Sunday's Quote Of The Day

Roaming around The Cloisters in Upper Manhattan this afternoon, I noticed the many gay couples, mostly men, perusing through the museum. And of course these men were very good looking. I made note of this to TherapyBoy and his response?

"Yes, they're hunky. But they're hunky for each other."

Sheesh. What a waste.

Happy Weekend

My weekend starts this afternoon. Yaaaaaaaay!
I will be incommunicado for a better part of this weekend and taking a much needed mini-break. Hope everyone has a wonderful weekend and I'll be back sometime Monday!

The Joy of Nastiness

When I go running along the waterfront by my place, there is usually a plethora of characters in which I have a privilege of observing as I run by them. Women and men attempting to fish along the toxic infested Delaware River (can we say two headed fishies?), cyclists, people walking their pets, fellow runners, your token drug dealer (what can I say? I live in the city!), and of course the odd couple making out along the way. So essentially, I've seen all types of characters. Oh, did I forget to mention about the teenage couple I discovered having sex on one of the benches along the waterfront during one of my early morning runs? Welcome to Camden's lovely waterfront. It really is a lovely waterfront - when there aren't nasty individuals selling their "pharmaceuticals" or teenagers copulating like there is no tomorrow.

And so, with this given privilege (trust me, it truly is a privilege) to observe all these activities along the Camden waterfront, nothing could have prepared me for what I bore witness to this afternoon. As I was running by a middle-aged man sprawled across one of the benches facing the Delaware River, I noticed that he was picking his nose. No big deal, right? I mean, EVERYONE picks their noses. Some do it in public and some like "digging for gold" in private. But nevertheless, we all do it. (And don't YOU even deny it.) But here is what I found totally abominable: this middle-aged man picked his nose and ate his booger.

HE

ATE

HIS

FREAKIN'

BOOGER.

And do you know what really got to me? This man was absolutely shameless about it.

Now I feel like I need to wash my hands and face, brush my teeth, and rinse out my mouth with Listerine.

Faux Pas

Last night Irishgirl and I were loafing around in the living room shooting the breeze. I noticed that she kept pulling down the hem of the track suit pants she was wearing. When I asked her what the obsession was with pulling the hem down, she resigned herself to revealing why she kept doing this. Horror of horrors, she was wearing white socks with her very black sneakers. I honestly don't know how she lives with herself.

souza

dance
as though no one is watching you,

love
as though you have never been hurt before,

sing
as though no one can hear you,

live
as though heaven is on earth. -souza

I discovered this quote not too long ago while I was roaming through the Philadelphia Art Museum with a friend. It was the day after IvyLeagueBoy announced to me that he "couldn't handle being in a relationship" with me because he needed to work through his "patterns" from previous relationships. Needless to say, I was devastated. With that said, I wanted to rip souza apart at first glance of this quote. But then, as I stood there, processing this quote, I could feel this tiny seed of hope begin to impregnate itself inside my innermost being. It's been quite the road since that late Saturday night when ILB broke my heart. Although the walls are still there and I still proceed with caution, souza's message has been slowly flourishing in my soul and I look forward to the day when I can once again dance, love, sing, and live with abandon.

Ta Ta

As I was reading through my brother's blog this morning, I had this memory of our maternal grandfather who passed away almost 12 years ago. My brother, Lem (aw heck, if he's going to post his full name on his blog, I may as well use his real name, right?), blogged about the great weather they were having in Vancouver, BC and I was transported back to when I was about 7 years old. My grandfather was this independent and bull-headed man who loved to do whatever he pleased. We all affectionately called him "Ta Ta", short for "TaTay", which is tagalog for father, dad, etc... Nonetheless, Ta Ta lived with our family in the city for a number of years before my parents decided to cart my brother and I off into the suburbs. While living in the city, Lem and I were educated in this fine catholic institution for the first three years of our educational careers. *Note that's just dripping with sarcasm* (I'll blog about my hellish experiences at the catholic "prison" that our parents enrolled us in another time).

