It was her first time back in the city since it happened. Had four months passed already? Going under the guise of meetings with NYU and Fordham admission deans, she hopped on the train located two blocks from her house for the two hour ride up to the city.
She could do this, she was brave.
Standing amid the plethora of bodies, she became lost in the hustle and bustle of Penn Station. It was that moment when the images started to conjure up, of memories of a not so distant past. She saw him standing by that post near the Krispy Kreme, arms wide open with that smile he had just for her. She ran towards him, ready to be enfolded in his arms. What she discovered instead was her arms around the post.
She could do this, she was brave.
Walking along 34th St., she hopped on the subway taking the R train down to 8th Street. Climbing up the steps from the subway, she knew that she would be walking by their little cafe. Her justification was that it was the only route that would take her to NYU. She came upon it way too soon and glancing in the front window she saw their little table in the corner. There he was in his brown, tweed coat, smiling, beckoning. Slowly opening the door of the cafe, his image immediately vanishes.
She could do this, she was brave.
She had a few hours before her next appointment at Fordham and so she took the 6 train to visit her safe place - The Met. There were no memories attached to this place and with relief she stepped inside the museum where she immersed herself in works of art by Botticelli, Rembrandt, Renoir, and Gaugin. She sensed him in the Arms and Armour court, peering at her through one of the glass encasements. She shook off the feeling.
She could do this, she was brave.
Since it was a beautiful day she decided walk through Central Park to get to the west side. After all, she still had an hour and a half left before the meeting at Fordham. She was immediately flooded with memories the minute she stepped foot into the park. Walking through their favorite place, Bethesda Terrace, she stopped and sat on the edge of the fountain, gazing at the Bethesda Angel in all her splendor, who witnessed all their stolen kisses under the fountain.
She could do this, she was brave.
The meeting at Fordham deemed successful, helping in her decision to move to New York. Feeling satisfied she walked up Amsterdam Avenue when the realization hit her that he was only a few subway stops away. She could call and say hi, maybe get together at that little cafe near Columbia. She wanted him to see the transformation she had gone through in the last few months, dreaming that he would beg her to take him back. Flipping open her cell phone, she realized that she had erased all of his numbers.
She could do this, she was brave.
Back at Penn Station, she climbed back onto the train for an uneventful ride home. Thoughts swirling through her head of images of the city, conjuring up recollections of conversations, sweet words whispered, and Times Square kisses. But then, she became inundated with memories of destructive behaviors, the pain, and the tears. Back home, in the silence of her bedroom, she crumpled onto the hardwood floor and wept.
She couldn't do it. She wasn't brave.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Wish
Little boy with no worries on your back.
Pulling wagons, climbing trees,
Scraping knees and building forts,
Make a wish and blow the dandelion.
Enter into a phase of confusion
Altering voices, changing growing.
Suspended amid boy and man.
Make a wish and blow the dandelion.
Breaking free from watchful eyes,
Testing the waters, one foot in,
Then full immersion to freedom.
Make a wish and blow the dandelion.
One grown man with the world on your back.
Determined but now sadly defeated.
Broken hearted, cynical, and jaded.
No more wishes, the dandelions have died.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
W&G
A few weeks ago, Irishgirl bought season four of Will & Grace.
So ask me what I've been doing the last two evenings.
With all that's been going on lately, I've needed alot of good laughs.
That's a good thing, right?
I've whored myself to the likes of Will & Grace.
Should I be feeling dirty or something?
So ask me what I've been doing the last two evenings.
With all that's been going on lately, I've needed alot of good laughs.
That's a good thing, right?
I've whored myself to the likes of Will & Grace.
Should I be feeling dirty or something?
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Dad, Pops, Daddy, Father
A few months ago I wrote a post about my dad, sharing a conversation that I had with him and giving somewhat of a description of the type of man he is. Another father's day celebration and I find myself yet again living thousands of miles away from dad. This is starting to get old. I could, A) move back to Vancouver; or B) fly out to Vancouver every father's day. The former isn't really up for discussion at this time, however the latter is a possiblity for future father's days.
"Sleep my darling baby, mommy's not too far away,
Sleep my darling baby, daddy's is here to stay....."
One of the lullaby's I can remember dad singing to me as a child - comforting, serene, giving me that sense of security. I knew I was loved.
When I was about 6 or 7 years old, mom explained to me that dad was adopted and that my paternal grandparents weren't his "real" parents. This new piece of information from my dad's past was so devastating that I started to cry insisting that we call dad at work that minute so I would know that he was alright. The concept of adoption was completely foreign to me and at the time, I felt so sick to my stomach that dad may have been abandoned or even unloved. I am often amazed by my sensitivity at such a young age towards the circumstances from which dad came from and grew up in. Now, ask me what I do for a living. No surprise there. ;)
Dad displayed a strong work ethic at work and at home. He expected the same from my brother and I, while we were in school, and at the present time, in the work place. He never swayed and was always consistent.
From the time I can remember, after dad arrived home from work he would, on a daily basis, head straight to the kitchen where mom was cooking dinner and greet her with a kiss on the cheek, put his arms around her, giving me this mischevious wink, stating that he loves "my mommy". Mom of course would feign annoyance, nudge him away, telling him to go wash up. Such a simple gesture that dad displayed, but one that will be imprinted in my mind for the rest of my life. I'm sure that dad isn't the most perfect husband, but he sure does love my mom and makes sure that she knows she is loved.
"Joy, I cannot believe that you're sixteen and l'm teaching you how to drive. You're growing up too fast....." This said while stopped at a stop light on the corner of 148th St. and 96th Ave., sitting in a big, cherry red, four door Volvo, with a big sign on the rear window that said, "STUDENT DRIVER". I think it was one of those moments where dad came to this realization that I wasn't a kid anymore, but this soon-to-be adult who has started to do adult things...like learning how to drive. I'm surprised that I didn't give him a heart attack during those initial days of teaching me how to drive. In fact, I don't even remember him stressing out or yelling at me for making a stupid driving mistake once. Only by the grace of God.
Around my junior year of college I was in a fairly serious dating relationship with this guy. One afternoon, as dad and I were driving along King George Highway, out of the blue, dad made this statement which nearly knocked me out of my seat. "So you know, I really like N. In fact, I really wouldn't mind it at all if you guys got married." My reaction? What the hell??? First of all, this coming from a man who was adamant about his daughter finishing her college education before she could even think about living her "life". And second of all, "What the hell???"
When I lived in South Dakota, I flew home for Christmas with a surpise gift for my parents. She was a beautiful yellow Labrador Retriever named Dakota. Dad fell in love with her. And of course, she was his baby. Two years ago, Dakota became quite ill and dad had to make the difficult decision to put her down. It was probably one of dad's most traumatizing experiences. He was right there, next to Dakota when the vet put our family dog down. Dad cried like a baby. After that experience, dad shared that he doesn't think he'll ever get another dog. Losing Dakota was too painful. I really do hope that he decides to get another dog one of these days.
About two months ago I had a discussion with dad about applying for this particular visa which would allow for immigrant status here in the USA, thus allowing me to stay out here on a more permanent basis. His response when I asked him what I should do? "What's your heart telling you?" He knows what my heart is telling me and I know that this knowledge is also a difficult one for him. I think there are times when he still sees me as a little girl, wanting to keep me closer to home where he can protect me.
