What a Glorious Feeling!

Can't sleep. I had a late dinner (mistake), washed it down with a Coke (bigger mistake) and then watched Singin in the Rain in its entirety (and the opening number of On the Town). So, I guess that is my equivalent of being hopped up on goofball.

I don't even know how many times I've seen this movie, but it still gets me. The singing, the dancing, an 18-year-old Debbie Reynolds holding her own with Kelly and O'Connor, a young, nearly unrecognizable Rita Moreno as Zelda (she has Cuban red hair in this one), Cyd Charise of the endless legs and scowling puss, the snappy patter between supporting players:

Lina Lamont: Gee, this wig weighs a ton! What dope'd wear a thing like this?
Rosco: Everybody used to wear them, Lina.
Lina Lamont: Well, then everybody was a dope.

Yes, I love it all. But mostly, like everyone else, I love the moment. You know, the moment when it's raining and Gene's singing. Like Leonard Bernstein said, "that's an affirmation of life." Tonight at the end of the number, when he's strolling away, all swagger and style, I got a little choked up. Maybe because it reminded me of how sweet life can be, or maybe because it took away the sting of a somewhat crappy day. Whatever it was, it came along at just the right time. I guess I'm just a sucker for a man in a rapidly shrinking grey wool suit singing his heart out because he's so in love. Who isn't?

Click here to enjoy the moment and try not to smile. You feel awesome now, right? I knew it. Gene Kelly totally had powers and he used them for good. Lucky us.

Good Day, Sunshine

I wrote this one while I was waiting for my Chaucer class to start way back in 1993. It was a cold day and then suddenly I had that feeling like spring was on its way. I had that feeling the other day while sitting in my office, so I dug this one up to share.

Tease

I caught a scent of
spring
sneaking up into my nose today
and filling my head with the
promises
that are two months away.

I imagined a breeze wrapping itself around
my bare calves
as the wool of my socks scraped against them.

An imaginary sunbeam
caressed
my face,
breaking up the clouds that had gathered
in front of my eyes for so long.

but then my slice of spring vanished.
I was cold
again.
hidden under the layers of these winter days again.
Trying to get back
but realizing I'll just have to
wait.

spring promises my bare calves caressed again. wait.

Daisy C. Abreu 2/93

What's in a Name?

Today's lesson in Cubanism: Names

Note: this originally started as an email to my coworkers about my constant use of nicknames for people. Little did I know I was writing writing, not just sending an email.

The Cuban experience is very similar to being in some sort of witness protection program. NO ONE goes by their real name in Cuban Community, because their real names are too damn long. Take my family for example:

Domingo Guzman Abreu-Fuste: Mingo, Mingollo, Viejo (old man, what my mother called him), Papi (to his children and grandchildren)

Deisy Cristina Dominguez Abreu: China (pronounced Cheena because of her Asian eyes), Mami, Tita (to her grandchildren), Vieja (that's my father called her)

Pedro Julio Abreu: Pete, Chini (pronunced Cheeny,he's his mother's son for sure), Tio (to his nieces and nephews).

Maria Caridad Abreu Rehrig: Ia (I could never pronounce Maria, still can't), Pearl (she was my grandfather's little precious pearl), Perlita (little pearl in spanish), Titi Mari (to my brother's kids), Auntie Mia (to her friend's kids).

Daisy Christina Abreu: Chris (to my siblings and their friends), Cristi (to my parents and their friends), Daisita (I'm a junior), La Nina (to my family when they are talking about me behind my back), Cha-Cha (to one of my parents friends), La Cristi (another friend), Daze (to the world), Daisy-Baby (to Cat), D (to my college friends), Titi Chris (to my nieces and nephews).

Also not included are the number of endearments my parents have/had for my sister and me. They include: Mi Nina (my girl), Melindy (my pretty), Tatico(?), Chuchi (??), Mimi and the dreaded Gordy (as in Gorda, as in fat). My maternal grandmother was known as Mami Pupa. My sister's children call my mother's brother Uncle Tio (Uncle Uncle), which I think is much better than Great Uncle Lucas, don't you?

As for those in my extended family (read, people that I was not related too, but I saw more than my blood relations), if they have real names, I never knew them. A lot of them just went by their last names (Perez, Gonzalez, Lopez), because that's not confusing. Not like there were other people in town with the same last name right? I grew up around people who went by the following: Guapachichi, El Mapo, Lingita, Macuco, Regalao (means gifted), El Nino (like the weather system), Congo, El Mono (the monkey), Panchito, Pachi, Cuca, Nene, Tete, Lassi ...I could go on here people.

