Laughing At Yourself

I think this is one of the best qualities someone should have in order to make it through these tough economic days. I think if you don't cultivate the ability to put things into perspective and still enjoy life despite things that are going on, then things will just get tougher.


Here's a few things you can do to crack yourself up and lighten the load of daily life. I've tried these suggestions, so don't worry about it~it has been tested and no animals were harmed.

1. If you like to embarass yourself for 'fun,' eat a banana with coffee and a lot of cream in the morning. Then wash that down with Activa yogurt (any flavor--be creative and add Fiber One to it) and a Bran muffin. Once you've done all of that, drink two 12-ounce glasses of water, then jump on any public bus during traffic hour and let the party commence! Let me tell you--you'll discover a newfound appreciation and respect for the people who make Depends undergarments.

2. If you're not very fond of crapping in your pants, then have I got something equally entertaining for you, and another opportunity to make a memory for life. If you have to make a choice between wearing unflattering boots that are made to walk in ice and snow OR sport a stylish pair of leather boots that should only be worn when you get out of the limo on the red carpet to the front door of the venue---choose fashion! That way, when you fall on your ass in the middle of the busy streets of Manhattan, at least the passersby get to look at something pretty flailing in the air.

3. If you don't think that supporting the troops by providing public entertainment and making a spectacle of yourself is for you, then how about this? Stand in any line where people are waiting for a bus or at the grocery store, and just fart. Go ahead. Pull your own finger, and squeeze the cheese. Sure, you'll get lot of dirty looks, but you will have brought people together for a common purpose and goal--to keep away from your stanking behind. I know you'll have to face the wrath and disdain of those around you. But think of how much faster the line will move. And what about doubling all the fun by whipping your camera phone out and just start snapping away, taking pictures of the people giving you dirty looks. You'll be able to take deep whiffs if yourself while capturing the moment on film. You may not get away unscathed at that point, but think of all the kodak moments. They will be worth a thousand words, or at least a few fingers! This may not get you a cab, but it should provide you with enough memories to pass the time while you recover in the hospital.

Laughing at yourself--it's a character trait that everyone should have.

You're As Big As A Planet Fitness

"If I can just make it past the first 8 minutes, i'll be okay...." I said, panting and crying deeply inside. If my mouth was any wider, I'd probably be able to smuggle the eliptical machine I was toiling on, back to my apartment.

That's the thought I kept 'encouraging' myself with. And its always the first several minutes that I need to push through before I feel good enough to hang on and finish my workout. Y'all know how hard it is. I've been celebrating the little victories more and more since I started going back to the gym. It's called Planet Fitness and its at the end of my block, not more than 7 minutes away. It's open 24 hours betweeen Monday through Friday, so I have no excuses.

I asked the polling question because I'd like to know how many of you are actually on a program. I read on Bastyr University's website an article stating that in 2007, about 50% of Americans who start an exercise program as part of their new years resolution, discontinue it in six weeks. So the odds are against you as it is. The article goes on to site 4 tips of maintaining your new found health goal. Here they are:

1. Research~Collect information about your body before you start exercising. This means, take your ample okole to the doctor if you must (or jump on the scale they have at the supermarket--lets see just how tough you really are) and get your vitals. Weight, heart rate, body fat content and use that as your baseline. Research DOES NOT mean for you to check and see how much cookies you can eat to replace the calories you burned.

2. Relax~Be sure to set attainable short- and long-term goals. Remember that fitness is an ongoing pursuit. Don't beat yourself up. You didn't gain that weight over night, so don't expect to lose it overnight. It took you a good--4 weeks?!? Know for sure that you need to relax because it's gonna be a loooooonng time before you see your feet again. Don't be discouraged, fatty.

3. Have A Backup Plan~There will be days that it will be inconvenient or impossible to do your fitness routine. An alternate exercise plan can ensure you get some form of exercise. Walk home from work. The farther you live, the better. That's maybe 2, 3 days of workouts you're storing up! Carry your co-workers around the office. Piggy back your boss! You may get a raise out of it. Be creative.

4. Adjust Your Attitude~Instead of thinking of exercise as a chore or an obligation, try a new perspective. Think of all the fantastic clothes you'll be able to wear off the rack. Or all of the wonderful quilts you'll be able to create with your old clothes. Better yet, you could probably open your own business covering cars with that party dress you've been wearing. And you know you guys can finally get rid of that puka underwear to wash your cars. Exercise shouldn't be a chore--it should be the means to vanity! (just kidding)

Whatever your plans are, I hope and pray that you get the best results and that you never give up. Always look on the bright side of life! No matter how big you are, the earth will always be bigger than you, so you'll always have a home. Good luck, and keep me posted. I'll do the same.

Hug Your Kids If You Have Them...With A Slippah In Hand If You Must

'Children are out of control these days.'

Yeah, I know. That's something old people say. A small part of me hates to admit it, but Yes, I'm old, and Yes, I said it. Kids these days need to be checked.

'Checked' is an urban slang word meaning to put someone in their place, as in, "best check yo self, before you reck yourelf" (urbandictionary.com). And checked is what needs to be done with children in this day and age, who have grown up in homes where parents are straight up idiots. I'm cognizant of the fact that kids today grow up in a world that is not the same as the world people my age grew up in. You may have seen that chain email showing how kids growing up now have never known a world without microwaves, cell phones or cable television. All of these things seem like advantages that would make a better child. Not so much. In fact, it seems that children have gotten worse then my days growing up.

'Well you don't have kids of your own, Fourth Oldest! You don't know what you're talking about. Wait till you have some of your own, then tell me a thing or two about raising kids." I know, I hear some of you saying that.

The thing though, is I don't need to have children in order to know how children should act. I was a child once. (A few reading this probably think that things haven't changed much.) I know when I was checked. And when I was checked, I knew exactly why I was checked. And my parents weren't the kind who tolerated foolishness. My dad and mom didn't beat my brothers and sisters without cause. There was always a cause. 'Cause I had to tell you more than once' was a cause. 'Cause when I said so once, that should've been enough' was a cause. 'Why? BeCause' was a cause. So on and so forth.

I saw this video today, and it just made me want to choke a child into Thursday. Watch this, then read on.

http://cosmos.bcst.yahoo.com/up/player/popup/?rn=4226712&cl=11686108&src=news

Uh Hmmm. Did you see that? Did you hear the set-up by the newscaster, then see the young boy? How many cracks does it take to get to the center of obedience with this child. The shocking part is, it seems the firefighters are still in the middle of rescuing the mother (who is still 80 feet below from where they are standing), the father says he was worried the entire time that the boy was on land above by himself. Then, (as most undisciplined kids do)the kid in the midst of all of this tries to get some camera time. Incredulous, right? How many of you bet that those parents are currently being monitored by Child Protective Agency for fear that they will beat that boys okole until he speaks clearly.