This particular memory takes me back to a sunny afternoon. I was wearing my stylish hunter green, polyester, catholic school uniform and I remember feeling incredibly warm. Ta Ta picked Lem and I up after school and we proceeded to walk down towards the bus stop. The bus stop was on Main Street, right smack in the middle of "Little India". This strip of little India, is flooded with restaurants, sari shops, and indian bakeries. Walking down this strip you can smell the aroma of various spices wafting through the air, making your mouth water for chicken korma, fish pekora, tandoori chicken, and fresh samosas. Yummmmm! And right smack in the middle of this ethnic oasis?

Shirley's Bakery.

Yep, a bona-fide, North American bakery boasting chocolate chip cookies, strawberry shortcakes, birthday cakes, apple strudels, and best of all, cupcakes. On our walks towards the bus station, Lem and I would peer over Shirley's window, which featured all of her mouth-watering cakes and pastries. And boy, did my mouth ever salivate. Ta Ta used to treat us to one of Shirley's baked goods on occasion while on our way to the bus stop and when he did, I was in absolute heaven. I remember that I would always pick one of Shirley's chocolate cupcakes with it's swirly chocolate icing on top and satiate myself in its sweet, chocolatey flavor. It didn't take much to keep me happy those days. Lem and I could were relentless kids during that time and sometimes, I wonder if Ta Ta yielded to keep us from being our whiney selves.

Naaaah. We were good kids.

More to come.

The Pitt

Meet Chubbs. Our resident Pitt Bull. She is very affectionate, attention-seeking, loving, and most of all incredibly territorial. She was emaciated, wounded, and eating her own feces when Iowagirl found her about a year and a half ago in South Philly. The vet was fairly certain that she was used as bait for Pitt fights in the city because of her small stature. Sick huh? I am a huge dog lover and it angers me to no end that this nonsensical "game" actually takes place in certain parts of the city. And the even twisted part? People gamble on these Pitt fights and so of course money is made at the expense of severely injured and even dead dogs. Makes my stomach turn.

Anyone know the number to the S.P.C.A.???

I *Heart* The Weepies

My new favorite independent band at the moment.

Remember that song I posted a few days ago? Somebody Loved. Yeah, that's them. Earlier this evening, after I finished with the teen adoption group that I facilitate, Iowagirl and I met up with several friends at the World Cafe in Philly's university city to hear The Weepies perform live. They almost made me want to weep (no pun intended). The Weepies, made up of Steve Tannen and Deb Talen, form this incredibly unique, fresh, and sparkly sound, accompanied by the crisp music of their acoustic guitars. I also loved how genuine and authentic both of them were as they interacted with the audience. I truly *heart* them. They just started their tour a few weeks ago and will be travelling across the country performing in different venues. For my Vancouver peeps who frequent my blog on occasion - *ahem* FetishKing *ahem*, The Weepies will be performing in Vancouver on May 18 at The Media Club, so check them out if you get the chance.

The last song they ended with tonight?

Somebody Loved.

Biting The Anonymous Assclown

So I thought about emailing this picture to the nefarious Assclown to post in his blog because we all know about his twisted penchance for toilets and urinals. However, the more I thought about it, the more piqued I became at the thought of giving him all the glory with the grandeur of this particular picture that I discovered. Instead, I've decided to selfishly post it in MY blog. So here it is peoples, Joy's urinal picture of the day:


Are you green with envy AC? Or in other words, pink with envy???

Dumb Ass Moment #3

As I was taking off my contact lenses tonight, I noticed the redness in my right eye. Not good. A few weeks ago I had some type of infection in my left eye and my physician prescribed opthalmic drops called Tobramycin. Of course, being the good patient, I adhered to the good doctor's instructions and placed two drops in my left eye three times a day for about a week.

