greetings and salutations...

Where have I been, you say? I know, I know...long time, no prose. Well, to put it mildly, I guess I've been out of sight, out of my mind these past few months. Wrapped up in all those little things like moving cross country, starting a new job, and overcoming a nasty bout of empty nest syndrome, just to name a few. And though I'm back to being as tightly wound as an east coast Republican living in DC, which coincidentally- is exactly whom I've become; I must say, a little change in pace never hurt anyone.

And so, I've moved on. Far, far away from the lush tropics of Hawaii. Where eye contact and a smile mean more than a Hugo Boss suit and a six figure salary; far from kalbi plate lunches with a side of mac salad and sunsets on the North Shore. And while most are happy for my return back east- I often get some pretty mixed reviews.  Shock, dismay, and disgusted as to why I'd forgo trade winds and 365 days of perfect convertible weather for what? A couple of months to enjoy leaves turn a shade of orange before shriveling up to die? To experience bitter cold and seasonal affect disorder all over again? To be shoved, pushed, and stared at by people who've never seen good looking Asians before? Well, in fact- yes...perhaps I am a little nuts but here's what I think- a fickle mind is a terrible thing to waste...therefore changing mine often has never hurt me. And you...do you think in or outside the box? Do tell...

life...scripted

Considering that I live on an island and only mildly enjoy frolicking in the gorgeous Pacific ocean-  this very under stimulated city girl is left to some seriously questionable vices. Reality TV, obsessive over analyzing, and commiserating with a puppy have become my all time favorite, yet completely mindless stress relievers. Some of you have X-Box, my husband has Tetris, and as for me...I've got "unscripted" television and a love for alcoholic beverages. Between all the conflict and competition- great tv doesn't get any better than an "F" bombing British chef and a prostitution whore- engaged 9 times.

And though everyday life is far less interesting than cable has you believe- I suppose in some ways- we're truly the lucky ones. In reality- there is no entourage and there are no directors. The reality is...we're all a bunch of writers just writing our own script. We edit, delete, and revise as needed. Sometimes we struggle with writer's block and sometimes we let our imaginations run free. And so regardless of circumstance, upbringing, or current state of mind- one should never forget that he who holds the pen- also writes the story. And you- how's your script unfolding? Do tell...

a question of trust...

Trust has been a very popular topic these days. Well, with the likes of Tiger Woods and his uber naughty gaggle of strippers and alleged baby mama's- one can't help but wonder, "what if?" But- what if your husband/boyfriend/partner is NO Tiger Woods? What if he's completely trustworthy, pro-monogamy, and his most notable stint at infamy lies somewhere between puberty and adolescence? The question of trust then...is perhaps not about someone else but instead- someone closer. Hmmm- I wonder who that could be?

dear modern malama,

I'm not sure why- but I can't seem to trust my boyfriend lately. He's given me no reason not to trust him but I'm really scared of getting hurt. How can I be more trusting? Signed, A suspicious mind

dearest a suspicious mind,


Well let me first say, my dear, that a suspicious mind is a terrible thing to waste! With the oil spill in the Gulf and Lindsay Lohan's jail sentence- I can't see why you'd bother fretting over a little thing like trust? Backstabbing, double crossing, and two timing is simply a fact of life. So for the sake of your own sanity- I advise you to accept that STAT, and move on to other things like grad school or finding a cure for cancer.  


The truth about trust is that it starts within. Questioning someone else's intentions may not be the solution if perhaps, you're simply not aware of your own. So, maybe instead of giving that poor boyfriend of yours the old third degree- you begin by taking a little heat yourself and ask, "where the hell is this coming from?" Our tendencies to hold on to baggage of years, decades, and eons past eventually catches up with us. And instead of enjoying the blissful beginnings of a new romance or appreciating the enduring love of marriage- you're stuck between yourself and a hard place. And so what if you get hurt? Maybe you do or maybe you don't. But here's what I think- let it go and find better things to do with your mind. Love, my friend, is a terrible thing to waste.  


always, mm

wishes do come true...

