adventures of standing on your head

So, we all are more than aware of my trip into the yoga universe. I've been practicing for 1.5 years and just about daily for the past 6 months. Yoga came into my life (as every person who practices yoga claims) when I needed it most. It "found" me and I "found" it. Clichés aside, it really did save me. A place to go everyday, poses to focus on and breath that didn't feel like a constant heart attack. I healed and while I was at it, lost some weight, gained strength both physically and emotionally and calmed the hell down. I realized, more than anything, that I couldn't solve the problems of the world or mine in a day. That everyday I needed to start fresh and work a little more. That there was always work to be done and that's okay because there is no deadline for growth or love. Then I went upside down into my daily headstand.

Then I fell, really hard. Every knuckle cracked, along with my neck. My body knew how to tuck and roll from years of falling out of tricks in gymnastics and horseback riding but my mind at that moment screamed panic. I'd like to say that the man next to me practicing scared the living daylights out of me and it's why I fell.  He came down out of his shoulder stand so fast I was sure I was doomed, however it wasn't really the case. What happened was, I got too cocky. I had been practicing for a few months for just about every single day and I had gotten so used to headstands that I got ahead of myself.  I forgot that I was standing on my head and that I needed to focus and breathe. My ego got the best of me and in turn, I almost broke my neck.

Instead of the normal annoyance that would come over me and gripping that waves over me when I do something imperfect, I calmly went into child's pose. I was however grinding my teeth so hard that I had to open my mouth for a few seconds so that I wouldn't chip a tooth. And then I laughed.

Because here I was thinking that I was golden. That I, Antoinette Marie, had basically conquered sirsasana and therefore all of yoga and I had done it in 3 months. Go deeper. My emotional self was walking around saying, "Oh I'm fine. That breakup? What breakup?" But the truth is, it'll always be with me. I'll always be working. On both my fears and concerns of love and headstands.

Last night and every night since I fell, I go into and come out of my headstand with absolute respect. I now understand that I can fall, and hurt myself at anytime. That no matter how many times I do any pose that I may lose my balance. I understand that this reflects me and the outside world. That I need to respect the love that I'm given by those around me because it can be taken away or betray me at a moments glance. I remember to breathe, I remember to stay focused. To not place blame on the person next to me because god knows there's always someone next to you doing something sort of stupid and scaring you. To have respect for all situations you find yourself in, good and bad. Accept that you will fall and don't take it so seriously. I will never be able to go into a headstand again without being a little bit afraid that I will fall. I try to ease my nerves with my breathe and build my strength by continuing to practice, regardless of my fears. I'm sure I'll fall again and again but isn't the most important part to know how to get back up? I'm getting back up.

morning rambles

This morning I had a thought.

It was a pretty standard morning for me. What used to seem like the great unknown of a new neighborhood and space, now feels comforting and peaceful. I pulled up the blinds to let what little winter light there was in, got ready, buttoned up, settled on an album to listen to and walked to the subway. My subway stop is above ground and goes over the WIlliamsburg Bridge. It's one of the best ways to start the day. I stood on the platform with my headphones in, gloves on, waiting for the train when I thought about my upcoming birthday. I ran down a list of sorts.

27. Female. Single. Average Height, Average Weight. Never been married. No Children. Can touch my toes. Cannot do a handstand (yet). Happy, yes.. I am happy. Brooklyn, New York. Blonde. Black boots. Overall comfortable.

And then I thought, how many of those things will change once I'm 28. How many will change in 5 years, 10 years. I remembered turning 27 and thinking about the year ahead but predicting nothing that had happened. There were some amazing things that happened and then there were some that I would have liked to fast-forward through but maybe not. 27 was a year of growing pains. Maybe it's a superstition but that odd number always did seem challenging to me and it did prove itself to be. I gained friends, I lost friends. I let go. I moved, twice. I ate too much then too little. Changed teams at work, changed again.

Someone recently asked me how I am.

"I'm well. I feel good. I'm trying to push myself a little more. Speak up, challenge myself. Go outside my comfort zone and be more daring."

They probably were just wondering if I was in a good or bad mood but hey, you asked.

Usually I make a list or goal for the year ahead when my birthday comes around. This year there won't be one. I want to live. I want to experience everything that comes my way. I want to open myself to everything that is coming. To not grip. To not wish and want but to be. Be happy and then be sad and then be happy again. Whatever comes will no matter what. I can't wait. 

