Sick & Tired

In the literal sense, of course. I have whatever is going around. You know the sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy-head, fever thing, minus the fever (I'm not going to count 98.9 as a fever). My body pretty much succumbed to the running around, taking trains, being up late, eating and drinking too much that was my holiday break without a break. Being that busy had to come back and bite in me the ass somehow.

I just finished watching the Critics Choice Awards on VH1, the first in what I hope and pray will be a long and fruitful awards season, though right now it might just be wishful thinking. The Golden Globes have already been transformed from the "party of the year" to a press conference and that makes me really sad and scared that if this thing isn't settled soon, the 80th Annual Academy Awards may not happen. I support the writers, I really do, and I hope that the strike ends soon. We wouldn't have any awards to give out if it weren't for the writers doing what they do, so as the Cloon said tonight, "When the strike happens, it's not just writers [affected]," "Our hope is that all the players will lock themselves in a room and not come out until they finish. We want this to be done. That's the most important thing." Well said, George. I'm starting to realize that there is only so much "reality" television a girl can watch.

On a brighter note I do have some highlights from tonight's show:

Nikki has two Mommies: Hairspray's Nikki Blonsky's genuine excitement upon winning her award and then thanking "my mommy who's sitting here crying and my other mommy who's at home, John Travolta." That's going to be the sound bite of the night.

Blame it on her effing nerves: Leslie Mann getting bleeped when she said "Before I walked out here my husband said 'Daniel Day-Lewis is out there' and I said 'Great now I'm f&*^ing nervous.'" But the censors didn't move fast enough to bleep her when she said "Can you say f&*^ing on cable TV?" Classic.

Trifecta: (1) George Clooney, Javier Bardem AND Daniel Day-Lewis all in the same room, beautifully dressed and groomed. (2) Javier and Daniel won in their respective categories. (3) All three gentlemen were not only handsome, they were eloquent and funny at the mic! I could stand to see more of this, so let's hope for the best.

Dark horse for the win: Falling Slowly, from the movie Once winning the award for best original song. Great song, great movie. I know I am one of a handful of people who saw this movie, but I encourage you all to rent it. It's small, made on the cheap in something like seventeen days and has no big name stars in it, but damn, I really loved it.

You've got a point there, Ed: Eddie Izzard's introduction of the nominees for documentary film "Okey dokey from WGA came during teatime, so some speechy talk not so good as other mans," he said. "This was wrote in toilet, so only first draft and a bit la-la." A reminder that we need the writers to come back soon. Do you think that if an American had read that it would have come across as endearing? No, people would have said that person was on drugs or drunk. An Englishman does it and it's adorable. That's just how it is. Sort of the Hugh Grant effect.

A quick word on the fashions: Everyone looked great and that makes me happy. This wasn't the kind of show where I expected to see a train wreck, but you never know. Katie Holmes looked downright fierce in her (I'm assuming here) Armani dress. Good hair, makeup and shoes all around. Kudos to you celebs and your stylists for the effort. One note, though. Allison Janney: I love you in every movie and you were my favorite thing about the West Wing. The dress you had on tonight was beautiful, your kicky new haircut was...kicky. But why, WHY were you wearing flat shoes. They were nice flat shoes, but still, why? I know you're probably six feet tall in heels, but you usually OWN it and you should continue to do so. Hell, Katie Holmes wears heels all the time and, well, you know who she stands next to all day long. If it's because you are injured in some way (back issues, bunion surgery, messed up knee), then I completely understand. Otherwise, embrace the fact that you are statuesque. Girls like me would do anything to be as tall as you are. Thanks!

I'm off to bed, visions of a tuxedoed George, Javier and Daniel dancing in my head.

Feeling Bookish

I should be sleeping, especially since I am fighting some sort of chest cold thing, but I can't. I feel like writing...and it's a good feeling. I could also be excited that Poodle is coming tomorrow to spend the weekend. It will be fun to hang out and chat and shop and be around someone who gets me the way Cat gets me. Oh my God, Poodle and Cat...my closest friends sound like some sort of menagerie! Apologies to both.

I have a huge stack of books on my nightstand. Twenty-seven books to be exact. I'm trying to read three at once (see the What I'm Reading sidebar) and it's not as hard as I thought it would be, although it's early in the process so we'll see how I'm fairing in another week. Of the three, I'd say my fave is Fifteen Candles. The stories really take me back to that time in my life and I am enjoying remembering things about being a teen that I hadn't thought about in years. The Tender Bar is pretty good so far, I'm curious to find out what happens to the author as he gets older. Women's Letters is a wee bit daunting because it starts during the Revolutionary War and I'm struggling to wrap my head around some of what I'm reading. I might wait until I finish one of the other two in order to really get into Women's Letters. Any minute now I expect to get three or four magazines in the mail, so that, along with all my lovely new books, should get me through those cold winter nights. Bring on the snow, I've got enough reading material to get me through til spring!