First and foremost, a BIG mahalo aka MAHOLLER for all my birthday greetings. I can't tell you how special 800 FB messages and texts makes a girl feel at 5 in the morning!! But just to give you a gist- it's better than Christmas simply because birthdays are a one way street, with the destination ultimately leading to my happiness, of course. So today, our adventures are as follows: breakfast at the Moana, catch a matinee, sip a cold beer on Kailua beach, then sip a hot coffee at Kalapawai Market, and cap the evening off with a two and half pound lobster. Simplicity, I've learned is truly the greatest gift of all. But, hey- make no mistake, a Harry Winston sapphire ring comes in as a VERY close second!

And so in the spirit of wishful thinking- I must say, despite my ripe old age...I still have quite a few up my sleeve. Mostly, centering around luxury goods, independent wealth, and the kicker obviously being-genuine happiness. Which I'm proud to say that having 1 out of 3 (and no, I don't own a Maserati or have a Swiss bank account) isn't too shabby. So, in case you hoped all my wishes came true...no worries, they already have. Thanks again, everyone!

down and dirty...

Picture this...a group of women venting their frustrations about marriage, work, kids, weight- you name it. The conversation can take place anywhere- the lunch room, happy hour, adjoining bathroom stalls- it doesn't matter. When it comes to expressing how we feel and what we think- location is hardly relevant. And therefore- thanks again to those who've submitted your very insightful and honest questions to modern malama. I couldn't do it without you. Much mahalos.

dear modern malama, 
How do I fight fair when my significant other doesn't? And by the way, marriage counseling is not an option. Signed, Down and Dirty


dearest down and dirty, 
As kids we're often told by our parents to ignore certain behaviors. If the resident racist wants to make derogatory slurs...don't listen. If the 6 foot, eleven year old bully steals your lunch money...deal with it- she's probably poor. And if the popular kids want to poke fun at you for being different...well, in 20 years they'll most likely live in a trailer park and drink white Zinfindel out of a box. So perhaps- "oh, just ignore them" isn't such bad advice after all. 

But as we get older, find our voices, and gain confidence- ignoring ignorance isn't as easy as the old sticks and stones adage. In fact- words can indeed be very hurtful. And if you're accustomed to doing more shutting up than throwing down- fighting, whether it's clean or dirty... may make you feel just like that kid in the schoolyard all over again. However, this time you're older and wiser. And when it comes to relationships- just remember...there's a huge difference between making a point and wanting to fight. If all you want to do is voice your opinion then go right ahead, sister. Speak up and say it loud. This marriage, commitment, debauchery is a two way street and don't you forget it! But if all your honey bear wants to do is incite World War 3....then I say go a little old school and just ignore 'em. 


always, mm

choose or lose...

Between the Real Housewives of New York and New Jersey- I've seen enough vicious cat fighting, plastic surgery, and brutal honesty to pacify any curiosity I had about what the filthy rich do in their spare time. A little charitable deed here to feed the homeless, a little backstabbing there to your one time BFF and voila! The perfect recipe for a spin off, a ratings smash, and glimpses into why you should never cross a Jersey girl. (table flipping is optional though highly probable). And though you'll often find me glued to the television with my mouth gaping and enthusiastically awaiting next weeks episode- I must admit...reality tv drama: good. Real life drama: bad, at least for me, that is. In a nutshell, I'm too old to give a shit so quite frankly- let's not even go there.

Although despite avoiding certain situations, distancing yourself from toxic people, and maintaining a relatively drama free existence- the truth is, you can run but you can't hide. A couple of recent encounters tempted me to revisit some past behaviors and instead of playing along with the mind games and getting caught up in those silly little webs- I knew I had to choose. Would I be the typical finger pointing, loud mouth who rolled out the welcome mat every time major conflict and upheaval arose? (Ohhh- how I miss those days!) Or, would I simply choose the alternative? I mean, sure life gets a little redundant minus the conspiracy theories and daily gossiping but quite frankly, my dear...I don't give a shit. And you...do you believe the hearsay? Do tell...

coming of age

A few days ago my daughter celebrated her 18th birthday. Growing up in American society, technically speaking, that makes her a bonafide adult. But if I hold on to my traditional Filipina roots-  technically, there's no telling when she'll stop being my little girl. I mean, let's face it- I know grown men and women who, to this day, are still coddled, supported, and financiered by their immigrant parents...that's just how we Filipinos do. Unfortunately, my parents never got that memo so I can't say I've been privy to the indulgence, but I have seen quite a bit of it in my lifetime. And while I'm all about sticking to tradition- I have no intention nor the funds to continue bank rolling what I'm sure will be, an absolutely fabulous lifestyle. Soon enough, letting go- is inevitable.

