It's been a few weeks since the hair cut. I finally shipped my hair to be made into a wig, and I am getting use to my hair. Its still not my favorite. But the short hair is turning more into a symbol for me than anything else. I gave apart of myself to someone else. I gave some of my happiness to someone else who needs it (or at least eventually). And short hair or not, that is more than I can ask for in my life.
All I ever want is for everyone to be happy, we all have that right. Not to get all political, but when I say everyone, I mean the people who love others, that are just trying to be happy, love their families, and exist. Over seas, all the women, men, and children who just want to live their lives are being stripped of their right. And it does not sit well with me. It should not sit well with anyone. How did I get to be born here, with all the possibilities at my fingertips, and someone else was born in a country where basic human rights are stripped from them before they have the chance to explore?
I have all these thoughts about others, but come to a roadblock, what can I do about it? I can talk about it, I can voice my opinion (freely I might add), but outside of that, what can I do? I volunteer, I help people here, but it seems not enough.
This is a common struggle in my mind- and I am sure will continue... but thats life, finding how I can make a difference in this big world we live in.
Deep thoughts for this Friday.... Maybe more to come later.
Peace, Love, and bigger than myself,
b
Friday, September 13, 2013
Monday, September 2, 2013
Devil with Flowered Hair Scissors
Let me start this off by saying I did a great thing today. I have been growing my hair out for the past 9 months to donate to Beautiful Lengths, a charity that makes wigs for cancer patients. I needed to grow 8 inches or more of hair from the top of a poney tail holder. Yesterday morning, I got out of the shower, asked Trevor to measure, and finally, I had enough hair. What great timing, my mom is in town, and it could have been a great memory to share...
Well... after all the trauma of yesterday, and a few tears shed, it is a memory.. but not all great.
Now heres what happend.... Cutting my hair yesterday was traumatizing, and caused by some 40 year old woman that might have well been the devil. I went to a salon up the street from my house, $35-$45 for a hair cut, depending on the length. It was a pretty fair price, so I decide to do it. I walked in, told the receptionist what I was doing, and asked if there were any openings. There were, she called the woman over, and off I went.
Well, now thinking about it, I should have stopped it right then and there. This woman looked like she just got out of the 1980's. Red lipstick, frizzy hair, horrible highlight job, and overall, she looked like a mess. Lesson #1, if they have horrible hair, do NOT let them touch yours. But, seeing as I did not want to judge a book by its cover, I went with it.
My hair got washed, and it was time. She pulled my hair back into a poney tail. Secured it with an elastic at he back of my head really tight. Picked up her scissors. Went to make the cut. I Jerked my head and said, 'WAIT. you have to pull the poney tail down. Its 8'' from ABOVE the poney tail.' She said oh, of course. Lesson #2, was she drunk? Did I not explain this? I should have never let someone near my hair that didn't listen to a word I had said near my hair. Again, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. She pulled down the hair tie. I could not see how far, but figured, 'ok, I told her how I wanted it cut, I told her 8'', how can she mess up at this point?'
Oh, how wrong I was.
She cut. The damage was done. With 2 snips (yes 2, because her scissors were not thick enough she had to cut the wad of hair twice) of her small flowered scissors, she had destroyed my hair. There was plenty of hair for me to donate now... because she cut '11 inches off my hair, when I told her no more than '8. I freaked. Stood out of the chair. Looked at her, and said, 'THIS IS NOT WHAT I HAD TOLD YOU'.
She told me I was in shock. I wanted to slap her. Yes, cutting off that much hair is a big change, but I was prepared. What she did was put my hair into a lawn mower and turned it on. She said, 'You have done a great thing.' I told her I knew that. I wanted to slap her. The damage was done. There was no turning back at that point. I walked around the salon, trying to regain composure. No luck. I wanted to slap her, but there was nothing I could do. The hair cut had to be finished.
So, I stayed in the chair and let the disaster begin. She kept cutting. With every snip of her flowered scissors I wanted to slap her even more. I have never been the type of person to get upset by a hair cut. It's only hair, it grows back. Its not like I ever had one stylist that I would let touch my hair. I figured, i had enough of it, it'll grow back. I guess up until now, I have never had a bad hair cut.
I told her no shorter. I told her to keep the bottom at my shoulders and do what she could to save her disaster. She kept cutting. Told me she was layering. Layering my ass. After 10 minutes of her layering. I officially freaked out. I stood up midcut and told her to back off. To get away from me. I was pacing. This was not the emotional trauma I had signed up for. I sat back down and told her to finish as soon as possible, because I couldn't take it any more.... She was about to make another cut, and another stylist came in and saved me.
She asked to take over. She took me to her chair and told me she was going to do what she could do to save my haircut. Well, didn't that just make me feel like a million dollars? She was going to SAVE my hair, not finish the cut. great.
