The list

Having been a teacher for 9 years now, I still get the "wow, your a teacher, you're so lucky you have so much time off" speech every now and then. What's funny is that I laugh along and politely agree that a week of no scheduled activities is bliss....but deep down I never feel that way. Anxiety sets in, time stands still, and everything I had been avoiding crosses my mind. My inherited compulsive nature takes over. I start to do what I've seen my dad do since I was a kid...make a list. He has a list for everything.

A food list (always with items that we already had multiples of)
A laundry list (whose day it was to do laundry out of the 6 people in my family)
A list of our dogs bowel movements (Prince pooped at 6:00am but did not pee)
A list of items on sale that week (from the Sunday circular)
His own personal "to do" list (which included items such as "build the front porch" "tear down the wall in the kitchen"
A list of errands (go to the bank, go to Walmart, go to William Tell)
A list of things for other people to do (Barb, buy milk)

These lists were always written on pieces of paper my dad would bring home from his office, and were neatly cut into perfect sized list-making papers. The lists would sit on the kitchen counter, and everyone who came into the kitchen would go directly to the lists and read them over. I don't know why we all read his lists because even if he did write a note addressed to one of us, it was usually to inform us that the dog didn't poop and to walk him. It's not like it ever said "you've been working hard, take the day off from school!"

So naturally, I caught the list bug. My problem is that I have a continuous list running in my head. Contrary to my dad's practices, I never write it down. For some reason I always think I can remember what I need to do. I add to this mental list as my vacation goes along, usually never crossing anything off. Here's a break down of my first few days off from this holiday break.

Day 1- Things to do: Spackle the hole in the wall. Touch up the hallway with the blue paint. Paint the door moldings. Buy closet doors for downstairs. Clean the dryer vent.

I think this will take me 3 days..tops

Day 2- ok...what can I cross off the list....nothing. Well maybe I should start smaller. Clean out the refrigerator, clean out my file cabinet, unclog the drains, back up my photos onto my external hard drive.

Day 3- I feel like a failure...I need to accomplish something from this list. What's on the list?? I should have wrote it down. I'll rearrange my furniture down stairs in the mean time. That looks good. Now I need to buy bar stools for the new space I created. Off to the store.

Day 4- As I drink my morning coffee I spot the hole in the wall that needs to be spackled and all that anxiety comes back. The list! I spent the next 4 hours thinking of other rooms I could remodel instead of painting. I know, I'll make the spare room an office...I need a new computer. Back to the store.

Day 5- How much would it cost to hire someone to paint my door frames? There's got to be kid in this neighborhood who needs to make a few extra bucks.

Day 6- It's probably better to paint when the weathers warmer. What else did I say I needed to do?

Day 7- I could totally sit on my couch all day.

This has been my pattern for nearly 10 years at 4 vacations a year...that's a lot of self imposed mental torture. The concept of the list is a good idea. We write things down so we don't forget to do them. When we are done, we can cross them off and feel accomplished. But what if you don't want to remember what you wrote on the list? I think that's why I never write it down. It's like I use my initial list as a bartering tool for myself. Michelle- you can either create an office upstairs in the spare room, or take apart the mental tubing attached to the dryer and clean out the lint. If I thought cleaning out the file cabinet was my big "to do" I probably would never have done it.

Maybe my dad had it right. Half sized pieces of accomplishments displayed so proudly on our kitchen counter each day. I doubt he sat down and stared at a hole in his wall wondering if he could just reposition the curtain rod to cover it up. Writing it down is a commitment to getting it done...and my dad gets sh*t done.

To do
1. write down things to do

Rain man and the old lady

Part 1

A few weeks ago, against my better judgement, I tried a new nail salon for a pedicure. Now, if you are like me, you are very picky and down right snobby about where you get your toes painted. The atmosphere has to be perfect. I usually peek in to see if there are any children lingering around. If there are, are they quietly reading a book? Or hanging on their mother complaining about how much longer? Are the massage chairs updated- massaging the back, neck, and legs, or are they the ones that just vibrate? Is it so crowded that you have to wait your turn, or if you don't have to wait your turn, will the pedicurist be too tired from a continuous stream of customers to give you a decent, albeit, free massage ? These are all of the conditions that I failed to look for that day.

As soon as I walked into Salon X, I was ushered to my chair. I have to admit I had a bad feeling in my stomach right from the start when I saw 3 salon workers hanging out while I was soaking my feet in cold water. Finally, a young man, I'm guessing around 20 years old, comes to my chair. OK- I'm thinking maybe this pedicure might suffice. A male pedicurist is usually a good thing due to the strength of their hands when giving a foot massage.

A few minutes into my pedicure I realize that my pedicurist is rain man. He starts with a polite, "hi, how are you?" I play along nicely for the first few pleasantries.

Then things start to turn ugly. Here's the rest of the conversation:

Rain man- did you just come from work?

Me- (confused by the question because I have water marks on my boobs from my bathing suit, and traces of sand on my legs) No, I just came from the lake

Rain man- oh, wow! Sylvan Lake?

Me- yes

Rain man- can anyone go to that lake? I love lakes

Me- no, I own a town house there

Rain man- What!!?? You own a house? How much do pay a month?

Me- It's not rent, I OWN it....are you asking me for my mortgage payment?

Rain man- oh I see....do you live there with your husband?

Me- (arrrghhh!!) NO

Rain man- No??!! Do you live there with your children?

Me- (arrghh!!) NO

Rain man- well then how do you own a house?

Me- (taking deep breathes) I work

Rain man- what do you do?

Me- I'm a teacher

Rain man- wow!!! How old are you???

Me- (you have to be kidding me! Am I am hidden camera?) 29

Rain man- well then why aren't you married? I have friends that are teachers, and they are all married....especially if you are 29.

I should have asked him how he felt about being a 20 year old man working in a nail salon picking dirt out of women's toes.

Needless to say I went home that day with my head hanging down...looking at my crappy pedicure. When I dragged myself into the house I looked right into the mirror. Did rain man just expose the insecurities of most 30 year old single women in 4 minutes flat? How could this be possible? I just came back from a 3 week journey of self love.

Part 2

The second half of this story happened right after rain man stole my dignity and self respect. I was sitting in my chair waiting for my toes to be painted. Since the other 3 salon employees were all on a break at the same time, rain man had to start the pedicure process on the elderly lady in the chair next to me. As the water was running, and she was rolling up her pants, I couldn't help but notice her legs. They were dry, cracked, and full of red blotches. I didn't think too much of it being that she had to be in her late 60's maybe 70's. When I saw that rain man noticed her legs too, I said a little prayer for this lovely old lady, and hoped he wouldn't ruin her day with his inappropriate comments.

Rain man- man! what happened to your legs?

Old lady- oh this? isn't it terrible?

Rain man- yes! what happened to you? Were you in a fire?

Me- Dear Lord, please make him stop. I really don't want to see an old lady cry today. Amen

Old lady- oh no, not a fire...come here...come a little closer

(Both Rain man and I move in extremely interested)

Old lady- Psoriasis!!!! (then she laughed) I've been dealing with this for years!!!

Rain man- does it hurt?

Old lady- oh no sweet heart, don't worry about hurting me!