This is just one reason why I think that Bernie Mac had it right when he said that he believes that when a kid gets one years old he has a right to hit 'em in the throat or the stomach. If he's grown enough to talk back, he's grown enough to get F&%$@* up. Although, in this case, it looks like the father needs some training on parenting. Didn't he seem more interested in how he looked on television, rather than have a face to face, hand to fanny conversation with his son. No, I won't be the first to volunteer. I don't have the 'hands on' experience that people with children do. I won't help with that job. But what I would do, is use Bernie Mac's educational suggestions on the father and work my way down.

P.S. Pardon the fresh language above, but I'm sure that's not the first time you (who are parents) have experienced that level of disobedience and had to deal with it.

There Is No God???

So I'm looking through the news on the internet and come across an article about an Atheist group in Britain who is running an ad campaign that's gaining popularity. They have taken ads that are or will soon be seen by the Brits throughout their buses and Underground trains that read, "There's probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life."

(cough, choke...) Hmmmmm..

As someone who does believe that God not only exists but takes great care and participation in my life. that doesn't anger me so much as you may expect. I have been known to fly off the handle a time or two, granted, on much sillier things. It's the human in me. But I feel sort of sad for people who don't believe that God exists. I know that there are many who believe that Christianity is bad on various levels. I'm not going to cite those arguments because in my eyes, there's far too much information on the internet that support the idea that Christians are bad. Whatevers. But I'm also not going to write as if I'm an expert on what Atheists really believe. Neither do I feel the need to want to learn more about their beliefs on the basis of 'learning' or 'opening my mind.' Frankly, my life experiences as well as my innate beliefs propel me to the conclusion that God DOES exist. But above this superficial understanding and belief, I know deeply and truly that He works in my life everytime I want Him to, and especially when I don't want Him to. Thats how much I am convinced that His love is real and His love is true. Even when I don't want my God to exist and see me involved in areas of my life that perhaps is not the most convenient or where I'm not acting right, He is. I always think of the times where I felt alone and misunderstood, or times when I was surrounded by people who loved me and yet still felt alone and unloved. In my na'au, I instinctively knew that despite how my feelings made my mind to drift on ideas that no one cared, I KNEW God cared for me. There have been in too many predicaments that I was literally at the end of my rope where I've been pulled out on time. There've been a few times that I let go of the rope, but found myself falling into a peaceful security and assurance that could have only come from Gods grace.

Call it what you will, haters. But this is my perspective and I'm convinced that God is alive and always working.

So I feel bad for people who feel contrary to me. I can't ask 'where do they go when they die?' because maybe they don't believe they go anywhere. But what happens to them when they die? Is that it? I guess if someone lived their life under that perceived ending, then the 'live your life' mentality that is prevalent in this day and age makes sense. Why not do whatever the heck you want? There's no accountability. There's no reason to do your best. There's no reason to live your best. There's no reason for charity. No reason for hope. No reason for true love, since the end of the life is empty. What's the point?

When I saw this article, I thought of this scripture: The fool says in his heart, "There is no God." They are corrupt, their deeds are vile; there is no one who does good. (Psalm 14:1) An atheist being interviewed was upset that their organization was asked to change the ad. It originally read 'There's no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life' The group was instructed that in order for their ad to be run, they needed to add the word 'probably' so as not to offend. He goes on to say something I found funny.

"I can see no evidence for God just as I can see no evidence for pineapples floating around the moon," he said. "I don't say there 'probably' aren't any pineapples floating around the moon, I just say I know there aren't any pineapples floating around the moon. But, it's a piece of marketing (referring to the ads), and I think it's good (the ad) because it makes people think."

That's comedy, right?!? Fool.

So I did a little internet hunting, and found this website. http://science.howstuffworks.com/space-food.htm/printable

Along with a video and a handful of other photos, I came across a picture of packaged foods that are taken on space trips by NASA. And an interesting mention that 'A typical space menu is made up of a lot of the same items found in homes and restaurants here on Earth. It might include foods such as: Beef stroganoff, Brownies, Crispy rice cereal, Chicken stew, Scrambled eggs, Pineapple, Granola bars, Macaroni and cheese, and Chocolate pudding.'

Ahem. Pineapples are floating around the moon. Alert the media. We have fools on the loose.

There's nothing else for me to say but this. If there is no God, then instead of God-believers having to prove that there is a God, atheists should prove that He doesn't if they have a problem?!? God can fight his own battles and prove who He is all by Himself without my help. If atheists can prove to me and the world that there is no God, then they will have more converts then they can handle. Until then, please just enjoy your bus ride and let me know where to send the pineapple.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20090119/ts_afp/lifestylebritainreligiontransportatheism_20090119063246

Notorious-ly Annoying

I know, what a weird, semi-deviant looking picture, right? Of course, like most of the pictures I've used so far in this blog, I took it off of the internet. And I thought it was appropriate for this rant.

So Keiffer and I go to the movies. He wanted to see the new B.I.G. cinematic masterpiece. Let me say, that the movie itself was pretty good. I was cringing throughout the movie to see how overly-dramatic or poorly acted this probably-should-have-been-straight-to-dvd-BET-nighttime-classic. I was happily surprised. The plot, though obviously unsurprising at the end, brought new insight to me on this mans' life. Of course I knew that there would be at least one collage of stage performances. I expected to see the pre-requisite sex scene, P.Diddy's guffawing and semi-gay spinning with arms flailing-stage dance routine, and to hear every cuss word ever uttered on the streets of Brooklyn. Check. The drugs, mysogyny, and street-lifestyle that I coudn't relate to from my own experience also were things I realized were a part of his life and would be in the film. Check. What I didn't expect was to like the movie and leave surprised.

So I'm sitting in this theater trying to make out what is being said and decipher in my head street slang to english, and I hear this couple behind me start the inevitable talking. I didn't expect a lot of things and did some things, but this thing--the constant talking during the movie--I not only expected it, but braced myself as much as I could for it. That is *bleeping* annoying.

This jerk and his jerk girlfriend talked through the entire movie. He was a wanna-be rapster that lost his way and ended up with his dreams dashed but his confidence in overdrive. He decided that he should try out his lack of skills with his talkative cheeseball girlfriend, who for some reason, was deceived in the notion that she knew each famous person portrayed on screen.

Their conversations were so lame. At one point they exchanged advice on whether the actress protraying Lil' Kim portrayed her accurately.
Huh!?!? The actress was portraying Lil' Kim. A woman with an abbreviated adjective as her surname. Lil' Kim is not a thespian with acting skills that were studied under the tutelage of award winning performers. This is Lil' Kim. A woman who's claim to fame is the recital of songs with lyrics that read like a night on the town with a sperm rag: "Bum b****** know better than to start sh**. N***** love a hard b****. One that get up in a n****'s a** quicker than an enema. Make a cat bleed then sprinkle it with vinegar"

Ah, modern day Shakespeare this woman is.

The entire length of the movie, I had to listen to Beevis and Butthead. There was so many thoughts that ran through my head. The first included twist ties, a dirty rag and a meat tenderizer. It was ridiculous.

I made it through and got out of the theaters and calmer head prevailed. But I must voice that if you watch this movie, make sure to have the ushers or theater manager on speed dial.