While all this was going on, my mom and Trevor were watching from the store front. Watching me freak out. Trying to help, be supportive, be positive, while the devil with scissors kept cutting.
In the end, everything is fine, of course. I donated more hair than I had thought, someone will get a great wig who deserves it. Someone will get to feel beautiful in a time when they need it. I feel good about that, giving part of myself to someone else. No matter the journey to get there, at least someone will get a smile out of today. Even me.... and I learned a valuable lesson. If their hair sucks, dont let them near yours.
Peace, Love, and short hair, dont care,
B
Well... after all the trauma of yesterday, and a few tears shed, it is a memory.. but not all great.
Now heres what happend.... Cutting my hair yesterday was traumatizing, and caused by some 40 year old woman that might have well been the devil. I went to a salon up the street from my house, $35-$45 for a hair cut, depending on the length. It was a pretty fair price, so I decide to do it. I walked in, told the receptionist what I was doing, and asked if there were any openings. There were, she called the woman over, and off I went.
Well, now thinking about it, I should have stopped it right then and there. This woman looked like she just got out of the 1980's. Red lipstick, frizzy hair, horrible highlight job, and overall, she looked like a mess. Lesson #1, if they have horrible hair, do NOT let them touch yours. But, seeing as I did not want to judge a book by its cover, I went with it.
My hair got washed, and it was time. She pulled my hair back into a poney tail. Secured it with an elastic at he back of my head really tight. Picked up her scissors. Went to make the cut. I Jerked my head and said, 'WAIT. you have to pull the poney tail down. Its 8'' from ABOVE the poney tail.' She said oh, of course. Lesson #2, was she drunk? Did I not explain this? I should have never let someone near my hair that didn't listen to a word I had said near my hair. Again, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. She pulled down the hair tie. I could not see how far, but figured, 'ok, I told her how I wanted it cut, I told her 8'', how can she mess up at this point?'
Oh, how wrong I was.
She cut. The damage was done. With 2 snips (yes 2, because her scissors were not thick enough she had to cut the wad of hair twice) of her small flowered scissors, she had destroyed my hair. There was plenty of hair for me to donate now... because she cut '11 inches off my hair, when I told her no more than '8. I freaked. Stood out of the chair. Looked at her, and said, 'THIS IS NOT WHAT I HAD TOLD YOU'.
She told me I was in shock. I wanted to slap her. Yes, cutting off that much hair is a big change, but I was prepared. What she did was put my hair into a lawn mower and turned it on. She said, 'You have done a great thing.' I told her I knew that. I wanted to slap her. The damage was done. There was no turning back at that point. I walked around the salon, trying to regain composure. No luck. I wanted to slap her, but there was nothing I could do. The hair cut had to be finished.
So, I stayed in the chair and let the disaster begin. She kept cutting. With every snip of her flowered scissors I wanted to slap her even more. I have never been the type of person to get upset by a hair cut. It's only hair, it grows back. Its not like I ever had one stylist that I would let touch my hair. I figured, i had enough of it, it'll grow back. I guess up until now, I have never had a bad hair cut.
I told her no shorter. I told her to keep the bottom at my shoulders and do what she could to save her disaster. She kept cutting. Told me she was layering. Layering my ass. After 10 minutes of her layering. I officially freaked out. I stood up midcut and told her to back off. To get away from me. I was pacing. This was not the emotional trauma I had signed up for. I sat back down and told her to finish as soon as possible, because I couldn't take it any more.... She was about to make another cut, and another stylist came in and saved me.
She asked to take over. She took me to her chair and told me she was going to do what she could do to save my haircut. Well, didn't that just make me feel like a million dollars? She was going to SAVE my hair, not finish the cut. great.
While all this was going on, my mom and Trevor were watching from the store front. Watching me freak out. Trying to help, be supportive, be positive, while the devil with scissors kept cutting.
In the end, everything is fine, of course. I donated more hair than I had thought, someone will get a great wig who deserves it. Someone will get to feel beautiful in a time when they need it. I feel good about that, giving part of myself to someone else. No matter the journey to get there, at least someone will get a smile out of today. Even me.... and I learned a valuable lesson. If their hair sucks, dont let them near yours.
Peace, Love, and short hair, dont care,
B
Friday, August 23, 2013
Uplifting
This is what makes me want to do more for this world, just to help people:
http://inthecapital.streetwise.co/2013/08/22/teach-for-america-baltimore-intern-elijah-miles-delivers-inspiring-i-have-a-dream-speech-that-instantly-goes-viral-video/
http://inthecapital.streetwise.co/2013/08/22/teach-for-america-baltimore-intern-elijah-miles-delivers-inspiring-i-have-a-dream-speech-that-instantly-goes-viral-video/
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Rebel Impulses
I got my nose pierced yesterday. Something I have always wanted to have- and not going to try to justify reasons why, I just like it. Maybe for the same reason I just like the color green, or why I will only paint my nails certain colors: I just like it. Most likely, it will not stay for long, but it was the point of doing it.