At the time that whole encounter happened, I was too upset to see it as a life lesson. It wasn't until I was standing in front of my mirror that it hit me. She had some thick skin! Rain man had pointed out a physical deformity on this lady, and it didn't bother her one bit. When I contemplated why she was able to have that type of inner strength I immediately thought of my younger years as a teacher. Every question from my students about the pimple on my face, impulsive new hair cut, or...the worst of them all "you look pregnant" would leave me in the staff bathroom in tears during my lunch break. Now, I shrug these comments and questions off. "No I'm not pregnant, I'm just bloated. Bloated is what happened when you eat too much salt Jose".

The old lady had been through it! I'm sure worse things had happened to her than some young man asking her about her skin. But, what really got me was how compassionate she was towards him! She wasn't irritated or unkind. She answered him as if she was talking to her best friend. Like, "oh this? this lip stick color, it's midnight red!" - "oh this? it's psoriasis!"

Patience and wisdom sure do come with age. Although 30 is approaching, I know I have a long way to go. Next time I feel insecure from a question someone asks me, I'll say "sure, let me show you my psoriasis".

The jerk

Is it a coincident or the law of cause and effect that after writing my last blog about feeling secure, this weekend I found myself questioning that very thing I said I didn't need to question... Here's how it all went down:

Saturday afternoon my boo and I decided to take a lovely walk over the Mid Hudson walkway. The weather was beautiful, we were arm in arm, dog in tow. Picture perfect activity...until the conversation started to go in the wrong direction. He was recounting a great soccer moment of himself in college, when I asked the dumb question of, "did you have a soccer groupies?" Which in my head, I know he did (he's an amazing athletic and incredibly good looking). His response was, "well, I always had a girlfriend...after you". For some reason, my curiosity got the best of me and I took this as the opportunity to open the ex files. Never a good move ladies. I inquired about the ladies who took my place when our teenage romance ended 11 years ago. It wasn't so much the ex files that bothered me, but the fact that somehow the light got turned on me. He brought up how we broke up, and why we broke up...and at some point in hearing him talk, I realized this was the dreaded conversation, for 11 years, I was hoping was never going to happen. I physically felt ill, I could feel my face turning red, and I had an intense urge to jump off that bridge. Let's go back...

Circa 1998

My boo was in college in Virginia, I was about to start college myself in upstate NY. It was not easy to keep our romance burning for that year he was away from me in Virginia. We naturally started to drift. By the time I began my first year of college, it was clear to me that we weren't going to make it through. I got very caught up in my new life, and I found it harder and harder to keep our connection strong. Our relationship ended on the phone. It was sad...I cried for 3 days straight...but I knew it was the best thing for both of us.

His version of the story went something like this:

Circa 1998

Michelle was about to begin her first year at college in upstate NY. I was returning to Virginia to enter my sophomore year as a soccer star. I knew Michelle was going to give into the temptation of meeting new men, and the attention she was going to receive would be enough for her to drift away. I was just hoping it wouldn't happen. She started telling me about this guy that was hanging around, and before I knew it, she called to break off the relationship. She was probably already with that guy. I was very sad, but I knew it was coming. I had to completely get her out of my head in order to move on.

The same thing (2 different accounts of the same event) happened later in the day when I was obsessing over how I couldn't believe our beautiful walk turned into me wanting to commit suicide from embarrassment, shame, and guilt. We were in the car, and he sensed something was up. I felt I needed to explain my actions from many years ago about the break up. I started to explain that I felt very overwhelmed with...blah blah blah......He quickly shot this down with, "what are you getting at?" I wanted to scream, "so there! that's why I did that to you! I'm not a bad person! I had reasons! Please don't hate me!" But I didn't...I just shut up, and said, "sorry I brought it up".

The rest of the afternoon was painful for me. I literary didn't know what to do with myself. The hard part is that I know it's all over my face when I'm upset, and we were with his family. I didn't want anyone to see me upset, so I excused myself often to the bathroom to try to make sense of this afternoon gone bad. What was it that was bothering me? When I expressed how upset it made me that he was hurt by the way it all went down, he not convincingly said not to worry about it. Not worry about it? How could I not worry about it??!! I was so afraid that he was seeing me as my 18 year old self who wronged him. I actually spent 11 years blocking that day in the relationship out. I can tell you a million amazing things about our early years, but I never talk about that day. It was the day that I was "the jerk".

Someone usually ends up being "the jerk" when a relationship comes to an end. I had an ex boyfriend that was a self proclaimed jerk. Every argument started or ended with, "I'm sorry Michelle, you know I'm a jerk." That's right you are! And I'm not! And I'll never be a jerk!".....and now I realized I was. I internalized feeling like a jerk very hard. Maybe is was because I could never imagine doing that to my boo now. I can't fathom getting "caught up" in something and not keeping my loyalty and promise to the relationship. Or perhaps it was because in the past 11 years I experienced enough relationship pain to know how it feels to be treated LIKE a jerk.

As this thought process unfolded throughout the day, I started to feel extremely insecure. On our ride home, I caught myself "jumping through hoops" to gain a piece of security from him. He wasn't biting. He literally seemed confused, and I didn't want to bring him down my mental maze of misery by sharing my thoughts. So, he went to bed...I went to the other room. I played over and over in my mind the ramifications of me just getting my stuff and going home...in the middle of the night. I admit, this was my first reaction. I wanted to run, far way from feeling insecure, far away from having to deal with feeling like a jerk, far away from anything that didn't resemble pink hearts, butterflies, and hugs. I spent the next 3 hours thinking about what an awful person I was, and why would this awesome man wants to be with this heart breaker. What did he see in me? The insecurities started to creep through the doors. 1:00 am, 2:00 am, 3:00 am and I'm awake to feel the dread of self loathing.

In the morning we went to breakfast. As we were walking to the door of the restaurant, he stopped, took my hand, and kissed it...twice. My whole world got flipped back the right way. Could it all have been in my head? All I needed to be convinced was such a small gesture. Why couldn't he have done that before we went to bed??!! Let me tell you- because he didn't know. How would he have known that? We all speak a different language when it comes to love.

Here's what I've learned after this emotionally draining weekend

1. There are always 2 sides to a story- neither is right. Your story is how YOU perceived it. Trying to convince the other person of your version doesn't make it the right version.

2. Be very cautious about where a conversation road trip could go...curiosity did kill the cat

3. Telling someone why you feel insecure is only half the battle. The other person needs to know how to handle it- and this is hard when you are beginning a relation ship because you just don't know eachother well enough yet. My "love language" is physical affection, so one little kiss on the hand made all of my problems disappear. If only I had let my boo know that piece of information 24 hours earlier.

4. No one wants to realize that they were "the jerk", but once you do....you'll make sure it will NEVER happen again.

5. Everyone has insecurities. Some people are vocal about it, some people can identify it and dismiss is quickly. Some people let it destroy themselves and their relationships. Some people think about it for 24 hours, and then write a blog. But, don't think for a second that you are crazy for feeling insecure. It's how you handle the insecurities that can make you seem crazy. I could have left his house in the middle of the night (stage 9 crazy), but I opted to go to bed instead.

6. You never stop learning about yourself in life

Sekurity...sekurity!