Tonight as my daughter and her friends readied for their first foray into the club scene- I couldn't help but  reminisce about my own club days at the Limelight and Down Under many (well, not THAT many) years ago. In all the excitement I must admit, I did contemplate this evenings options. A night of clubbing with a bunch of teenagers or the season premiere of Top Chef DC? For the sake of good common sense and realizing that my heyday has passed- Bravo proved victorious and so did I. If letting go is the ultimate objective- I guess starting now- will lessen the blow in the future. Inevitably, we all have to grow up someday. And you...when do you cut the cord? Do tell...

guilt by association

Over the next few weeks- I'll be posting questions that center around things we think but probably never say out loud- especially when it comes to relationships and parenting. Wait- let me rephrase that...perhaps after heavy prompting, multiple glasses of Chardonnay, on the verge or in the midst of a complete meltdown- we're finally ready to tell it like it is. Thank you to those brave souls who've shared their stories, seek clarity, and maybe....just maybe- you begin to live life on your terms- not anyone elses. Wishing you the best!!

dear modern malama,

How do I not feel guilty about spending time with my husband without the kids? How do I not feel guilty for wanting time with the girls, working out, etc? Basically, how do I not feel guilty? Signed, Seeking guilty pleasures.

dearest seeking guilty pleasures,


I'd never advocate for teenage pregnancy however, there is an upside to youthful indiscretions. Being a teenage mother myself- I can attest to the fact that there were 2 kids in the equation...my baby and me. Unable to fully grasp the concept that the life I knew was supposed to end when I became a mom- I simply never bought into that train of thought. So, while balancing bedtime stories with Rutgers RAPS parties- I walked the fine line of mothering my daughter yet nurturing myself. My naivety and underdeveloped guilty conscience apparently served me well in those days. I couldn't ignore all the things I still wanted to do, go, be, or see just because I was a mother. And while my life changed dramatically and it wasn't ALL about me anymore....did that mean NONE of it was about me? Often times, guilt is self inflicted. For some inexplicable reason- with the advent of a nuclear family complete with mini van, and a labrador- we can't help but associate pleasure without the guilt. Perhaps now may be a good time to re-evaluate how much of your life belongs to you. Is it all or none? Or could you possibly wind up in the middle? Somewhere between being a good mom while still nurturing yourself- guilt free, of course.


always, mm

fearLES

I know, I know...long time, no write. But at least I've got viable excuses like my daughters high school graduation, playing tour guide, and a bit of soul searching over the past 2 weeks to fall back on. Too much on the brain has put me in an uninspired state of mind and for the 20 of you who are kind enough to read my blog- I couldn't bear to bring you down with me. Fortunately- the cloud has lifted and the whirlwind surrounding yet another milestone has subsided. It's back to business but not the usual kind. I figure- what's the sense of soul searching if you're not going to make any changes? And technically speaking- what's the point in reveling in ah-ha moments if status quo really isn't that bad? What I've uncovered is that I'm chock full of excuses and remain begrudgingly as is because you know what? I've got everything I need- time, talent, and fear....the perfect cocktail for complacency. 

But in these moments of clarity- I realized that fear is natural, time is a blessing, and talent is a gift. What's kept me immobile all these years hasn't been the fear of failing but the fear of success. What if I became a published writer? What if I hosted my own tv show? And what if I achieved everything I said I would? How scary would that be? And you- what are you afraid of? Do tell...