Once, in college... I had my nose pierced. I made the decision right after winter break jr. year, went to the parlor, on my own before recruitment, and just did it. I didn't ask my parents, I just went, and I loved it. Casually, a few weeks later, I brought up the thought to my mom about thinking about getting my nose pierced, and the answer I got was, "If you get your nose pierced, you can pay for college on your own" After that comment I freaked out. They were coming to visit a few weeks later, so, the decision was made, I loved college more than the nose piercing, took it out, and no harm no foul. My parents never needed to know.
Until I told them a few years later. Got a good laugh about how much pressure I have always put on myself, and for the most part, have been an easy kid.
Yesterday afternoon, I made the decision that I wanted it again, and you know what, I went, did it, and don't regret it for a second. Here's why:
1) I proved to myself I could do it. I am in control of myself, and if there is something I want, no one, and nothing can stop me
2) Finally, I did something that not everyone agreed with, and I don't care what they think
3) And last but not least, I did this for me. Maybe to feel a little but of pain, or to feel a little alive. But this year, for the most part, has been hard from a personal standpoint. At some point, we all have to be selfish, do something for ourselves, no matter what that is (within constrain of physical harm, of course)- and not think, just do.
And thats what I did. My parents hate it, disagree with it, whatever. T supports it, people at work are mixed. But overall, I did it, I support myself- and what other people think... honestly, don't care.
Peace, Love, and the little rebel inside all of us,
B
Once, in college... I had my nose pierced. I made the decision right after winter break jr. year, went to the parlor, on my own before recruitment, and just did it. I didn't ask my parents, I just went, and I loved it. Casually, a few weeks later, I brought up the thought to my mom about thinking about getting my nose pierced, and the answer I got was, "If you get your nose pierced, you can pay for college on your own" After that comment I freaked out. They were coming to visit a few weeks later, so, the decision was made, I loved college more than the nose piercing, took it out, and no harm no foul. My parents never needed to know.
Until I told them a few years later. Got a good laugh about how much pressure I have always put on myself, and for the most part, have been an easy kid.
Yesterday afternoon, I made the decision that I wanted it again, and you know what, I went, did it, and don't regret it for a second. Here's why:
1) I proved to myself I could do it. I am in control of myself, and if there is something I want, no one, and nothing can stop me
2) Finally, I did something that not everyone agreed with, and I don't care what they think
3) And last but not least, I did this for me. Maybe to feel a little but of pain, or to feel a little alive. But this year, for the most part, has been hard from a personal standpoint. At some point, we all have to be selfish, do something for ourselves, no matter what that is (within constrain of physical harm, of course)- and not think, just do.
And thats what I did. My parents hate it, disagree with it, whatever. T supports it, people at work are mixed. But overall, I did it, I support myself- and what other people think... honestly, don't care.
Peace, Love, and the little rebel inside all of us,
B
Monday, August 19, 2013
Bread with a side of Smile
This weekend was great. I went out to New Jersey and spent some time with a friend from college. She made sure to show me the best parts of New Jersey, the tax free shopping, and the once a year local wine festival near her house. Saturday was a good day. Finally, I was over my cold, and back to feeling like a normal human being. I am also on the last stretch of a countdown- T is coming home this week! He has been on his European adventure, leaving me to explore a few things around the city. And Sunday, I will say, was the best exploration I have done on my own since moving to NYC.
Sunday was an eye opening day, a great day. I decided to sign up to volunteer at a church that gives meals every sunday to homeless people, or just people in need. It has been a long time since I've done something for someone else. I use to tutor in Atlanta some weekends, and I loved it. Not sure why I ever stopped, life got in the way, and time just slipped by. Anyways, Sunday was amazing. Got to the church early, and right away, started wrapping napkins with spoons and forks in them. Then, the real work started. I was in charge of putting the bread, the last and final touch of the meal, onto the tray, and then handing the tray to the guest. Although it sounds like a small job, it was a
a lot of work, and the entire time, I had a huge grin on my face. I wanted every guest that received a meal, to get it from someone with a smile.
And thats all it took, a smile at one of them, and in return, I would hear a 'g-d bless' most of the time, or my favorite, just a smile back. The power of a grin is endless in my mind. I met a woman, who had severe arthritis in her knees, could barely walk to the bathroom. She asked for some help to carry her bags across the room to the bathroom. I took her hand, and walked with her for a 20 minute walk, that would take a fully able person 3 minutes to walk. On our walk, we chatted about where she is from, and what was wrong with her body. It was easy to see that she was in pain. It hurt her to walk, and there was nothing I could do about that. We got to the bathroom, she had me place her bag outside the stall, she looked at me and said, 'I got it from here. Thank you" she gave me the slightest grin, and she continued into the stall. The whole 20 minutes we walked, she did not once smile, until the end. Behind the smile, I could see the pain- but the smile looked good on her.