However, before I continue on with the story of my infected right eye, let me back-track to this past December. I was quite sick for most of December (pretty sure it was mono) and ended up with an ear infection. My physician, being the good doctor that she is, prescribed this nice sulfate and hydrocorticsone otic suspension with instructions to place a few drops in my right ear a few times a day. These ear drops are kept in a small dropper container, much like the size of the container that my eye drops are kept in. Interestingly enough, both the eye drops and ear drops are made by the same company, Bausch and Lomb, therefore each container has the infamous blue Bausch and Lomb logo splayed across the front.

Both the eye drops and the ear drops are kept in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and being the "cautious" individual that I am, made sure they were on different shelves.

Do you all see where I am going with this?

So tonight as I was studying the redness in my right eye, I decided to place a few drops of the opthalmic solution that my doctor prescribed for me about two weeks ago for my left eye. Seeing that it was very similar to the irritation that I had a few weeks ago, I figured it wouldn't do too much harm to my right eye. I mean, it "cured" my left eye of the irritation, right? If anything, the drops should do the same for my right eye. In my blurry haste (contact lenses were off), I opened the medicine cabinet, grabbed the "eye drops", and then proceeded to place a drop in my right eye. A few seconds later I knew something wasn't right when my eye started to burn a little bit. This deep seated dread started to set in as I peered closely at the small bottle dropper I was holding onto: Sulfate and Hydrocortisone Otic Suspension.

I

USED

THE

FREAKIN'

EAR

DROPS.

And if that didn't make things worse, here is what's written in red, in very small print on the bottle - "For Use In The Ears Only".

I spent the next 10 minutes flushing out my right eye with cold water.

I am such a Dumb Ass.

Somebody Loved

One of these days I will sing this to Him.

Somebody Loved - The Weepies

Rain turns the sand into mud
Wind turns the trees into bone
Stars turning high up above
You turn me into somebody loved.

Nights when the heat had gone out
We danced together alone
Cold turned our breath into clouds
We never said what we were dreaming of
But you turned me into somebody loved.

Someday when we're old and worn
Like two softened shoes
I will wonder on how I was born
The night I first ran away from you.

Now my feet turn the corner back home
Sun turns the evening to rose
Stars turning high up above
You turn me into somebody loved.

©2002 Deb Talan & Steve Tannen (ASCAP/BMI). All rights reserved.

Maundy-Thursday

I had a couple of glasses of merlot this evening and so this post may deem to be somewhat incoherent. If it is, then forgive my rambling.

Irishgirl was sitting in the living room watching me hum and haw over what to do this evening.
Feeling a bit restless and somewhat dispirited, I knew that I needed to get out of the house, even if it was only for an hour. Ideas were thrown out - PJ's, Rittenhouse Square, Haddonfield, Fairmont, Barnes and Noble, Indy movie at the Ritz, etc... and the list went on. It was turning out into an evening of indecisiveness. Irishgirl decided to go for a run while I decided to hole myself up in my room to start a new book until we came to a decision on what to do.

About an hour and a half later we were back in the living room, still undecided on what to do. Feeling somewhat pathetic and a little hormonal due to a little monthy visitor, I ended up bursting into tears. Of course for other reasons apart from the fact that we were being so indecisive. Other topics were somehow intertwined within our discussion on what to do this evening, but I won't bore you all with the gory details. Once Irishgirl saw the effusive flow of tears, she decided that it was time for Cold Stone and a wine run at the local "alcohol" store (as I affectionately like to call it).

We satiated ourselves tonight with "sinless" sugar free, sweet cream, ice cream mixed with some fudge and strawberries. It was heavenly. At home we decided to pop in a Bollywood DVD, Bride and Prejudice, and spent most of the evening wetting ourselves with laughter over the cheesy Bhangra dance and music, while attempting to converse with each other in a very poor imitation of the English/Indian accent. God, I love this movie. The story of Pride and Prejudice is my absolute favorite classic. I can't even count how many times I've read the book and watched the A&E version of it - HELLO COLIN FIRTH.