As part of my campaign for success- I've submitted an audition tape to Oprah who's looking for talent for her new OWN Network. I mean, what's so scary about that? 
http://myown.oprah.com/audition/index.html?request=add_video&entity_id=208121280

once upon a time, do tell...

This next modern malama question came just in the nick of time. Convinced that perhaps this dabbling in Dear Abby was an official bust after only 2 posts and a screeching halt to all the hundreds of questions I thought I'd get- I was either going to start making up bogus scenario's OR re-evaluate whether coaching is my true calling. And just as fate would have it...in popped the question, "is this really it?" Literally. Thanks for sharing!

dear modern malama,

I'm 35, married, have two children, and a very promising career. However there are plenty of times when I stop and think to myself..."This is it? IS this really it? Am I searching for something else? Shouldn't I be satisfied with what I have now?" Everyone I know would kill to have what I have...but why do I still ask myself..."is this it?" Signed, Questions and Answers

dearest q&a,

My oh my- long gone are the days when our biggest dilemma centered around which hairspray had better volume control and long lasting hold- Aqua Net or Rave? Wouldn't you kill for just a few more minutes of mindless indiscretion? To think about nothing more than Goldschlager shots, shopping at Contempo Casuals, and masterminding the future? To be fearless and naive; when the sky was the limit and you believed in everything you said.


Fast forward 20 years and downing shots and frivolous spending is all but a thing of the past. (for most of us, at least) With a promising career on the horizon and a growing family to care for- what's really the alternative to being responsible? Truthfully- there is none. You've simply gotta do- what you gotta do. But does that mean that this is it? Are you supposed to be satisfied with a six figure income and a house in the burbs? You're absolutely right- some people would kill to have what you do. But clearly your doubts mean something more, something missing, something a cushy job and a golden retriever can't fix. So, here's a better question- one that's inspired by youth and fearlessness....instead of asking whether this is it, why not figure out, what's next? Your job, your family- that's covered. But YOU on the other hand- sky's the limit, right?! Or so you said once upon a time...

always, mm

change is inevitable...

Wouldn't it would be absolutely divine to wake in the morning full of energy and commitment towards bettering your life? Whatever change you seek- whether it's losing five pounds, starting a new career, or simply having a more positive outlook, the fact of the matter is- change doesn't happen overnight. It's a gradual process that's been studied by researchers and psychologists for years. This weeks health coaching session is centered around the stages of change by Dr. James Prochaska which I'd love to share with you. It's a great way to see where you're at, figure out where you want to be, and hopefully make it all the way to the new you. I'd love to know where you're at- drop me a line at modernmalama@gmail.com and let's get you moving right along...

Stages of change:

1. Pre-contemplation: at this stage you don't recognize there's a problem or lack insight into your own behavior and patterns. Precontemplators resist change because they deny there's a problem and choose to remain ignorant despite constantly gravitating towards bad choices. In this stage- there's a deep sense of hopelessness and demoralization. Change is often too big to even think of, let alone talk about. (habits may include: smoking, obesity, alcoholism)

2. Contemplation: finally- some sort of acknowledgement that a problem exists as you begin to think of ways to solve it.  At this stage you realize that you're stuck, struggle to understand, analyze, and intellectualize the problem. You may devise a plan to work on it over the next 6 months but the truth is- there's no real commitment. Essentially, you're aware of what's going on but not quite ready to make a real change. Stalling due to fear of failure is often the nature of contemplators.

3. Preparation: you're ready to take action within the next month. You've made verbal proclamations and taken small steps towards changing your habits. But still, you harbor some ambivalence which needs to be resolved. Perhaps you're holding on to a past belief that stops you from moving forward (ie: thinking you're not as pretty as the other girls, you've never been athletic, you've always been the chubby kid) These self limiting beliefs may be so engrained in your psyche that changing feels more like an uphill battle rather than something that will ultimately make you, a better you.

4. Action: this stage takes the most commitment and energy. You've started to modify your behavior and surroundings. Visible changes are evident- you look great, feel fantastic, exude confidence. There's a change in your level of awareness, self image, emotional reactions, and perceptions. All movement in this stage is significant...it's not just thinking or talking about it- you're actually doing something about it!