My dad isn't perfect and of course there are many things about him that frustrate me. But the thing is, inspite of the frustration and misunderstandings, I still love him and feel secure in his love for me. And the wonderful thing is, we have no qualms in verbally stating "I love you's" to each other.
I stated this before and I'll state it again, I love my dad, and hope that one day I will meet and eventually marry someone who comes even close to having the godly character, integrity, and strength that my father has.
One of the lullaby's I can remember dad singing to me as a child - comforting, serene, giving me that sense of security. I knew I was loved.
When I was about 6 or 7 years old, mom explained to me that dad was adopted and that my paternal grandparents weren't his "real" parents. This new piece of information from my dad's past was so devastating that I started to cry insisting that we call dad at work that minute so I would know that he was alright. The concept of adoption was completely foreign to me and at the time, I felt so sick to my stomach that dad may have been abandoned or even unloved. I am often amazed by my sensitivity at such a young age towards the circumstances from which dad came from and grew up in. Now, ask me what I do for a living. No surprise there. ;)
Dad displayed a strong work ethic at work and at home. He expected the same from my brother and I, while we were in school, and at the present time, in the work place. He never swayed and was always consistent.
From the time I can remember, after dad arrived home from work he would, on a daily basis, head straight to the kitchen where mom was cooking dinner and greet her with a kiss on the cheek, put his arms around her, giving me this mischevious wink, stating that he loves "my mommy". Mom of course would feign annoyance, nudge him away, telling him to go wash up. Such a simple gesture that dad displayed, but one that will be imprinted in my mind for the rest of my life. I'm sure that dad isn't the most perfect husband, but he sure does love my mom and makes sure that she knows she is loved.
"Joy, I cannot believe that you're sixteen and l'm teaching you how to drive. You're growing up too fast....." This said while stopped at a stop light on the corner of 148th St. and 96th Ave., sitting in a big, cherry red, four door Volvo, with a big sign on the rear window that said, "STUDENT DRIVER". I think it was one of those moments where dad came to this realization that I wasn't a kid anymore, but this soon-to-be adult who has started to do adult things...like learning how to drive. I'm surprised that I didn't give him a heart attack during those initial days of teaching me how to drive. In fact, I don't even remember him stressing out or yelling at me for making a stupid driving mistake once. Only by the grace of God.
Around my junior year of college I was in a fairly serious dating relationship with this guy. One afternoon, as dad and I were driving along King George Highway, out of the blue, dad made this statement which nearly knocked me out of my seat. "So you know, I really like N. In fact, I really wouldn't mind it at all if you guys got married." My reaction? What the hell??? First of all, this coming from a man who was adamant about his daughter finishing her college education before she could even think about living her "life". And second of all, "What the hell???"
When I lived in South Dakota, I flew home for Christmas with a surpise gift for my parents. She was a beautiful yellow Labrador Retriever named Dakota. Dad fell in love with her. And of course, she was his baby. Two years ago, Dakota became quite ill and dad had to make the difficult decision to put her down. It was probably one of dad's most traumatizing experiences. He was right there, next to Dakota when the vet put our family dog down. Dad cried like a baby. After that experience, dad shared that he doesn't think he'll ever get another dog. Losing Dakota was too painful. I really do hope that he decides to get another dog one of these days.
About two months ago I had a discussion with dad about applying for this particular visa which would allow for immigrant status here in the USA, thus allowing me to stay out here on a more permanent basis. His response when I asked him what I should do? "What's your heart telling you?" He knows what my heart is telling me and I know that this knowledge is also a difficult one for him. I think there are times when he still sees me as a little girl, wanting to keep me closer to home where he can protect me.
My dad isn't perfect and of course there are many things about him that frustrate me. But the thing is, inspite of the frustration and misunderstandings, I still love him and feel secure in his love for me. And the wonderful thing is, we have no qualms in verbally stating "I love you's" to each other.
I stated this before and I'll state it again, I love my dad, and hope that one day I will meet and eventually marry someone who comes even close to having the godly character, integrity, and strength that my father has.
SHEESH
Why are men so clueless??? Seriously. Is there some way to fully understand the workings of the male species' inner mind? I mean, they all can't be THAT dumb!
SHE-frickin-ESH!
SHE-frickin-ESH!
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Oh Happy Weekend
My cousin, shall we call her "Cousin Shi Shi"? is in town from LA. Actually she flew into NYC yesterday and will be Greyhounding it down here to Camden/Philly either this evening or tomorrow morning. We shall have the usual cousin bonding time this weekend. She wants to satiate her voyeuristic tendencies and drive out to Lancaster to ogle the Amish. Maybe check out Intercourse, Blue Ball, or Paradise. (I kid you not people, these are actual places.) I'm only humoring this silly notion of hers because I want to check out the outlet shops and gear up on some summer togs. Banana Republic here I come!
ColumbiaGirl and TherapyBoy are also in town from NYC attending a friend's 30th birthday party and so I'll get the chance to hang out with them sometime this weekend. Yippppeee!!!
It's a beautiful Saturday out here in the east coast - the warm sun is out, with a slight breeze. Oh happy day!
Have a wonderful weekend y'all!
ColumbiaGirl and TherapyBoy are also in town from NYC attending a friend's 30th birthday party and so I'll get the chance to hang out with them sometime this weekend. Yippppeee!!!
It's a beautiful Saturday out here in the east coast - the warm sun is out, with a slight breeze. Oh happy day!
Have a wonderful weekend y'all!
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Another Rilke.....
Lately I've become quite the Rainer Maria Rilke junkie. Probably due to the fact that I am currently reading, actually more like slowly savouring, his very slender book, "Letters To A Young Poet". One of Spin_Doc1's posts, titled The Dream, brought to mind this particular quote:
"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to
love the questions themselves. Live the questions now.
Perhaps you will find them gradually, without noticing it,
living along some distant day into the answer." --Rainer Maria Rilke
There is so much truth in this particular quote penned by Rilke. Over the last few years I've had to face some painful, unanswered questions, which brought me towards a downward spiral into the depths of darkness, and almost to the point of nothingness. However, as time went by and as the healing process began, I learned to live, to just be, and to embrace these unanswered questions. And the most provocative thing was, I did eventually discover some of the answers to my questions. Not all of the answers, but some. Just like Rilke said I would.
love the questions themselves. Live the questions now.
Perhaps you will find them gradually, without noticing it,
living along some distant day into the answer." --Rainer Maria Rilke
There is so much truth in this particular quote penned by Rilke. Over the last few years I've had to face some painful, unanswered questions, which brought me towards a downward spiral into the depths of darkness, and almost to the point of nothingness. However, as time went by and as the healing process began, I learned to live, to just be, and to embrace these unanswered questions. And the most provocative thing was, I did eventually discover some of the answers to my questions. Not all of the answers, but some. Just like Rilke said I would.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
The Chase
An old friend of mine, CaliSurferDude, was always one of those guys I'd run to whenever I needed advice from a male's perspective. He dated one of my closest friends out here for a long time until they broke up last year. CSD always showed his protective streak when I embarked into a new relatonship or was thinking of exploring things with a potential boy. When things didn't work out, CSD was always there with his sage advice and listening ear. One of the things that he always stressed was how guys thrive on the chase and the challenge of pursuing a woman. But I wonder, do they enjoy it when they catch you, as much as when they are pursuing you? Or does the relationship fizzle after the initial excitement? Does it always have to be some game? I have been pursued, but no one's really bothered to stick around. I must be relationship retarded or something.