Photo by Kate Diago

a rosy future

Who do you love? Your mom, your sister, your best friend, yourself? No matter what your relationship status is this February, I say take the time to celebrate those around you. Romantic or not, indulge in the pinks, reds, lavenders and everything fluffy and cheesy. I arrived home Saturday afternoon to a craft table and wonderful friends and roommates making Valentines for loved ones. If you aren't the crafting type you can always stop by your local stationery store OR hell, just draw a little wonky heart on a notecard and sign your name. The smallest notions go the furthest.

Soft blush bouquets are always appropriate, check out Saipua in Brooklyn for the most lovely arrangements EVER. Carven's semi-new fragrance is a graceful blend of Neroli, Mandarin Blossom, and White Hyacinth. Plus the bottle is simplistic and modern yet feminine. Diptque's Rosamundi is their Rose, re-imagined without the sharpness it typically carries. Restock on Dior's creme de rose smoothing plumping lip balm which has been my go-to since last Valentines day. If you're feeling like a million bucks, Nora Kogan Jewelry will deck you out. Moonstones for everyone. Lastly step into the holiday with Alice and Olivia's Hilary heart print canvas d'orsay flats. Sending love to everyone. xoxo

the great plains

I went on a coastal roadtrip in 2012. We drove from Los Angeles to the Redwood forest and back. On the way there we crept along the cliffs, winding down roads. Sometimes I would sink low in my seat so I didn't have to see the upcoming twists and turns in the road. When you're in a car, this is easy. When this is your life, there's no sinking out of sight.

Then there was the drive back. Deciding that we had enough of the cliffs and the edge of what seemed to be the world, we took the straight and flat road home. We didn't see any accidents on our way up the coast but on that simple road, the wind whipped like hell against the car. So hard that I remember popping snacks in Matt's mouth for him because he couldn't take either hand off the wheel. There were a ton of accidents. We even saw some mini tornados out of dust and dirt. The cliffs were much more scary. At any point you felt like you were going to just tip off the edge. How funny that when everything was lain out simply before us that we were in much more danger.

I have arrived at the straight and simple. I'm not rising or falling. Much like a photograph that is unsaturated and flat, I keep flipping through the days, work, people, routines without much excitement or interest. I've lost interest in the organization of my things. My work seems to continue without any concern or creative satisfaction. Time moves and I watch it go. I sip water because nothing tastes particularly good or bad, mostly bland. I don't really watch out for cracks in the sidewalk. I haven't felt high or low but mostly medium. So where do I go from here knowing that if I take my hands from the wheel for one minute that I may flip over and end up worse off than where I begun.

I've seen the photos, I've heard the gossip. I knew it before I even discovered it. It dissolves in me and settles to the bottom. Nothing surprises me anymore because I've already imagined and reimagined it a million different ways. I saw you and it took me a full week to recover. I ended up flatter than before. More disinterested in what was around me, more disgusted with the situation.

I have a beautiful view of the city. I wake up around 4 or 5am everyday to the sun coming up over the city. My first thought is a split between how wonderful the colors are and how I don't understand how I got here. I haven't been here writing because I don't even have the real interest in putting it down anymore. After writing for days on ends, filling up notebooks and scribble pads with this and that I've run out. I got a cold and I ended up extremely exhausted. All the twists and turns were tiring and now that I'm on the flat, I'm more worried than ever.

yin

I hesitated with everything I felt and did. I anticipated pain the second I stopped moving. I cautiously sipped my coffee dreaming that it would be too hot and scorch my mouth. I questioned a coworker that he was about to tell me bad news when he was only sharing an invitation with me. I arrived on my mat already full of tears. This was my fifth or sixth yin class - I've never made it through an entire class, let along the first 30 minutes without tears coming. This was the first however that I was anticipating the pain, aches and flood of emotions so much that I was worked up even before I began.

I am today at 63 days straight of yoga. I feel like I'm in a program of sorts announcing something like that but maybe I am. I took Yin Yoga sort of by mistake. I enjoy the teacher in other practices so when I was out of options for that particular day I decided to try it out. It's a practice of clearing energetic blockages and improve the flow of qi. The positions are much like traditional vinyasa practice except you don't move seamlessly from one to another. You move into one and you stay, you stay for 5-10 minutes. Sitting still for that long of time is difficult enough. Dull aches arise and your mind starts pin-ponging from thought to thought, eventually landing on the thought that you've been avoiding all day, all week and here you are - facing it head on.