This title comes from a hysterical clip from the show Mad TV from a girl named Bon Qui Qui. If you didn't get the reference, you can watch it after you read my blog. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1k3f3FnF9Yw

Today's topic is about security...feeling secure. Here are the times when I've needed to feel secure:

1. Living in NYC when roommates are like wearing white- gone when Labor day rolls around

2. When I first moved to NYC not quite understanding the fact that I would have huge bills to pay and tried to get my brand new Jetta stolen in Harlem by leaving all of the doors unlocked

3. When I went zip lining in Costa Rica for the first time, looking down at the ravine between the huge mountains in front of me, then looking at this thin little cable that was going to carry my big behind over it

4. When one of my second graders threw a glass Snapple bottle at the wall just missing my head

5. In a relationship

I was chatting with K, one of my best-ies the other day. She was seeking advice as to if she should call her former boo and let him know that she indeed does have feelings for him still. They had an 8 month relationship which was great, but she always felt insecure. In our discussion we (yes we...because you know when you talk to your girlfriends about relationships you always take them on as yourself. Ex- How could that asshole do that to us!) The conclusion was drawn that the reason she felt insecure the whole time was because he never made her his girlfriend. So, my advice was to get it off her chest if she felt she needed to, but inside I was scared because I knew that it wasn't going to change anything. A few days later my prediction was confirmed as she sat at her desk next to me at work looking sad. She said that she spoke with him and he felt the same for her...but the external factors in his life that put a halt to the relation ship hadn't changed. She was still not his girlfriend.

A few days later I was talking with L on the phone (a long time best-ie). She sounded sad too! We were talked about some plans that involved her boo and she said, "well, if we make it till then". "What??? what happened?? Why do you think you're relationship is not going to make it another week?" She then explained that they had a conversation about getting engaged. She had been very clear to him about wanting to be engaged by the spring. He sprung on her that he wasn't ready and he wanted to wait until Spring of 2012. Inside I was thinking, "this is a sign! he wants to wait until 2012...the world's supposed to end in 2012...perhaps your relationship should be ending. I actually felt that way for many other reasons, but as the best friend I always just try to be supportive. My response to her crisis was, "well, if he's not ready then you don't want to be engaged." When I started to dig a little deeper with her it was revealed that she just wanted a whole set of issues with him to disappear. She wanted:

1. Him to stop going out drinking with his friends until 5am

2. Him to put her first

3. Him to WANT to be with her family

4. Him to take her places

the list goes on and on friends

"Well L, can you remind me again as to why you think a ring on your finger is going to change all of that?"

Bam! break though!!!!!!!!!!! I had her thinking. L: "I guess it's not" Your damn right it's not! Right now you are in a better position as a bitter girlfriend than if you waited until 2012 and became the bitter wife.

When I first started dating my ex (which I now realize was a 5 year rebound relationship) I experienced that same feelings. By month 3 I was getting the "am I your girlfriend itch". I brought it up a few times, but as you all know he had a way of making me feel like I was crazy for asking...ie. the key story. What's a gal to do in a situation like this? Well, I methodically planned ways in which it would be uncomfortable for him if I was not called his girlfriend.

1. I invited him to a work event (someone was bound to be drunk enough to corner him and ask if I was his girlfriend)

2. I made it my business to do all of my business in the area of the city where he works as a fireman, so when I "happened" to be in the area standing outside with his buddies chatting, someone would ask him if I was his girlfriend

3. I invited him upstate to my brother in laws birthday party...enough said! My family was NOT going to let him leave with out a confirmation of our status

4. And when all of that failed....I took him away to the Bahamas for his birthday (we were now in month 5 by the way) You don't go to the Bahamas with the girl your just seeing...right??

Well folks, apparently you do!!! Eventually I did become his girlfriend...I honestly don't even remember how that happened. I think I was too emotionally drained and traumatized by events leading up to it.

What do all of these things have in common? Security. We are all looking for some feeling of security in our relationships. Here is where it went horribly wrong for myself, K, and L. We were using some type of status change as a substitution for feeling secure. All of our relationship issues were not going to disappear because we were now the girlfriend or fiance. Sometimes you have to look deeper than that. What is causing this person to not want to take that step? What needs to be changed or fixed in the relationship before both parties feel ready for that? It can't be about something you are trying to obtain externally, it needs to be about something you need to change internally. And that something might make you realize that you two were not meant to be...and that's ok!!! That's what dating is- as having millions of conversations with my girlfriends about this topic, I feel SECURE in saying that women often times place security above the important foundations of a great relationship. We will settle for mediocre and long as that means "you're mine".

I was sharing these conversations with my boo the other day (and I promise it was not to inadvertently bring up the boyfriend/girlfriend conversation). He asked me how I felt about it, and us... My response was "what we have right now is AMAZING" and that's all that matters. I wasn't saying that because I thought that was what he wanted to hear. I said it because I really did mean it. This has been the healthiest relationship I've been in, in a long time (including when we were together the first time).

I feel secure...and if I didn't, I know now I would never jump through hoops to get it.

From honey to homie

So where do you stand after a break up? Do you hate their guts, and warn everyone you know to NEVER, ever mention their name? Do you stalk them on facebook, and post contrived "fun" photos to show them what they are missing? Do you wish them the best, and then erase them from your phone? Or do you agree to be friends and pretend that you never shared the most intimate of experiences?

In my last break up, the decision was fairly easy....I wanted to pretend like the past 5 years never happened...for a while least. I literally didn't want to hear his name. I "de-friended" his family members on FB, took down all of the photos, changed his name in my phone to his last name just in case I accidentally, automatically texted something not meant for him. The final piece to this relationship cleanse was to leave the country for a few weeks...which I did. Before I left, the ex reached out to me. He was having a hard time dealing with the drastic change of me not being apart of his life. He was calling and texting and emailing me about how miserable he was. My initial reactiona: "Wow, he is miserable without me! He misses me!" Now- I'm not saying I wanted to get back together with him. The excitement was for the resurrection of my dying ego. After about a week of his sad messages, I gave him a call.

Me- hey, how are you???
O- hanging on
Me- wow you sound really down still, have my words of encouragement helped you at all?
O- nope
Me- oh ok.....I'm a little confused, just to clarify, are you miserable because the only light in your life (me) is now gone, or because you're not happy....period?
O- well....us breaking up didn't help....but I'm just miserable
Me- sooooooooo the dark messages, sad emails, and depressing conversations are not a direct result of me not being your girlfriend
O-like i said.....that didn't help
Me- mmm...I'm leaving for Costa Rica on Wednesday. Also, I don't think we can be friends...at least for awhile.

When I hopped on that plane for Central America I was more than happy to leave behind the insanity of the situation I had gotten myself into. I intentionally did not get in touch with him at all when I was away. The farther I was from him, the more I realized that he was a miserable person, and misery loves company, and I was his favorite companion.

As soon as I returned from my trip he left me an angry message about how I didn't get in touch with him and how wrong it was because I said if he needs me, to email me. I was somewhat confused by this message, because when I said that I meant, "email me if you are dying....lose your job, or someone close to you dies".....otherwise I don't want to hear from you.

Over the next few weeks, I would get similarly mad messages pointing out the fact that he always contacts me first, and I was being a bad friend. I was doing a really good job of ignoring these outbursts of rage when one Saturday morning at 4:30 am I received the following messages via text

O- I'm not doing this anymore
My thoughts- "huh??"
O- I'm tired of sitting here like a d#ck
My thoughts- "what is he talking about?"
O- I thought we were friends, but I'm the one who is trying to keep this friendship alive
My thoughts- "I don't have friends that harass me"
O- To all you ladies out there....suck it!
My thoughts- "1. he's drunk 2. what ladieS is he talking about!? 3. I can't wait to tell my friends about that last line!"