Such a shame.
Such a shame.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Query
Why is it that you hurt the people that you love the most?
And why is it that you are hurt by the people who are supposed to love you the most?
I spent most of this evening bawling my eyes out and I seriously feel like I'm drowning.
I'm a fatalistic mood right now. Don't ask.
And why is it that you are hurt by the people who are supposed to love you the most?
I spent most of this evening bawling my eyes out and I seriously feel like I'm drowning.
I'm a fatalistic mood right now. Don't ask.
Friday, June 9, 2006
Chi-girl and Co.
An old friend who hails from Chicago is in town and a group us met up with her at Don Pablo's this evening for dinner. We'll call my friend Chi-girl. Anyways, Chi-girl and I go way back as summer interns at UrbanPromise, where our friendship began and grew over the years. We can go for months, 1 or even 2 years without any type of contact, but when we get together, we just pick up where we left off. That's what I love about the uniqueness of our friendship. My two roommates, Irishgirl and Iowagirl, along with our other friend, Larissa, all have a connection with Chi-girl, resulting from their intern work at UrbaPromise. However, what makes our connection to Chi-girl so unique is the fact that we met and bonded with Chi-girl at different times during our stint with UrbanPromise. And then, for some reason, Divine Intervention had it so that all of our worlds somehow collided together. Tonight was one of those nights where we all went back into time, bringing up forgotten memories of a time when life seemed so carefree, less jaded, and where optimism overrode today's cynicism. We chatted incessantly, we savored our food, and we drank our margaritas. But most importantly, we laughed.
UrbanPromise, the tie that bound us together.
UrbanPromise, the tie that bound us together.
Tuesday, June 6, 2006
Proposal
So I got my very first marriage proposal, albeit in quite the unconventional way. In one of my previous posts, Road Trip and Back, it was revealed that I am not an American citizen (GASP!), but am a proud citizen of Canada. (For those of you who don't know where Canada is, it's that huge expanse of land which lies north of the USA). Anyways, Bougie Black Boy apparently discovered this new found fact about me and ever so graciously presented me with his proposal; although it was done quite differently from what I would have imagined a propsal to be. (More on that later.) Marrying Bougie would mean living in NYC (one of my favorite cities) with a bona-fide Green card, to a widely acclaimed best-selling author, country bumpkin turned urban dweller. Plus, I get to bear his "love child." Bonus! (And btw Bougie, I think we'd make beautiful babies.) :D
Not bad. Not bad at all.
What do you ALL think? Should I accept? Or should I graciously turn him down? ;)
Not bad. Not bad at all.
What do you ALL think? Should I accept? Or should I graciously turn him down? ;)
Sunday, June 4, 2006
Sunday Poetry
Love Song -
Rainer Maria Rilke
How can I keep my soul in me,
so that it doesn't touch your soul?
How can I raise it high enough, past you, to other things?
I would like to shelter it, among remote
lost objects, in some dark and silent place
that doesn't resonate when your depths resound.
Yet everything that touches us, me and you,
takes us together like a violin's bow,
which draws one voice out of two separate strings.
Upon what instrument are we two spanned?
And what musician holds us in his hand?
Oh sweetest song.
Rainer Maria Rilke
How can I keep my soul in me,
so that it doesn't touch your soul?
How can I raise it high enough, past you, to other things?
I would like to shelter it, among remote
lost objects, in some dark and silent place
that doesn't resonate when your depths resound.
Yet everything that touches us, me and you,
takes us together like a violin's bow,
which draws one voice out of two separate strings.
Upon what instrument are we two spanned?
And what musician holds us in his hand?
Oh sweetest song.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Road Trip and Back
So I'm back. And yes I was able to renew my work visa. Yaaaaay! It was almost too easy because the border officer dude did not give me a hard time at all and the process took only about 10 minutes. I'm thankful. And yes, the Americans will have to put up with me for another year.
I love road trips and this one, although short, was one of my favorite ones. My friend, we'll call her E-gurl, I discovered, is a great road tripper pal. The drive up to Niagara Falls held a myriad of interesting conversations, most of which centered around Reformed Theology. Over the last few years, I've been grappling with the 5 points of Calvinism. My good friend Jonny, is a self-proclaimed Calvinist with whom I've had many spirited "discussions" about this particular doctrine. Coming from an Arminian background - I grew up in a Baptist church - I've never really challenged the doctrine that I grew up with, until I started going to a Presbyterian church and becoming friends with people like Jonny and E-gurl, who are quite strong in their beliefs around the 5 points of Calvinism. They are both able to articulate the 5 points so well and back it up with scripture that it is making me start to believe in this particular doctrine. I need to do some more reading and studying of scripture on this. Who knows, I may turn out into a Calvinist yet!
We stayed at this quaint bed and breakfast in Niagara-On-the-Lake where the proprietors are nothing short of amazing. It was my second time staying at this place and it was of course even better than the last time. The owners remembered me from the time before - it was like visiting a dear old aunt and uncle. And the breakfast? Scrumptious.
Monday evening we ended up hanging out around the walk by the falls. It was a nice, warm, breezy evening with sprays of cool droplets coming from Niagara falls. I've been to the falls a few times and it never ceases to amaze me - I can see God's handiwork in this wonder. We truly have an amazing and creative God! I didn't think that we would spend as much time on the walk way than we did. There was this band, Renegade, giving a free concert by the falls and playing some cover tunes. Most of these cover tunes swept us back to junior high and high school days where Bon Jovi and Journey classics had us itching to do some head banging. :D People watching along the walk was also a huge hit of the evening. It was good times.
One of the fun things about road trips are the spontaneous, unplanned, by the seat of our pants, type of sightseeing. Niagara-On-The-Lake is wine country and I'd have to say that this was probably the highlight of our little road trip. We had no plans to visit any wineries, but the different vineyards we drove by kept calling out to us, slowly drawing us in. So we did a little wine tasting here and there, visiting about four different wineries. Most of the wineries charged a small fee for wine tasting but somehow, E-gurl and I were never charged. It's funny what a little flirtation could do. E-gurl bought 7 bottles of wine, while I bought four -a Muscat, a Dry Riesling, a Cabernet Sauvignon, and a Merlot. Yeah, yeah, call me a lush.
On our way back to Philly yesterday, we took a detour through Ithica, NY, taking the scenic route driving by one of the finger lakes, Cayuga Lake. I drove by this area a few years ago and fell in love with the lake and the little college town of Ithica. We made a planned stop at the Moosewood Restaurant, which as been "acclaimed as a driving force in the world of creative vegetarian cooking." The Moosewood Collective has authored a number of great cookbooks, one of which I own and use quite often. I suppose I'm a granola girl at heart, but what's keeping me from being truly granola is my penchant for meat and chicken. I ordered stuffed peppers with a cold cucumber and beet salad - it was wonderfully fresh and filled with so much flavor. Must return.
After our Ithica "pitt-stop", the drive back up to Philly was pretty uneventful. E-gurl did most of the driving while I slept quite a bit. After spending two full days in a town where people were polite and friendly, returning to the city was almost a rude awakening for me. Living here for the last six years, I've become accustomed to the city attitude - rude and uncouth. Right from the moment we entered back into the city, I was subjected to some incredibly primitive and rude behavior, one of which included a racist remark coming from an ignorant white college student who just moved down the street from me. I won't even bother wasting my time writing about what happened with this little peon, but I will say this: I've been living on this very TIGHT-KNIT block for the last five and half years, where people seriously watch out for each other, and if this boy had any functioning brain cells, (which he obviously doesn't), then he better not be making enemies in this neighborhood.