Today is Maundy-Thursday, the day on which Jesus celebrated the Passover with his disciples, sharing a meal with them which we call the Last Supper. As I reflect over how this evening was spent, it appears as though it was spent in drunken revelry - which is obviously contrary to what the Passover is all about. However, with some of the readings that I've done on Maundy-Thursday, the word "Maundy" comes from the Latin for 'command' (mandatum). It refers to the command given by Jesus at the Last Supper, that his disciples should love one another. In the midst of my emotional meltdown this evening, my dear, dear, roomate and friend, Irishgirl, showed love as she spoke in truth and edified my waning soul. I realize at this point that we did not have attend a Maundy-Thursday church service tonight because in this almost twisted way, we were having our own rendition of a Maundy-Thursday service. Like Jesus washing the disciple's feet in humility and service before that Last Supper, Irishgirl "washed my feet" through her words of encouragement and the laughter we shared. It was this crazy, insane, North Camden almost Philly fellowship type of way. There will never be anything else like it.

NYC Palm Sunday Part II

I couldn't have asked for a more perfect day on Sunday. The sky was a picture perfect blue, the sun was out and the temperature was just right with a gentle breeze caressing against my face. It was a perfect New York City day. Columbiagirl and Therapyboy met me at Penn Station and we then made the short walk over to the Tick Tock Diner in midtown for lunch and to do some serious catching up. Although Columbiagirl and Therapyboy have been living in the city for about two months, they are still adjusting to life in the big apple. More so with Columbiagirl. Therapyboy's practice is starting to grow; even after being in the city for almost two months he already has about 13 clients! But then again, I'm not surprised. Big city, high pressure, big problems. Living in a fast paced environment like NYC can result in mental health issues for some people. Nonetheless, I am truly happy for Therapyboy and am so proud of what he is accomplishing out there. So after lunch we took a short jaunt over to Bryant Park where we spent most of the afternoon sitting in one of the many green tables and chairs, chatting over Starbucks coffee, watching people, and just plain enjoying each another's company.

Although Therapyboy and Columbiagirl are older and have known them for only a few years, I hold this feeling of affinity towards them. They're not just "good friends", but more like family to me. A few years ago, when I started going to the church that I now am a member of, TB and CG reached out to me and became intentional about spending time with me. They're good like that - definitely a gift they possess as they've also reached out to others at our church. They definitely have that "friendship ministry" down pact. There was a time in my life where I started to spiral down into the depths of darkness, almost to the point of nothingness. TB and CG were there, supporting, listening, caring, not judging, praying, and loving me along the way. I know this might sound weird, but they were like Jesus to me at the time. No, I don't "idolize" them in that sense. What I see in the both of them are the characteristics and likeness of Christ. Are they perfect? Not at all. They have their weaknesses and dark sides and like everyone else, they're also "fallen beings". TB and CG, along with a few others, were key in my road to healing. And for that, I thank God for their love and friendship. I understand that their time in Philly was a "season" and as seasons move onto the next phase, TB and CG, too, had to move into the next phase into their lives. They couldn't have picked a better city. My favorite city. It gives me an even better excuse to drive or take the train out to the Big Apple. (And Bougie, I may even fit you in one of those visits as well because that's "how I is". Heh!)

Upon arriving back into Penn Station we discovered on one of the TV monitors that my train was literally boarding that minute. We run to the track and to my relief the train was still there. Quick hugs and kisses ensue, along with I'll miss you's, love you's, and call me soons. I hop onto the train with only a few seconds to spare before it starts to move. With bated breath, I sink into an empty seat, looking out the window as the faces and objects whizzed by, the train emerges from the tunnel and I catch a glimpse of the city's tall, erect buildings. The sun starts to set, I give a huge sigh of contentment, put on my headphones, close my eyes, and whisper softly to myself, "What a perfect day."