5. Maintenance: the most challenging aspect of change comes in the form of relapsing back into old habits. Here's what you have to understand: change doesn't end with the action. A re-commitment at this stage is vital in order move forward not back. This is an ongoing process and a point where you'll need to remind yourself why you sought change to begin with.

6. Termination: this is ultimately where you want to be. Your problematic behavior/pattern/habit is no longer a temptation, threat or consideration. With self confidence and a new perspective on your capabilities- I'm sure you'll tackle everything thinking, "problem? what problem?"

do tell...

The questions just keep rolling in! Okay, technically they're only trickling in but in any case- thanks for sharing this intimate part of yourself. Sometimes we just have to ask ourselves the right questions in order to get the right answers...thanks for telling!

dear modern malama,
So normally I'm good about this kind of stuff but sometimes- when I let myself fall back into the dark abyss of insecurity thanks to the tequila fairy usually, I drive myself crazy--how do you get over unwarranted jealousy when no one gave you any reason at all? Signed, Under the influence

dearest under the influence,
Well, the obvious answer would be to steer clear of the Cuervo but come on- that's ludicrous! So let's get right to the heart of the matter. Unwarranted jealousy isn't the byproduct of a drunken girls night out or too many bottles of wine at Le Mer but instead something that lives and breathes below the surface. All it takes is one too many Patron shots and BAM- there it is... rearing its ugly, whiny, insecure little head. So, let me ask...which is the real you? The confident, intelligent, witty girl with the great fashion sense and fabulous life? Or is that girl? Full of fear, anxiety, and a low sense of self worth? For some of us- it's a combination of both. We can essentially have it all- great life, cushy job and still wonder why someone else has it better? But the real question is, 'what's it to you'? Someone else's better anything will never be what you already have. If we're constantly measuring ourselves against others- when do we have time to appreciate and love that girl? You know, the one with the great fashion sense and sparkly personality? But I guess you'd have to believe that in order for it to be true, don't you think? 

always, mm

have your cake and eat it....

My last post was my first foray into professional advice giving. Albeit simple and straightforward- the general consensus is that you can always count on me to state the obvious. Sometimes, being too close to a situation, whether it's finding balance or maintaining your identity, it's best to take a step back and get reacquainted...with yourself. "Wanting it all" had the challenges of family, work, and well... wanting it all. And while I'd love to have the right answers- technically, my forte is more so in asking the right questions. Through the years and after many futile attempts at reading self help books and watching The Secret dvd ad nauseam- I finally gave in to the fact that no one knows me better than I know myself. But let's face it- who wants to take a cold hard look in the mirror without some Laura Mercier tinted moisturizer and a little Maybelline mascara? Taking off the makeup is one thing but loving who you see is another.

I often wonder about the people in my life who want it all. (present company included) I think about how much marriage and parenthood changes who we are and what we want. How weekends are no longer about partying, unless of course you consider Chuck E Cheese a hot spot; and how investing in the future isn't about purchasing yet another Gucci handbag, but saving up for a college education. And while sacrifices in sleep, luxury goods, and downtime are essential - I can't help but wonder...how do we maintain our identity if we don't know who we are anymore? Hmmm...do tell?

someone told...

For over a year now- I've been fortunate enough to share a part of my life with you thanks to this blog. Outlets are overwhelmingly therapeutic whether they're creative ones, a shoulder to cry on, or a sympathetic ear because let's face it- in one way or another- we all need to be heard. As many (well, okay 17) of you know- I always end my little anecdotes with a "do tell" and much to my surprise someone did tell and not only that- they need advice. And you know me- glad to be of assistance! And you...do you have any burning questions on improving your lifestyle, making healthy changes, or feeling stuck these days? Do tell...at modernmalama@gmail.com


dear modern malama,

I've decided to leave my job (seriously, I resigned on Monday) and wonder what my next move is? With 2 young kids, I struggle with wanting to be there for them, but also knowing I need the outlet of a job to keep me sane. How do working mothers do it? How do you balance the responsibilities of being a mother, wife, while also keeping your identity as your own person? Signed, Wanting it all