So Many Things To Talk About

Geez, it's been awhile. I've all but stopped holding myself to the 'daily' blog entry. I'm sorry, y'all--I can't do it! BUT, I'm still moving forward, as each new day brings new hopes that I may keep my commitment to this. So sometimes I'll write more than one entry per day. No rhyme or reason--just primarily according to how I'm feeling. The last few days have been pretty spectacular in many ways, and not so much in others. Make sense? Continue reading.

The weather here has been very cold, to say the least. I stayed in all weekend cleaning. There seems to be so much more to do, especially since I have a lot of 'little' things to put away. I've always had trouble trying to put things away. You know--those things that you put away, but always can't find when you need. Things like candles, picture frames, manuals (for computer programs or the rice cooker) and, well, other stuff. Where do you put these?

My problem is I'll put them in containers. Nice containers, boxes, etc. But containers that, eventually, multiply and are never really organized as much as I'd like. Now, organizing is my forte. Or at least I should be a master at it. My career entails organizational thinking and a detail-oriented thought process. I did it more in my previous management and consulting jobs. A lot, actually. But organizing, managing and developtmental skills are the foundational basics of what I do. At work.

At home---well, I don't get paid for that.

I don't do it very well.

Like Chef's who don't cook at home. Or domineering bosses who are usually pushovers with their spouses. So it is with me.

And so it is. My filing system is laughable. You see it up in the first paragraph. I keep all my 'important papers' in Duane Reade bags. Duane Reade bags!!!! I've had them in there for the last 3 years. All with the 'intention' of filing them in chronological order, all nicely bound then filed neatly in some stylish file cabinet. If you can remember what I said about 'good intentions'. I know what I should do, but again--coupled with my laziness, I'm a mess.

The following blogs are written off of a list of things that I've been thinking about. I'm great at lists~ the part of developing my lists means work. God help me get organized.

Volunteerism

I'm so proud of myself. I've finally started volunteering again. I don't say this to get a medal or to get any accolades. I've been 'meaning' to do this for a few years, but never really followed through. One reason or another I never got a chance to do it. There is a quote that goes, "The smallest good deed is better than the grandest good intention" (Duguet). The very act of me attending this orientation meeting to volunteer proves to be a bigger deed then all of the months I've spent wanting to do it.

So I've been looking on the NYcares.org website to look for areas in which to do something. I'm so impressed by this organization because they work with so many non-profits, state programs, homeless shelters, nursing homes, after-school programs, etc. that there are tons of opportunities to help. When I sat in during the orientation, there were several people there who, when asked why they want to volunteer, quite a few answered that they were new to New York, they heard about nycares and thought that volunteering would 1) allow them an opportunity to do good things with a well-known organization, and 2) meet new people. I thought what an amazing thing for people to think about helping others at a time when they're in this big city all alone. Pretty smart. There was a guy who just moved to NY 2 days ago from England; there was a woman from India originally, who just moved to NY from Boston 2 months ago; a Botanist who's lived in the Bronx for several years, and so on. We went around the table to introduce ourselves and state why we were volunteering.

When my turn came up, all I planned to say so that I sounded the slightest bit intelligent fell out of my head. 'Why do you want to volunteer with NYcares?', asked the leader of the group. All I could think of in that brief moment were the times my mother, who when she was a shut-in at home and no one would come and visit her, there was an organization that had volunteers whose sole purpose was to come over and talk to my mom and spend time with her for companionship. I realized that this is what I need to do. This is part of my calling in being in New York. All I could muster to say was, "My mother was a recipient of people who volunteered to give her a purpose and through companionship, give her worth. I honor her by giving back the same gift to other Seniors." The words came out effortlessly, and I realized that I was operating in the realm of my purpose. Volunteering is key to my calling.

I look forward and am very excited about what lies ahead. I anticipate every opportunity to be challenging but fulfilling. I cannot wait to serve.

This is a new year and this is a new moment to do grand things through small deeds.

What are you doing this year? What plans do you have for yourself and your life? If volunteerism is not a part of your purpose, do you at least know what your purpose is? If you do, I encourage you to get involved, get active and get busy. There are people who need to hear from you. People who have been hoping and praying for your arrival. It's time to answer the call. If you don't know what your purpose is, I implore you to have a talk with yourself and search your heart to see what you can do to reach a life. Moreso, to see what you can do to change your own life.

http://nycares.org/

Love In A Seat

I didn't go to work yesterday, so today was my official first day of going to work from my new apartment. There's a Trip Planner on MTA.info one can use to plan the fastest route and method from one point to another on public transit.

Pretty freakin' sweet.

So I calculated that I needed to leave home around 730a at the latest, meaning I'd need to get up at least 630a. I went to sleep after midnight last night, so I woke up fairly tired. Naw, bump that--I was crying for sleep. But I pushed myself out of bed and dragged myself through the daily routine of getting ready for work, and it almost hurt. But, no violins for me (since EVERYONE needs to do it daily), cause I still am working at a company that I love, with people that I like, doing work that I love. No complaints. But I digress.

It's been cold and getting colder by the day, so there was ice all over the road, which made the walk to the express bus stop a little treacherous and slower then I expected. When I got to the stop, the bus was a minute from pulling away, so I got there just in time to join the line and board the bus. Upon alighting, I didn't realize how busy and full the bus would be. I was the last to board, so I took the first seat I saw, which was on the bench in the front. I squeezed my slacks and eskimo jacket in the spot and put my ear buds in. Carrie Underwood met me on the other end and I concentrated on getting warm.

As we were about to pull out, the bus jerked to a halt and the front doors folded open. In hopped an older lady and a young kid. The older lady took a while to pull her card out of her wallet. The bus driver told her that she'd need to get a receipt from a machine outside of the bus before boarding as its a new system of toll collection, so she got off and the kid boarded. He looked about 15 and in highschool. He took the last seat on the bus across from me. The bus driver kindly waited for the woman. I sat up in my seat and tried to look over heads across from me and outside the window to see where she was at in getting her fair paid. I could tell she was having a bit of difficulty in negotiating the machine. It took a minute or so and I saw her turn and walk towards the front door again. She slowly got on the bus, and upon reaching the top step, she realized after a quick scanning of the bus from her position that there were no seats. I noticed how the heads of many around me quickly looked towards the floor. Shady.

As I realized that my inaugural trip would include me holding a pole on my feet, I noticed that the high school kid across from me just as quickly jumped up from his seat and ushered the woman into his seat. She waved him off, almost embarrassed that he offered his seat to her. Perhaps she was more proud then she looked and still felt her age was nothing to pity. Astonishingly enough, the young man said politely, 'I insist." and smiled and waited for her to plant herself on the bench. She smiled sheepishly. She almost looked like a little girl. The only telling sign that she wasn't was the faint smell of liniment and lavendar. ("Smells just like my Aunty's," I thought.) It made me smile and reminisce.

I watched as she sat, and the high schooler turned his ipod up a little, smiled back, then turned towards the front of the bus as the bus driver closed the door and slowly commanded the bus to lurch forward into traffic. From a faint sheepish smile that the woman had washed across her face, it slowly faded to a stern, emotionless expression that is ever so common and familiar in this city. It seemed the coldness of the air outside took hold again and the loving exchange that was brief but seemed to last hours in that bus, faded as quickly as the leaves had also faded a few months ago due to the brisk wind and weather. The high schooler closed his eyes as he bopped his head to the tune in his ears, and the warm exchange was gone.