I have never been a person who really loved volunteering with elderly people, or homeless people for that matter. This is my blog, and I can be honest. They have always made me uncomfortable. But from this weekend, I learned something valuable about myself. When I am put into a situation that might not be the easiest for me, my first reaction is to smile, and mask my nervousness. And from my experience this past weekend, I fell in love with helping. My next goal, help the elderly... it might sound funny, but the more I challenge myself, and pull myself out of my comfort zone, the happier I am.
Peace, Love, and always wanting more smiles,
b
Sunday was an eye opening day, a great day. I decided to sign up to volunteer at a church that gives meals every sunday to homeless people, or just people in need. It has been a long time since I've done something for someone else. I use to tutor in Atlanta some weekends, and I loved it. Not sure why I ever stopped, life got in the way, and time just slipped by. Anyways, Sunday was amazing. Got to the church early, and right away, started wrapping napkins with spoons and forks in them. Then, the real work started. I was in charge of putting the bread, the last and final touch of the meal, onto the tray, and then handing the tray to the guest. Although it sounds like a small job, it was a
a lot of work, and the entire time, I had a huge grin on my face. I wanted every guest that received a meal, to get it from someone with a smile.
And thats all it took, a smile at one of them, and in return, I would hear a 'g-d bless' most of the time, or my favorite, just a smile back. The power of a grin is endless in my mind. I met a woman, who had severe arthritis in her knees, could barely walk to the bathroom. She asked for some help to carry her bags across the room to the bathroom. I took her hand, and walked with her for a 20 minute walk, that would take a fully able person 3 minutes to walk. On our walk, we chatted about where she is from, and what was wrong with her body. It was easy to see that she was in pain. It hurt her to walk, and there was nothing I could do about that. We got to the bathroom, she had me place her bag outside the stall, she looked at me and said, 'I got it from here. Thank you" she gave me the slightest grin, and she continued into the stall. The whole 20 minutes we walked, she did not once smile, until the end. Behind the smile, I could see the pain- but the smile looked good on her.
I have never been a person who really loved volunteering with elderly people, or homeless people for that matter. This is my blog, and I can be honest. They have always made me uncomfortable. But from this weekend, I learned something valuable about myself. When I am put into a situation that might not be the easiest for me, my first reaction is to smile, and mask my nervousness. And from my experience this past weekend, I fell in love with helping. My next goal, help the elderly... it might sound funny, but the more I challenge myself, and pull myself out of my comfort zone, the happier I am.
Peace, Love, and always wanting more smiles,
b
Friday, August 16, 2013
No homemade chicken soup
Well.... I chickened out on the chicken soup. Literally. Again. 2 Nights in a row, I had the thought to make it, but then my sickness just took over. And laziness. Oops.
So last night, to get my soup fix, I bough one of the pre made soups from the store. I was very sadly disappointed. I wanted so bad for the soup to be good.... and it just wasn't. Never again will I do that. Even canned soup would have fulfilled my need for soup.
But on the bright side, I am feeling better. Have big plans for the weekend. Going out to NJ to visit a friend from college tomorrow, then volunteering at a homeless shelter on Sunday to serve a hot meal. Its about time for me to give something back. Do a little good for the world around me. Couldn't hurt my karma..... And any little bit of good vibes could come in handy, not only for me, but for my family.
Peace, Love, and just more love,
b
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Health Food
I watched a documentary last night about how eating natural foods, solid foods, and taking vitamins can help the human body reverse damage and illness. Part of me is still skeptical, but it just makes sense. We are what we eat, so if we are eating chemicals and toxins... then we will become chemicals and toxins.
That just makes me feel gross. Working out, and eating healthy is not enough. At least, not the 'healthy' eating I was doing before. My healthy consisted of trying to lose weight, so, low calorie. No real sugars, essentially, everything was processed. I would have salads, but with low fat dressing, filled with corn syrup.
Making a lifestyle change is something I am toying around with. Not just for only my benefit, but for my families benefit. Maybe if I make this change, my family will start to make the same change, and go on this adventure with me. And the more I think about it, its not that big of a change, and not even that expensive. But another question I ask myself, what is money compared to being healthy and happy? It does not even compare. I would rather be broke and happy, than rich and sad.
Wheels in my brain are churning... time to pop and multivitamin...
More to come.
Peace, Love, and making changes...
b
That just makes me feel gross. Working out, and eating healthy is not enough. At least, not the 'healthy' eating I was doing before. My healthy consisted of trying to lose weight, so, low calorie. No real sugars, essentially, everything was processed. I would have salads, but with low fat dressing, filled with corn syrup.
Making a lifestyle change is something I am toying around with. Not just for only my benefit, but for my families benefit. Maybe if I make this change, my family will start to make the same change, and go on this adventure with me. And the more I think about it, its not that big of a change, and not even that expensive. But another question I ask myself, what is money compared to being healthy and happy? It does not even compare. I would rather be broke and happy, than rich and sad.
