Tuesday, May 30, 2006
At Central Park, they converge in any open area where they can attract a ready and willing audience and it makes the New York experience so much more special. This was a few weeks ago when I strolled with my friend Wally and her brother near Bethesda Fountain.
Today she sent me the pictures she had taken and then told me that the same bird had built a nest in the ficus tree near her kitchen. She had two eggs in the nest, she reported further.
When I emailed her back I briefed her on the many changes that had been happening in my life since we last talked in her kitchen over fresh pasta she had cooked. She's very religious and when I told her about my multi-facetted romantic dilemma, she gifted me with a small statue of St. Joseph which she said should help guide me to find who would be right man for me.
We promised to stay in touch in the email. She would update me on the progress of the nesting hummingbird and I will keep her updated on my romantic situation.
She had a postscript though: she said she just adored the Italian.
Monday, May 29, 2006
It had been a very hectic week winding down to Memorial Day. My friend Dennis flew in from LA on Wednesday morning and except for a tiny glitch (I went to pick him up at La Guardia but he arrived in JFK), his four day stay had been a great reunion for us. Dennis and I were friends back in He quickly adapted to my
The sunset along the Hudson River
Dennis and I were friends back in
He quickly adapted to my
He quickly studied the subway and bus system and except for the first night when he needed to take him to his kind of places, he was pretty much on his on after. I have become a bar denizen when I came to I however had trepidations about stepping into a gay bar. I was expecting a lot of sexuality flowing into the room similar to the bold For the rest of his stay, I took him to the usual tourist haunts of the city in the daytime while he pursued the night scene on his own. And on Sunday, with barely 3 hours of sleep, we heard mass at St. Patrick’s before having brunch and then we headed to Grand Central Station where he took the bus back to the airport and to I have always thought I already knew the city like the back of my hands. Having Dennis in the city had me becoming more familiar with another part of the city that I had not had the chance to adventure before. Suffice to say it had been a weirdly fun and wild week painting the town pink.
Columbus Circle view from Time Warner
On Thursday evening, we were in the
I have become a bar denizen when I came to
I however had trepidations about stepping into a gay bar. I was expecting a lot of sexuality flowing into the room similar to the bold
For the rest of his stay, I took him to the usual tourist haunts of the city in the daytime while he pursued the night scene on his own. And on Sunday, with barely 3 hours of sleep, we heard mass at St. Patrick’s before having brunch and then we headed to Grand Central Station where he took the bus back to the airport and to
I have always thought I already knew the city like the back of my hands. Having Dennis in the city had me becoming more familiar with another part of the city that I had not had the chance to adventure before. Suffice to say it had been a weirdly fun and wild week painting the town pink.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Heck, I’d be home in half an hour if I walked from work right now! From my apartment I am 15 minutes away on the bus and about 10 minutes if I took the subway.
But Park Slope has the promise of a bigger apartment -real living space with separate entertaining space from sleeping space. But who would I be entertaining? Who would want to come to my apartment if I lived in
Everything happens in
How many people are fortunate enough to have the chance to say that they are living their dream? I am and sometimes I still pinch myself when I am walking down Fifth Avenue or when I am enjoying a quiet afternoon in the park. It's surreal - I used to just daydream about this and then here I am - a true blue Manhattanite who can direct you to the best hotdogs in town (Gray's Papaya on the West Side) or the most romantic dinner restaurant in the city (Le Bernardin in midtown).
Maybe I might leave
Park Slope is tempting but maybe another day. Gramercy I heard, has the same breathtaking architecture. And it comes with a park as well, albeit smaller...
Monday, May 15, 2006
Stop, I would beg because I can hardly breathe but then no one hears me, not the walls nor those around me.
I wonder if I had mouthed the words or did I just think about it.
And when I try to cry, my eyes stay dry.
They have had too much tears pour that there isn’t anymore to give.
I know how you feel.
No you don’t, idiot. You don’t know how I feel. You don’t know what is going on.
Don’t even give me fucking sad eyes to sympathize.
I have had too much of that growing up and I can’t stand that anymore.