That succint scene made me smile the entire way to work. It warmed me from the inside out. I literally began to sweat. I thought of how amazing we each have a way of reaching out to others in very minimal, tiny ways. And yet how profound small acts are able to display the capacity of humanity to not only surprise, but delight. It's an amazing thing. There are so many opportunities within this city, this cold, lonely city, to live in a silo. So many chances to isolate yourself. To habitually ignore our inate human instinct to connect with others. So when someone who lives alone, commutes alone, spends more time alone sees the kindness of strangers, the beauty of respect, the acknowledgement of a good deed, it becomes so much grander then normal. It becomes noteworthy. And the identification of Love in action becomes much more obvious.

I get blessed everytime I see Love displayed. It's a fantastic blessing to be witness to Love's revelation. To see Love make an appearance on a cold day is warming. But to also see Love revealed amongst a crowded bus of other lonely people, from one generation to another--that's a miracle. That fills me with hope that Love still exists amongst the next generation~a generation that, frankly, doesn't seem to be the best example of honor and values. I stand corrected. If I'm to believe in Love and believe that Love exists, then I MUST also believe that coupled with that belief, is that it requires Faith on my part to Hope in that Love. It is true that these three things, Faith, Hope and Love each are distinct, but work together. That revelation is a gift to me today. I hope I will always be open and faithful in believing that Love is still working, still alive and still pesent with us today. And I hope to always have the ability to recognize the presence of Love, and to realize Love's power. Be it in a simple smile, a polite greeting or even perhaps in the offer of a seat.

What Do I Do?!?

You ever have one of those days that you just don't know which direction to go? Or you have to make a choice between two decisions with two different outcomes and you don't know which one to make? I feel like that today.

Whenever I have a decision to make, I always remember what I was taught to do when I was young. My Aunty L (my mom's younger sister) was a good aunt to me. She was single and never got married, so my brothers, sisters and I were like her kids. She was always a part of our lives and the things I remember about her and the way I saw her live serve as lessons for me to live by as an adult. One of the biggest lessons I learned from her example is seeing her go to church.

Now I realize that the act of going to church doesn't make you a better person or help you make better choices. It doesn't make you a Christian no more than singing 'Single Ladies' will make you Beyonce. (Though people still try! Shrug.) But, I'm a firm believer that consistency builds faithfulness and character. So seeing her get up each Sunday even when she wasn't feeling well, really taught me. If she found the energy to make the effort to see God, then perhaps I should too. See my parents weren't big church-goers. They both were raised in diffeent faiths-Pentecostal on my dad's side and Catholic on my mom's. So my first experience in church was at a Congregational Protestant church that spoke most of the service in Hawaiian. Go figure. My aunt was a sickly woman. So when she was too ill to go anywhere, I could always count on seeing her and her bible praying to get better. She always went to God to pray for her healing and help. So that always stayed with me till this day.

So yesterday I'm thinking about a few things that's been on my mind. Adult things like bills, thing I need, things I want to do this year, places I want to go. You know, I went through the grocery/life list. School, family, work, etc. We all have these conversations in our head. Is this person the right one for me--are we compatible? Is this the best job for me and what I want to do for the rest of my life? Have I moved to the right place--is this where I want to live? What am I going to do pay my bills? Do I want to get married? Who's going to help me when I get old? These are questions that are constant and universal to humans.

I spoke to a friend of mine and asked what are her methods of dealing with questions of life, and she chooses meditation. Another friend always consults professionals~from sex, money to buying furniture, he has someone on speed dial for that. When I'm at the crosswalk on life's busy highway and I don't know whether to walk or stop, I do a combination of seeking professionals opinions and relaxing meditation, but my first choice is always to pray. I learned it as a young man and it's always helped me. And I've never felt like a prayer of mine has gone unanswered, especially knowing in my spirit that a lot of times, no answer is the answer (Side note: That's the "worst case scenario" response that I don't like, but it happens sometimes). From the simplest things to the more complex problems I've ever faced, I've always taken a moment to shoot a prayer and ask for guidance and peace. I'll never think twice about runnng anywhere else.

What do you do? What helps you out when you don't know what to do? Whatever it is that you do, I hope that your methods help you and bring you to a place where you experience the joy of receiving an answer. If it doesn't, perhaps you may need to find another method. If that's the case, try praying. It's helped me.

Janelle Monae

Last polling question was whether you've heard of Janelle Monae or not. I'm not an aficionado, but snce I've come across her music, I'm hooked.

I met her (in my mind) when I went with Kieffer to see Ziggy Marley at a private function for Facebook in NYC. She performed first, and she was fantastic! Since that night I've been listening to anything I can get my hands on, and it's been one surprise after another. In a good way.

If you want something edgy (at least to me) that is nothing like you may have heard on mainstream pop radio, go and get her albums. You'll love it.

Here's a link to another live performance I got off of youtube.com. Hope you enjoy it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p1J1RFKHCx0

And for those of you who want more, here's her website. Enjoy!

http://www.janellemonae.com/

The Fourth Oldest

Can I Get It Plain?

I 'discovered' a new cupcake place in the city yesterday. The reason why I 'discovered' it is only because I was with a friend (who shall remain anonymous--you know who you are), and like two tried-and-true fat asses, we were scouring our way through Metropolis for cupcakes on a day where a snow and ice storm was blowing through and it was about 24 degrees.
No one can ever question our commitment.

Naturally I didn't know about it, because I'm not really a cupcake fan, per se. I just love sweets. And if sweets are packaged pretty like in fancy boxes and different colors, heck, I'm sold on it. And so it was with this place. It's called Crumbs Bake Shop, and I must say that it was pretty fat-ulous. Anything one can think of putting on flour and sugar, I believe they have it. You would be surprised.

I saw at least 15 different varieties of cupcakes. It was awesome to see. If someone came into the store yelling that this country was in the middle of a recession and there was a huge shortage of sugar, I would have called them a liar and a dream killer. There were quite a few people already in the store, the crew behind the counter was buzzing amongst each other packing and prepping, and the line steadily streamed past the goodies. And they all looked delicious. That is, if you like all of your daily caloric intake wedged, spackled and packed on a palm-sized cake. To my Diabetic, Gluttonous and No Self-Control brethren be warned--you will not win any battles in this war. You will lose. And I'm not talking about weight.

But, take heart! It is a new year, a new time to make new choices and decisions that can off-set the not so smart decision to buy that 6-pack of cupcakes you just bought. (You know who you are!). Just remember that the more you pack on the sprinkles, coconut, chocolate chips, frosting, fudge, peanut butter and caramel, the more you'll need to work it out on that eliptical machine you've been avoiding.

