Pressing Reset

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Well, it's over.For anyone who has been keeping up with the blog, you've heard about the guy I've been dating for the last couple months...it's safe to say you'll never hear about him again. And if you've been reading my blog, you're also familar with something I call the ice cube theory...the ice cube is melted, shattered, and all over the floor...but I can proudly say the ice cube's state is solely due to him...I tried. I tried and tried...and refrained from name calling or hurtful actions...which is more than I can say for him. I guess I can come clean about the the fact that most of the reason I've been so down lately has stemmed from him. I'm not one of those girls who lets my whole world  be affected by a guy, but this time I gave too much too soon...and paid the consequences.

Lesson learned...moving right along. It seems appropriate that things should come to an end with him just as I am spreading my wings in other areas of my life..a new beginning. I've been diligently submitting to casting agencies and feeling the winds of change in the air. It's time to get back to me and the goals in my life. At times, we get so preoccupied with trying to make things in a relationship work that we neglect to make our own lives work. When you realize you're giving more of yourself to someone else than you are to you, it's time to press reset.

Validation vs. Violation

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We've all been there at some point...minding our own business, walking down the street...getting out of our car...wherever it was, some guy(s) thought it would be the right move to whistle, shout out some lude remark, or make some other kind of less than classy gesture. And while, as a lady, it's always a little boost to the old self-esteem to know you've got "it," there's still a fine line.

We live in a time that has a whole new level of openess...over-sexed is a common word to describe our present culture. It seems as though the masses have followed suit with our media-driven popularity of showing too much...and saying too much. There must be something in the water in the last couple weeks...because lately everywhere I go, there is a guy just ready to offer his unsolicited opinion of me. As previously stated, a compliment from a dude can lift your spirits every once in a while...providing some kind of validation that we looking good. But certain types of compliments...and certain types of guys....can have an effect that is much less desireable...the kind that makes you want to take a shower after the interaction. Eww.

Luckily, during this recent bararge of hoots and hollers, I held a door open for a woman. She was an older woman who walked with a walker. I thought she was thanking me as I held the door, but as I realized what she was saying, I started to giggle. She was explaining that she was not rude or fresh, but that I looked great spandex. "Some people don't belong in spandex...but you, you belong in spandex, girl." I think the best compliments you can get come from other women...especially because it can be a pride swallowing experience to tell another woman that she looks good. I honestly think that women check out women MORE than men do...how ya figure? Well, I can't speak for all women, but I can pretty safely say that most women compare themselves to others...I wish my hair was as long as hers or I think I have nicer legs than her. It's just an innate reaction...so when a woman actually speaks up to tell you that you're looking good, it far outweighs almost any compliment from a guy...and it sure beats getting verbally assaulted.

Instant gratification...instant altercation: Gotta love technology.

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Do you remember your life before you owned a cell phone? I have vague memories of memorizing people's phone numbers, but those days are long gone. I don't know anyone's phone number or email address. Technology has helped me save so much room in my brain...though mainly only to use the spare brain cells to learn how to use the technology that saves the room in my brain.

There are those of us that feel like we forgot something important if we leave our house unarmed with our cell phone....something important...ya know, like underwear, but even more important. We forget how to function. Pretty scary thought to think that we no longer know how to exist without our cell phone. But something that strikes me even more isn't what happens when we're the ones who forget our phone...it's the reactions of others on the other end of the line.

Today I left my phone in my car...something that's not uncommon when I go the gym. I consider myself a pretty connected person, but even I have my moments where I need to get off the grid for a bit. From time to time, if I know I have to be available, I'll work out with my phone...begrudingly. Today happened to be one of those days that I needed to escape and just let myself give into the trance of the stairmaster...in hopes it would help me get out of this funk I've been in lately. Fail.