Joy, welcome back to the city.
I love road trips and this one, although short, was one of my favorite ones. My friend, we'll call her E-gurl, I discovered, is a great road tripper pal. The drive up to Niagara Falls held a myriad of interesting conversations, most of which centered around Reformed Theology. Over the last few years, I've been grappling with the 5 points of Calvinism. My good friend Jonny, is a self-proclaimed Calvinist with whom I've had many spirited "discussions" about this particular doctrine. Coming from an Arminian background - I grew up in a Baptist church - I've never really challenged the doctrine that I grew up with, until I started going to a Presbyterian church and becoming friends with people like Jonny and E-gurl, who are quite strong in their beliefs around the 5 points of Calvinism. They are both able to articulate the 5 points so well and back it up with scripture that it is making me start to believe in this particular doctrine. I need to do some more reading and studying of scripture on this. Who knows, I may turn out into a Calvinist yet!
We stayed at this quaint bed and breakfast in Niagara-On-the-Lake where the proprietors are nothing short of amazing. It was my second time staying at this place and it was of course even better than the last time. The owners remembered me from the time before - it was like visiting a dear old aunt and uncle. And the breakfast? Scrumptious.
Monday evening we ended up hanging out around the walk by the falls. It was a nice, warm, breezy evening with sprays of cool droplets coming from Niagara falls. I've been to the falls a few times and it never ceases to amaze me - I can see God's handiwork in this wonder. We truly have an amazing and creative God! I didn't think that we would spend as much time on the walk way than we did. There was this band, Renegade, giving a free concert by the falls and playing some cover tunes. Most of these cover tunes swept us back to junior high and high school days where Bon Jovi and Journey classics had us itching to do some head banging. :D People watching along the walk was also a huge hit of the evening. It was good times.
One of the fun things about road trips are the spontaneous, unplanned, by the seat of our pants, type of sightseeing. Niagara-On-The-Lake is wine country and I'd have to say that this was probably the highlight of our little road trip. We had no plans to visit any wineries, but the different vineyards we drove by kept calling out to us, slowly drawing us in. So we did a little wine tasting here and there, visiting about four different wineries. Most of the wineries charged a small fee for wine tasting but somehow, E-gurl and I were never charged. It's funny what a little flirtation could do. E-gurl bought 7 bottles of wine, while I bought four -a Muscat, a Dry Riesling, a Cabernet Sauvignon, and a Merlot. Yeah, yeah, call me a lush.
On our way back to Philly yesterday, we took a detour through Ithica, NY, taking the scenic route driving by one of the finger lakes, Cayuga Lake. I drove by this area a few years ago and fell in love with the lake and the little college town of Ithica. We made a planned stop at the Moosewood Restaurant, which as been "acclaimed as a driving force in the world of creative vegetarian cooking." The Moosewood Collective has authored a number of great cookbooks, one of which I own and use quite often. I suppose I'm a granola girl at heart, but what's keeping me from being truly granola is my penchant for meat and chicken. I ordered stuffed peppers with a cold cucumber and beet salad - it was wonderfully fresh and filled with so much flavor. Must return.
After our Ithica "pitt-stop", the drive back up to Philly was pretty uneventful. E-gurl did most of the driving while I slept quite a bit. After spending two full days in a town where people were polite and friendly, returning to the city was almost a rude awakening for me. Living here for the last six years, I've become accustomed to the city attitude - rude and uncouth. Right from the moment we entered back into the city, I was subjected to some incredibly primitive and rude behavior, one of which included a racist remark coming from an ignorant white college student who just moved down the street from me. I won't even bother wasting my time writing about what happened with this little peon, but I will say this: I've been living on this very TIGHT-KNIT block for the last five and half years, where people seriously watch out for each other, and if this boy had any functioning brain cells, (which he obviously doesn't), then he better not be making enemies in this neighborhood.
Joy, welcome back to the city.
Monday, May 29, 2006
It's that time of year again.....
...where I have to drive up to the border in order to renew my Trade NAFTA (TN) working visa. Tomorrow morning, I'm driving up to Niagara Falls with a good friend from church, in order to go through this stress-inducing process that I go through every single year. The TN visa is part of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), which allows Canadians to work in the US, under the condition this person has a job offer from a company and as long as their college degree meets the criteria of the job. A good friend of mine, Larissa, just went through this process a few weeks ago and it went fairly smoothly for her. I am praying that I get the same officer who issued her the same visa at the Rainbow Bridge border in Niagara.
I am not ready, if ever, to move back to Vancouver yet. Earlier this evening, I had a long phone conversation with BFF. She is of the opinion that I will probably never move back to Vancouver. I told her that I am just not ready to move back at this point in my life. I adore the west coast and it will always be "home" for me; however, this coast that I am living in, the east coast, has also become my home - along with the Geographical Orphans who have also become my family.
I don't know what I'll do if I have to move back to Vancouver.
I am not ready, if ever, to move back to Vancouver yet. Earlier this evening, I had a long phone conversation with BFF. She is of the opinion that I will probably never move back to Vancouver. I told her that I am just not ready to move back at this point in my life. I adore the west coast and it will always be "home" for me; however, this coast that I am living in, the east coast, has also become my home - along with the Geographical Orphans who have also become my family.
I don't know what I'll do if I have to move back to Vancouver.
Friday, May 26, 2006
Song of the Week
IowaGirl made me a CD filled with Joshua Radin's music. He's got the coveted "I *heart* him" of this week. (Yeah, call me fickle) I've kind of fallen in love with this particuar song and have been listening to it all week:
The Fear You Won't Fall
The Fear You Won't Fall
Digging a hole
And the walls are caving in,
Behind me,
Airs getting thin,
But I'm trying,
I'm breathing in,
Come find me,
It hasn't felt like this before,
It hasn't felt like home for you,
And I know it's easy to say,
But it's harder to feel this way,
I miss you more than I should,
Than I thought I could,
Can't get my mind off of you,
I know you're scared,
That I'll soon be over it,
That's part of it all,
Part of the beauty,
Of falling in love with you,
Is the fear that you won't fall,
It hasn't felt like this before,
It hasn't felt like home for you,
And I know it's easy to say,
But it's harder to feel this way,
I miss you more than I should,
Than I thought I could,
Can't get my mind off of you,
And I hate the phone,
But I wish you'd call,
Thought being alone,
Was better than,
Was better than,
And I know it's easy to say,
But it's harder to feel this way,
I miss you more than I should,
Than I thought I could,
Can't get my mind off of you,
Can't get my mind off of you,
And I know it's easy to say,
But it's harder to feel this way,
I miss you more than I should,
Than I thought I could,
Can't get my mind off of you,
And I know it's easy to say,
But it's harder to feel this way
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Yay For Blogger Support!!!
For those of you who came to visit my blog earlier today, you saw one post that displayed panic and some devastation (I know, I know....call me the resident drama queen). I accidentally deleted my blog this morning. Upon realization of what I had done, this sick feeling that I cannot even describe settled deep in the pitt of my stomach. In the midst of this madness, I was able to have some semblance of somewhat of a sound mind. (Woah! Alliteration!) I did a search on blogger and discovered Blogger Help which takes you through some steps on retrieving a blog that was accidentally deleted. This other site by O.K., O.K., was also very helpful. Nonetheless, I was able to find an email address for blogger support and sent them a very panicked email this morning explaining to them what happened. This evening I received a response from Blogger Support (yes, a real live individual named Alexander!) who informed me that he was able to restore my blog into my account. Woohoo and Phew!!! God is definitely good.