So make the right choice. The fat guy in me says screw it and dive head first into the pot. But the neglected adult exerciser in me says to get the cupcake plain. Whatever the decision, I think Crumbs is a fantastic place to check out. If you need help, I'll lick the frosting off for you.

http://crumbsbakeshop.com/

Ice Skating Is For The Outdoors

So if you've never seen snow fall, then you probably have never seen ice on the ground. And if you've never seen ice on the ground, then surely you haven't walked on it. Let me introduce you to Yak Trax. There are very few products that I'd take the time to write a review. Unless it was a bad review. Oh, yeah. I'll take the time. It's so much easier to complain and write about something that sucks. It's inate in most human beings to bitch and moan. Have you ever seen reviews of any movie lately? The reviews that most people remember and re-read are the ones where the plot is scrutinized and the actors are reduced to tears. People love tearing down others. So, like movies, if you were to ever check out any product on Amazon.com, you'll see that all of the reviews are mostly from people who are pissed off with their purchase. Well, not me.

Every winter since I've moved to the Big Apple, I've fallen. That's twice a year. I've fallen at least twice a year. And when I fall, I do it dramatic-style. All you see is hands flailing, and all you hear is a thud, the sound likened to two 20 lb. sacks of rice dropped from the back of a pick up. But add to this mental picture, cold snow, at least twenty people around, and the thought that I will have to walk down the rest of the way to wherever I'm going wth my back covered in snow. Yeah, that's attractive.

So I was at work a few weeks back and a co-worker talked about this product. Now I didn't pay it much mind while she spoke about it, mainly because I was in the middle of doing something else and it hadn't snowed, so I didn't 'need' to know the information.

Then I took a spillage down the stairs walking towards the subway. It was like the numerous other times I've fallen, except I was fortunate enough to sprawl out on my back right as the uptown and downtown trains both emptied onto the platform. Lovely.

'Bravo!', I heard in my mind. 'Cirque De Soleil is in town! And they have full-sized clowns too!' It couldn't have happened to another person at a better time. I peeled myself off of the grimy steps. And as I limped away with my hand on my lower back and struggling to pull my pride out of my shoes, I thought how awful it would be if to add insult to injury, the back of my pants and jacket was wet and imprinted with wet marks from the steps of shame.

I got home, and my only consolation was that I fell for the season. I checked it off my list of things-to-do, and it was accomplised as predicted. One down, one to go. I limped into my apartment, turned on QVC, and bless God, there on the t.v. was some woman with way too much make-up selling Yak Trax! How awesome was that? God surely was smiling down at me. I ordered a pair and decided that now I'd be ready for the next wave of snow and ice.

Two weeks later, forecast was for up to 5 inches of snow and ice. Yes, I was ready! I was prepared for the impending storm that was headed to the Tri-state area. I was done with my mornng shower and just got on all my clothes, when I decided that since it was already snowing, it was probably best to put on my new yak trax and head on downstairs so that I could get to my bus stop in time.

As I locked up the front door and made my way down the hallway, the metal wires on the bottom of the trax, the key, critical portion of that fantastic device that was designed to keep all wearers upright, malfunctioned. Well, reading the instructions later that afternoon, it didn't really malfunction as much as it was created to handle walking on ice, but not on any other smooth services like tile, marble, and wood floors. As you may surmise, I slipped and fell smack dab on the left side of my body. My no slipping device caused me to slip and fall on my arse again.

Did I miss something? That's like making an impenetrable bullet proof jacket that protects from fire, sharp objects, speeding cars and direct electrical current, but has one unfortunate design flaw--that being that it doesn't block bullets!!!

Suffice it to say, I made it to work, and forgot my fear of falling on that hallway floor. No longer will I fall in public. I have my impenetrable shoe appliance. But, I will be writing a review on QVC. And it won't be pretty.

Yak Traxx....get em so you don't fall. On the outside.

First Day In...

I know I promised to write once a day, but I'm cheating today. I couldn't do anything yesterday because I worked all day, then got home just in time for H-girl to pick me up and go over to the new apartment to pick up the keys and move the refrigerator stuff into the new place. Alright, nuff wit da excusez. Continuing...

Being away from Hawaii and not having all the sauces and foods that I'm used to and love so much, and not being able to get them here in NY, I really had to think about what to keep and what to toss.

Honestly if I was at home, I probably would have tossed most of it. Easier to pack and easily replaceable. Well, not so with me. I found myself seriously thinking~'I think I can get one more meal out of this.' Or, 'it only expired a week ago~she still good!' When its not easy to get something you crave, you cherish what you have left! Which is good. I'm not being wasteful. Yeah, that's it.

I had a run in with one of the movers. It ended with him calling me 'whack'. I wasn't happy about it when it happened, because I really wanted to pull a Jimmy "Superfly" Snuka and crack his skull. But calmer heads prevailed, although 'stink eyes' was in effect. Believe me, if looks could kill I'd be in jail writing for funds.

I was thinking about how I would go about clocking the jerk. Would I put the weight of my entire body against his throat through my right forearm to his neck? Yeah, that's a good one. Almost 'Scarface'/'Goodfellas' action. That's a good one. Or, would I knock him to the ground, then put my knee to his back, rubbing his face in the concrete, asking him if he had any other clever, original words other than 'whack' to tell me. "Huh, punk?! What you said?!" Yeah, that would feel good. Or, would I dare to be like Jimmy 'Superfly' Snuka, the most famous Fijian during my youth, who would climb up the sides of the ring, open both his arms, make the 'I Love You' sign, then dive onto his opponent smashing him with his infamous Superfly Smash. Then he'd pick the loser up, flip him upside down in his arms, then do the Piledriver on his now limp body, crushing his opponent into next week and securing the win. That's what I wanted to do--I wanted to pile drive him. I wanted to pull him out of his truck and clothesline the sucka. I wanted do all of this, all outside my new apartment, in the 32 degree weather, on the streets of the Bx. All without the animal print bikini. (I'm crazy, but not THAT crazy.)

Ah, faux wrestling violence is so good sometimes to quell the seething beast of revenge.

I'd then use the remaining adrenalin that would be flooding my blood streams, for good, and no longer for evil. I'd head upstairs to my new apartment and whip this place into shape. I'm sure by the time my natural high is done, all my things would have found its new-found home in the apartment and I would have more than enough time to make prank phone calls to Rowdy Roddy Piper or Don 'The Rock' Muraco reminding them how silly their skirts and tights looked on them (All the while, hoping they'd completely blocked out my fancy animal print skivvies...shhhhh).

But, that's not the case. The jerk got away cussing at me out the window of his rental truck, and I was left with my stink eyes. But at least my things were in the apartment, I was not under arrest, and my emotions, eventually, were managed. Whew. And there was no unnecessary body slamming.

So I'm sitting on my bed in the new place and taking a break to write this blog out. I'll take some photos of my new apartment. It's so much nicer and bigger than the last place. It's an adults apartment. I truly feel blessed. It's my first day in the new joint, and I've cut a finger, twisted my lower back, and re-enacted a few famous WWF (Old-school WWE, y'all) cage matches.

Good night.

Cojones--Que???

