best of both worlds and I don't think that it's too much to ask for either.

First comes love, then comes the house...

This weekend after a double shot of Hennessy and too much sun, he asked me to live with him. I stared back at his brown eyes like a deer caught in the headlights. I asked for clarification because, moving into his current apartment with him and moving into a separate neutral apartment with both of our names on the lease are two different things. He meant the former. I would be willing to put the later on the chopping block and come up with some type of pre-nuptial agreement in say the next 6-12 months. Hey, I'll be older and wiser by then right?-I'll be thirty.

All I know if that I can't live in HIS apartment with him. Maybe it's all in my mind but, it's not fair-it's not equal. Then again what is?

The only thing that we can both agree on is that we would both like to own the next place that we live. We don't want to give up our rent stablilized apartments and then sell our souls to pay someone else's mortage. If there is going to be any soul selling we want it to be deeded with our names.

So I guess in my case first comes love, then comes the house...who ever heard of such a thing?