This debacle of an attempted friendship on his part needed to be put to rest. I called him up and had to explain the difference between having a "honey" and having a "homie" and that I was neither to him anymore. In that conversation it became very apparent that my confusion in what he wanted from me in the past year or so of our relationship was a homie. Someone to chat with everyday, someone to listen to you complain, someone to go to the movies with etc... He did not want the responsibility of having a honey. Here's the last part of that conversation:

Me- I don't understand what you want from me..I thought we were "friend-ly"
O- I want us to be friends...when you said you were ready to be friends after you came back from your trip, I took that as gold
Me- You're lonely and I think you should get a dog.

Transitioning from honey to homie is never an easy thing, and something I am choosing not to do. This is especially hard when you realize that your former honey saw you as their homie for the majority of the relationship.

Is it june yet?

Being a teacher, I tend to make many analogies between my life at work and my life at home. One such analogy is when it comes to relationships. The start of a new relationship is very much like September in the teaching world. New students, new personalities, writing lesson plans, revising old ones. Will the kids like me? Will I like them? How long until I can really be myself in the classroom? Some teachers feel you need to be a tyrant until December, then you can relax. By June, you are in teaching bliss. The kids know you, your expectations, your routines....your classroom runs itself. But how come it takes until June? Well, like anything else it takes hard work and time to perfect. Your confidence in who you are as a teacher grows over the course of those 10 months. It's hard to remember this fact when you start your school year. The first thing I hear my colleagues say is, "did they even read over the summer?" "Are these kids NOT as smart as last years?" As you struggle to acclimate yourself to your new tykes, you long for the easiness of the year past. From time to time you see former students in the halls, and you give them a nostalgic smile. "Why can't I have you back?"

Starting a new relationship is like starting in September. We can't help but carry with us the memories and ease of your last relationship. You know them, you know what to say, how to make them happy, what they like to eat, when to leave them alone. When that relationship ends, it's June! A fact I recently have found hard to remember. Starting over from scratch requires a lot of work and patience. I don't mean the kind of patience you need when your students says "I don't get it" one hundred times, but the "slow down" kind of patience. It's a good patience..but hard for a person like me who's quite impulsive.

About 2 weeks ago my patience was put to the test. I've recently started dating a new boo, who was an old boo, and is now a new boo again. We'll call him my boo for privacy sake. When it was established that old feeling are now new feelings, my impulsiveness kicked into high gear. I don't have a crush on, like, or find many men attractive. My boo came back into my life and reminded me of all of the things I had been looking for in a man. I was so excited and thankful that God had led us down the same path that I had tunnel vision. Everything I had worked so hard to regain in Costa Rica (learning to love just being with myself) was at risk....but I didn't care! I was in overdrive and my poor boo didn't know what he was in for.

That night I was at a work event, and I confided in a former teammate from work about him. The advice I was seeking was in the form of "what's the next step?' "Do I call him? Invite him over? Ask him to move in with me?" S (my former teammate) gave the advice of "if he's as awesome as you say he is, then just put that out there and invite him over." Delighted with his perspective, I texted my boo and asked if he wanted to come over. He responded with "I can't, I have plans, and I have plans tomorrow night too, what about this weekend?". I was so mad, and a little tipsy from the free wine, that I didn't respond. The whole way home I was questioning the situation. Had I misread what was going on? Was I making myself too vulnerable? I called every close friend in my phone and no one picked up! This wasn't looking good for my boo. It took every ounce of self control to not respond to "what about this weekend" because of my impulsive nature.

Thank fully, one of my closest best-ies J called me back just in the nick of time. She literally "talked me off the ledge". Here's the conversation.

Me- J, he's "busy" (sarcasm in my voice)

J- so?

Me- So??!! I feel like a fool

J- for what? Him having plans?

Me- Well, no....but why doesn't he want to see me?

J- How do you know he doesn't want to see you? He has plans Michelle! Do you want to date someone that doesn't have plans?

Me- well.....no

J- Here's your problem, you're used to a June relationship and it's September.....actually I'll give you November since you have a past

Me- J...you are wiser than your years

J- Don't be the crazy girl, because you're NOT....you're just starting over, and you have to get used to that.

In one conversation with J, my whole world became peaceful again. It is September..and I have to be patient. I've come to realize that, that doesn't mean my boo doesn't feel the same way...just, its going to take 10 months to get into the groove. As hard as that is for an impulsive maniac like myself to accept, I do. I now appreciate the small steps we have been taking. The ease of the conversation, the level of comfort ability, the excitement of getting to know someone all over again. Just recently, a friend of mine in response to me dating my old/new boo, said, "that's soooo exciting, so many people in long term relationships wish they could go back and enjoy the beginning". That hit it home folks....September here I come!

You look great!

...did you lose weight? I hate when people ask me that. This of course insinuates that you had weight to lose. Or, even worse, the weight that you accepted as normal (I mean, without any daily exercise...which is normal, because who has time to exercise?) was not normal. "No! I didn't, but thanks!" is my usual response. I'm then left to figure out which of the following factors contributed to this twilight moment in my day. Here's the list:

1. I'm wearing black- which we all know is slimming

2. My underwear fit especially well that day (as not to pinch in a way that would produce a hip bulge)

3. I've finally found the correct height at which my pants should sit on my hips to make my extremely short torso appear longer, hence making me look slightly more thin

4. I'm not wearing a dress, which i do when I'm feeling bloated to make myself feel better. (Which inadvertently, makes me look bigger to the observer)

5. The stars are aligned

6. That person needs glasses

This whole summer I've gone with, "no...I'm just tan".

Most people accept this response as, "yes, that must be it", except for my friend T the other day. He said, "seriously, you look like you have been working out". I couldn't stop thinking about his comment all day. I for one, had not worked out all summer. In fact, during my 3 weeks in Costa Rica, I managed to find more entertaining activities to do with my time than attend my "already paid for" yoga classes. But, a tan can only take you so far, so what was causing all of these people to comment on my imaginary svelte new figure?

My reflection in this, brought me back to a memory of a time in my life as I would rather forget. I was teaching at my old school for my 5th year. At that point in my teaching career I didn't know enough on how to handle emotionally draining situations, but I was also too smart for the ridiculous actions and brainwashing of the administration at my school. I felt unsupported, uninspired, and unliked by parents and my principals. I woke up one day with what looked like a rash on my back. As the months passed, the rash spread, disappeared and reappeared in various locations all over my body. I went to doctor after doctor trying to figure out the cause of what was diagnosed as hives. It wasn't an allergy to food, or a skin irritation from something else. No one could give me an answer. I did know one thing though, when I would call the main office for assistance for the kid who just stabbed the other kid in my class with a pair of scissors, and no one would show up, I got really itchy!

 Interesting....I started to notice the correlation between the acts of insanity in my classroom and my itchy skin. When I researched this some more, I read information that said that you can have hives that are stress induced. The bad news was that this could last months, even years. Great....

What happened next? (Probably a topic for another blog) I was called in for jury duty in the month of June during that awful year. I happened to have a knack for listening to lawyers and telling them what they want to hear (especially when everyone else in the room is trying desperately to get out of it.) I was chosen for seat number 12 on a murder trial. This would probably cause the average Joe to get a case of hives, ironically it made mine disappear.