I was walking to get lunch yesterday and looking around for something to write about. Sometimes I read and re-read the blogs I’ve already written, and I think, ‘I wonder what people think?” Do people think that the things that I write about are boring? Or worse yet, do they think that it’s made up and blown out of proportion. There’s a part of my mind that sometimes conflict with my thoughts. I think one way but recognize that that might not be the best way to express my words, so I editorialize them, making sure to filter out the non-politically correct ideas. 'You have to watch what you say", I say to myself. So I become very conscientious of what is said. I want to write clearly, so that my thoughts are understandable. Simple enough so that the message that is being shared is clear. Balanced in tone so that I'm able to be funny, informative, insightful and encouraging. I want to uplift. I want to bring hope. I want to enlighten. I want to touch lives so that they can turn off their computer and feel like they've read a piece of art.

(pause)

So I was talking to Pink Tequila as we walked to lunch. We walk to lunch everyday, if at the least, to get out of the office. As I’m following her down the stairs from the second floor to the front door, she’s ahead of me, in mid-conversation with someone else on the third floor.

Yeah, she’s yelling.

The person she was talking to was our boss, and before Pink Tequila hits the front door, she yells something that I thought was pretty ballsy. You know…pretty bold, especially to my boss. Don’t get me wrong—our boss is a hella-cool chick. But, she is our boss.

The first thing out of my mouth was, ‘wow, you got a set of big balls, don’t you?’ I said it with a tone of reverence, drizzled ever so lightly with sarcasm and a little ‘how-dare-you’. Then I thought out loud, as I normally tend to do—‘now that doesn’t fit with you, you know---since it’s not anatomically appropriate. How do I make it fit you?’ She shook her head and giggled, knowing full well that I clearly didn’t need any help in coming up with a substitute word. “How about, Big Vag (sounds like 'badge'). Like, wow, you really have some big vag, don’t you?” We both laughed at the disgusting picture that was painted in our minds. But, at the same time, we fascinated at how versatile that one phrase could be. We could say, ‘Gee, I give Hillary credit. It takes a big vag to run for the President of the freakin’ United States !’ Or, 'It sure takes a big vag to host the People's Choice Awards live show! Good for Queen Latifah!'

Yeah, that fits. I can totally hear that conversation taking place anywhere along Fordham Road in the Bronx.

Or maybe, at any Bar/Club U.S.A., where there are women gathered on Ladies Night wishing they were there with a man. All of them consoling that one girl who’s crying over her man (You know there’s always one---and for some of you, you KNOW who you are…). Her girls can surround her like kids huddle around free ice cream, and encourage her with things like “Girl, you know you don’t need him. You’re a strong, independent woman! You got a big vag! You’re the one HE needs. There’s no one with a bigger vag that he’ll ever meet than you! You’re vag is so big, you are what I aspire to be! You’re my hero! My BVFF (Big Vag Friend Forever)!”

Come to think about it, this phrase could sweep the nation. I can see it making its rounds on MTV and VH1 with all the Wanna Be Hipster Tweeners. If I could get someone with Big Vag-vision – dare I say, a Big Vag Visionary, I could start a trend and inspire an entire generation. I can hear it being spoken on Entertainment Tonight or Access Hollywood even now! Mary Hart interviewing Miley Cyrus: “So tell me Miley, you’re still such a young girl, but you’ve accomplished so much. You're a very sweet girl, but I'm told you are shrewd and a tough cookie in business. It’s like, you have big vag-tendencies. Do you see yourself as a big vag role-model?”

Can’t you see it too?!?

Of course, there is a down side to it. Like there is with everything else. Remember the phrase, 'totally awesome'? Where did that one go? I'm more concerned that it may end up like the phrase ‘the bomb’. That's one that has been taken to the extreme. To the point that it can’t be said just anywhere. Try saying that at the airport. Or try and say it on the subway. Do so, and you’ll be eating gravel faster than the E train at rush hour.

Like, I wouldn’t want Paris Hilton to get a hold of the phrase. The words ‘Big Vag’ just have a bad connotation to it when coming out of her mouth. It sounds too—personal, too obvious. If Paris said ‘Big Vag,’ no matter the situation, my only response would be, “Yes, Paris. I know already!”

That wouldn't be hard to imagine.

I don’t know, maybe I’m having delusions of big vag-grandeur? Maybe I won’t conquer the world, uplift hearts, or bring hope to others enough to inspire them to big vag greatness by promulgating this one phrase?

Oh well. Maybe I’ll just sign off my blogs for a week with that as my valediction. Wait—“Big vag” as my valediction. Hmmm…..

I’ll stick to “Deliciously yours,”. At least for this week.

What Beautiful Bird Is This?

Many of you may not know who she is. But she greets me every morning when I roll over in my bed. She is a gorgeous woman. Always has a beautiful smile and happy disposition. And she's funny. If you heard her laugh just once, you'd be surprised at how much she can stir a smile so early in the day. Her voice is raspy enough to cause you to notice her. Yet feminine enough to realize that she is all woman. Every day she tells me, "Good Morning, Sunshine!" And it's hard to say, but she seems to be one of the most down-to-earth personalities that I've never really met.

Yes, I don't know her personally. She is a news anchor of Headline News' Morning Express with Robin Meade. But she is smokin' hot, and she is the woman of my dreams.

I used to catch her on my morning flights from NY to LA. Every week I'd be on the plane and tune in to HLN just to hear her voice. It brought me comfort and consistency during my busy travels. It was what I needed and frankly, seeing her news casts really helped me to find some normalcy during the year and a half that I traveled so much. Kinda sad, no? But you'd be surprised at how many people travel for a living every day. And to top that, how many people really listen and like her morning program! CNN Headline News is almost always on at every airport across this country. Her voice and face is probably most recognizable by business travelers--a bigger audience then you think. You see how I'm giving props to my lady?

She's the daughter of a Pastor (that's a plus+) from Ohio and a former beauty queen, and you just have to catch one of her shows. Okay, it's early in the morning (she wakes me up at 6 promptly, EST.), and I don't think she's even on in Hawaii, but if you can see her working on her job, you'd probably feel the same way too.

I met a guy once who crossed paths with her. He was a musician who she approached to possibly hire for a gig she was planning. I'm not sure if he ever got the job, but hearing her name in a personal conversation was pretty thrilling. I remember asking him to give me details. Come to think about it, I sort of asked him quite stalkericiously. Scary, no? But hearing him tell me the brief conversation he had with her...hearing about her easy smile and genuine laugh. Ah, this woman is unbelievable.

But she's married. Happily so, it seems. But I'm not mad at all. The dude is lucky. I download her podcasts every week and watch the 'behind-the-scenes' stuff. I'm telling you, people, she is a laugh riot and seemingly a very cool chick.

So I'm posting this blog to pay tribute to Robin Meade. If she's not the kind of fantastic person
that I think she is and whom she portrays to be, I would be surprised and dishearened to find out. And she deserves an Emmy. BUT, if she is exactly the way I think she is, I'm glad I 'met' her on my Delta flights, and hope to meet her one day. If only to tell me 'morning sunshine' in person.