"When pain arises in the body, look to the mind. Where is that coming from? Where or what is causing the discomfort?"

And then I was there that first class. Laying on my back with my heels together and my hands on my stomach with tears pouring down my face. Physically I've collected enough strength in the past 63 days to push past the ache but emotionally I am not much farther from where I began. The teacher asked us all to not reject any pain that came to us, both physical or emotional but to look to it and allow it to come and then go. The pain was suffering caused by resistance.

There weren't any tears tonight. Once I began I accepted that I wasn't feeling as positive as I had been feeling yesterday but that was fine. I let it go. I didn't deny that my hips felt like they were breaking into pieces. I didn't deny that my heart ached to all ends and that I miss him like crazy. I sat there and saw the thoughts come and go. I saw that every time my pain increased it was because some memory was coming to me. His eyelids sleeping, a favorite pasta recipe.

I think tomorrow I will finally take a break. I attempted a break many times but haven't felt ready to let go of the practice that is physically bringing me back to the place where I feel confident that I can then build back my emotional self. There isn't anymore denial left in me. There's just time and space to move forward.

patience

 

"Patience is not about suffering through discomfort but acknowledging the feelings that arise and greeting them with grace, kindness and acceptance."

Jenny, September 5th

lucky

I walked down the subway steps at Marcy Avenue yesterday and caught the eye of a guy about my age. He was at the bottom clearly waiting for someone, something. He smiled - his whole body smiled. For a split second I thought that he was of course waiting for me but soon realized that I've never seen this person before. His girlfriend trotted down from the steps into his arms. The kissed in the way that seemed comfortable but also a bit passionate. I felt a bit embarrassed to witness their public display of affection. Maybe because I'm ultra sensitive to everything right now, especially people touching.

I thought it was so nice that he waited for her. A simple, small gesture. I know that I'm in this cycle of overanalyzing everything but I'm trying to just let thoughts come and go like my breath. Breathe in a bit of sadness because no one was waiting for me, breathe out acceptance of this time to build myself up a bit.

I got home and Jack followed me into my room. Jack is my roommates 85+ lb mastiff pitbull mix. He mostly represents a hippopotamus because he moves so slowly and stiffly. He looked at me and I told him we could hang out in the living room but not my room, I ran into the living room. Jack stiffly ran and half jumped onto the sofa and flipped himself into me and took half my arm into his mouth. He does this when he's so happy you are there that he wants to actually bite you but he's too gentle to actually cause harm. He made me feel a bit better. I went to yoga (yup, still at it daily) and settled into poses which were held for 5-8 minutes each. Something about bending over my knee made me cry. Tears trickled down my cheeks as my toes went numb and I breathed as deep as humanly possible. I kept coming back to the question of, "When will someone be waiting for me?"

My friends were waiting though after yoga. I collected them at a bar and we went to another to get burgers. We sat and talked about past jobs, current relationships and other people's love lives. It's hard to hear of unhappy relationships right now. I keep coming back to wondering if people know how lucky they are. I felt lucky every single day when I was in a relationship. It's easy to lose focus of that when you're arguing over who needs to take the trash out or if there are shoes on the floor that you tripped over or whatever else makes you annoyed with the other person.

The guy from the subway, he knew he was lucky and I think that's what pulled at my heart strings. Because no matter how lucky you are, sometimes things just don't work out. But the only thing you can do is go home, sit on the sofa with the dog, go to yoga, meet friends for burgers, go home and put yourself to bed. You need to keep going, but don't forget to remember how lucky you are. No matter what situation you find yourself in.

just kids

My roommate has two children. The oldest is 8, the youngest just turned 6. They were at the apartment yesterday when I arrived home. All limbs, hair and smiles. Little bird hugs and back to making paper robots. Their energy and stone cold honesty is infectious. I love when the oldest is brutally honest without even knowing that her words ring insanely true even at such a young age. The youngest stuck a piece of paper on his forehead with an eyeball drawn on.

"Look I have three eyes!"
I turned to my other roommate, "We've been working on that for how long? (We both just got home from yoga) And look, Issac already knows exactly where his third eye is."