I got back into my car after some serious cardio and a good ab workout...and pulled my phone out to see what I missed. 4 emails and 2 phone calls...the 2 missed calls were from the same person. I called right back and got no answer. I shrugged and went on with the rest of my day...kinda. I called the person back about 20 minutes later...still no answer. I have to admit I was a little frustrated.

Never thinking the person who called me would be aggravated, I found myself getting more and more frustrated for not being able to get through. Remember the days of cassette answering machines...when you never knew if someone was going to answer...and they didn't know it was you calling because caller i.d. was still kind of Jetson status? Gone are those days. Now we live in a time where being unavailable is being rude...or makes you seem suspect. Everyone wants everything right NOW.

After a couple hours, the person called me back...questioning why I wasn't available. I quickly apologized, but was tempted to question why THEY didn't answer. But what's the point...I didn't feel like getting into an argument...aside from the fact that I had a good reason for not having my phone on...so maybe they did, too. All I know is after we hung up, I missed those days of simpler times...rotary phones, beepers, and dial-up internet. Those were the days.

That's What She Said

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In the last week, I've spent an abnormally large amount of my time in complete solitude. I've been working hard looking for audition opportunities and other job prospects. I've also been tirelessly trying write the lyrics and create a melody for a track I'm working on...trying being the key word. I play the track on repeat...then again...and again...until I can barely distinguish the beginning from the end of the song....and still...nothin'.

I've been in a serious funk...my personal life has seen better days to say the least. I know that the beauty of time is that nothing lasts forever...the great, nor the awful...nothing. So I wake up everyday hoping to be on another upswing.

I try my best to remember to praise God everyday and be grateful for another day to keep trying. Somedays that's easier than others...I'm sure you know the feeling. Aside from my faith, I also try to maintain my sense of humor during these times. Although I'm spending more time than I'd like to by myself and hitting a lot of walls, I still try and catch every opportunity I can to follow a thought with "that's what she said"...even if it's in my own head.

Getting the Final Word

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Have you ever had someone continue to call you that you weren't interested in speaking to? Of course you have, but has that person been calling you specifically to tell you that he/ she doesn't want to speak to you anymore? It happened to me last week and it's been on my mind ever since. It's not that it bothers me that the person didn't want to talk to me...it bothered me that they blew my phone up until I answered just so they could tell me they didn't want to talk to me anymore. Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose? I'm pretty sure NOT calling me would have been a more effective means of getting the message across...but that's just me.

It also reminds me of when my friends on facebook triumphantly declare they will be doing some "spring cleaning" of their friends just before they delete a large number of people. As a rule, I don't delete friends...in life...or on facebook...unless there is a reason, which justifies such an action. After all, if you are my friend, facebook or otherwise, why would I want to hurt your feelings or make sure you knew I didn't want to be your friend anymore? If you don't want to be my friend, you can just do nothing...it'll be way more effective. Just sayin'.

Sun Showers

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Thursday, August 5, 2010, 5:45 a.m.: WANG. WANG. WANG. WANG. My alarm clock went off, but I was already awake. I had gone to bed only hours before and I'd woken up almost every half-hour since. It was the morning of my best friend's father's funeral. I had already had 2 exhausting days driving between the Bronx and Long Island, stopping in Manhattan to pick up and entertain some friends from out of town for the last 24 hours. Exhausting, yes...but nothing compared to what my best friend and her family had to endure during the weeks leading up to her father's death.

I got out of bed and made my way to the shower, hoping the water would rejuvinate me...but it just wasn't that kind of day. I opened my front door and saw that it was raining...appropriate weather for what I guessed would be a dreary day on all levels. It seemed as though nothing could lift my spirits or really wake me up. I got dressed, packed a change of clothes and some other odds and ends, and made my way to Starbucks in hopes that a latte would help perk me up (pun intended). I left more than 3 hours early because I wasn't sure how traffic would be and I didn't want to take any chance of being late...but at least the rain had stopped.