Now try NOT to focus on the poor sap sitting on trial for 1st degree murder of his girlfriend, but think about my new and improved situation! No more crazy kids, no more idiotic principals, no more stress! My new work hours were 10 am to 2 pm most days. In between listening to testimony I caught up on my episodes of Supernatural on my laptop. I ate lunch every day in the park at 12 pm, and I got to read the paper! I was becoming a version of my former self! Due to my new hours, I would hang out late into the night with old friends, talk on the phone, and even catch a movie here and there. My friends were astonished. "Michelle, what's going on with you? You look great!" "DID YOU LOSE WEIGHT????" At the time I brushed this comment off, didn't even think about it. My response, (hushed voice, lean in close) "no, I'm on a murder trial!"(Me smiling as if I just discovered the key to happiness). Yes, my friends were perplexed as to how the life sentence of one man, and the horrific death of his girlfriend could produce a radiant glow in me. Hopefully you understand it had nothing to do with their circumstances, but with removing the negativity from my life.

So no everyone, I did not lose physical weigh this summer, but I did lose metaphorical weight. The issues troubling me over the past few years have subsided. I've learned to let go, forgive, and move on with my life. A trip to Costa Rica, amazing friends, and a kindred soul from my past have all contributed to my "weight loss". It also made me realize that our bodies are an amazing thing! Just like not having to face an insane asylum everyday at my old job miraculously cured my hives, perhaps not having the stress of a past relationship did actually help to shed some pounds.

Or maybe I'm in such a happy place in my life that my "inner svelte body" is radiating out for all of the world to see:) 

CR Part 3: Tiiiiiiime is on my side

If you've ever traveled alone, you've probably experienced the following.

(Pre-trip)

Everyone: "Wow! You're going to Costa Rica- how fun! With who?"

Me: "No one, just me".

Everyone: "Oh....well i'm sure you'll meet lots of people"or (after a 30 second pause in which the person wants to say the first comment, but goes with) "Wow, I wish I had the guts to travel alone".

It's funny that no one just says, "awesome" "have fun". I can only imagine it's because we live in a society where we spend the majority of our lives along side someone. Whether it be work, in your home, shopping, or even taking a pee in a public restroom! There's always someone around. Though it can be incredibly annoying at times (especially when you need to let one go in the Olive Garden bathroom), I think we all find peace in knowing "we are not alone". So the idea of voluntarily being alone for an extended amount of time scares most people.

I for one was welcoming the thought of not having to worry about if someone else was enjoying their vacation. Not asking, "what do you want to eat? Or not having to justify how I read a bus schedule wrong. If I misplanned, miscalculated, misunderstood something, it was only me, myself, and I that would have to deal with the consequences....and I, could care less what they would be.

I was doing an awesome job of not letting myself slide into thinking about the fact that I was indeed alone on a bus in the middle of what looked like no where after 48 hours of travel. After my second bus bound for Montezuma CR, I had to board a ferry to cross the Nicoya Pennisula. After a series of hand signals with the young gentleman driving my bus and a few visual cues from people who had clearly taken this journey before, I climbed into the bottom of the bus to find my luggage and dragged it along the gravel to the ferry. At this point Im still calm, cool, and collected. I find a seat on the top level of the boat and settle in for a ride....how long I'm not sure. They probably already announced it....in Spanish. Now, at this point I'm a little torn as to what to do. Previously, I had a terrible experience on a small water-crossing vessel. I puked the entire way from the island of St. Maartin to the island of Saba (google that if you haven't heard of it- it's a fasinating place). Do I take my beloved Dramamine (in order to pass out) or stick it out as to not miss any important information? I decide to stick it out being that I hadn't felt any sudden shifts in the boats movements. I take out my "The Power of Now" book to calm my nerves. I'm interrupted every 4 minutes by the "announcer" that was hired for this boat- I'm assuming he is an announcer and not the captain because I can't see how a captain would be able to navigate the boat and make so many announcements! If I was to follow "The Power of Now" philosophy I was reading about, I wouldn't be worrying about my future or dwelling on my past. So.....what was happening "now"? Well, "now" this announcer won't shut up! What could he possibly be saying?

The man: "If we start to sink, there are life vests on the side of the boat."

Me: Check.

The man: "If we hit an iceberg, women and child first on the life rafts".

Me: Amen

The man: "Empanadas with a surprise filling are being sold at the back of the boat"

Me:Roger that

The man: "It's never to early to drink some cervezas"

Me: (looking around) Apparently not

I look to my left and see a young couple making out. I look to my right and see a family of 4 all cuddled up on the bench. No one looks worried, in fact everyone on the boat looks extremely happy....with someone else! Here's where the panic sets in....I'm the only one alone. I do some breathing exercises and some positve self talk. Perhaps walking to the side of the boat would make me feel better. The view of the pennisula was beautiful. Ahhhh, "Power of Now", let's capture this moment on camera. Now, I hate looking through my pictures from vacation and seeing only scenery. It's a reminder that you were alone. I also hate asking someone else to take the picture, because then I think that they think I'm a loser for being alone. The final option is the long arm shot. That just says loser all over it. So, I sit back down. Is it too late to take the dramamine?

I lay myself down on the bench, and try to take a nap. I'm back to feeling perfectly content, alone, when the announcer says "please do not lay down, or put your feet on the seats"....IN ENGLISH! Really?????? This is the only announcement in English. Now I feel like Big Brother is watching.

I took a stroll around the boat and found this German threesome I saw on my bus ride. I'm going to stick with them for the following reasons: Germans always speak like 5 languages, and never seem to be confused or bothered by anything. As long as they looked happy, I would be happy. Not long after my self-imposed mental torture, our boat docks.

Here's what this boat ride taught me:

1. I was in Costa Rica, but I was still thinking like an uptight American

2. I probably should have doubled up on my dosage of Paxil for this trip

3. Costa Rican people are extremely affectionate with each other

4. If my Spanish lessons go well, maybe I could move here and be the announcer on this boat

5. Hand gestures are a universal language

6. Your mind likes to mess with you

I view this boat ride as a minor mental slip-up. I had made it so many hours on this trip just being happy, that my mind wanted to make me suffer. We have an insane ability to want to connect to negative thoughts. From the moment I stepped off that boat, I knew tackling this issue would be part of my journey. To be continued....

How Michelle got her groove back…Part 1

...and it wasn’t how Stella did it. A failed relationship prompted a last minute trip back to one of my favorite destinations- Costa Rica. I needed to clear my head, start fresh, and who are we kidding here- meet some Ticos! (Costa Rican men). On my last few days in the states all of my friends wished me luck and advice on letting lose and enjoying what Costa Rica had to offer me.

I packed for this trip as if I was going to be on a deserted island. I brought every form of entertainment possible assuming that I was going to be spending a lot of time alone. My first night in San Jose set the tone for the next 17 days. After checking into my favorite hostel, I opened my bag-o-fun, and pulled out my brand new pastels and sketchbook. I had a revelation 3 days prior that I was going to find my inner artist on this trip. As I was looking at my pastels and trying to remember how to use them, one of the girls staying in my room invited me out to dinner along with everyone else staying at the hostel. Not one to turn down an invitation, I tossed my pastels on the ground and agreed to go.