They tumbled onto my bed not wanting to get into their own. Matching pajama sets that I must admit I was a bit jealous of. Screaming bloody murder and rolling around laughing not wanting to go to sleep just yet. Tickles work wonders and so do carrying them upside down to their bed. Goodnights and see you soon's, they leave this afternoon to go back to their mums.

It made my night. It reminded me of flying down the hill with my sister and two cousins at my grandparents house when we were little. We were Indians, we were princesses and queens. We were whatever we wanted to be dressed in vintage scarves and dresses tied up with hair bands and pins. Mommom would take us to the candy store down the street. Bags of sugar gummy candies for us and cigarettes for her. I learned to drive at age 6. I sat on her lap and drove down the street and down the driveway. She taught me again at age 16. There were swings underneath their tall deck. I always hated the concrete feel on my bare feet. We'd leap from the peak of a swing into the grass. Our hands would smell like lighting bugs, our hair like grass and woods. The weeping willow tree served as a guest home. I used to walk down the street to sit with the neighbors horses, daring myself to slip onto their backs every day. I never did. I'm glad I waited until my own mum taught me to ride. All four of us rode our ponies. All four of us playing endless hours of whatever we could dream up.

The kids last night reminded me of my own loving family. We're all well into our adult lives and carving out our own places in the world. Watching those two last night made me realize that even though we're all getting older, we should never stop playing and creating.

fine

"I'm fine. When is this over?"

Paul, August 13th

Bend down and touch the ground with the palms of your hands. If you aren't a gymnast like most of us, use your fingertips. Are you there? Good, okay. Feel connected. How is it? Oh, fine? Fine, but when is this over? How many times a day do we say that? This is um, fine but when the fuck is this going to be over. It hurts? Why are you letting it hurt, you're doing it. Do something a bit more comfortable. We came here to work but we didn't come here to work in pain. Listen, most of us only get to practice yoga like what...once a week or whatever? Just enjoy it. Do it but enjoy it. Do it and don't think "oh this is fine." Because then it's not fine. Why don't you just do something that feels good and you enjoy. Do yoga, take drugs. I shouldn't say that but I'm more of a drug addict than anything but you know what I mean. We're all thinking everything is fine but - when the fuck is this over.

I actually was asleep 97% of this class. I let go so much that by the time I realized I was practicing yoga I was standing in front of the juice in the grocery store blocks away.

tried + true

When I was in middle school I realized pretty quickly that girls were complete bullshit.

They would tell me that they liked my jeans and two seconds later tell someone else how terribly they looked and how I thought I was cooler than everyone else. I developed a good sense of which girls were full of shit and which were going to stand by me.

Today, it's not really any different. I've met more people in my life that have stabbed me in the back than who have held my hand. I'm not going to deny that I've probably done it to a few as well. I never really felt like I had to belong to a clique. I was perfectly fine having fewer friends. I also realized that I preferred having guy friends because they didn't stab me in the back. If they were going to be jerks, it was straight forward and forgotten about 2 minutes later.

At 27 I overhead someone once tell another, "Toni doesn't have a lot of friends."

At 27 I felt like I was 12 because it made me terribly sad. I went home, shut the bathroom door and I let myself cry just for a second. Then I went back to bed and to sleep. I thought about it again over the weekend as I sat with a coworker and friend at my new apartment.

"I can't get over this view," she said.
"Well I had to lose everything to get it," I said.

But I didn't have to lose any friends. When I needed them, they were right there. An army of people who were fucking pissed off and ready to help in anyway they could. I always knew but I re-realized, I don't have many friends maybe by other people's standards but the friends I have are some of the most interesting, honest and beautiful people I've ever met. The saddest part is having to call on them for help when I should have been calling on them for happier reasons the whole time. We make time when it's convenient and when bad things happen but it's hard day in and day out when everything is going swimmingly to remember that these are the people that actually do mean the most. Everyone is guilty of it so nobody really blames anyone else. It's something to be conscious of, something to work on.

"We should do this more often," she said.
"We should have been doing this since the last time," I said.

Reach out to someone you haven't spoken to in a while today just to say hi. Because girls can be such bullshit but if you're lucky enough to have those in your life that will stand by you when you need them and when you don't, hang on, those are true blue best friends. I'm so proud of mine.

over the loudspeaker

There is not one person I know that isn't going through some sort of challenge in their life this year.