Wheels in my brain are churning... time to pop and multivitamin...
More to come.
Peace, Love, and making changes...
b
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Chicken Soup...
Over the past few days I have gotten a cold that just will not go away. All I really want to eat is some homemade chicken soup. Sounds like a simple enough request...
...minus the fact that I have never actually made it on my own. Growing up, my mom made it. In college, Campbell's made it (from the can of course), and post college since moving to NYC, T has made it. But I am now at a cross roads. T is on a vacation with his family....My mom is in Atlanta... Campbell's just sounds gross.... and I am sick. That means, no one to make it for me... but me.
Crap.
I am not the best of cooks. I try very hard. I try to follow the directions as well as possible. But I am also extremely impatient, which does not make for a good cook. I want everything to move faster... meaning I under cook, or over cook everything. Chicken I will initially undercook, notice that its undercooked, and then cook the life out of it, because I don't want to get anyone sick. Which, in turn, I make the chicken look, taste and feel like rubber.
But, right now, the only thing I can think about, is a big bowl of steaming hot chicken soup, to make me feel better. The Jewish Penicillin. And undercooked Jewish penicillin will not do the trick.
I also hate touching raw chicken. Someone about it gives me the willies. When its necessary, I will touch raw chicken (or any raw meat in fact). But if it can be avoided, I run to the hills. I called my mom this afternoon asking how she makes her chicken soup, and her recipe calls for "pulling out the insides of the raw chicken." Gag me now. If having this cold isn't bad enough, touching raw chicken will put me over the edge.
So tonight, when I go home... I am going to attempt to make my first batch of soup. Wish me luck.
Peace, Love, and gotta learn sometime,
B
...minus the fact that I have never actually made it on my own. Growing up, my mom made it. In college, Campbell's made it (from the can of course), and post college since moving to NYC, T has made it. But I am now at a cross roads. T is on a vacation with his family....My mom is in Atlanta... Campbell's just sounds gross.... and I am sick. That means, no one to make it for me... but me.
Crap.
I am not the best of cooks. I try very hard. I try to follow the directions as well as possible. But I am also extremely impatient, which does not make for a good cook. I want everything to move faster... meaning I under cook, or over cook everything. Chicken I will initially undercook, notice that its undercooked, and then cook the life out of it, because I don't want to get anyone sick. Which, in turn, I make the chicken look, taste and feel like rubber.
But, right now, the only thing I can think about, is a big bowl of steaming hot chicken soup, to make me feel better. The Jewish Penicillin. And undercooked Jewish penicillin will not do the trick.
I also hate touching raw chicken. Someone about it gives me the willies. When its necessary, I will touch raw chicken (or any raw meat in fact). But if it can be avoided, I run to the hills. I called my mom this afternoon asking how she makes her chicken soup, and her recipe calls for "pulling out the insides of the raw chicken." Gag me now. If having this cold isn't bad enough, touching raw chicken will put me over the edge.
So tonight, when I go home... I am going to attempt to make my first batch of soup. Wish me luck.
Peace, Love, and gotta learn sometime,
B
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Locks of Love
Since my dad was diagnosed with cancer 8 months ago, I have been growing out my hair for locks of love. At the time, growing my hair out seemed like something I could do, to feel like I was in my dad's cancer with him...
But now, my hair is SO LONG. and although I know it is a great thing I am doing, I am ready for my hair to be long enough. Maybe it is also a emotional thing, and monumental feeling. But will it matter, if I cut my hair, and my dad is still going through treatments? This is an internal struggle I keep going through.
Oh the inter workings of my brain.
But now, my hair is SO LONG. and although I know it is a great thing I am doing, I am ready for my hair to be long enough. Maybe it is also a emotional thing, and monumental feeling. But will it matter, if I cut my hair, and my dad is still going through treatments? This is an internal struggle I keep going through.
Oh the inter workings of my brain.
Friday, July 26, 2013
Business Lunches
You know what makes any business lunch better? Bloody Mary's. Any sort of tension, reservations or even shyness seem to be put aside with bloody mary's. Not 5 bloody mary's, but just 1. Thats all it takes to have a fluid conversation when a sale is the end goal. That and even have a few good laughs.
Not that I really have any desire to go into straight sales, but at this point, I am picking up a good amount of tips along the way.
Tip of business- why wear a suit and be up tight, when you can do business comfortably with a yummy bloody mary?
Not that I really have any desire to go into straight sales, but at this point, I am picking up a good amount of tips along the way.
Tip of business- why wear a suit and be up tight, when you can do business comfortably with a yummy bloody mary?
Citi Biking and my backside
Growing up, I would have night mares of my jeans ripping in school, which would reveal my brightly colored underwear. As time passed, this nightmare slowly disappeared I became more confident in myself, and my ability to laugh things off.