My first night in Costa Rica and I find myself at an Asian restaurant. My new comrades hailed from all parts of the globe. They were in San Jose either on vacation, volunteering, or going to school. As the Asian man, who speaks fluent Spanish, asks everyone what they want, I’m feeling quite insecure. Not only have I not had the opportunity yet to flex my little to no Spanish skills, but, I also never eat Thai food, which the menu mostly consists. So, I not only feel like I’m going to embarrass myself when trying to form a sentence to place my order, but I have to ask him what 90% of the menu entails. Here’s what I end up saying: “Yo quiero una cerveza por favor.” And yes- that’s how vacation starts, self consciously ordering one of probably 100 cervezas over the next 2 ½ weeks.

That night I party like it’s 1999. Literary, like I’m 19…and I pay the price when my alarm rings at 5am the next morning. I arrive at the “Cola Cola” bus station after paying the taxi driver way too much money because I’m too hung over to count my change in colones.

The “directo” bus takes me to a ferry, and then another bus, and what for it…..yes, another bus which takes me to my final destination of the tiny costal town, Montezuma. How do you say “that was not f**king “directo” in espanol? I’m not going to lie, my Zen was being compromised after 8 hours of confusing travel. I re-centered my Chi and asked the first person I saw where La Escuela del Sol was located. I was embarking on 2 weeks of Spanish and yoga classes. The gentleman pointed in a direction. I asked “cuentos minutos?” He said 10 minutes. Now, for this trip I did not use my super cool backpackers backpack. I instead opted for a regular suitcase being that I was staying in just one location. So, me and my extra-large-generic-version Samsonite hit the road for this 10 minute walk. I don’t think the company of my suitcase did any trial runs for rolling ability in Monetzuma. If they did, they would have made the wheels much bigger (think child’s tricycle) and not made them from plastic, but rather industrial grade rubber. After rolling over rocks and through the mud, and oh yes, up a few hills, I made it to the school. I also had lesson number 1 in what is called “tico time”. It’s a dimension of time that only makes sense to those native to Costa Rica. 30 minutes later, soaking wet from sweat, covered in mud from my mid back to the my ankles from the flip in my flops, I had made it to my destination!

To be continued…

A naked monkey and some vomit

Last week I began my journey of personal renewal with a trip to Costa Rica. I was in phase three of making my way to Latin America- waiting on the ticket line at JFK. I had already driven my car to the city, found parking in Queens, and had a friend drive me to the airport. This all took place before 6 am mind you. Nothing had gone wrong in my journey thus far, so I was doing a good job at maintaining my "zen". As I'm peacefully waiting for the line of travelers to move, I hear a commotion at the front. I look up to see a woman with two little kids around ages 4-5. They are running around and around the luggage. At first I thought, "aah, they're cute! I momentarily wanted one, and had a quick day dream about what an amazingly cool mom I would be taking my kids all over the world.

They were called next to check in their bags. The mom unsuccessfully tried to get her kids to move with her to the ticket counter. My day dream about motherhood is interrupted by her yelling at her kids to get off the luggage. Now at this point, everyone has been standing on line for at least 30 minutes. I look around to see the annoyed shift in weight and watch-glancing from the rest of the line. The mom finally ushers her kids to the ticket counter. She's trying to hand over passports and get their tickets while her kids are jumping from the top of one piece of luggage to the next. I look up to the sky and plead with God to ignore that silly day dream I had about dragging my kids all around the world.

Everyone on the line looks like they are watching a tennis match- and a second ticket person is unsuccessfully trying to get the kids to get off the luggage so she can check it in. After about 10 minutes this circus is over, and the lady starts walking away calling for her kids to follow. She's half way to the security check point when I spot one of her kids swinging from the door that you put the bags through to check them in. Now- I didn't want to be involved in this, but she was missing a kid, and it still wasn't my turn, and everyone on line is acting like they don't see this- so I'm about the call after her when the ticket person spies the little tyke just as he's about to jump onto the conveyor belt that takes the luggage to who knows where.

Deep breath- I'm glad that's over. I return to my place of peace and solitude as I make my way towards the gate. I'm right on schedule and am giving myself a pat on the back when I see this same little family sitting at my gate. They are now joined by the father who is feeding them pieces of a banana as they climb over each other scaling the glass wall that looks out onto the runway.

I'm reminded of a comedy routine I saw when the comedian was joking about sitting on the airplane mentally sizing up every person that walks by either hoping they do or do not sit in the seat next to them. What are the chances that I'm stuck sitting next to this family? There's a good 100 people in this flight. That's a 1/100 chance right? Or is it 4/100 because there's 4 of them? I wish I was better at probability.

Lightening striking, winning the lotto, my name being picked for a contest- none of those things have happened to me, but I did win a 5 hour flight to Latin America next to oblivious mom and dad and their 2 little monkeys! Me, mom, and monkey number 1 were seated together, while dad and monkey # 2 were seated behind us.

For the first hour, the boys were literally climbing back and forth over the seats. This made me very dizzy so I closed my eyes and tried to think happy thoughts. It was hard to go into a peaceful slumber when every 10 seconds mom is yelling at the boys to stop, but not actually doing anything about it. Time for the Ipod. I take a deep breath and I'm one song in, when mom taps me on the shoulder because they need to use the bathroom. I get up, give a "it's no problem" smile and hope the kid falls into the toilet.

Breakfast is being served and I'm hoping this quiets down my seat mates for a bit. I was pleasantly surprised by the spread offered by Air Mexicana. I make another affirmation to not let anything bother me and dig into my meal (the only source of joy at that moment) Here's how the next few minutes unfolded.

Me- (blissfully eating)

Mom- "no you can't do that!" "no, let me cut it for you!" "sit back down!"

Me- deep sigh

Mom- "oh no! "oh no"

Dad- "Is everything OK?"

Mom- No!!! give me the barf bag!

Dad- (not really registering the urgency in moms voice) slowly bends down looking for the barf bag.

Me- (thinking)- really???

Mom- "it's too late!"

Monkey #1- vomiting

Mom- "oh no oh no!"

Then it gets eerily quite for this little group. I'm wondering what mom is doing with her back turned away from me.

A few minutes later, I'm trying to get the rest of my breakfast down when mom taps me on my shoulder and says they need to use the bathroom again. I look down at my tray which is open and holding my meal, water, and coffee. I'm not sure what she wants me to do. She sees the problem and says "never mind, I'll just put it right here". I'm not sure what she's talking about, so I look down and see a baggie full of vomit at my feet. She laughs and says, "hopefully that won't spill!" I'm utterly repulsed and put my fork down.

I really didn't want to pull out the big guns so early on in my travels, but I'm left with no choice but to pop a Dramamine and mentally escape from this nightmare.

Thank fully another 2 hours pass while I'm comatose. Apparently while I was out, mom had the kid remove all his clothes so she could wash the puke off in the bathroom. I groggily woke up to the puker standing in moms seat, leaning onto mine, with a huge smile on his face. I gave a courtesy smile back and shifted my weigh to get more comfortable. The kid turned around and there in my face was his bare behind. I jumped up, shocked to see his wee wee, and looked for mom. She was no where to be seen. She left me alone with naked boy. Since mom was gone, I was his source of entertainment. He was leaning on me, playing with my hair, and jumping from seat to seat. I gave a "help me!" look to dad, but he was busy reading the paper. This was a pretty uncomfortable situation.