Before I hit "post" I usually ask myself why I'm writing what I am and why I am sharing it publicly. Some of you may feel that some information would be better kept private or within a relationship, friendship, family, etc. The truth of the matter is, every time I put myself out there it has the potential of reaching someone else who is going through a challenge in their own lives.

Maybe you've come here to look at a recipe, to stalk me a little, to get to know what's going on in my head or simply by mistake. Or maybe you come back because I'm here saying that sometimes shit is really fucked up and that makes you feel a little bit better.

To everyone who has ever sent me messages about the blog, thank you for reading. For those who haven't, thank you too for reading and sticking it out with me. Much love going into the weekend.

to lose

 

"It's okay to completely lose your shit for a while. You'll get it back."

Mallory, August 2nd

a balancing act

There are things about us that are different. There are things about us that are the same.

I said, "I think it's a balance."
You said, "I don't want to be balanced."

It vibrates through me everyday. I fell to my knees in the street, I sat on a cool subway train and weep in the presence of strangers, I take unnecessary trips to the bathroom at work and sit a while until my flush face fades.

The hardest part of leaving is knowing that it may be the right thing. It doesn't make it hurt any less and it doesn't make it easier. I shifted closer, you further.

I fill my lungs with air and try to remember that I've been here. That my situation is not less or more challenging than of those around me. That daily life brings us challenges and every so often, heart break. I'm letting go of what I do not need while you find what you do. I hope you find it, I hope you fill the void. 

To those who know me personally, Thank you. You've gone to great lengths to pull me up as I fall down. I love you forever.

unmatch

There is a still-water moment that happens when you part ways from a significant other. No ripples, no waves, just stillness. For a bit of time, this is okay. It's nice to wade and to push and pull your limbs through the water feeling it's newness all over you. Then, for myself, the calm became questionable. The still, cool waters suddenly seemed dark and dangerous. Did something just touch my foot? GET OUT OF THE WATER SOMETHING JUST BRUSHED BY MY FOOT. And then, I joined match.com.

I feel like I can not go any farther without stating a sort of disclaimer to this post. I know many, many people who have met, dated, married and had children with significant others that they met online. Why else would I give it a try if not for the bountiful, happy experiences others have had. Now, with that said...

I was on match.com for a total of 20 hours. It was a very stressful 20 hours. I didn't tell anyone about my venture to online dating. At home one Friday night 2 spring seasons ago I felt optimistic and curious enough to check the site out. I wasn't dating anyone at the time and had 2 girlfriends who used the site to meet men in the area and who were "exploring" the idea to date some of them but none of them at the same time. I created my profile which felt a lot like filling out my first Facebook page years prior and waiting for a friend request or any activity to take place on the page. I clicked around some but had a lingering feeling of guilt as I would browse through men who my first and only impression was their photo and their username. I didn't want to marry bballstar4573 because god, what an awful monogram that would be (kidding.) and guy with that tunic-like shirt on the beach, you're screaming Ted Bundy to my woman spidey senses. Alas, I went to bed.

I woke up to emails, winks, messages and the most appalling attempts to get my attention via bad joke or dirty joke in the subject line. Suddenly I felt like these people were invading my space. It may help for you to know that I am not one of those people who see someone calling my phone and say, "Oh it's so-and-so I'll call them back." No. I pick up the phone and say, "Hi so-and-so I will call you back." I can't ignore people, I just cannot. So one by one, everyone got their messages answered usually with a creative response like, "Dear bballstar4573- I live in Manhattan therefore a Florida relationship is not currently in the cards for me. Best of luck, you'll find someone great. - Antoinette." It was overwhelming and eventually after an hour or so, I just logged out and off. But not before Troy sent me a message.

Troy was 30 something, seemed fit and friendly. He also was living in Chelsea and had a car (because he offered to pick me up for our date so I'm assuming) which I figured a good sign if you say you're doing okay professionally. I thought of all the tips and tricks I picked up on 60 seconds and Oprah like meet in public, have someone check in on you, keep it to 1-2 drinks max, etc. So aside from my overwhelming feeling that this wasn't for me I thought, you committed and maybe this is the man of your dreams, go on one date. Well…

Troy was nice. Polite. Tall and looked just as fit as his picture. But as we chatted I was having a hard time following really where he was going. I didn't feel like there were enough details in his descriptions or emotions in where he grew up or went to college. College by the way was Ohio State, downfall (PSU grad here) but at least we had the Big 10 in common. Did I mentioned he played football? Did I mention I secretly know a pretty good amount about college football? But Troy didn't know this so as he spoke I ran stats in my head and came up with nothing. Then the most fantastic thing ever happened, he asked me…

"Can I see your feet?"