My insomniac self had only half an hour of sleep last night and so I better hit the sack. Tune in next time for more of JoyIsMe. :) Have a good night y'all!
My insomniac self had only half an hour of sleep last night and so I better hit the sack. Tune in next time for more of JoyIsMe. :) Have a good night y'all!
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
IOWAGIRL
Driving over the Ben Franklin Bridge into Jersey after work earlier this evening, my cell phone rings. It's my roommate IowaGirl. She was supposed to be at the Philly airport, ready to board her plane that would fly her out to Des Moines, Iowa.
IowaGirl: So, what are you doing right now?
Me: Driving over the Ben Franklin bridge.
IowaGirl: S&%#!!!
Me: What's wrong?
IowaGirl: My flight got cancelled beause of some stupid storm in Chicago. That's where my layover is and apparently there aren't any planes leaving or landing at O'Hare.
Me: Well that's kind of a bitch.
IowaGirl: So, you're not really too busy are ya?
Me: I'll turn around and pick you up.
So at the foot of the Ben Franklin bridge, I turned the car around, crossed the tolls (yep, paid $3.00 to get into Philly - yet again today), and got on the 95 towards Philadlephia International Airport to pick up IowaGirl. Driving down the 95, I had a few thoughts going through my head and this gnawing feeling in the pitt of my stomach. There are days when IowaGirl and I have this weird cosmic telepathic connection and today it seemed to be in full force, because before I even arrived at the airport I knew that I would somehow end up driving her back to the airport tomorrow morning. No, IowaGirl did not inform me that her flight was rescheduled for tomorrow morning. This was soley based on my own assumptions. I arrive at the AmericanAirlines terminal and find IowaGirl dragging her luggage towards my car.
Iowagirl: Thanks, I owe you big time. I guess that means I get to join you guys for happy hour at PJ's after all.
Me: Yup. So, what time's your flight tomorrow morning? (I figured it was better to cut to the chase, rather than beating around the bush, right?)
Iowagirl: *Turns to me with huge grin on her face*
Me: Dammit. I sooooo knew it!!!
Iowagirl: *Laughter ensues* You knew that by picking me up, you would get stuck with the job tomorrow. It was a given.
Me: Girl, you owe me big time.
Iowagirl: Well, my flight leaves at 7:45 AM and so I should be at the airport at around 6:45AM. We could leave the house at around 6:30AM. *Gives me sheepish grin*
Me: *Sighs* I guess I'll just go straight to the office afterwards. It shouldn't be that bad.
Iowagirl: *Has huge cheesy grin pasted on her face*
I am such a sucker. On a positive note, this sucker got dinner paid for by IowaGirl at PJ's tonight.
It wasn't until later on in the evening that it hit me - I have to get up at 5 AM tomorrow in order to get ready for work and drive IowaGirl to the airport.
I really am sucker.
IowaGirl: So, what are you doing right now?
Me: Driving over the Ben Franklin bridge.
IowaGirl: S&%#!!!
Me: What's wrong?
IowaGirl: My flight got cancelled beause of some stupid storm in Chicago. That's where my layover is and apparently there aren't any planes leaving or landing at O'Hare.
Me: Well that's kind of a bitch.
IowaGirl: So, you're not really too busy are ya?
Me: I'll turn around and pick you up.
So at the foot of the Ben Franklin bridge, I turned the car around, crossed the tolls (yep, paid $3.00 to get into Philly - yet again today), and got on the 95 towards Philadlephia International Airport to pick up IowaGirl. Driving down the 95, I had a few thoughts going through my head and this gnawing feeling in the pitt of my stomach. There are days when IowaGirl and I have this weird cosmic telepathic connection and today it seemed to be in full force, because before I even arrived at the airport I knew that I would somehow end up driving her back to the airport tomorrow morning. No, IowaGirl did not inform me that her flight was rescheduled for tomorrow morning. This was soley based on my own assumptions. I arrive at the AmericanAirlines terminal and find IowaGirl dragging her luggage towards my car.
Iowagirl: Thanks, I owe you big time. I guess that means I get to join you guys for happy hour at PJ's after all.
Me: Yup. So, what time's your flight tomorrow morning? (I figured it was better to cut to the chase, rather than beating around the bush, right?)
Iowagirl: *Turns to me with huge grin on her face*
Me: Dammit. I sooooo knew it!!!
Iowagirl: *Laughter ensues* You knew that by picking me up, you would get stuck with the job tomorrow. It was a given.
Me: Girl, you owe me big time.
Iowagirl: Well, my flight leaves at 7:45 AM and so I should be at the airport at around 6:45AM. We could leave the house at around 6:30AM. *Gives me sheepish grin*
Me: *Sighs* I guess I'll just go straight to the office afterwards. It shouldn't be that bad.
Iowagirl: *Has huge cheesy grin pasted on her face*
I am such a sucker. On a positive note, this sucker got dinner paid for by IowaGirl at PJ's tonight.
It wasn't until later on in the evening that it hit me - I have to get up at 5 AM tomorrow in order to get ready for work and drive IowaGirl to the airport.
I really am sucker.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Ticked Off
I am uber-pissed right now.
One of my biggest pet-peeve is when plans are made with a friend and said friend decides to make other plans on that same day and then becoming passive aggressive about it.
If you're going to make plans to do something, then stick to it. Or at least let me know before hand that something came up and that you're A) Going to be late, or B) We could reschedule for another time. It ticks me off to no end when someone says they will do something and then there is no follow through.
Oh, and do you know what makes this whole day even more wonderful? I'm surfin' the crimson wave and the cramps have been unbelievable. I am so hating life right now.
One of my biggest pet-peeve is when plans are made with a friend and said friend decides to make other plans on that same day and then becoming passive aggressive about it.
If you're going to make plans to do something, then stick to it. Or at least let me know before hand that something came up and that you're A) Going to be late, or B) We could reschedule for another time. It ticks me off to no end when someone says they will do something and then there is no follow through.
Oh, and do you know what makes this whole day even more wonderful? I'm surfin' the crimson wave and the cramps have been unbelievable. I am so hating life right now.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
"A"
Brought to you by the letter "A"
Naïve-no-more had this on her blog and assigned me the letter A.
Here's how it works: You take your assigned letter and then write 10 words that start with that letter and explain why they are important to you. Of course, NNM assigned me with a somewhat difficult letter but I am determined to write about 10 important things to me that start with the letter “A”
ART - I really should have at least minored in Art History when I was in college. Art is a form of human expression that communicates emotionally and intellectually an individuals' thoughts and feelings concerning themes about self, dreams & visions, issues, or relationships. Creativity is about humanity and as created beings we bear the hallmark of the creative character of God. What an overwhelming, yet awesome thought! Some of my favorite modern art movements are Impressionism, Fauvism, and Abstract Impressionism - Monet, Matisse, Rothko, Renoir, to name a few. Art museums I love to visit? The Met and the Philadelphia Art Museum. I just discovered The Cloisters in Upper Manhattan a few weeks ago. A storehouse full of medival art, architecture, and gardens. I am not too fond of medival art, but I fell in love with the cloister's (gardens), concealed within the confines of this building.