A New York City Palm Sunday

In about an hour I will be driving out to Hamilton, NJ, where I will be boarding on the NE corridor train heading out to NYC's Penn Statiion. Yay!!! I'll be spending most of the day with Columbiagirl and Therapyboy, friends of mine who moved to the upper west side almost two months ago. The unfortunate thing is I'm missing out on the Palm Sunday service at my church. However I will be bringing my small Bible on the train with me, along with the MP3 player in which I've downloaded quite a few Passion worship songs, (along with Linkin Park - go figure huh?). So on my way out to NYC, I'll be doing my own form of worship on this Palm Sunday; no, I won't be spreading out my jacket and palm branches in train in the attempt to re-enact that first Palm Sunday. However, my heart with be singing "Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!" (Matthew 21:7-9)

Happy Palm Sunday everyone!!!

Hack Job

It's almost 4 AM and I need to be up in about 3 hours to give, yet again, another all day training at work. I'm tired just thinking about it. I woke up at around 3:30 AM and tossed and turned in bed until I started to accept the fact that sleep probably won't come back unless I read, work on a sudoku puzzle, or do a little bit of blogging. Blogging won.

I went and got my haircut yesterday afternoon at the Aveda Institute in Philly, which is a beauty school where one could a cheap haircut. Normally I would spend betweent $30 - $40 on a hair cut, but I decided that I wanted to save some money this time around. So for $12.00, at the Aveda Institute, your hair gets washed, cut, and blow dried. I asked the hair dresser to take about three inches off my hair, which had grown down to the middle of my back, add some long layers, and side swept bangs. Well, she pretty much butchered my hair. It now lays just past my shoulders. I went home bawling my eyes out. Seriously. When I arrived home I called Irishgirl, who was on her way home from work, and sobbed on the phone, bemoaning this awful haircut and hid myself in my bedroom. A few minutes later Irishgirl arrived home and knocked on my door. Her reaction? She loved it. She was expecting this hack job, but she says it's one of my best haircuts yet. Other roomate, Iowagirl, entered my room and so of course, being the wonderful roomates that they are, started doting on the new haircut. I have been living long enough and have been good friends with both Irishgirl and Iowagirl long enough to know when they aren't being honest with me. And of course, being women of character and integrity, they were obviously being honest. However, even with their words of encouragement, oohs, and aahs, I still feel awful and incredibly ugly. In fact, at 4 AM, I want to cry right now.

I'm thinking of maybe taking a leave of absence from work, taking a break from the world for a few months, and hiding out in my bedroom until my hair grows out.

Chapter 13

I mentioned over a month ago about a book I was reading. Embarrassingly enough, I am still reading this same book. Being the avid reader that I am, it normally does not take me this long to get through a book. However, this book is a little different. It's almost held me captive.....no, no.... not in the discomfitting sense. I've read it at a leisurely pace, yet at the same time satiating in the author's wisdom.....identifying with her feelings.....understanding her experiences.

As I happpened upon Chapter 13, it almost sent me towards a downward spiral, bringing me back to that hidden place where the ache has grown into a pulsating throb which refuses to cease. What sparked this off was the discovery of various people from my past moving on with their lives. And of course, my own insecurities and pain have reared their ugly heads. Yet, in the midst of this turmoil, CG (book's author) shared what her old seminary professor once said to her: "...like the prophets of old, take the pain of this culture - to the Lord. Seek his heart of love and directon for yourself and for others." It was like a balm, healing and soothing, assuaging the fears, calming the tumult raging in my heart. Likened to the story in Scripture where Christ quells the raging sea waters in the midst of the disciple's terror.

In the midst of my unquiet restlessness, I know that I can find peace and hope in the One who designed me. And through this, my hope is that one day, I will have this quiet confidence to state and believe that "I am where I am in my life today, so that the work of God might be displayed in my life." Although I am called to be at this place in my life today, I cannot say about tomorrow. My vision is to have a heart more capable of and committed to giving and receiving love to people around me. That, in and of itself, is miracle-level material.