I like to sometimes have Carrie moments (sex and the city) but keep them to myself but this one literally felt like it was a written tv set. My what? My who? Get me out of here. Troy and I never spoke again.

Sometimes when Chris has to work late I play a head game like I live in this apartment alone. My mind goes back to when I was single and living with a roommate and all the guys we talked about and those insane first dates which were 80% bad and 100% memorable. Here's what I always land on,

I can not wait until Chris gets home.

everything's coming up roses

If you're interested in this post it means one of two things, either you're in a pinch or you straight up forgot that Valentine's Day was this Thursday. I've got what you need, step into my office. Whether you're willing to spend a lot or a little, I have 6 gifts that you can give your sweet and I won't even take credit for the idea.

From top left going clockwise: If you're going for the faint-factor, decorate your lady with the Tiffany sparklers lavender amethyst ring. To soothe her winter skin and make her smell like roses, L'Occitane's rose petals hand cream. For kissable lips, Dior's crème de rose' smoothing plumping lip balm. Treat her to a new statement fragrance such as Marni, exclusively at Saks Fifth Avenue. (If you buy now you'll get a free cosmetic bag with purchase, I picked up mine this weekend and am over the hill with the scent!) Fill up her (or your shared) apartment with the a duet of diptyque's best scents, rose + baies. Last but not least, flowers are always a sure bet. I've been using Park Avenue Florists for my latest celebrations for friends. Their beautiful designs can be sent directly to her office or pick them up on your way to see her.

Sending love to everyone out there.

coffee courting

The 14th of February is approaching whether you like it or not. Last year I was semi-single and not expecting much on the day. I made small heart pins for some of my co-workers to help spread some love around. I was surprised when I asked a few people and they said no! That they were against any sort of Valentines Day celebrating… it never occurred to me to take such a strong stance. Nevertheless, those who accepted the heart pin wore it around and I think it made them feel just a little bit fuzzy that day.

I said "semi-single" did you catch that? I was crushing big time but it was a bit difficult having that we worked about 10 feet from each other. My day usually began with Chris and I going to Starbucks to get our coffee and to spend a few minutes being flirty (he) and giddy (me). We were very conscious to not bringing any sort of relationship into the workplace so that morning coffee was sometimes the only time of the day where I could blush and not be embarrassed or feel that I had a dozen eyes on me. On Valentines Day I came into work expecting for the normal routine when I saw that my drink was already on my desk. My heart sunk into my butt.

So if you're in a relationship or not come the 14th, do something nice for someone you know. Even if it's a friendly gesture. Who knows in a years time what that could turn into.

the paper trail

 Growing up I knew I was lucky. My mom was cast from early on as the "cool mom." Always requested and selected to chaperon field trips and tag along during hangouts with my friends, I knew she was cool and calm unlike some of the other moms. We'd go to Washington D.C. for museum trips and while the other parents drilled their groups on facts that they learned that day - my mom would take us outside for a non-cafeteria lunch and we'd watch her bargain down a tee-shirt vendor for whatever matching designs my friends and I were after. She was an idol to other girls my age. My mom listened to all our 12 year old issues of boys, parents, clothes, growing pains and she would take us seriously. She never spoke above our 12 year old selves and only offered advice and snacks. I trusted her so much that I knew that when I ran into trouble in 6th grade that she would hear me out.

We weren't allowed to pass notes but since I could hold a pen, I was writing letters. With multiple pen pals and pretty stationery, I was a 12 year old note rebel. Others however, not so much. When a schoolmate dropped a note of mine in the hall and Mrs. Kraft picked it up I already had a strike against me. The fact that it claimed that she was a class-a B**** (yeah I was a badass note passer but I didn't swear) was a sure sign that my parents would be called.