AUNTIE "T" - My mom's youngest sister, more like my older sister. She is Hormone Happy Boy's mom and has always played an important role in my life. Before my aunt got married, she lived with my family and we shared a room together. I remember when I was about 7 years old she got the chicken pox and oddly enough, I never got it from her. I got the chicken pox when I was 10 years old. :D She got married when I was 10 and I was her junior bridesmaid. After the wedding, she moved down to San Diego with her husband and I was absolutely devastated. Interestingly enough, it turned out to my advantage because during my adolescent years, I spent most of my summers in San Diego at my auntie T's place.
ANICETA – My mom’s first name. She was the main focus in my previous post -a tribute to her on Mother's Day. Go ahead and read all about why this woman is so important to me and why I love her so much.
APPLE PIE – To be specific, my mom’s freshly baked apple pie. There is definitely nothing like it – the tart flavor of granny smith apples mingled with sweet cinnamon will have you drooling for more after devouring one piece. May I suggest chocolate ice-cream on the side?
“A” – A friend who surprisingly popped into my sphere and has awakened certain feelings and sensations that I thought were dead and stagnant, buried under the mire and sludge which have accumulated. It's making me feel somewhat disconcerted.
Alright, alright, I was supposed to come up with 10, but like I stated earlier, the letter "A" was a difficult one. At least I got 9 and come to think of it, 9 is almost 10, right? ;) If you want to play, just let me know on the comment section and I will assign you a letter.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
MOM
Another Mother's Day where I'm a few thousand miles away from mom and from what I heard today, it appears that mom is pretty sad about it. Talking to my cousin on the phone earlier this afternoon, she mentioned that her mom (my mom's younger sister) called my mom to wish her a happy mother's day. Apparently mom made mention to my aunt how much she misses me. Enter the guilt.
I have my own reasons for living thousands of miles away from my family and the wall to wall of endless relatives. But that's another blog entry for another day.
From the time I was a young girl, people would constantly tell me how much I looked like my mom. I was a miniature version of ALJ (mom's initials). Of course, I never really saw the resemblence. Until I was probably about 10 years old. I remember stumbling upon a black and white photo of my mom when she was about 8 years old and it was like looking into a mirror. We were literally spitting images of each other. Needless to say, I was shocked. I always thought I was my own person. The crazy thing is, not only do mom and I look alike, we're also alot alike. Stubborn, hard-headed and somewhat opinionated, we also both have this ability to make others feel comfortable upon a first meeting. Gregarious and full of warmth, mom's generosity and care for people has always been modeled for me since I was very young.
Mom taught me how to treat people with respect and dignity. In the fourth grade, a time where certain kids were labelled with "the cooties" and thus ostracized by the rest of the class, she admonished me and challenged me to go against the flow of my other classmates.
When I was about 8 years old, I recall asking mom how babies were made. Her response? "Your dad gave me a shot." Being the young and naive 8 year old that I was, the only shot that I knew of at the time was the needle administered on your arm by the doctor and so of course, I took mom's response at face value and did not question her any further. Little did I know.... When I was about 11 years old, my great-aunt, who was visiting us from Seattle, sat me down and gave me "the talk". She even drew diagrams for me. One of the mortifying moments of my pre-pubescent years and I am fairly certain that mom put my great-aunt up to it.
The teen years were fairly turbulent, but that probably isn't anything new. I remember the first time I told my mom to "go to hell". That earned me a nice smack on the face. Somehow, telling her to "got to hell" seemed easier from then on. Probably because my smart-ass self would yell it to mom as I was running down the stairs towards the front door to get away from her.
When I was a junior in college I remember coming home one afternoon completely distraught. The night before, my then boyfriend dumped me. The creep did not even have the class to break up with me in person, instead he hid behind the telephone. When mom came home from work, she found me curled up on the living room couch bawling my eyes out. She didn't say anything at the time. What she did, however, was gather me into her arms, rocked me back and forth, and let me cry.
College graduation arrived too soon and I remember mom's words to me at a celebration dinner they held for me. "You're education is yours and no one can ever take it away from you. I'm so proud of you."
My big move to the East Coast came and my parents drove me, the hour and half, down to Everett, WA, so I could catch the train, which would take me on a three day trek across the country to Philadelphia. Mom and I got into a huge fight on the drive down. I wanted to revert to my adolescent attitude and tell her to "go to hell", but I bit my tongue and held it in. The drive was fairly quiet after we had our fight, but when we arrived at the train station the apologies of course came out. "I'm sorry." "I love you." When I boarded onto the train and took my seat by the window, I could see dad supporting mom in her grief of having to say good-bye. I remember crying for the first three hours of that train ride, the swaying train eventually lulling me to sleep. My move to the East Coast was a defining factor in my relationship with my mom as it brought us closer than before.
Mom was a fifth grade teacher in the Philippines. I taught 11th and 12th grade English Literature for two years in the inner-city.
The other day, I was having a conversation with a pre-adoptive mother that I am currently working with. Somehow I ended up talking about my mom with her, which made me realize what a superwoman my mom is. Mom worked full-time, but she always managed to come home after work and cook a nutritious meal for us - and it wasn't your typical mac and cheese with hot dogs kind of crap. The meal was piping hot and ready to be devoured by the time dad arrived home from work at around 5:30. And I don't know how she did this, but she always manage to have the kitchen sparkling clean after dinner (with our help of course), have her evening bath, and then be in bed between 8:30 - 9:00PM. All the while keeping the house looking absolutely immaculate. Can we say superwoman or what?
I suppose I could go on and on with various anectdotes about my mom. All that to say, there are waaaaay too many stories to tell. But I just wanted to highlight some of the memorable moments with my mom. A woman full of warmth and grace, who embodies compassion and kindness to people around her - even with her quirks and idiosyncracies, I hope I can become even close to the woman of character that she exemplifies.
I have my own reasons for living thousands of miles away from my family and the wall to wall of endless relatives. But that's another blog entry for another day.
From the time I was a young girl, people would constantly tell me how much I looked like my mom. I was a miniature version of ALJ (mom's initials). Of course, I never really saw the resemblence. Until I was probably about 10 years old. I remember stumbling upon a black and white photo of my mom when she was about 8 years old and it was like looking into a mirror. We were literally spitting images of each other. Needless to say, I was shocked. I always thought I was my own person. The crazy thing is, not only do mom and I look alike, we're also alot alike. Stubborn, hard-headed and somewhat opinionated, we also both have this ability to make others feel comfortable upon a first meeting. Gregarious and full of warmth, mom's generosity and care for people has always been modeled for me since I was very young.
Mom taught me how to treat people with respect and dignity. In the fourth grade, a time where certain kids were labelled with "the cooties" and thus ostracized by the rest of the class, she admonished me and challenged me to go against the flow of my other classmates.
When I was about 8 years old, I recall asking mom how babies were made. Her response? "Your dad gave me a shot." Being the young and naive 8 year old that I was, the only shot that I knew of at the time was the needle administered on your arm by the doctor and so of course, I took mom's response at face value and did not question her any further. Little did I know.... When I was about 11 years old, my great-aunt, who was visiting us from Seattle, sat me down and gave me "the talk". She even drew diagrams for me. One of the mortifying moments of my pre-pubescent years and I am fairly certain that mom put my great-aunt up to it.