And just to clarify before I end this blog, no, I'm not a stalker. But a big fan. And I have been Robin-ized!

http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/bestoftv/2008/04/09/me.get.to.know.robin.cnn

Tipping...hah?

I'm moving. And I am hiring movers to move my things. I was told by a friend, of a time when he hired movers. They packed, transported and unpacked most things in his new house. It was a move to another place a few miles from the last residence, and the move cost about $900. He said he tipped the movers 10%. He was told that that was the least he should give. That was the least that was recommended. Am I missing something?



Isn't the amount that you are paying for jobs like these, the only thing that is recommended? Since when did tipping become an unspoken mandatory rule?


Now I know there are some who may think (if you haven't already--you know who you are!), 'Brah, you know you are so cheap.' But for those of you with far better insight into my madness, you know that i'm usually the first to tip well. Probably because I feel bad knowing most restaurant servers get paid bupkis. I'm a giver, and I know how to give. And I have no problem giving. But I do have a problem feeling like I need to tip guys that are paid as much as they are for doing their job. I liken it to me, after a long day at my desk, going up to my boss and asking for a tip. News Flash.......YOUR TIP IS INCLUDED IN THAT THING YOU GET EVERY 2 WEEKS~IT'S CALLED A PAYCHECK.



Why is it customary to feel an obligation to tip movers? Can someone explain that to me? I mean, besides the following facts: They are moving my personal belongings; It is all of my things; Getting it damaged would really piss me off; They know where I live; They know what all of my things look like; They're familiar with the layout of my new apartment and know how many people live there; They know that I have money (or a reasonably fair amount) since I can hire movers to take furniture 4 miles up the road; They've touched EVERYTHING of mine, that even my own family haven't........



....should I continue??



I'll make a small lunch and set aside a few bucks. Fine. Decision made. Thanks for nothing, people.

Managing Emotions

Emotions are a funny thing. The definition of the word means "A mental state that arises spontaneously rather than through conscious effort and is often accompanied by physiological changes; a feeling: A state of mental agitation or disturbance: The part of the consciousness that involves feeling;" And emotions sometimes comes so randomly that it'll make your head spin. One moment you can be silently listening to music and taking a ride on a bus. Suddenly someone plops themselves so forcefully in the seat next to you without any care or regard, that your mental state is abruptly jarred. This is accompanied by a feeling of agitation. The kind of agitation that requires bail and a restraining order.


So I was washing my clothes today. And heaven knows that as much as I'm used to taking my clothes to the Laundromat, it's not something I look forward to. It's kinda like having to wash rice when you're hungry. It's seems to take longer than it does, but it's something that must be done if you want to eat. I had to do the laundry because I hate the thought of moving into a new place with bags of dirty clothes. The laundry needed to be done. I pushed my ol' lady cart filled with my dirty drawers down the street and prepared my mind for the battle ahead. Little did I know, the battle would not be between me and the washer/dryer.


The laundromats and availability of machines in my neighborhood are like waiting at the bus stop in Hawaii. If you don't leave your house at the right time, you are going to have to wait. The buses can come anytime and are sort of unpredictable. What are you gonna do--walk back home then come back? Of course, not! So you end up sitting there--having to look at all the other 'poor things' who have to catch the bus too. Waiting at the laundromat, timing is everything. If you get there and all the washers are taken, it's gonna be a long wash day. Because those washes need to be dried. Bring a book, an ipod and your phone and get ready for the next couple of hours--if you're lucky.

I get to the Place of Dread and realize that there was a meeting going on. Apparently a memo was sent out to all the ghetto-ass women in my neighborhood. I'm glad I wasn't on the distribution list. I stepped into the fray...mid-fray, as two horrid-wait, scratch that--two WHORE-ed anatomical females (describing them as 'ladies' would be offensive to real women) were cussing and yelling at each other. It took 10 minutes in total (while I was there) for them to stop, but in the middle of the commotion I pieced together that GG1 (Ghetto girl 1) and GG2 were both angry at the other. From what I could piece together, GG1 and GG2 were seconds from coming to blows over, get this, ....

...a laundry cart.

People, I'm telling you right now--managing emotions is key to staying out of prison. Trust me, I'm hoping that our Prison systems are teaching a class on it. Knowledge is power. And the ruckus that was going on at Fowler Laundromat was the opposite of power. Ignorance was running wild up in that place.

The funny thing about the entire situation, is that it seems like I was the only person in that entire business that seemed to notice the argument. I marveled, as I sat across the room from the shouting match, how little old ladies and mothers with their children, gently gathered their offspring and was able to give them orders and load/unload clothes from the machines without so much as a glance towards the death-match going on 4 feet away. No one tried to dial 911. No one attempted to quell the skirmish. No one even stopped to take a picture of it from their cell phone. If anything, I expected someone to do that at the least. I was somewhat taken aback. There was more denial in that room then Clay Aiken, circa 5 months ago. Then it hit me--I need to get out of this neighborhood.

If I am going to choose to live in an area where this is normal behavior from adults in public, something is wrong with me. I can't live in a place like this. If seeing that type of situation doesn't give pause to people in the vicinity to at least show some sign of disapproval, albeit passive-aggressive as it may seem, I can't live there. I can't consciously live in a place where two grown, anatomically born females with young children in their presence, are allowed to tell each other how the other needs Jenny Craig and Antibiotics, all the while cussing so much that it would make Popeye stutter---more than usual. Ugh, gugh, gugh, gugh, gugh. I can't live there. I can't live HERE anymore.

It was at that point I thought how their emotions got the best of them, and in the midst of reacting to whatever triggered the first comment made, these two failed to control themselves and gave into the gutter side of their emotions. They lost it. They completely blew it. Now, I couldn't tell what kind of professions they were in. Although, in judgement, it appeared that one of them was employed in the oldest profession in the book. If ya know what I mean. But for the sake of a blog, IF both of these individuals were true professional, college-educated, 'career women', what a sad thing that this argument was their introduction to everyone in that room that didn't know them, of how bad they could be. If first impressions are everything, these two blew it. I wanted to yell at them, 'Manage your emotions!' I processed all of this, and realized how many times I've completely 'lost it' and did the same, although, maybe not so public.

Well--scratch that. There was a time in my younger (and immature) days when my sister and I was involved in a 'skirmish' with my sister-in-law and her sister. Police was involved and it was a public spectacle that even today I get embarrassed thinking about it. I also failed to manage my emotions. Thank God for Forgiveness, but there was years of bad feelings. All because our emotions were not managed well. At times I still struggle, like I said in the beginning, in very small circumstances. A lot of times, immaturity is still housed in youth. Sometimes though, it takes vacations in seemingly normal, "mature" adults. I'm learning how to tell myself, 'Relax, Brah. It's not that serious.' Some days, I speak to myself more than a normal person should. But it helps me. Thank God I have learned enough sense to realize after years of both winning my battles against my emotions and falling prey to its enticing voice, to take the higher road. And thank God, that in this instance, the higher road is leading me a few miles away, into a better neighborhood.

Perhaps I should plan on putting in a washer/dryer in my unit, just in case.

I'll keep you posted.

Paper or Plastic?

