Thursday I return to my regular blogging schedule. Tell your friends. And you mom... she's been pestering me, asking WHEN I was gonna start up again. JULY 1ST, DAYUMMMMM! Can a sistah take a vacation n shit???
In the meantime, let's all wish John Cusack a HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY
via his fave band, The Clash:
*smooches...hoping one day to meet him for real* ---------- even if we can't be together... I just want to be in his life. Did that sound stalkerish? Like I care...
I went to the beach this weekend. It's no La Romana or Boca Chica, but there was sun and sand and surf. And if I had remembered to bring my boombox, it would've sounded a little bit like this:
HAPPY FIRST DAY OF SUMMER!!!
*smooches...in the mood for some guarana all of a sudden* ---------- I hope your June is working out just peachy.
I figured since I have y'all going through Jaded Withdrawal until July, the least I could do was offer a musical interlude each week until then. It won't be long now. Enjoy the silence... with some music LOL.
*smooches...enjoying my time away*
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I'll be back, though. Don't you worry.
The Jaded NYer is on a tiny break. And NO I'm not having a nervous breakdown or stewing over some nonsense or suffering from writer's block.
Just taking a moment to relax, recharge and reboot.
See you soon!
*smooches...trying to start my summer off right* ---------- make sure y'all are spending more time outdoors, too. You need sunshine in your life, mmkay?!
It is with the heaviest of heaviest hearts that I stand before you today to bid my beloved Roscoe adieu. This hurts more than Phillip's passing because Roscoe has been with me for so long, taking pictures of unfortunate New Yorkers and texting all manner of improprieties to friends and lovers.
I remember when Roscoe first came into my life. I felt so complete, so...happy. He was everything I was looking for in a phone and more. He was cute, efficient, sleek and well, he became part of the family from day one.
Monday Musings was broadcast through Roscoe, always, even after Phillip came on the scene. I would plug in the headset and set him down and just not have a care in the world. You cannot dispute the awesomeness that was Roscoe during my radio show.
But I could tell in this last year that he was knocking on phone heaven's door. I tried to deny it and told myself, "He can make it to another season of Monday Musings. He can. He has to!" It pains me to know how wrong I was.
It hurts even more to know that my clumsiness is what sent him over to the darkside- after checking in with Mami he fell from my sweaty hands, and as he plummeted to his absolute demise. I tried to rush to him and catch him before he touched ground, injuring myself in the process. But I missed. He fell. And died.
Loyal readers, I have to make the long treacherous journey to the Verizon store today and see about replacing Roscoe, a task that is near impossible. No phone could EVER replace him. He was the best thing that ever happened to mobile phones. He was like family.
I will miss him everyday of my life.
Be well, Roscoe.
xoxo, Jaded + Family
*smooches...seriously bummed about my phone* ---------- it's the longest relationship I've had since my divorce *sigh* I can't even fathom having to use anything else...
and how BAD do I feel? N read this as a draft and CRIED. My poor baby cried real tears for Roscoe. #badmommy
I don't think I will wait until the 21st to declare it officially SUMMER in NYC; I'm wearing skirts and dresses, sleeping semi-nude and I've bought a new window fan and shut down the stove usage until September. Dammit, that's SUMMER.
What does a Jaded NYer like myself DO when it's crazy hot in these streets? Um, not stay the fuck home, that's what, especially in MY apartment: guaranteed whatever the temperature is outside, it's 10 degrees hotter inside. It's my very own 24/hr sauna.
This year Mari will be staying with me for a bit while the babies are gone, but she'll be busy studying most of the time. I've given myself a final, no-holds-barred deadline of July 1st to hand in my thesis to FDU so I can get that damn monkey off my back. And hopefully I'll have my hands full w/a plethora of paying gigs to keep my cabinets stocked with Ramen and cookies. But besides all that I plan to be...
...at the various FREE concerts around the City. FREE, bitchezzzz, F-R-E-E!!!
...in the park, becoming reacquainted with my bike (since no one wanted to buy it) and writing til my fingers bleed.
...at Coney Island, acting like I ain't got no chores, jobs or responsibilities, and stuffing my face with fried shrimp on the boardwalk.
...in NJ, chillin in Mami's yard, dipping my feet in the pool, laying out in the sun, watching cheesy TV on her VZ FiOS.
...at the god damn BEACH, trying to convince myself and the world that I'm not really beige/yellow/lightskinded by tanning myself to death.
And when I'm not engaging in those activities you will find me in DC, MA, Montauk and who knows; this might be the year I get to return to DR and/or Cali *crosses fingers*
What are YOU doing with your summer?
*smooches...welcoming the Sun back into my life* ---------- this summer won't be like last summer. You remember- my nervous breakdown and all that jazz? Yeah, we're not doing THAT again. I won't let it!!
As a birthday gift, Mari gave me Bonni Goldberg's Room to Write, a little book filled with BIG inspirational messages and prompts that any writer can appreciate. While sitting under the dryer at Mami's house I was already moved to write this post just from an item I read in the book's introduction:
The only obstacle to writing creatively is a lack of faith that appears as fear and self-judgment.
"That passage right there, ni**a, that passage right there?!?!"
Listen, I've already explained about my faux-confidence, so no need to dwell on it. Let us instead dwell on the fact that I will not be able to meet my own goal of being published by 2011 if I allow this fear and self-judgment take over my entire life. Not to be conceited, but we've already established that I'm a great writer. Sure my pieces need work but the stories are engaging and captivating. THIS is what I need to remind myself every time I chicken out of submitting my work to a literary magazine, every time I go before an audience to read, every time I send pieces to be workshopped- this needs to be my mantra.