I arrived to the church almost 2 1/2 hours early, but I wasn't the first one there. There was a pickup truck full of firemen ready to pay their final respects and honor their friend and comrade. It touched my heart to see them there so early. It was the first time during the day that I smiled...and it felt like God had tapped me on the shoulder and reminded me of the goodness of people.

I eventually made my way into the church to meet with the organist and cantor. My best friend had requested that I sing the communion song during the mass, "On Eagle's Wings." It's one of my very favorite hymns and it was included at my grandmother's funeral. It always gets me choked up so I was really nervous that I wasn't going to be able to get through it. I met with Jean, the organist, and she offered great advice, consolement, and assurance that I would be fine. Her kindness made me smile for the second time that day...and it felt like God had tapped me on the shoulder again so as to remind me that as long as I sing with my heart, it would be beautiful.

I took a seat in a pew and anxiously waited for everyone to enter. I looked over and realized the cantor had arrived. I walked over to her and we chatted breifly about the song. Her name was Pat; she was a high school music teacher and said that she adapted quickly so not to worry. And for the third time, I smiled...and again, God tapped me on my shoulder...this time, reminding me to take a deep breath and mentally prepare for what was about to happen.

Mass began ceremoniously...with the firemen of Ladder Company 38 leading the way. It was beautiful. I looked across the way and caught eyes with my best friend long enough to blow each other kisses and say, "I love you." The priest gave a a moving a eulogy and shared his own interactions with this great man. Two friends spoke and shared their personal memories, which included some of the antics he was known for. Laughter errupted throughout the church. I not only smiled this time...I laughed, too. And this time it was not God tapping me on the shoulder, it was my friend's father himself. He was reminding me...and everyone else in attendance...that he wanted this day to be a celebration...and not a day of tears. And though I wished I could honor his wish completely, I was able to at least insert some laughter in between tears.

The mass ended and I stayed behind to receive communion. I thanked Pat & Jean for their help. Jean gave me a strong hug, the kind that feels like it's actually replenishing some of the strength that you've cried out of yourself. She held me tight and said that she could hear that I sang from my heart...and that it would be something that my friend and I would always have as part of our friendship. I sobbed in her embrace. And though I wasn't smiling, I could feel God tapping me on the shoulder again...reminding me it was ok to cry. 

I got into my car and followed the long caravan of cars towards the veterans' cemetary, which was about 45 minutes away. Due to him being a war veteran and a member of NYFD, not to mention the number of family and friends in attendance, the police department shut off side roads and escorted us the entire way. I took the opportunity to call my mother during the drive. At that moment, I didn't need God to remind me...I remembered how fortunate I was to have both my parents still in my life.

We arrived at the veterans' cemetary and proceeded to gather in his final resting place. It was a beautiful day; the sun was shining down brightly. The soldiers fired off their gun salute in honor of this brave man…literally the bravest man I’ve ever known: a pilot, a courageous firefighter for 38 years, and a first responder during the 9/11 attacks. Another soldier played Taps and it started to set in that this was truly the end. Finally, a bag piper played the last tune and a woman from the funeral home said a closing prayer, following it with us all reciting the “Our Father” together. It was time to say goodbye. My friend and her family placed their white roses on his casket and watched as others dropped their flowers and said farewell. As the last rose was dropped, huge rain drops started to fall through the sun-drenched sky. I smiled. This time, he and God, were working together to remind us to not linger and be sad…it was time to return to their family home for the party he had requested. I grinned from ear to ear as I ran to my car, realizing just what was happening. As we all returned to our cars and began to drive off, the rain stopped and the sun gleamed as bright as before. It was perfect.