I was pretty sure mom was going to be embarrassed to find her naked son using my lap as a trampoline. When she arrived back at our seats, I was getting ready to convincingly tell her "it's no problem, please don't worry about it, naked little boys jump on my lap all the time!" But instead of apologizing for this awkward situation, she said, "You know, I thought I brought everything I needed for this trip" (then she laughs). Normally I would do a fake laugh back to show I understand and can relate to what she is saying, but instead I give her a look of death and use all of my energy to tell her she shouldn't be worrying about what she didn't pack, she should never have left her house...period.

To key or not to key

...that really shouldn't be the question I've now realized. A key is a small metal object used to open or lock a door. The key in my case was both literal and metaphorical. O and I started dating about 4 1/2 years ago. By month 3, he had my key. At that point I felt he passed all of my "are you a serial killer, stalker, or have a hidden girlfriend, tests. I trusted him with my key, and giving it to him was an unspoken sign of that.

Due to the location of my apartment, it was always more convenient for us both to stay there. The fact that he did not reciprocate with the passing on of his key to me wasn't something that I thought about right away. A good year into the relationship, I started to want to stay at his place. It was time for a change of scenery. We would often leave work at different times which would leave me waiting at the entrance to his apartment building. The first time this happened, not a big deal. The second time.....i'm annoyed. The third time, I was starting to see in the injustice in me not having a copy of his key.

Here's the dilemma of when you are locked out of someone's apartment. Do you wait outside to indicate to all passers by that the person you are waiting for is just an acquaintance and there would be no reason for you to have a key? Or, you do go inside the building with someone who lives there, and just wait in the lobby? I always felt the latter was more embarassing. I would see the same people every night getting home from work as I just sat on a concrete planter in the lobby waiting for O to walk through the door. I always felt the need to explain myself to these people as they walked passed me to get their mail. "I'm not locked out" "I'm not a prostitute, I swear!" Those were the looks I was getting. I was imagining the conversation when they got back in their apartments. "Bert, that young lady is sitting out there again! Maybe we should call the Super".

O and I had 5 seperate conversations about me obtaining a copy of his key. They always ended with me saying, "why can't you understand, it's not just about the key!" He really felt that it was not neccessary for me to have a copy. At times when he knew that I had the most logical reasoning for wanting it, he would shut me up by saying, "fine, I'll try to find the time to make you a copy!"

Just when I had given up my battle of getting a key from him, we were watching tv at his apartment, and he asked if I wanted to come back over the next night. I of course said yes, but was very suspicious of what was going on. O is not the type to make future plans in any way what so ever, even one day ahead. He then said, cue the angels singing, "here, i'll give you a copy of the key for downstairs and the bottom lock for the apartment door." I played it real cool. "oh, ok". I then excused myself to the bathroom, and grabbed my phone. I texted every friend I had ever cried to about not getting a key from him. I fell to my knees and thanked God for whatever change had come over him. I felt like I finally won. Our relationship was finally coming up to speed like normal people.

About 2 weeks later, O was working on a Saturday and I said I would meet him at his place when he was done. Logically we should have just went to my place, but I really wanted to try out the new key! I left my house extra early, just so I could sit on his couch and bask in my glory at having won this long fought battle. On the way he called. Here's how the conversation went.

O- when are you leaving?

Me- Im already on my way

O-How are you going to get inside?

Me- (smiling) with the keys you gave me

O- I only gave you the downstairs key and the key to bottom lock upstairs

Me- (not smiling) I don't understand, how did I get inside last time?

O- I left the top lock unlocked

complete silence

O- hello? hello?

Me- (steam coming out of my ears, tears in my eyes) You tricked me

O- you tricked yourself

Looking back on this insanity, I now realize I did trick myself. A key should never be a question, if it's not a question for you. Sometimes we see what we just want to see.

The bag

Well, D day is coming. D stands for decision. It's been looming over my head now for months. I hate to put the fate of my life decided on one particular day, but this was all out of my control. I needed to make professional decisions, rental decisions, mortgage decisions, which all seemed to be connected to my relationship decisions. Here's how it all started:

I came home from work one day months ago and saw my black "weekend" bag sitting in the middle of my apartment bedroom floor. I was instantaneosly annoyed by it just laying there. It was laughing at me in a that scary cartoon voice, "you'll never get rid of me!!!!" ....I threw it across the room. That's the bag I pack my cloths into take to O's apartment. It's become apart of me- like an extention of my purse. 3-4 times a week I pack and repack my cloths, massacra, deodorant, book, lunch for the next day, phone charger, netflix movies, and National Geographic magazine. That was the day I decided I never wanted to pack a bag again.

I remember when packing a bag was cool. It was a symbol of youth, freedom, spontanatiety. Flying by the seat of my pants! "Let's do one more shot! I don't need to drive back to Queens, I packed a bag!". "No, I don't need to go home after work, I packed a bag!" "Yes O, I'll come back over for dinner later....I packed a bag."

Years later, that black bag came to represent all that I hate: being unsettled, confusion, and uncertainty. I let O know the significance of that black bag months ago. I did a little pre-D Day digging on one particular day. There was an interesting exchange of offers, compromises, and flat out surrenders. Why couldn't this man just want the same things I wanted? Why couldn't he see that giving me a drawer, perhaps, dare I say 2 drawers, would have been the greatest gift. It was useless, we were speaking two different languages. That conversation ended in the exact same place it started......in a bag.

Love is in the air...or is it?

Today was the first day since the we changed the clocks, that I got to experience spring. It never ceases to amaze me how 1 more hour of daylight can completely change your mood, attitude, and outlook on life. I left work, raced home, ran to Dun kin donuts, downed an iced coffee, and mentally prepared myself for the run of my life. Despite the cars honking, bus exhaust, cat calls and cigarette smoke from the cafes- I actually love to run around my neighborhood in the city. There's so much happening! On a day like today, EVERYONE is outside...not just the crazy Greeks smoking their cigars and drinking coffee.

What's the first thing I notice?- Love is in the air my friends! There are couples holding hands, kissing on the corners, and laying in the grass. As I run (solo) down the block, I momentarily get sad that I'm not holding any ones hand. I quickly dismiss that thought knowing there will be plenty of opportunities in the next few months to make O hold hands with me on a fine spring day.

I run past a park and see boys of all ages playing basketball. A group of girls on the side of the court, laughing, flipping their hair, talking just loud enough to try and distract their crushes. I wonder- which one was I? Was I the annoying loud girl, or the girl that wants to be noticed and plays the quite card?

As my shins start to burn and I slow down, I notice another young couple in front of me. They look to be around the same age as the other youngsters sticking their tongues down each other's throats. But wait- do I sense some tension here? There body language is indicating that Cupid's arrow missed these two. I momentarily feel her pain. She's mad, pissed off at him. Her head is down, but she keeps moving towards him, and then backing away. I'm watching a magical dance of will power- forgive him or not? "It's a beautiful spring day damn it! We aren't supposed to be fighting! I just couldn't help getting mad that you were talking to Danielle in OUR spot in the hallway outside Math Class. " Cut to me thinking- "what an ass!". I then look at the boyfriend. His hands are in his pockets. I stare at him, try to read his expression, his thoughts. The same way the girlfriend longingly looked at him... he now looks at the basketball court, wishing he was there I'm sure.

I'm convinced that their negative energy is what's creating the pain in my shins, and I take a break by the river. As I'm looking for my next couple to day dream about, I realize that 95% of the men in these couples look miserable! I catch these sympathetic looks and nods they give each other. "Yo, my girl made me come here too".