I was pulled out of study hall, told to serve multiple detentions and that my parents would be notified of my actions. While I was mad I got caught, I never felt bad. I knew that once my mom had heard what had happen that she'd understand. Flash forward to coming home and telling my mom the truth. What happened, what I wrote and the detentions. Most importantly though why I felt the way I did about Mrs. Kraft. She put kids down. She didn't encourage learning, she encouraged humiliation. Picked on kids who were timid readers and played favorites to those who were typical class pets. My mom went to talk to Mrs. Kraft.

She first asked if the note had been addressed to her and when she said no, my mom's point was made. If it wasn't addressed to her then why did she read it? It was none of her business and that it was a shame that a 12 year old hurt her feelings. I would not serve detention and the matter would be dealt with at home.

The matter was this - mom agreed that Mrs. Kraft was indeed a bitch. What I learned - if I truly felt a certain way I could tell my mom honestly and she would listen. Her reaction wouldn't be tarnished because she was the adult and I was the child. We were a team and a family. That I could trust her but also not to do thinks that may lead her to distrust me or disappoint her. I already knew she was the cool mom but her standing up to Ms. Kraft made my heart swell and still does today. Aside from all that I also learned one last thing - never leave a paper trail.

hero

 

When I was young my dad used to pull splinters out of my hands and feet. I don't know where I used to play where this was a common occurrence but I remember him putting my hand under a big magnifying glass in the garage and using a needle. He was unnaturally gentle and being the wimp I am, it takes a ton of trust especially when I'm hurt, to allow anyone to touch me. Quick and painless, the splinter gone and there was instant relief. His reassurance of fixing up his daughter was easy for me to read, it spread across his face. I learned dad liked being the hero.

I know all this modern woman stuff is telling us all to buck up! who needs a man when you have a college education, smart phone and good pair of shoes. Me. I'm the one shyly raising my hand. I'm not tall enough to reach the top shelf and strong enough to hang that 50 lb. mirror that I bought last spring. The truth is I miss that feeling I used to get where dad would get the splinter. When his pride and happiness from helping me filled me up with love. I could have gotten it eventually but seeing him help me was so much more rewarding. That hero moment- it's not just little girls and disney stories - I truly feel guys like it too.

Because let's be honest, when you help someone else, their appreciation and gratitude fills you up and you feel just as good. You can tell me to ask for the help of a girlfriend but it's not the same benefit. Sometimes whether it's opening a jar or pulling out splinters, a part of me wants that hero-like outcome. I'm not "modern woman" enough to say it.

luck be a lady

If you want something to happen and in your favor, is there a certain prayer you say, a special dress you wear, swear that if this one thing happens that you will fulfill a certain promise in return? I have one item that I keep with me for luck. On days where I have a big presentation, somewhere to be or a date to keep, I wear a necklace that holds an emblem of Saint Christopher. Historically this saint holds patronage of things related to travel and travelers.

I'm not a religious person but I do believe in karma and luck. I understand fully that my necklace isn't a safeguard against any sort of mishaps and misfortunes but it has become something that takes the edge off days where I know I have a zillion things to do and places to be. Smaller than a dime, hanging from a thin silver chain, it gives me confidence and ease to not worry and let things just take their course and hopefully bring me a little bit of luck when I hit a bump in the road.

what's yours is mine

In a hurry to get out of the apartment and to the gym before laziness sets in, I quickly nabbed a shirt from my dresser. Halfway down the hall and halfway on my body I realized that it wasn't my shirt. It was mine because it was in my room buried under sweaters and random gym attire but it was more a relic of the past.

More than once I've found items that once belonged to boyfriends. Shirts, socks and/or sweaters show up unannounced and at moments where I'd rather they stay hidden in my drawer. They are those pieces that I used to wear to brunch Sunday when I was too lazy to put on my own tighter, more "fashionable" clothes. Items that smelled familiar and warm. Memories of running to get ice cream in the middle of the night because it went well with the movie we were watching and dressing head to toe in his clothes.

I think one of the most ridiculous things about a breakup is the "getting together of the things." I've always thought to just leave them and forget about it but the thought of me leaving and my things remaining always felt awkward and wrong. I'd rather clear the cabinet out rather than someone else having to. The problem is you can never get rid of it all and much like the memories that remain so does that one shirt that you happen to grab on a day where you already weren't feeling up to par. Well whatever, I put it on anyway and even though it no longer smells like him and all I'm doing is running errands or to the gym at least I know that it still fits and maybe one day I'll return it. But then again, maybe not.