I realize that the three books I am reading are all non-fiction and/or biographical in some way. I've been doing more of that since I started the blog, leaning toward memoirs and the like. Maybe I'm looking for inspiration in these true stories in order to write my own. Or maybe I'm not feeling the chick-lit vibe. I'm sort of living one of those single-gal-trying-to-sort-her-life-out books right now, only without the madcap adventures, sexy rendezvous and closet full of fabulous shoes ( I do, however, have the hilarious and endlessly lovable friends part down pat), so why read about it too?

The Wests sent me a funny little book called the Writer's Block (ha ha). It's chock full of writing prompts. I moved it from the desk to my nightstand for the sake of not being able to say "oh I should do a writing exercise before bed, but the book with the prompts is in the other room..." It's next to my notebook, so I have the tools at hand. Now do I have the nerve?

2007: The Year That Was

This might be my last post of the year. I've had the last week or so off, but still haven't been able to catch my breath. Don't tell anyone, but I technically, I am still Christmas shopping! I know, not like me at all. At least I got all my holiday cards out, I think. It's all a bit of a blur and I am more than ready to say goodbye to 2007, but here are some quick highlights before Dick Clark drops the ball:

Toughest thing I had to do: " Hearts will be practical only when they are made unbreakable." The Wizard of Oz. Yeah. Still dealing with this, so I'm not going to get into it. It's been tough. It will get easier. It has to. Moving on....

Proudest Personal/Professional Moment: Completing the Greater New Haven Leadership Program. I had been nominated to be a part of this class before, but this year I really felt ready to do it. Our team developed a four part program for young girls entitled GURLZ: Just Be Yourself! We spent a day with the Girl Scouts talking to them about everything from individuality to inspiration. It was so amazing, I still get teary thinking about it. Here I am with the other GURLZ at graduation. I learned so much from these women. And I learned a lot about myself in the process. It was a wonderful experience that I will cherish forever. By the way, GURLZ stands for Grace, Uniqueness Respect, Leadership and Zest for Life!

Best "What the hell?" moment: Art Weekend II. After a lot of back and forth in my mind (and some not so subtle messages from Kev), I traveled to New Jersey to spend the weekend with some college friends I hadn't seen in years and years. We ate, drank, laughed, made art and spoke that secret language that you can only speak with people you've known since you were seventeen or eighteen. It was just what I needed. I'm glad I went.

Best move in the right direction: Attending the National Writers Workshop this spring. You wouldn't think it would be that hard to do, but the insecure kid in me was scared to death. But I did it, and I'm really looking forward to attending the next one. I know haven't posted much lately, but attending the workshop made me think about my writing, how to make it better and how to keep it interesting for myself.

Best reason to go out on a Tuesday night: Trivia at Anna Liffey's. I know I'm a total freaking geek, but this weekly battle of the brains really opened up a new can of nerd worms for me. The rivalry between our team and One Nut Tattoo is pretty intense. How intense? Our team name changes weekly, but is always a horrible insult to one of the One Nuts. Plus, we laugh our asses off every week and heaven knows I need that lately. Added bonus: sometimes we win cash!

Best reason to stay in on a Wednesday night: America's Next Top Model. The PerKwans and Mrs. Deese come over, we order some food and proceed to heckle Tyra and her faux fierceness for an hour. Is it fixed? Probably. Do we care? Not a stitch. Speaking of stitch... Honorable mention goes to Project Runway for the gayest thing on television. There's the guy with the hats who won't stop crying, the kid with the hair who uses the word "fierce" too, too much, even for a gay guy, the costume designer who reference Joan Crawford in the third episode and, of course, Michael Kors. My favorite quote from this season? "What you got there twirly girly?" "I'm making me a jacket!" This exchange took place between two men.

Best reason for a road trip to the wilds of upstate New York: Poodle's engaged! So, he calls to tell me this wonderful news and for the first time in weeks, the tears I shed are of joy. Scooter and I packed up the hybrid and drove to Ithaca for an engagement party that was not only a true expression of love, but incredibly chic. I don't want to think about how much time they spent baking, all I know is I never ate the same kind of cookie twice. This little party had everything but "Ferns, dancing, every flower east of the Mississippi, wedding cake in the dining room and the groom's cake hidden in the carport." How good was this little fete? I believe the revelers sipped their way through three, yes, THREE bottles of bourbon. Now that's a party! Next day we had breakfast burritos and coffee at the farmers' market. Oh, life in Ithaca is idyllic indeed!

Best rediscovered passion: Dancing. It started one night when I joined the group with no name for a happy hour at Hula Hanks. Next thing I know, I'm looking for people willing to put up with the college crowd just so I can get my groove on. I went out dancing so much this summer, my legs ached on Sunday mornings. It felt great! I'd forgotten how much I love to dance. I think I wore out at least one pair of shoes. Fan-freaking-tastic. Someone needs to open a club that plays Freestyle music, then I'll really be in my element.

Most beautiful place I traveled to: Jackson Hole, Wyoming. This photo says it all. No matter where I looked, there was something beautiful to see. My inner monologue basically consisted of the phrase, "holy crap, would you look at THAT!" I'm glad I went.