Why is it that women are always looking to create "a moment". I know for myself my ingredient list always starts with warm weather. I've been known to say to O on such days, "let's walk to the grocery store together!"(it's a least 1 mile from his apartment- uphill) Or, "let's go watch the little league game!" (we don't know anyone who plays little league). Or, "remember that article I told you about with the 500 year old tree in Forrest Park.....let's go find it!" Surely some stranger was staring at us, watching O carry 10 grocery bags uphill to the apartment, giving him the "nod" while I forcibly held his hand.

Today was just another example of how we really do create our own happiness. I'm glad I didn't ask O to join me on some crazy adventure just to "feel the love in the air". My adventures don't put the love in his air.

Sometimes you should have the 65 degrees all to yourself.

Church is for lovers

As promised- I visited the holy land today. I've been nervous, a wreck all week knowing that I committed to a Sunday morning. Part of the anxiety I realized, was not the act of going to church (I grew up in one), but what I might feel when I got there. As hard as it is to "get back to the gym" it's even harder to make yourself get something out it if. I am not one of those people who call themselves vegetarians because they just don't like meat. I've sat in church, this one in particular, thousands of times. Here's what it looks like:

1. I look around to see if there is anyone there from my childhood whom I would be embarrassed, if they recognized me after all these years, because I didn't take a shower.

2. The songs start, I try to sing along, but end up yawning uncontrollably

3. Pastor begins speaking

4. Me- looking through the bulletin for something interesting to read

5. Pastor- still speaking

6. Me- Still looking

7. Pastor- please stand and greet your neighbor on this beautiful Sunday morning

8. Me- "yes!" I actually love this part. It makes me feel like I'm a real church goer. "Good morning, no...peace be with you!" I could be a pastor.

9. Back to that bulletin

10. Pastor- "and now onto our message"

11. Me- Ok Michelle, here it comes. The reason you got up this morning. The answer to your souls restlessness.

12. Pastor- "God is like..."

13. Me- Did I finish that lesson plan yesterday? Why do I feel skinnier today than yesterday. Think Michelle, what did you do to feel skinny today? We have to do it again tomorrow! FOCUS!!!!!!!!

14. Pastor- "If you make God your..."

15. Me- He said, "If you make God your every... season?" See I am paying attention. Cue the music: "all the leaves are brownnnnnnn, and the sky is grey, I went for a walk, on this winters day!"

Hopeless

I've been failing at this for so long, because I was trying to be a fake vegetarian. I would go to church because my mom wants her children there (we know she really means heaven). My sister J and I do anything to hang out. She'll call and be like "want to go to church tomorrow?!" Like it's a coffee shop. We usually end up playing in the nursery with her kids for the service.

Today though- was different. I had a purpose. My eternal happiness was at stake! If a video camera was filming me throughout the service, you would have seen this:

*Me taking deep breaths

*Me resting my head on the wall

*Me silently reprimanding myself

*Me enthusiastically nodding my head in agreement

*Me smiling

*Me laughing at anything that resembled a joke

*Me looking up thinking "you're seeing this right?"

*Me thoroughly impressed by the pastor's use of visual aids, and audience interaction. Did he teach elementary education?

And like that- it was over.

It's amazing how focused you can be when you realize the gym can save your soul.

Namaste

Are you there God? It's me Michelle

Do you know that feeling when your pants are too tight? When you happen to catch a glimpse of a picture of yourself from years past- looking a little more svelte? What's the first thing you think? I need to start eating more salads and almonds! No more sugar in my coffee! You do that for a week before you start to go mad from lack of french fries and ice cream. It eventually hits you- no matter how healthy you eat- you will eventually need to drag yourself into the gym....and actually elevate your heart rate above 150.

You wipe the dust off your sneakers, convince yourself that your sports bra feels tight because you put it in the dryer, and get that ipod ready! "This is going to be great! I'm going to feel better! If anything, I'll make some new friends at the gym." You're pumped. You can feel the confidence of a new body...

That's how I feel about church. This thought process started when I read my mom's comment on my facebook page about my 1st blog entry on finding happiness. I have to admit, I was disappointed, mad even, that the only "advice" offered was to find God. The noise I made when reading this was the same noise my sister's neurotic dog makes when he thinks there's something under the stove. What did I do you ask? I ate a salad and had some almonds! I closed facebook, checked my email, watched the rest of Oprah, and slowly made my way back to the Internet. Why did she have to write that? Why did she make me feel even worse than I did before? Finding inner piece through spiritual enlightenment is like going to the gym! There's a lot of work involved. But- I have to admit I felt somewhat motivated by the idea of inner piece she was promising me...

Here's how the next few minutes unfolded:
1. I checked Oprah's website- there's got to be some organization or cause I can join to feel good
2. Haiti! They need me
3. Angels of God website- Almost adopted a Haitian child
4. Puppies..puppies with no legs....or eyes
4. Church website
5.Mission trips link
6. I'm going to Mississippi to help with the reconstruction efforts from Hurricane Katrina
7. Done! Mom- book me a ticket!

You have to understand that I come from the "go big or don't go at all" philosophy. I wanted to go backpacking, I went to Panama...alone. I wanted to help child less fortunate them me, I work in Harlem, I want stability in my life, I buy a house. So...naturally this made the most sense on my path to spiritual enlightenment. I was so excited that I almost picked up the phone to call my guru.

The only thing that stopped me was the look on my mom's face when I backed out of the trip because this idea is clearly in the "things I did on impulse" category.

Let's try church on Sunday first

Jim Jones-ified

Where do I fit in- isn't that what we are all searching for? I belong to ______college, ______club, _______sports team. What if you have been looking (for years) for that one thing you can say, "yes that's who I am, that's what I am". This my friends is what happens in your late 20's....unmarried, childless. Not that those things define you, but in your late 20's it's hard enough to make people stop asking "what's going on" with you. Now, I consider myself to be independent, liberated, modern in every sense of the word. But why is it that I have to keep measuring myself by my relationship status and number of children I'm bearing.

I've recently convinced myself that these are the things that will make me happy. A house in the suburbs (I just bought one...alone), a husband and a child...or two(in theory). According to the masses I am well on my way to happiness....but, what happens when your heart lies in a job 70 miles from your newly furnished home, the man you love's parents only got married a few years ago (they have been together for like 40 years and have 4 children), and you're not willing to compromise your lifestyle for a dog? It seems like I might need a new/different recipe for happiness.

This revelation happened at an odd time. It came to me after watching some dateline special about Jim Jones and his crazy church were "everyone is equal...colors don't matter, let's all eat the communal rice." I actually bought into this theory. I believed there could be a utopia on this earth. That people could live free from hunger, politics, racism, sexism, class ism.... we all could just get along! And then- they drank the kool aid. All 900 of them. Cut to a helicopter aerial shot of 900 dead bodies. But these people believed! How could it end like this? Me- sad- devastated. I turned to O and asked the same question, "how could that many people believe in something Jim said was suppose to be so good?" His response "they were brainwashed". Bam!- life revelation. Have people been telling me what's going to make me happy, or did I come up with that on my own? Just like that, I was Jim Jones-ified.

Was I really though?- that's what this blog is about. Trying to navigate through the advice, the insight, and hear say that always makes it's way to our subconscious. Welcome to my journey, my meditations on life.