Well, let me tell you, it is STILL embarrassing Last night, after a work happy hour, I decided to ride one of the awesome Citi Bikes home. If you dont know what they are, you should. Citi Bikes are the public bike system that NYC has implemented There are stations all over the place, and is only $100 for a year pass. Having this membership has saved me over $50 a month for subway passes. Anyways, I was riding home, a 3 mile ride from the West Village. I was in a skirt, but a long one so I was not worried about seeing straight up my skirt. I had a helmet on, safety first, of course. I was doing everything right.
About halfway home, a cab driver started yelling at me. Thinking it was a typical NYC heckle, I ignored him. This city has taught me to not pay attention to people I dont know, good, bad or different. So I continued on my treck home. I park the bike at the station, and go to my apartment, a good 3-4 block walk. When I go inside, Trevor gives me a hug, and asks me, 'Why is your skirt unzipped?' I looked in the mirror, and MY WHOLE BUTT WAS SHOWING. Exactly what the cab driver was yelling at me about!!
Thank goodness I didn't see anyone I knew the entire way home, other than all of Times Square, and the rest of New York City. So congrats NYC, you have officially see my butt.
Peace, Love and underwear,
B
Well, let me tell you, it is STILL embarrassing Last night, after a work happy hour, I decided to ride one of the awesome Citi Bikes home. If you dont know what they are, you should. Citi Bikes are the public bike system that NYC has implemented There are stations all over the place, and is only $100 for a year pass. Having this membership has saved me over $50 a month for subway passes. Anyways, I was riding home, a 3 mile ride from the West Village. I was in a skirt, but a long one so I was not worried about seeing straight up my skirt. I had a helmet on, safety first, of course. I was doing everything right.
About halfway home, a cab driver started yelling at me. Thinking it was a typical NYC heckle, I ignored him. This city has taught me to not pay attention to people I dont know, good, bad or different. So I continued on my treck home. I park the bike at the station, and go to my apartment, a good 3-4 block walk. When I go inside, Trevor gives me a hug, and asks me, 'Why is your skirt unzipped?' I looked in the mirror, and MY WHOLE BUTT WAS SHOWING. Exactly what the cab driver was yelling at me about!!
Thank goodness I didn't see anyone I knew the entire way home, other than all of Times Square, and the rest of New York City. So congrats NYC, you have officially see my butt.
Peace, Love and underwear,
B
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Did we skip September?
Just yesterday, I was complaining about how hot is has been recently. Dreading another day of heat. My complaining seems to have been heard loud and clear. So much so, that its not even breaking 75 today! This is straight fall weather.
But you will not hear any complaining anymore. This is amazing. Global warming, today, I commend you.
Sometimes I cannot decide if I am low maintenance or just lazy. It seems that every girl I come in contact with in NYC is extremely concerned with their hair, their nails, their makeup, their eyebrows, and the ultimate: fashion. Some of these things- I have never really been into. It takes me about 30 minutes flat to get ready for work in the morning. My makeup ritual consists of a little eyeliner and maskera. I don't feel self conscious, or ugly, its just me. My style can be considered a little unique, but again, its just me. So why is it such a surprise that I don't really wear makeup, I don't take a ton of time to do my hair... I will even go out of my apartment, without makeup! GASP!
Is this where the self conscious issues start happening, when other girls cannot understand why I do not really care too much about looks? Because then I start to wonder if I am doing something wrong.... but then I snap back to reality, and remember... nope. I would rather by outside, soaking in the sun, than inside spending an hour doing my hair and makeup.
The conclusion: I am just not a girly girl.
Peace, love, and wearing a sweater.. in July,
b
But you will not hear any complaining anymore. This is amazing. Global warming, today, I commend you.
Sometimes I cannot decide if I am low maintenance or just lazy. It seems that every girl I come in contact with in NYC is extremely concerned with their hair, their nails, their makeup, their eyebrows, and the ultimate: fashion. Some of these things- I have never really been into. It takes me about 30 minutes flat to get ready for work in the morning. My makeup ritual consists of a little eyeliner and maskera. I don't feel self conscious, or ugly, its just me. My style can be considered a little unique, but again, its just me. So why is it such a surprise that I don't really wear makeup, I don't take a ton of time to do my hair... I will even go out of my apartment, without makeup! GASP!
Is this where the self conscious issues start happening, when other girls cannot understand why I do not really care too much about looks? Because then I start to wonder if I am doing something wrong.... but then I snap back to reality, and remember... nope. I would rather by outside, soaking in the sun, than inside spending an hour doing my hair and makeup.
The conclusion: I am just not a girly girl.
Peace, love, and wearing a sweater.. in July,
b
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Summer Sweats
This glorious city... has turned into a smelly and sweaty heat box. Not sure why its surprising anymore. Every summer has been the same. But this summer seems hotter. Almost unbearable. I have tried everything to stay cool. Wear less clothing, drink lots of water, stay in the shade, anything to keep myself cool- but no matter what I do, I end up sweaty.