Not talking, not crying.
Not even eating seems to matter now; nor shopping.
Inspiration has walked away and so has my soul.
I have no soul. It has walked away.
Things will not change.
Utterances, mere words.
Distance changes everything.
You console yourself by thinking it doesn’t.
But deep inside you know it does.
Distance takes away much more than spatial relativity.
Distance takes away the taste and the smells.
It strips away the warmth and exposes the cold.
The noises are too loud.
Sirens, the traffic, the people who want to sympathize.
People who want to give advise, people who want to be a part of me.
Too loud. Too fucking loud.
I just want silence.
I want to be left alone.
I need the delete button somewhere.
Everything has a delete button and I need it now.
Where is it?
Or maybe the off switch to a lamp that seems to burn forever.
I need to switch everything off and go back to darkness.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Mothers and daughters have the most complex relationship in the universe. It could be because each is a part of each other that is why they have too much in common and yet so different from each other. It is a relationship that starts out as a very dependent one for us. From the womb to the first months after birth, the mother is the single individual in the whole universe whose voice, smell and heartbeat we are familiar with. It is a familiarity that provides comfort when she is near. It is a dependency resulting from the need for survival and the total lack of self-sufficiency. As independence slowly sets in, we learn to crawl, to walk, to run, to talk and to talk back, we -the child, slowly wean from mother.
Mothers, however, never see this time coming. The natural tendency to nurture and well, mother, goes beyond elementary days and high school and college and it just never stops. Mothers are life-organizers, worriers, and whose joys are the simplest when it comes from their children. The littlest things that could be taken for granted, when it comes from a child to the mother is amplified in value. And when you love someone this much, hurt is also easier to inflict.
Mother and daughter relationships are also the more dramatic ones in the family. Mine, was anyway, when I was growing up because I had always been very close to my mother and so our peaks and lows were often extremes. Since my father would be away to work most of the day my mother took on the role of disciplinarian. It was when the children had done something beyond petty that it was brought to my dad's attention (ask Francis who'd break into tears the second my dad summons for him). I guess, their logic was that because my dad was hardly home it was unfair to have him getting angry with the kids when he was.
Growing up, my mom was my best best friend and still is. She was the one who told me I was pretty when I didn't believe I was. She cheered me on and gave me confidence when I couldn't source my own. I confidently told her about boys (and still do) I was seeing and shared my heartbreaks with her. Looking back at it I realize it was wrong because long after I had forgotten about whatever sob story I had with an ex my mom still remembered and she'd have a totally negative view of anyone who has made me cry.
There was also a time when I totally hated everything my mom did. She smothered me, had more opinions about my affairs than I did and wanted to run my life. Until I had Nicole.
Nothing makes you rediscover the wisdom and expertise of your mother until you have your own child. She knew everything about pregnancy, giving birth and taking the baby home. She gave Nicole her first bath because I was afraid to hold her or drown her as she looked so fragile. I mean, I could have managed to give her a bath on my own if she could have waited until she could sit up. But mom said it wouldn't be healthy and I believed her.
Now that little baby is 20 years old. When I left
When I was home in December, the reversals of our roles are once again emphasized as she would often be the mom and I, the child. She would scold me when she disapproved of whatever I was up to. She seems more knowledgeable about life and its complexities than I did when I was 20, considering the fact I already had her when I was her age. When my mom and I get the chance to talk and she is not within earshot, we'd often laugh about how she is more mom to me than I am to her. And I am proud of it. I am unabashedly proud of being mom to her. She pursues her dreams and though sometimes has the usual hesitations, she manages to win every battle that comes along her way. She takes her loses with a shrug, maybe a little humor, though I know some of them have left her with heartbreak but many times wiser. She has a quiet strength, and exhibits the charm she definitely got from me.
Someone had told me that, "daughters are what their mothers are". I know I will be, or probably am already, what my mom was but Nicole is different. She is what she is - mostly what I have always wanted to be. I dream she will have a life that is full of dreams that will come true and one that will be easier than mine but not less exciting.
When I grow up I want to be just like her.