The teen years were fairly turbulent, but that probably isn't anything new. I remember the first time I told my mom to "go to hell". That earned me a nice smack on the face. Somehow, telling her to "got to hell" seemed easier from then on. Probably because my smart-ass self would yell it to mom as I was running down the stairs towards the front door to get away from her.
When I was a junior in college I remember coming home one afternoon completely distraught. The night before, my then boyfriend dumped me. The creep did not even have the class to break up with me in person, instead he hid behind the telephone. When mom came home from work, she found me curled up on the living room couch bawling my eyes out. She didn't say anything at the time. What she did, however, was gather me into her arms, rocked me back and forth, and let me cry.
College graduation arrived too soon and I remember mom's words to me at a celebration dinner they held for me. "You're education is yours and no one can ever take it away from you. I'm so proud of you."
My big move to the East Coast came and my parents drove me, the hour and half, down to Everett, WA, so I could catch the train, which would take me on a three day trek across the country to Philadelphia. Mom and I got into a huge fight on the drive down. I wanted to revert to my adolescent attitude and tell her to "go to hell", but I bit my tongue and held it in. The drive was fairly quiet after we had our fight, but when we arrived at the train station the apologies of course came out. "I'm sorry." "I love you." When I boarded onto the train and took my seat by the window, I could see dad supporting mom in her grief of having to say good-bye. I remember crying for the first three hours of that train ride, the swaying train eventually lulling me to sleep. My move to the East Coast was a defining factor in my relationship with my mom as it brought us closer than before.
Mom was a fifth grade teacher in the Philippines. I taught 11th and 12th grade English Literature for two years in the inner-city.
The other day, I was having a conversation with a pre-adoptive mother that I am currently working with. Somehow I ended up talking about my mom with her, which made me realize what a superwoman my mom is. Mom worked full-time, but she always managed to come home after work and cook a nutritious meal for us - and it wasn't your typical mac and cheese with hot dogs kind of crap. The meal was piping hot and ready to be devoured by the time dad arrived home from work at around 5:30. And I don't know how she did this, but she always manage to have the kitchen sparkling clean after dinner (with our help of course), have her evening bath, and then be in bed between 8:30 - 9:00PM. All the while keeping the house looking absolutely immaculate. Can we say superwoman or what?
I suppose I could go on and on with various anectdotes about my mom. All that to say, there are waaaaay too many stories to tell. But I just wanted to highlight some of the memorable moments with my mom. A woman full of warmth and grace, who embodies compassion and kindness to people around her - even with her quirks and idiosyncracies, I hope I can become even close to the woman of character that she exemplifies.
Friday, May 12, 2006
HockeyManWannaBee and The Jamaican Jerk
I sit next to this guy at work, HockeyManWannaBee, who is also a fellow Canuck. Actually, he's got dual citizenship and so he can legally work and live in either the US or Canada without the rigamarole of annoying visa papers. The lucky bastard. We became pretty good friends at the office, bantering back and forth, with our quick-witted quips. It was always an interesting time when we were both at the office as we kept the others amused by our verbal sparring. Our penchant for the NHL and Canadian chocolate, along with our "enthusiasm" for orgami is what sealed the friendship. Working in the type of job that I'm in, and seeing the depravity of human beings on an almost daily basis, coming back to the office and having a good laugh with HockeyManWannaBee was always a good reprieve from a stressful visit with a family or an ugly court hearing. Unfortunately that all came to an end today as it was HockeyManWannaBee's last day with our agency. He took another job with a different company/agency, doing social work in a more different capacity, working with individuals and families in the military. It's a great fit for him as he is a former marine and is passionate about the US military.
So in lieu of his last day and of course to celebrate his new job, a group of us went to this gem of a place call the Jamaican Jerk Hut, located on a nondescript South Street block in Philly. If this place wasn't featured in that movie, "In Her Shoes", I probably would have never heard of this place. Or else, I would have driven pass by it without a thought. Peering through the front windows of the the Jamaican Jerk Hut, one would find two or three tables and a take out counter with the kitchen in the back. By the first look of The Jamaican Jerk Hut, one would not even DREAM of taking someone on their first date to this restaurant. But alas, the old adage, "never judge a book by its cover", is never more closer to the truth. Why? Because if you walk around back to the veranda, there is outdoor dining - a grass hut with wooden yard furniture. The setting, next to the vegetable garden, sweeping lilac trees, with reggae playing in the background, would make anyone feel for a moment that they were in Jamaica. Oh did I mention that the food was great? The spicy jerk chicken was just that. Spicy and jerky. Like most small, independently owned restaurants in Philly, the great thing about this place is that it is BYOB. And we all know that BYOB is a wonderful concept because it will not cost you an arm and a leg to order a glass of wine or a margarita. I would probably recommend mixing a little rum with their homemade fruit drinks. :D
Who woulda thought that this little oasis, nestled in the middle of south Philly would serve for a memorable evening filled with much laughter? Good Times.
One of these days I will go back to The Jamaican Jerk Hut and I know just the person whom I would like to bring.
So in lieu of his last day and of course to celebrate his new job, a group of us went to this gem of a place call the Jamaican Jerk Hut, located on a nondescript South Street block in Philly. If this place wasn't featured in that movie, "In Her Shoes", I probably would have never heard of this place. Or else, I would have driven pass by it without a thought. Peering through the front windows of the the Jamaican Jerk Hut, one would find two or three tables and a take out counter with the kitchen in the back. By the first look of The Jamaican Jerk Hut, one would not even DREAM of taking someone on their first date to this restaurant. But alas, the old adage, "never judge a book by its cover", is never more closer to the truth. Why? Because if you walk around back to the veranda, there is outdoor dining - a grass hut with wooden yard furniture. The setting, next to the vegetable garden, sweeping lilac trees, with reggae playing in the background, would make anyone feel for a moment that they were in Jamaica. Oh did I mention that the food was great? The spicy jerk chicken was just that. Spicy and jerky. Like most small, independently owned restaurants in Philly, the great thing about this place is that it is BYOB. And we all know that BYOB is a wonderful concept because it will not cost you an arm and a leg to order a glass of wine or a margarita. I would probably recommend mixing a little rum with their homemade fruit drinks. :D
Who woulda thought that this little oasis, nestled in the middle of south Philly would serve for a memorable evening filled with much laughter? Good Times.
One of these days I will go back to The Jamaican Jerk Hut and I know just the person whom I would like to bring.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Quote Of The Day
"If I find in myself a desire which
no experience in this world can satisfy,
the most probable explanation is that
I was made for another world." - C.S. Lewis
no experience in this world can satisfy,
the most probable explanation is that
I was made for another world." - C.S. Lewis
This might explain the restlessness that I feel, time and time again - as C.S. Lewis, his eloquent self, so states it.
Thoughts?
Thoughts?
Sunday, May 7, 2006
Introspect
Because of Christ, I am far more loved, cherished and forgiven than I could ever imagine.
I understand the truth of the above statement. So why does my heart have this tendency to forget and sometimes even resist?
I understand the truth of the above statement. So why does my heart have this tendency to forget and sometimes even resist?
Saturday, May 6, 2006
Zephaniah's Word Of The Day
"The Lord your God is with you,
He is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in
you,
He will quiet you with his love,
He will rejoice over you with singing."
Zephaniah 3:17
He is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in
you,
He will quiet you with his love,
He will rejoice over you with singing."