As you might have guessed, this phenomenon carried over into my generation. I attended high school with people who went by Santi, Pupi, Humby, Mandy, Hangi and Cuba...that's just the boys.

If you didn't know someone's name or were talking about a stranger, then Fulano or Mengano was sufficient. Females were known as Fulana or Mengana, children were Fulanito or Menganita.

I hope this has been an enlightening class. Next up: Voodoo, White Magic & Catholicism: a Match Made in my Mother's Medicine Cabinet.

Coming Up for Air

It's been a hard few weeks, but I'm still here. I'm working on some things, and it's not easy, but in the last few days I've had the beginning of that feeling again. That feeling that something is changing, for the better, maybe. That "I can do this, I can make decisions and be good at something and matter" feeling. So, I say more of that and less of this feeling invisible and insignificant and like a giant dork who's afraid all the time feeling. It's hard to tell myself that every day and I'm still a little bit scared, but I'm not giving up. Nope. Not giving up.

You know what helped? What gave me the little nudge I needed today when I was debating whether or not to speak my mind on something that was important to me? What made me say to myself, "if you don't fight for this thing, this thing that you think other people think is minor, but you think is of some importance, you might not fight for the things that are super important to you ever again" ? This: "When you know your worth, you'll know who's worthy of you." Good stuff, right? A coworker's wife said that to him and he said it to me and now I'm telling you. It's the best thing I've heard in a while. Pass it on.

More Than a Feeling

I'm sitting here, staring at the screen, wondering what to write. SAG awards? Eh, not tonight. My mother's visit this weekend? Still recovering from that, although it is always nice to see her and I do love her very much and we all know it's never boring when she comes to visit. My problem is I can't think straight lately. I've got a lot on my mind and I'm having trouble processing it all. I'm preoccupied with concerns about the people I am closest to and I feel helpless. I know it's not my job to save everyone, but it's my tendency to try to ease the pain of the people I care about. The frustration lies in knowing I can't fix what hurts them, and that hurts me. (Yes, I am working on this with my therapist) I had trouble writing cards tonight. Anyone who knows me knows that might be a sign of trouble. But it's not just worrying about my friends. I'm worrying about me, too.

I'm going to be thirty-five soon, and as a friend said to me at lunch today, "it's like going through turning thirty all over again." I'm not so much worried about turning thirty-five as I am nervous and a little excited. Not as excited as I was about kissing my twenties good-bye and starting a whole new chapter, but excited. There are some things I want to work on and I want to decide what those things are, which ones will be a priority between thirty-five and forty (holy crap! I'm going to be forty!). When I turned twenty-nine, I made up my mind about a lot of things: I decided I was going to quit my retail job and do something else, even though I didn't know what that something else was going to be. I decided I was going to move out of my basement apartment and find something above-ground, even though I didn't know where. I decided that I was going to concentrate on my family and friends, not worry about having a boyfriend, but if it happened, yay for me. I let go of a lot of stuff during that year and allowed myself to try to be happy. I guess it worked: new job, new place and new relationship in five years, with two out of three happening before my thirtieth birthday. I've gained a lot and I'm grateful for what I've learned. (I've lost a lot too, but that's the way it goes sometimes) And it all started with an epiphany.

I was in the City on my twenty-ninth birthday when it happened. Cat and I had just made our annual pilgrimage to Tiffany&Co (I know, I can't help it, I love the sparklies) , and we were headed to Madison Square Garden for the U2 concert (so rocking!). We're standing on Fifth Avenue, getting ready to cross the street, when I heard music. Someone was playing the saxophone. I couldn't see the guy, but I could hear him. He was playing Someone to Watch Over Me.

There's a somebody I'm longing to see

I hope that she turns out to be

Someone who'll watch over me

Don't ask me why, but I started crying. I felt happy and strong and so sure of myself in that moment. It wasn't just because it was my birthday and I'd been to Tiffany and I was on my way to see my favorite band with my best friend. I'm sure all those things helped, but believe me when I say I had never ever felt this way before. Suddenly, I was certain that no matter happened from then on, I was going to be OK. It just happened. I can't tell you how it happened, since it just kind of snuck up on me, but I highly recommend it. Imagine taking the deepest breath you could ever take and, in exhaling, letting go of all the crap you've been holding on to for so long. I had a lot of crap to let go of that I had been hanging on to it for a long time, so letting go felt freaking amazing.

My dad got sick shortly after that and I don't know if I would have the strength to deal with everything that happened that summer and fall (and beyond) if not for that one moment of peace. I've had moments of joy, moments of contentment and, of course, moments where I feel like I've faltered and failed miserably since then, but I don't know if I'll ever have another moment like that one. I didn't know it then, but that the someone who'll watch over me, no matter what? Turns out she's me.