If anyone has ever moved from one place to another, they may have some idea on how stressful it can be and how much work it takes. I, have moved a lot in my life. And at 37, I'm about to do it one more time. This will be my 12th move, my 13th dwelling. Geez, in recounting my past, floods of memories both good and not-so-good ran through my mind. Which causes me to think, what, if anything, might this transient life say about me to someone who doesn't know who I am? I know one thing--after moving so much, I've learned how to pack.



My last move to my current apartment, the tool I employed most to pack up and go were plastic bags. Hefty, Glad, Thank You Come Again, Black-to-hide-the-porn, Dusty bodega bags were all part of the arsenal. It was cheap, it was easy, and I was abundantly overloaded with them.



Have you ever tried moving a 2 bedroom apartment into a 1 bedroom apartment across the city in the dead of winter?? It's not easy. Now add to the mix about 50+ bags with 10 funiture items, 1 truck and 3 Chinese guys (me not included), and watch the comedy unfold.



Hah! Nah, it wasn't that funny. I'd say, more embarrassing. One obvious thing about moving with plastic bags you must know (if common sense doesn't automatically lead you to deduce this info) is that plastic is a very thin material that separates what may be your precious, prized possessions and the cold, hard streets of the Bronx.



I learned this lesson well, especially when seeing pictures and clean underwear being inspected off of the ground by random neighborhood kids.



Another thing about plastic bags is that it is form-less. It's a bag. It has no real shape. For the most part it molds itself around the shape of the items placed inside. The difference can range from putting a box in it, to filling the bag with juice. Both may hold, but both contents change the function and performance of the bag itself.



Trouble ensued in my last move when, after moving the furniture and the few boxes that I used to pack my things, the Chinese movers I hired to transport my things tried stacking the slippery-by-design bags on their handcart, one on top of the other. I should have taken this as a sign.



It took a lot of trips back and forth to the truck to load the car. The problem I had was looking into the truck after the last sack was carried out, wherein I discovered that the back of the truck looked like Monday-Wednesday trash pick-up. Things, my things, were everywhere.



Another curious thing about plastic bags, is that they are very fragile.



Especially if filled with sharp things. Please be careful, the contents may puncture the thin, slippery, fragile exterior. CAUTION!



When was the last time you were embarrassed? Has it been awhile? Well if you ever feel the need to test your personal motives or examine the strength of your fortitude or pride, go and fill a plastic bag with things you hide under mattresses or in the bottom of drawers and throw in a sharp pencil. I bet you, the truth of who you are and how you wish to be perceived by others will rear its head. What is interesting to you may be offensive to others--especially older, judgemental, frigid women. Don't kill the messenger...I'm just saying.



So as I am about to get up out of bed now and get ready for Danie to come and pick me up to take me to Home Depot to buy boxes, I have learned that the only thing I will be using the plastic bags for is to line the trash can. Plastic bags are not meant for moving, but for recycling.

Separate checks, please. Sincerely,

January 2, 2009

Good morning. I’m sitting at my desk at work and have started my day. There are a few things that I need to do today, but I’m forgoing that to try and commit to doing several other more important and personal things for myself (and hopefully in the end, entertaining others along the way) this year. The first is to of course, document and write a ittle bit every day for an entire year. The second is to go back to the gym and get this body into the best shape the Good Lord’s grace and mercy would give me the strength to do. I’m not going to lie—I know that I’m lazy as heck, and to top that, a Grade-A Procrastinator. Well, 'procrastination' is a way for my thinking mind to actively demonstrate the Freudian teaching of Denial. I refuse to acknowledge that I’m lazy!

Even my Laziness is vain. Crazy , right?

Anyhow, I have a few things to do today and I figure I’d start.

I didn’t do anything yesterday.

Well, that's not true. (Lying, so early in the new year?!?) I got up and went to meet H-girl and her co-worker/friends at Jin Fong. I ate, literally, about $4 dollars worth of food. 2 dim sum, 1 look fun and some choi sum, and the bill was split 4 ways. I dropped $10. That was pretty annoying. I mean, really--when was it acceptable to split a bill evenly instead of breaking down the cost per person? Besides the fact I'm a mess magnet, coupled with my personal belief that fat people shouldn't eat in public ~ the whole 'dividing the bill' part of a shared meal has always been uncomfortable to me. Always.

I'm not sure why, but give me time and I'll beat that thought to death. I have 363 opportunities in 2009 to beat that horse to death, so I'll get back to you on that.

The company was worth it, but all of this not only confirms my borderline psychosis, but is reason why I don’t usually like to meet up with others to go out and eat. Especially strangers or people I don't know very well. I get self-conscious with the way that I look eating. (The main reason is because when I eat, I EaT. Fork, spoon, fingers, wrists. I'm no shrinking violet when it comes to food by any means.) Now add to that the fact that I'm part Chinese--where everything must pass the Accountant? I'm a fat messy eater who's hungry and cheap, all in front of strangers. The ingrediants to Social Suicide. (And probably the subject of someone else's blog.)

A funny conversation (besides the joy I had in meeting Australians and Epidimiologists, I'll call them Hugh and Nicole~who in my opinion are a great looking couple that seem so fun, kind, and genuine) H-girl brought up about a project she worked on where an anatomically born man, who was in mid-process of gender reassignment, asked not to be referred by gender but by name (I don’t remember what it was). He/She also peppered her conversation with the word ‘Delicious’. He/She would sign off on documents with “Deliciously yours,”. Nicole leaned to me and wryly said how inappropriate that is (which made me smile broadly and let out a snort).

So other scenarios of random salutations came to mind. Try to replace your ‘Good morning’ greetings with ‘I like cheese’. Or sign all your emails for a day or two with ‘Ambidextrously blessed,’ or ‘The Jokes On You,’. H-girl and I have this game she taught me, to add the words ‘in bed’ after reading any fortune cookie (ie. A thrilling time is in your immediate future in bed.) See the fun you can have? Anyhow, the conversation and meeting smart, fun people at a New Years Day brunch got me to thinking, that maybe taking a chance on things, situations or opportunities outside of the norm is not such a bad thing. It may be fun.

I got home and did nothing else yesterday besides talk to 'Ala and Po individually on the phone.

I’m reading the book Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris. So funny. I hope to read more books this year. I’m also hungry. So far, Day 2 of not hearing from Keiffer. And this weekend I need to start packing. I’ll also need to set down rules for Bertram before moving into the new apartment. I look forward to being in my apartment by myself again by the end of February. One thing about the new year I love is filling out a clean, new calendar. I love filling in things to do and birthdays and organizing my time. The idea of a new year, new opportunities, new hopes excite me. A new calendar makes me think that I could possibly fill this up with ANYTHING. I decide how it will look. And no matter what is written, how it looks, what colors are used, what kind of notes or scribble is written, its a reflection of who I am. At the end of that year, it is a reflection of a life. Outlining things I've done, places and people I've met, detailed thoughts that I've had; a mirror of my perceptions and choices. Public yet very private. Hmmm... Something else to think about. 363 days and counting.

Deliciously yours,
TFO