Zephaniah 3:17
Thursday, May 4, 2006
Dumb Ass Moment #4
This past weekend I had another one of my adventures in NYC. An old friend of mine from junior high and high school works for Norwegian Cruise Lines and her port of call was NYC this past weekend. We've been trying to get together for almost a year everytime she was in the city, however due to scheduling conflicts, things never worked out. Until this past weekend. I had to give two different trainings at work on Saturday and so afterwork I took the train up the the Big Apple and met up with Cruisegurl somewhere in midtown. It was great hanging out with her, catching up, and talking about old times, but to be honest, our "reunion" wasn't as wonderful as I thought it would be. Over the years, we have become two different people with different priorities in life. As much as I love Cruisegurl, I felt so sad to see her put so much value on superficial "things" and to see her measure her worth and value over all the "attention" she was receiving from all the "hot" 20something males who worked on the cruise ships with her. Not once did she ask me about my life in Camden/Philly nor did she make an effort to ask about my job. I'm not angry or bitter about her disinterest with my life. There's more of a deep seated sadness that I have for my friend. I could go on and on, analyzing my friend until the cows come home, but I won't. Why? Because I could totally be way off base.
Cruisegurl was staying at a hotel in Jamaica Queens and so I ended up spending Saturday night with her. She had to leave for the cruise ship on Sunday morning and therefore I planned it so I could spend Sunday with Therapyboy and Columbiagirl. Hence, the start of one of my NYC adventures!
I took the subway back to Manhattan and made a stop at Penn Station so that I could store my overnight bag in the luggage hold. I was supposed to meet TB and CG at their church, Redeemer Presbyterian for the 10:30 AM service. And of course, I was running late. So I took the 6 train up to Hunter College (where Redeemer meets) and rushed up the stairs to the street. Now, to give you some background information on what NY pedestrians are like, well, they don't exactly follow street signals, signs, or what have you. And they looooove to jay walk. Like I mentioned before, I was running late. And since I was running late, I decided to take a short-cut by jay walking across the street to the auditorium where services were being held, instead of going across the cross walk. Since the light was red and the cars were all stopped, I figured that it was safe for me to do a little bit of jay-walking. I mean, everyone else was doing it and it would have made it for a shorter walk to the auditorium. As soon as I stepped onto the uneven pavement on 68th street, it was like watching TV in slow-motion. My clumsy self somehow managed to trip and fly across the street, with arms and purse flailing, falling flat on my face.
I FELL FLAT ON MY FACE IN FRONT OF ABOUT 10 CARS AND WHAT SEEMED LIKE A MILLION PEOPLE AROUND ME IN THE MIDDLE OF 68TH STREET!!!
When it happened all these guys somehow materialized from almost nowhere, helped me up, and supported me as I pathetically hobbled to a nearby bench.
I
WAS
MORTIFIED.
One of the guys graciously decided to stay behind, running into the building to grab a first aid kit, so he could to help me nurse my right knee, which was messed up and bleeding from the fall. Although my knee hurt like hell, I think more damage was done to my pride than anything else. And my thoughts the entire time this guy was tending to my knee???
Thank God I shaved my legs the day before.
Cruisegurl was staying at a hotel in Jamaica Queens and so I ended up spending Saturday night with her. She had to leave for the cruise ship on Sunday morning and therefore I planned it so I could spend Sunday with Therapyboy and Columbiagirl. Hence, the start of one of my NYC adventures!
I took the subway back to Manhattan and made a stop at Penn Station so that I could store my overnight bag in the luggage hold. I was supposed to meet TB and CG at their church, Redeemer Presbyterian for the 10:30 AM service. And of course, I was running late. So I took the 6 train up to Hunter College (where Redeemer meets) and rushed up the stairs to the street. Now, to give you some background information on what NY pedestrians are like, well, they don't exactly follow street signals, signs, or what have you. And they looooove to jay walk. Like I mentioned before, I was running late. And since I was running late, I decided to take a short-cut by jay walking across the street to the auditorium where services were being held, instead of going across the cross walk. Since the light was red and the cars were all stopped, I figured that it was safe for me to do a little bit of jay-walking. I mean, everyone else was doing it and it would have made it for a shorter walk to the auditorium. As soon as I stepped onto the uneven pavement on 68th street, it was like watching TV in slow-motion. My clumsy self somehow managed to trip and fly across the street, with arms and purse flailing, falling flat on my face.
I FELL FLAT ON MY FACE IN FRONT OF ABOUT 10 CARS AND WHAT SEEMED LIKE A MILLION PEOPLE AROUND ME IN THE MIDDLE OF 68TH STREET!!!
When it happened all these guys somehow materialized from almost nowhere, helped me up, and supported me as I pathetically hobbled to a nearby bench.
I
WAS
MORTIFIED.
One of the guys graciously decided to stay behind, running into the building to grab a first aid kit, so he could to help me nurse my right knee, which was messed up and bleeding from the fall. Although my knee hurt like hell, I think more damage was done to my pride than anything else. And my thoughts the entire time this guy was tending to my knee???
Thank God I shaved my legs the day before.
Wednesday, May 3, 2006
Dreams
I heard this song the other day and it sent me back to my TWU days. Good times.
Dreams - The Cranberries
Oh my life is changing everyday
Every possible way
Though my dreams, it’s never quite as it seems
Never quite as it seems
I know I felt like this before
But now I’m feeling it even more
Because it came from you
Then I open up and see
The person fumbling here is me
A different way to be
I want more, impossible to ignore
Impossible to ignore
They’ll come true, impossible not to do
Impossible not to do
Now I tell you openly
You have my heart so don’t hurt me
For what I couldn’t find
Talk to me amazing mind
So understanding and so kind
You’re everything to me
Oh my life is changing everyday
Every possible way
Though my dreams, it’s never quite as it seems
’cause you’re a dream to me
Dream to me
Dreams - The Cranberries
Oh my life is changing everyday
Every possible way
Though my dreams, it’s never quite as it seems
Never quite as it seems
I know I felt like this before
But now I’m feeling it even more
Because it came from you
Then I open up and see
The person fumbling here is me
A different way to be
I want more, impossible to ignore
Impossible to ignore
They’ll come true, impossible not to do
Impossible not to do
Now I tell you openly
You have my heart so don’t hurt me
For what I couldn’t find
Talk to me amazing mind
So understanding and so kind
You’re everything to me
Oh my life is changing everyday
Every possible way
Though my dreams, it’s never quite as it seems
’cause you’re a dream to me
Dream to me
Sunday, April 30, 2006
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.
"Yes, they're hunky. But they're hunky for each other."
Sheesh. What a waste.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
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!
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!
Thursday, April 27, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
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
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.
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.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
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.???
Thursday, April 20, 2006
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???
Are you green with envy AC? Or in other words, pink with envy???
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
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.
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.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Somebody Loved
One of these days I will sing this to Him.
Somebody Loved - The Weepies
BMI ). All rights reserved.
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.
Friday, April 14, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
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."
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."
Sunday, April 9, 2006
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!!!
Happy Palm Sunday everyone!!!
Saturday, April 8, 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, April 6, 2006
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?
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?
Wednesday, April 5, 2006
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
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
Monday, April 3, 2006
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.
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.
Sunday, April 2, 2006
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......
It really is uncanny.......expressive soul......many subtleties.......glorious contradictions......
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