Thinking of You Again

From a journal entry: December 11, 2008

I'm wondering where you are these days. You always come to mind when I am in the midst of some struggle. My inner self reverts back to the girl you once knew. Fearless and foolish, uncertain but willing to take a chance. I wonder what you would say, what advice you would offer me now. Would you even offer any now, knowing what you know of me, of yourself, of us. It wouldn't matter. Even if you said nothing I would know how you felt. That's how it always was between us. As much as we talked to each other, we could say just as much without a word. That is how I found myself to you in the beginning. It wasn't anything you said. It was just you. When we were together and the world fell away, we were able to say everything to each other. I miss that so much now. I miss having that with someone who knew me before we were even formally introduced. What a luxury it was to have you for that time. What a gift to know that even when you weren't with me, near me, I had you. I realize now that I still do.

These Are The Days

The world has changed. Not just my little corner of the world, the whole freaking world. And as much as I had hoped and believed that it would happen, the moment still took my breath away and left me in tears, as it did for so many others. There are a million reasons why I was so moved, but I can sum it up in six Jason, Mia, Sebastian, Perla, Samantha and Brian.

My sister and brother both have children. Beautiful, talented, smart, wonderful children (not that I am biased). I love them, I spoil them and I worry about them. I worry about their futures and the world they will inherit. They are a huge part of why I got out of bed at 5:57am on November 4th and stood in line for forty minutes to cast my vote.

On the night of the election, I wept tears of joy for my parents, my siblings, myself and especially my nieces and nephews. Forty years ago, their parents and grandparents came to this country full of hope and searching for change. Like so many before them, they wanted a better life for themselves and for their children. Come January, my nieces and nephews will be able to look at their president and see a bit of themselves. These children will be able to say, "The President is multi-racial, just like me." and that's kind of a big deal. They now live in a world where the phrase "anything is possible," rings a little truer. They now live a world where they can proudly say, "Yes, we can." And whatever it is they choose to do with their lives, I truly believe that yes, they will.

While I Was Gone

I guess you could say I've been "on sabbatical." When it's been this long between posts, there's NO WAY I'm going to be brief. Let's call this my mid-year report (except that it's already September).

Baseball Bookends: I started and ended the summer in the same place...Yankee Stadium. This baseball treat was brought to me courtesy of my friend, Robin (she also gave me that kick-ass shirt for my birthday). Robin had never been to a game at the Stadium and I feel honored to have been by her side the first time she walked into the church of baseball. We ate hot dogs and Cracker Jack, drank Cokes from our commemorative cups and screamed our heads off. She is now converted. The weather was great, the company was better and bonus: they won both times! We'll be back next year to see them play in their new home, conveniently located right across the street.


Me, in the movies? I received an email from my friend Janna about a filmmaker looking to interview single women in their twenties and thirties for a documentary called Seeking Happily Ever After. My initial thought was, "If Janna can do it, so can I!" so I agreed to be in it. By the time I found out that Janna had no intention of being interviewed, it was too late to back out. I'm glad I went through with it. The women making this movie were great to work with and I learned a lot about myself from just sitting there and answering questions about how I got to this point. I talked about the break-up, my parents marriage, being raised Cuban, my cinematic heroines and how all of that informed my relationship choices. Having the conversation made me realize that my life is pretty fantastic and I already have wonderful people sharing in that fantastic-ness with me. As much as it would be nice to have a boyfriend/partner/lover/whatever, not having one doesn't diminish how great things are right now. Clearly, I've come a long way in thirty-six years. Speaking of which... I had a birthday!

Birthday Babe: I woke up on my birthday and decided to make this one really count by showing the world how fierce and fiery this thirty-six year-old can be. How? I discovered the power of a good dress, a really, really good dress. It's cream with a navy swirl pattern that drew attention to my assets (and probably my ass). Paired with brown wedge sandals and new attitude Miss Patti LaBelle would have been proud of, I walked out of my adorable apartment ready to kick ass and take names! The day did not disappoint. I had a great meal with my friends at Caseus and drinks at 116. As Poodle would say, "it's kind of..perfect."

And, AND, my sister came to visit for the weekend (OK, two days, one night). We haven't had that much time alone together since she had the kids (um, that would be sixteen years ago, but who's counting?). We went shopping, visited the farmers' market, and hung out at some of my favorite places. We also saw John Edward, the medium. Intense and interesting, but my Dad didn't show up. Suddenly, he's shy. Bonus: Aaron and Cat were in town as well, so that's three of my favorite people all together at the same time! Sweet! My sister will also want me to make mention of the fact that she played Rock Band and got a very good score. Clearly, she rocks.

Since last year was the total opposite of the best birthday ever, I decided to wipe the slate clean this year and throw myself a proper party. Cocktails @ Chez Daze: because 35 is SO last year! was a huge success. Lots of friends, food and adult beverages. I wouldn't change a thing...OK, I would get a second air conditioner. My apologies again to everyone who sweat their butts off at my party. I do appreciate your sacrifice and assure you all that next year there will be TWO air conditioners, so you might want to bring a sweater.

I haven't even mentioned all the work, craziness (some good, some not so good), trips to see friends and family and new people that have come into my life since my last post. It's been great and I feel like things are going to keep getting better, even with all the challenges I've got down the road.

By the way, sorry to have stayed away so long. I appreciate the support and nudging about the blog. I have no excuses, I guess I just needed a break to do some living so that I could keep doing some writing. As I like to say, we'll see how she flies!