I arrived back at my friend’s house where the cars lined the streets all the way to the end. A neighbor had placed fire helmets and American flags on an island that separated the street. Signs in neighbors’ driveways welcomed his friends and family to park wherever they needed. The sun was still out, but now there was a gentle breeze that blew. I smiled again…God was reminding me they would be at the party, too. It was a beautiful day, a wonderful party with some of the most amazing people I have ever had the honor of meeting, and an eye-opening experience to realize the importance of celebrating life. Celebrating the life of someone can be the most profound and helpful way of mourning the loss of someone as extraordinary as he was. All day I had “Two Step” by Dave Matthews Band stuck in my head, whose chorus jubilantly sings, “Celebrate we will ‘cause life is short, but sweet for certain.” I smiled throughout the entire party…realizing that we were all there because we were honoring his wish to do just that…celebrate.

My friend was inundated with news reporters and phone calls as soon as she arrived home for the party. She was unbothered by any of it and she didn’t hesitate to speak to anyone. She spoke passionately about the loss of her father…the bravery he demonstrated in life, the humor he brought to everyday, and the legacy he now left behind. She is now fighting to help pass a 9/11 healthcare bill…a bill that was rejected just 2 days before her father’s death, a death attributed to the cancer he got as a result of being a first responder during that tragic day. As I watched and listened to her speak, I could see that her father had clearly not gone anywhere. In her eyes, I saw a glimmer…and I smiled. It was God reminding me that our loved ones never really go anywhere…not as long as we keep them in our hearts and our minds. My friend is a living legacy of her father and I am honored to call her a friend. And though her father may not be with us in the physical sense, he and God made themselves more than visible throughout the day…a sign that faith sometimes grows stronger when you least expect it. Today, I celebrate my life, my faith, my friendship, and the realization that God is everywhere…you just have to be paying attention.

Cancer: Lessons Learned about Life through Death.

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Cancer. It's a word that has been in my brain like...well, like a cancer. In the last few weeks, I have been plagued by cancer...both directly and indirectly. I had a constant pain in my breast that was making me nervous. I went to my doctor, told her my symptoms, and she immediately got on the phone referring me for a mammogram. I listened to her as she argued with whomever was on the other end of the phone, explaining my mother's history of breast cancer and how I must have a mammogram. She huffed and puffed, hung up the phone, and explained that I'm too young for a mammogram so I'd be going for a sonogram instead. I didn't really care what kind of test it was...as long as it meant I was getting to the bottom of whatever was wrong. Cancer was the last thing I thought it was, but I figured a sonogram would surely tell me something about what was going on.

I showed up at the breast imaging center and checked in. While filling out my paperwork, there was a woman in the waiting room who was a accompanied by a nurse. She kept bursting out with, "Oy vey" over and over again. I couldn't help but think of my mother. She reminded me of my mom during one of her many manic depressive espisodes. I looked at the woman and smiled tenderly, trying to convery the message that I understood where she was coming from. But she just looked back and screamed, "Oy vey," again. And again, I thought of my mother. My mother was 46 years old when she was  first diagnosed with cancer, a diagnosis that would eventually go terribly wrong and metastasize...leading to a mastectomy...chemo...radiation...and 3 reconstructive surgeries. But, despite all of this, my mother is a cancer survivor. She is still in my life today...a gift from God that I sometimes took for granted until I met the guy I'm currently dating...and frequently blog about.

He lost his mother in her battle with cancer. He had little time to prepare for her death and she was one of his very best friends. And this past week was the 3 year anniversary of his mother's death. Since we started dating, we've spent a lot of time together. But as the anniversary drew closer, we grew further apart. Maybe that's an unfair assessment...we didn't necessarily grow apart, we just spent significantly less time together. His phone calls and texts grew further and further apart. I finally sent him a text message asking if he was still interested in me...his elusiveness had shaken my confidence. I just couldn't understand why he would want to be alone that much....or exclude me from what he was going though. In all fairness, we are two very different people in that regard. When I'm at low points, many times I need people around me to distract me from allowing myself to get so low that I can't get back up. Why didn't he want me around to help pick him back up?