The worst has been walking into work... with sweat stains. There is no way to avoid it. Thankfully, today it has been a little cooler. But I do feel bad for the guy that sits next to me. I don't think I smell... but it looks like I should.
Although I love NYC (I can say that honestly), I have come to an understanding with myself, that for now, New York is where I should be. Everything is at my fingertips. But, I can't help to think... whats next for me? Where will me and T end up after this. There will come a point where it gets old. The point when I will give in and want a puppy- which I want now.. but have you ever seen a puppy pee on the sidewalk? It's just mean.
Eventually we will have to settle down, find a city thats right for us. I want the beach, the warm, the sunshine. As long as there are planes, trains, and automobiles I don't mind living away from my parents. And interesting concept coming from a girl who use to cry whenever the though of sleeping out would come up. But who knows.
I just need to keep focusing on today. Getting through my days, and taking things one step at a time. A little hard, but one at a time.
Peace, Love and Staying Sweaty
b
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Yea, I'm still here...almost 25
Where have I gone? No, I havent forgotten you, my dearest old friend. Life has just gotten in the way.
I spend 9 hours a day in front of a computer, typing away, researching, and reading, and most of my writing has now switched to paper. Frankly, because I just cannot stare at the screen anymore. But what am I writing for, to complain?
nope.
And thats a new goal for me- to stop complaining it usually is never aloud, but even the companying in my mind is starting to take a toll. I need to remember that what is important in life is not what happens to you, but how you react to the things that happen.
Our relationship is an unbalanced one. Its all take, take, take. I only come to you when my outlook is foggy, and I am looking for direction. But that is not very fair, not at all. So I'll try, I cannot promise, but I will try. I will try to stay in touch more, to give the fun stories that are happening in my life.
Almost a year ago, to the day, I set out with an idea, the 365 days to 25. To document the year, see what happened. But this idea soon deflated. Got lost in the black hole, called life. Would it have been cool, hell yes. But, oh well. Can't change my laziness
My year of 24, while still not over, has been a crazy one. Finally settling in NYC, 3 jobs, 1 apartment, multiple trips, and a few family road bumps, but overall, 24 hasn't been that bad. An adventure, and a challenge. Some challenges I never wish on my worst enemy, but things that will set the tone for the rest of my life. Things that in time, I will look back on, and think... it happened, that sucked. We all have those, though, dont we?
But bring it on 25, in less than a week, I am coming for you.
peace, love, and moving on up,
b
I spend 9 hours a day in front of a computer, typing away, researching, and reading, and most of my writing has now switched to paper. Frankly, because I just cannot stare at the screen anymore. But what am I writing for, to complain?
nope.
And thats a new goal for me- to stop complaining it usually is never aloud, but even the companying in my mind is starting to take a toll. I need to remember that what is important in life is not what happens to you, but how you react to the things that happen.
Our relationship is an unbalanced one. Its all take, take, take. I only come to you when my outlook is foggy, and I am looking for direction. But that is not very fair, not at all. So I'll try, I cannot promise, but I will try. I will try to stay in touch more, to give the fun stories that are happening in my life.
Almost a year ago, to the day, I set out with an idea, the 365 days to 25. To document the year, see what happened. But this idea soon deflated. Got lost in the black hole, called life. Would it have been cool, hell yes. But, oh well. Can't change my laziness
My year of 24, while still not over, has been a crazy one. Finally settling in NYC, 3 jobs, 1 apartment, multiple trips, and a few family road bumps, but overall, 24 hasn't been that bad. An adventure, and a challenge. Some challenges I never wish on my worst enemy, but things that will set the tone for the rest of my life. Things that in time, I will look back on, and think... it happened, that sucked. We all have those, though, dont we?
But bring it on 25, in less than a week, I am coming for you.
peace, love, and moving on up,
b
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Valentines Day
I love all holidays. Any holiday to decorate, celebrate, dress up in a theme, or give creative presents- I am in. This might be something I got from my mom, because without fail, every year, she would give me a valentines day present. It might be because she felt bad for me, because before the ripe age of 23, I never had a boyfriend. I came close once, when I was 15- but I dumped the kid a day before February 14th. Crushed his poor little heart- he even wrote a song for me... on a paper lunch bag. But other than that, Valentines day was reserved for my parents to give me candy I 100% did not need- and a stuffed animal of some sorts. Although these gifts came from my parents, I still loved Valentines Day.
Everyone that says they hate Valentines day because they don't have anyone, or they think its stupid- come on, get a grip. Its just a fun day to tell people you love them, and wear red. Lighten up- sometimes its fun to leave this dark, global warming world, and live in a pink, candy world. And everyone needs someone to tell them they are loved. So tomorrow- tell everyone you love them- even if you just kind of only like them. Spread the cheer. Laugh a little harder at someones joke, give up your seat to someone who needs it, or even just the smallest thing, smile back at someone who smiles at you. This is turning into a rant. But I think people should just be a little more loving and caring. There is always someone, somewhere that is having a harder time than you. So love the Valentines day. Get struck by cupids arrow, nothing bad is gonna happen.