Best new family tradition: The Abreu family celebration hat, as modeled by my mom on her seventy-first. birthday. I was the first, but not the last to don this Seussian headpiece. No one was safe from my sister's special purchase. If you were anywhere near her house on your birthday, you were wearing the hat. You'll notice that my mother is SMILING in this picture, so it must be magical. Behold the power of the celebration hat and its ability to make the corners of my mother's mouth turn up in a photo!

I don't think anything can top that last image, so I'll sign off for now. I hope (plan, I mean plan) to be writing more in the coming year, so stay tuned.

A happy and healthy 2008 to you all!

If you believe…

There’s a lot to be said for unpacking Christmas ornaments by yourself when you’re slightly exhausted and Do They Know It’s Christmas (Feed the World) is playing on the radio. It's a cocktail for tears. To be honest, I was fine until I found the stockings. But, then I pulled out the stockings. I eventually got myself together, blew my nose, hung the wreaths, put out Yukon Cornelius and Hermie (I know you thought it was Herbie, but it’s actually Hermie who wants to be a dentist) and started on my cards while watching back-to-back episodes of Designing Women (I admit to being a fan of Julia Sugarbaker…who isn’t?). I’m not quite full of the holiday spirit, but I’m sure I’ll get there. You know what helps? Maureen O’Hara and Edmund Gwenn.

I watched Miracle on 34^th Street on Sunday. It's so freaking good. Not familiar? First of all, for shame! And secondly, here’s the IMDB synopsis: When a nice old man who claims to be Santa Claus is institutionalized as insane, a young lawyer decides to defend him by arguing in court that he is the real thing. How can that NOT be great, right? I think this is Natalie Wood’s first film and she’s just fantastic. The whole cast is spot on, and the overall message is good and Christmasy. “Faith is believing when common sense tells you not to. Don't you see? It's not just Kris that's on trial, it's everything he stands for. It's kindness and joy and love and all the other intangibles.” That’s what Fred Gailey says to Doris Walker before he walks out on her for not believing in him and in Santa. It helps that Fred Gailey is totally hot in that 1940s pipe-smoking, fedora-wearing, sensitive lawyer with a heart of gold kind of way.

By the way, I’m the dork you hear sniffling in the theater when Santa starts speaking to the little Dutch orphan girl in…wait for it…Dutch! Her adoptive mother is all, “I told her you wouldn’t be able to talk to her, but she insisted on seeing you, and she’s been through so much…” and then, BAM! Kris Kringle speaks Dutch. I cry. Every. Single. Time. How can you not? It’s the classic example of finding that one other person who gets you. That’s what we all want. To connect and be understood and not feel isolated. And if you can't feel that way at Christmas, well what's the point?

The Space Between

"There is so much distance between who you are and where your skin begins." -kpg

Kev said that (or something similar to it) to me last night. I wish I'd written it down, gotten it exactly right. It's good. And it's true. The distance, the difference between who I am, who I think I am and who people perceive me to be is vast. I don't know if that's good or bad.

True story: I didn't realize I wasn't white until I was three or four (possibly five) years old. I looked in the mirror one day and saw a brown face staring back. It didn't freak me out. I didn't think much of it, other than, "hmm, interesting" or something like that. My parents are brown, my siblings are brown. My mother always referred to us as being "paper bag brown." Why didn't I think I was? I guess I didn't think about it at all. Some people might say I still don't realize it. We're not friends with those people.

Being Cuban means being everything from dark-eyed and deep chocolate brown to being blue-eyed and honey-skinned or lighter. When you grow up in a community that is 85% Latino (heavy on the Cubans), you don't think about it. You all eat the same food, dance to the same music, belong to the same club, look out for each other's kids. It doesn't matter. And then, one day, it does.

I was sitting in English class. There was discussion going on, but I can't remember what it was about. And then I heard it. The boy I had a crush on said, "My parents would never let me date someone who wasn't white." What? Wait a minute. He's not white. He's Cuban, like me. But he's not brown. There it was. Someone had said it out loud. And other people in the room, the people that looked like him, agreed. Their parents would never let them go out with someone who wasn't white. Someone who looked like me.

The thing that's tricky is that my appearance is as much part of who I am as my penchant for the films of Merchant Ivory or my deep abiding love for rocky road ice cream served over Entenmann's pound cake. But looking a certain way makes people think certain things, treat you a certain way for better or worse. There are people who will never want to get to know me, men who will never want to date me. And there are people who will think they know me before they even speak to me. I also need to say that it works both ways. I'm not proud of it, just being real. I realize this is not a major breakthrough in the study of human behavior. To be honest, this is the most comfortable I've ever been in my skin, but I still struggle with my identity. Who am I anyway? Who do people think I am? Does it matter? Should I care?

"You're Cuban? You don't look Cuban." What the hell does Cuban look like? Gloria Estefan or Celia Cruz? Eva Mendes or Cameron Diaz ? All of the above. And me.