Better Than Your Town

Every once in a while I have a day or a series of days that reminds me why I love living in New Haven. This weekend was absolutely one of those times. Here's why:

I live one block away from this amazing sight:
















Hughes Street in Wooster Square is lined with cherry blossom trees they are totally freaking gorgeous. Today was the Cherry Blossom Festival in town and it was so great. There was live music from the Neighborhood Music School, little old ladies selling cookies and cupcakes, an Italian ice truck, and lots of people out with their families enjoying the beautiful weather and the trees. Here's a closer look at the blossoms:















I spent hours park walking around the park and catching up with neighbors and friends that I hadn't seen in ages. It was so good to be out doing something low key and fun instead of sitting at home watching cable. It was the perfect way to cap off what might be the best weekend I've had (on my own) in a while. Yay Spring!

One Giant Leap

I did it. I went to an open mic and read a poem. It doesn't sound like a big deal, but believe me, this was huge. Up until about thirty minutes before the thing started, I was ready to chicken out. I was a nervous wreck, but I've decided that I need to try new things or, in this case, retry old things. I haven't read in public in ten or eleven years. And if it weren't for my friend T, that record would still stand.

I received an email from T saying that he was putting together something called Cold Poetry and he was looking for poets...and that I was one of the poets. I waited about a week to respond (sorry about that T), because I was completely thrown by this email. Me? Get up in front of people? Read my poems? ME? I don't do that. Don't get me wrong, I love attention, just not that kind. I responded as follows:

Sorry I did not get back to you sooner. This looks cool. I would like to come see what comes of all of this. I haven't read in a while (a decade at least) and I don't know if I'm brave enough to do it now, but you have my support. Maybe I'll show up with a surprise in my pocket...a poem and some guts.

A supportive, yet noncommittal response. One that did not completely cancel out the possibility of me getting up the nerve to take a turn at the mic. I continued to think about it. I even picked a poem to bring with me, should the mood strike me. A week before the event, I decided I would read. What's the worst that could happen? And who would know? I had yet to really tell anyone about this. I figured I would show up, feel things out, do my thing and be done. I could tell people that there was a cool event going on, but not that I was taking part as anything other than a supporter. Right? Wrong.

Six days before the event, I was out having drinks with Kiki and Davis before meeting Mrs. D for dinner and a show (A Woman of No Importance at Yale Rep. Pretty good show). Chakakwan showed up for a cocktail and some hilarious chit-chat. Mrs. D apologized to Chakakwan for missing our weekly take-out and TV night at my house the prior evening. (we watch Top Model. I know, horrible.) Chakakwan then apologized to Mrs. D for missing the previous week's take-out and TV. They agreed to both be at my apartment the following week for TV and take-out. Just one thing...I had plans. They asked me what my plans were and, not wanting to make something up, I told them about the poetry reading. "Are you going to read?" they asked. Again, I didn't want to lie, so I told them that there was a very good chance that I would read. They then decided that they would come along and be my cheering section. This was touching and frightening. They then told Davis of the plan. He was in too. Chakakwan would also bring her husband, Drew. I told them that they didn't have to come, that it was no big deal, but they wanted to be supportive. They knew the prospect of me doing this was a big deal. "OK," I said. This was OK. My friends wanted to support me. This was great. Inside I was flipping out. Pouring out my heart to strangers was one thing, but these were my friends, for goodness sakes.

Lucky for me I had a session the same afternoon of the event, so J gave me the pep talk I needed. I walked over to Richter's for the seven o'clock sign up. I greeted T, who directed me to the sign up sheet. No joke, I stared at the clipboard for five solid minutes. It wasn't that I wasn't going to go through with it, it's just that I wasn't sure what time would be most appropriate. I didn't want to be first (thankfully, that slot was taken) and I didn't want to be last. I think I ended up smack in the middle. I signed up, took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer. I also ordered some food, no need to be up there with a growling stomach. Turns out two of my coworkers were providing musical accompaniment for the event. I was as surprised to see them as they were to see me. Mrs. D arrived and promptly purchased a second beer for me. Davis and Chakakwan arrived, followed by Drew and Juanita. I didn't realize how many other people would be there that I knew. I don't know why I was so thrown by that, really. I hang out there all the time, who did I think would be there?

The back room was full. There were about thirteen people signed up to read and another twenty-five friends and supporters. Standing room only. I was beyond nervous. I just needed to get through it. T introduced me and I took the "stage." I had decided to read HOME. If I had to choose a favorite of my own work, this would be the one. I read it over a few times before I left home that night, and I found myself feeling the things I felt when I wrote it, which was comforting. I was shaky, but I tried to settle down. I took a quick glance around the room, tried to get comfortable and went for it. It was surreal at first, but then, I think I got my rhythm. I focused on the words and not the fact that I was standing in my local watering hole, saying those words out loud to a room full of (mostly) strangers. I think I did alright. There was applause. People came up to me afterward and paid me compliments. Once I stopped shaking, I felt good about it, proud of myself. Maybe next time I'll read more than one poem. Maybe next time I won't run from the stage (OK, it wasn't a run, more of a brisk walk). I'm glad I did it. I'm glad I made myself take a step outside of my comfort zone. It can only make me stronger in the long run.

A friend once remarked that my work was "about being competent and daring." I believe it's about time I start striving for that in my life as well as my work.