Otherwise I'll just become a victim of what my mom so affectionately called "wasted talent" and I don't want that to happen.
I have a story (or two) to tell. I need to get off my ass and tell them.
And because I know many of YOU have a story to tell, too, I'm going to share one of the writing prompts with you every month.
Room To Write Activity #1: Diving In
TODAY dive into writing by choosing any of the following words that have more than one meaning: bear, cleave, lie, sewer, tear or desert. Start by copying the word and quickly, without stopping for any reason, continue writing until you reach the end of the page...
Now go write your ass off... dedicate your first piece to me & Mari!
*smooches...anxiously plotting my rise to literary greatness* ---------- Oh it's GOING TO HAPPEN, and when it does you can't even imagine the party I'm going to throw...
I would like to begin this post by thanking the bartender at Franklin Park for hooking me up with the bomb-ass Rhum Barbancourt which mellowed me out for the foolishness I was destined to witness on Saturday night. Otherwise, a certain out-of-towner would have brought out the neck-rolling, eye-cutting, thick-accent-having Dominicana from BedStuy in me instead of the educated & cultured one I worked so hard to become. To say it plainly- dude was testing me.
How? Easy. He was talking shit about, "I don't understand the allure of the city...how can you raise a family here?!" and all that jazz. Bitch, WHAT?! I know you're not talking about NEW YORK CITY right to my motherfucking face (is what I wanted to say...)!!!
He came at me after having oozed desperation (and some putrid B.O. from what I heard) at most of the females I was hanging with, complaining that he had this beautiful 4-BR house overlooking a lake in Maryland and it was perfect for a family that he wanted to have but just didn't understand why women (read: ME) are so hard-pressed to stay in big cities, namely NYC and more specifically, Brooklyn. *takes blood pressure medication* Clearly he was new to the Jaded Universe to be saying some shit like that to me.
Well, PATRICK, let me tell you why some women from big cities like myself choose to stay in big cities to raise their families. No, fuck it, let me tell you, PATRICK, why *I* am choosing to stay in this city and raise my family, and why the right man for me will feel the same way.
If I walk a few blocks from my house, I will run into an authentic Middle Eastern restaurant. Next door to that is a grocery store that sells imported Mexican food products. Three blocks from that is a pretty slamming Thai restaurant and if I take the B-35 all the way to Flatbush Ave I can have all the delicious West Indian delicacies (and Rasta eye candy) I desire.
If I want good deals on textiles and coats I can hit Williamsburg or Borough Park; Bensonhurst has this great little Italian place with some of the BEST and FRESHEST mozzarella cheese; and HELLO... CONEY ISLAND! Then I can cross the bridge and BAM- a smorgasbord of AWESOME awaits me: China Town, Little Italy, Little Brazil, Washington Heights, Astoria, Jamaica, City Island... Do you see what I'm getting at, dumbass?
My grandparents came to NYC and settled in Brooklyn, because even back on the Island everyone knows THIS is where IT'S at. The money's here. The opportunity is here. The WORLD is here. As a little girl growing up in BedStuy I had so many cultural experiences that I'm sure I'm forgetting most of them. Stuff like live jazz at Lincoln Center, the Radio City Music Hall Rockettes, sailing around Manhattan, seeing what felt like the entire Tri-State area from the top of the late, great Twin Towers.
Then there were the people I encountered everyday- Asians, Latinos, Caribbeans, Europeans; Catholics, Jews, Hari Krishnas, Buddhists- and all that they brought to this great city from their own great cities... I really, truly led a charmed life, and I didn't even realize it until I came across people in college who grew up in beautiful, quiet, 4-br homes overlooking a lake in places like Maryland, and didn't know SHIT about the world. My kids love this place as much as I do and they are getting the best of EVERY world by being raised and educated right here.
Let's also take into account the convenience of this City. Not only can I get whatever I want, I can get it at all hours of the day and night, seven days a week. When I tried to explain to you, PATRICK, that I don't like the thought of having to get into a car and drive 5-10 minutes to the local Wal-Mart just to get some milk, only to discover that the local Wal-Mart closes at 9PM on a Sunday, when I can just walk three blocks to On The Run and get that and a whole lot more, you had the audacity to ask, "Why do you need milk at that hour anyway?"
Motherfucker are you for real right now? BECAUSE THAT'S WHEN I GODDAMN WANT IT, THAT'S WHY!! And you know where I can get a carton of milk after 9PM on a Sunday night within 3 blocks of my house? Where sidewalks exist and cars are a luxury, not a necessity? Where kids (like mine) have the opportunity for a world class education? Where public transportation and taxicabs run 24 hours a day? Where you can hear ten different languages in the span of as many city blocks? Brooklyn, bitch!
And don't you EVER forget that shit. EVER!
*smooches...glad I saved my hostility for this blog rather than his face* ---------- PS- PATRICK? I suspect that your attempt to throw your house on the lake in my face AND your failure to accept that fact that some of us are City Mice while others are Country Mice is the reason you're single. The end.
Read my first published story, Grey Matter, at Blue Lake Review online.
Also, you asked for it so here it is: click below to buy my book, My Ego Likes the Compliments...And Other Musings on Writing, for just $10 plus $2.00 flat shipping rate to anywhere in the continental US.
As a birthday gift, Mari gave me Bonni Goldberg's Room to Write, a little book filled with BIG inspirational messages and prompts that any writer can appreciate. While sitting under the dryer at Mami's house I was already moved to write this post just from an item I read in the book's introduction:
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