In other news- I decided to grow my hair out for locks of love. So many people in my life have been effected by cancer lately, and in the past- so its time to give apart of myself, the least I can do. I did the breast cancer walk a few years ago, and now its time to give part of myself again. Consider it my Valentines day treat to the world.
Peace, Love, and Eat a candy heart-
B
Everyone that says they hate Valentines day because they don't have anyone, or they think its stupid- come on, get a grip. Its just a fun day to tell people you love them, and wear red. Lighten up- sometimes its fun to leave this dark, global warming world, and live in a pink, candy world. And everyone needs someone to tell them they are loved. So tomorrow- tell everyone you love them- even if you just kind of only like them. Spread the cheer. Laugh a little harder at someones joke, give up your seat to someone who needs it, or even just the smallest thing, smile back at someone who smiles at you. This is turning into a rant. But I think people should just be a little more loving and caring. There is always someone, somewhere that is having a harder time than you. So love the Valentines day. Get struck by cupids arrow, nothing bad is gonna happen.
In other news- I decided to grow my hair out for locks of love. So many people in my life have been effected by cancer lately, and in the past- so its time to give apart of myself, the least I can do. I did the breast cancer walk a few years ago, and now its time to give part of myself again. Consider it my Valentines day treat to the world.
Peace, Love, and Eat a candy heart-
B
Monday, February 11, 2013
Yea- its been awhile.
I have come to the conclusion that I am a binge writer with this blog. I turn to this portal when my words can not form from my mouth to come out in complete sentences or even make sense. Just like sometimes you cant make sense of things going on.
You try to add them up- logically, 1+1+1=3. That's what should happen. But what about when 1+1+1=8? What about when the world around me does not make sense? What happens when I almost break down, knowing that I need to pull it together, when my knees buckle, when I cannot get a word out of my mouth, when my airways close up to the point of choking, and all that appears are tears. Tears, upon tears, upon tears. They never end. At some point I think they subside- and then, just one thing happens, and there they come, like I have never cried once in my life.
I am known to have a lot of feelings- being emotional makes me who I am. I feel for others- I try to include everyone, I feel pain, even when someone else is hurting. I smile with everything I have, and in turn, cry with everything that I am.
Thats just me. And for some reason, the mess that I have become over the past few months is functioning. I am not quite sure why or how, but it just works.This emotional state of uneasiness- of always what will tomorrow brings, has become a normal state. Between new jobs (yes again), family ups and downs, hurricanes, snow storms, bone suprs, and other things- every day is a guessing game. Who knows whats going to happen. And I am ok with that- but I am also ok with the fact that today, just today- hardcore sucked.
So. I cried about it. Plain old cried. I am an ugly crier. But the tears help me make sense. And I am lucky enough to have someone to make me laugh through the headache, redeyes, and stuffy nose that come from crying. And once the crying stops- the laughing starts.
peace, love and utter disarray,
b
Also- no promises that I will write more consistently But, like I have before- saying that I will try. Gotta find myself again once the rollercoaster comes to a coast. Wouldn't that be nice? But then again... coasting might be boring.
You try to add them up- logically, 1+1+1=3. That's what should happen. But what about when 1+1+1=8? What about when the world around me does not make sense? What happens when I almost break down, knowing that I need to pull it together, when my knees buckle, when I cannot get a word out of my mouth, when my airways close up to the point of choking, and all that appears are tears. Tears, upon tears, upon tears. They never end. At some point I think they subside- and then, just one thing happens, and there they come, like I have never cried once in my life.
I am known to have a lot of feelings- being emotional makes me who I am. I feel for others- I try to include everyone, I feel pain, even when someone else is hurting. I smile with everything I have, and in turn, cry with everything that I am.
Thats just me. And for some reason, the mess that I have become over the past few months is functioning. I am not quite sure why or how, but it just works.This emotional state of uneasiness- of always what will tomorrow brings, has become a normal state. Between new jobs (yes again), family ups and downs, hurricanes, snow storms, bone suprs, and other things- every day is a guessing game. Who knows whats going to happen. And I am ok with that- but I am also ok with the fact that today, just today- hardcore sucked.
So. I cried about it. Plain old cried. I am an ugly crier. But the tears help me make sense. And I am lucky enough to have someone to make me laugh through the headache, redeyes, and stuffy nose that come from crying. And once the crying stops- the laughing starts.
peace, love and utter disarray,
b
Also- no promises that I will write more consistently But, like I have before- saying that I will try. Gotta find myself again once the rollercoaster comes to a coast. Wouldn't that be nice? But then again... coasting might be boring.
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