So....is this what it means by becoming like the kind of water that Jesus changes into wine?

In The Secret.

In the secret, in the quiet place,
In the stillness you are there.
In the secret, in the quiet hour
I wait only for you,
’Cause I want to know you more.

I want to know you,
I want to hear your voice,
I want to know you more.
I want to touch you,
I want to see your face,
I want to know you more.

Andy Park

I Need Help.

My brain is waaay to friend to come up with anything witty or creative. I found this on another blog and decided to post it here. *Sigh* I really need to get a life.

Apparently if you have more than 45 you're spoiled.

[x] A cell phone
[x] a hair straightener
[x] your own computer
[x ] your own car
total : 4

[ ] every fall out boy cd
[ ] something from american eagle
[ ] something from hollister
[ ] something from hot topic
[x] a pet
[ ] something from abercrombie
total: 1

[x] some type of trophy/award
[x] Full/Queen size bed
[ ] King size bed
[ ] a mini ipod (or nano) or video
[ ] something from a professional team
total: 2

[x] ever had more than $100 at one time
[ ] Monster,Full Throttle,Amp,Etc. In Your Fridge
[ ] something related to Green Day
[ ] xanga
total: 1

[ ] myspace
[x] a desk in your room
[ ] a hill in your backyard
[ ] DVD in your bedroom
total: 1

[ ] a pair of skis/snowboard
[x] alarm clock
[x] pair of ice skates
[x] rollerblades
[ ] treadmill
total: 3

[x] your own phone line (not including cell phone)
[ ] AIM
[x] Yahoo!
[x] MSN
[ ] ICQ
total: 3

[x] perfume/cologne
[x] bath lotion
[x] necklaces & bracelets
[x] a journal/diary
total: 4

[x] yogurt in your fridge
[ ] x's in your screename
[ ] a birthday in september
[ ] a famous relative
[x] a relative that lives in a different province or country
total: 2

[x] a disowned relative
[ ] an electric scooter
[ ] your own bathroom
[x] your own band
[x] any band shirts
total: 3

[] gamecube
[x] a guitar
[ ] a hammock
[ ] a basketball hoop
[ ] a soccer net
total: 1

[x] a bike
[ ] a mini van
[x] a relative that lives in Florida
[ ] a vc andrews book
[x] a friend who does alcohol/drugs/smokes
total: 3

[x] a locker at school
[ ] a baby
[ ] a pet chimpanzee
total: 1

[ ] a "vote for pedro" tshirt/hoody
[] the movie "the 40 year old virgin"
[ ] a promise ring
[ ] a pool table
[ ] swimming pool
total: 0

[ ] Trampoline
[] livejournal
[x] flip flops
[x] steve madden shoes
[ ] the sims 2
total: 2

[ ] a ping pong table
[ ] air hockey table
[ ] a basement
[x] converses
[x] construction paper
total: 1

[x] markers, crayons, etc.
[x] coloring books
[x] a nice singing voice
[ ] XBOX
[ ] PS2
[ ] PSP
[] PS
[ ] XBOX 360
total: 3

[ ] some type of disease
[ ] rose red movie
[] wife beaters
[x] VCR/DVD
[x] a mom or a dad
[ ] an older brother(s)
total: 2

[] an older sister
[x] a younger brother
[] a younger sister
[x] a sled
[x] a lake/pond/river/ocean near my house
[x] friends
total: 4

Grand Total: 41

So I guess I'm almost to the point of being spoiled, but not quite close enough. Ah well.

Picassoesque

Who Should Paint You: Pablo Picasso

Your an expressive soul who shows many emotions, with many subtleties Only a master painter could represent your glorious contradictions

What Artist Should Paint Your Portrait?

It really is uncanny.......expressive soul......many subtleties.......glorious contradictions......