The answer became abundantly more clear a few hours after I started writing this particular blog. I started writing this blog post on Saturday evening. I stopped so that I could get out of my house for a while and go distract myself from my self-absorbed thoughts of me, me, me in the context of my relationship for a while. I don't mean to skip around so much, but I need to rewind a few weeks back at this point.

I don't remember if it started with a text or a phone call...but I do know it ended up with me on the phone with my old college roommate, getting the news that her father's bladder cancer had returned...and spread. I stayed on the phone with her, listening to how everything had unfolded. Occassionally, I would interject my words of hope based on my own father's battle with bladder cancer. My father is also a cancer survivor. He is a smoker, a recovering alcoholic...but most of all, a survivor. I sent her texts everyday, checking on the progress of his battle. His prognosis sounded fairly promising, but I still made sure to take a day and spend it with her while he was in the hospital. Things sounded hopeful...he was supposed to be discharged at the end of the week so he could get home and start full-body chemo. We all watched the World Cup together, drank iced coffee, and he ate the first solid food he had been able to in days. It was a good day.

Fast forward back to this Saturday. As I mentioned, I went out and hung out with my friends so as to avoid wallowing in my own self-pitty for the evening. I drank some beers and played an entertaining game of Scrabble with a few friends. It was a low-key night, but it was just what I needed. On the way home, I spoke to the kid I was dating again...and found more frustration. I pulled up in front of my house and took a look at facebook on my blackberry. I saw a haunting status update from my old roommate and paused...It's 2 a.m. Do I call...is it too late? Do I text her...is that too impersonal? Does her update mean what I THINK it means? I decided to text a general "thinking of you" text just to test the waters. Her response broke my heart and confirmed what I thought to be true. Her father had lost his battle to cancer that night.

Within seconds of getting her response, I called her...not knowing what words I could possibly say that would be able to offer her consolement. Her voice was calm as she answered the phone and explained the events of the evening. I sat there in silence ...just trying to figure out what to say.  What words are there for someone who loses a parent? Sometimes the only thing you can say is that you don't know what to say.

I got off the phone with her....and sobbed. I cried so long and so hard that I lost track of time. I cried for all the things he would miss in her life. I cried at the thought of if it had been my father. I cried for her mother. I cried for her sister. And then I cried because I realized how insensitive I had been to the guy I'm dating about grieving the loss of his mother. I made myself physically sick from crying so hard. At some point, I got myself together enough to get into my house...so I could cry some more. And cry, I did. I cried at the thought of how strong my friend was being at such a tragic time. I cried about feeling guilty that my parents had survived. I cried for everything that had gone wrong...and could possibly ever go wrong in the future. I just couldn't get a hold of myself...and then I yawned. Yawns are magical. I feel like yawns are God's way of stopping you from crying when  you can't stop yourself. I yawned...and just like that, it was God's reminder that I was still alive and to get a grip. So I did...and went to sleep.

The next morning I woke up...and I cried again. I sent a text to the guy I'm dating and explained what happened. I needed to see him...and not be alone...and tell him that I think I finally understood...kind of. Afterall, how much can you really understand that until it happens to you? I don't ever want to know...but I know it's inevitable...no one gets out of this alive.

I spent the whole day with him...living life instead of crying about the things that are so far out of my control that they could make me cry forever. I called my parents and the woman I consider to be a second mother. I told them each that I love them and that I was grateful that they are still here in my life. I talked to my friend today and she asked me how I was doing. I didn't know how to answer....if I said I was good, would that make her feel worse? If I said I was bad, would that make her feel worse? Instead, I chose honesty...I told her that her father's death had made me realize how lucky I am to have my parents in my life and to not take anything for granted....and to always remember to LIVE my life instead of thinking about it so much. She seemed happy that a lesson was learned throughout all of this. She said it's what her father would have wanted. And after she said it, I realized that's what all of us should strive for...to leave a legacy that reminds others to value our lives and one another...and to live everyday as if it might be our last...because you never know.