dearest wanting it all, 


Ahhhh, that tricky thing we call balance. As women (the natural multi-taskers) we're accustomed to being many things to many different people. Where it gets oh so sticky is when we want to excel at the office, bake homemade chocolate chip cookies with our kids, and muster the energy to show affection to our husbands. But in the midst of taking care of everyone else's boo-boo's, deadlines, and libido's- it's no wonder you wonder about what's next. Truthfully, when was the last time you put yourself first? Maintaining your own identity is a very personal journey that only you know the answers to. Aside from  family and a fat bonus at work - what makes YOU happy? Working out, cooking in the nude (hey, people are strange!), fly fishing? Whatever it is...write it down. Notice the energy shift in your body when you focus on things YOU like to do and by God woman- DO THEM!! And do it knowing that imbalance comes when we, the natural multi-taskers, don't factor our needs into the equation. And yes- this may mean the occasional Betty Crocker cake mix, less time watching American Idol, and more time investing energy into the things that invigorate you-both personally and professionally. And don't be surprised at how fabulous you feel when you finally put yourself first...at last!! 


all my love, MM 

let's get it on...

A few years ago I resigned from yet another fruitless job. A notorious cubicle jumper- my 4 page checkered resume is a testament to that. I suppose it has a lot to do with a phobia of long term commitments and feeling stuck doing something I loathe rather than something I love. And yes, I agree- loathe is a strong word for someone in the helping profession but let's face it...I'm no aspiring Florence Nightingale here. But in the midst of all this job jumping- I have learned a thing or two about the importance of pursuing your dreams. One of the best pieces of advice I got was during an exit interview with a former boss. As I rambled on about what an honor it was to work for the company and profusely apologized for leaving, he simply said- "leslie- you've got to do what turns you on." Turns me on? I had no clue.

Turns out, he was absolutely right. Going from one position to another, in search of the next title, or higher salary wasn't exactly a formula for success. So instead of wasting time and energy on the insignificant things like another unfulfilling career move or commiserating with office intel on the latest gossip...I started doing things that turned me on. I read more, I write much much more, and I'm very merry (or at least I try)- every single chance I get. Because when you're in hot pursuit of the things that fill you up and give you life- it's bound to be labor, that's love. And you...what turns you on? Do tell...

mothers intuition...

After 15 years together it's rare that my husband and I agree on much except for Top Chef, my occasional interest in Sports Nation, and a shared passion for good parenting.  I'll never forget the day he got a Jerry Maguire look in his eyes as he watched our daughter throw a ball across the room. What was purely good hand/eye coordination for a 3 year old somehow took us much further than we ever imagined. The day things changed for me came a few years later at a Junior Olympics volleyball tournament in Chicago. Our coach- a rough around the edges, no nonsense Italian drilled work ethic and excellence to a bunch of 10 year olds without a lick of concern for feelings, emotions, and/or hormones. And though I often shudder thinking about his abrasive tone and look of disgust after a loss- I do give him credit for one thing. In the middle of berating players and parents after a lousy performance in the Windy City, he turned to me and said, "Here's the thing about Carsen- she's a typical blue chip player." Caught off guard- I immediately thought, 'oh my gosh- is that a bad thing'? Not only am I not athletic with zero knowledge of sports terminology, but his stoic facial expression didn't give any indication that perhaps this was a compliment. As we bolted out of the gym, I nervously called my husband and asked, "what the hell are blue chips?" After 15 minutes of reassurance and examples of other blue chip players (Jordan, Bryant, Taurasi)- the only thought that occurred to me was- 'Okay- so then she can play college volleyball, right?' My husband- the natural realist and bonafide athlete in the family went into a dissertation I didn't even bother paying attention to. And as for me, the proverbial idealist and lifelong dreamer in the family- I knew that in this moment...I'd never question that thought again.  

Seven years later and in just a few short weeks, our daughter heads off to NC State as a Division 1 student athlete. My days of daydreaming, hours of being held hostage in sweaty gyms, and years of wondering whether we were good enough parents have led us to this moment, and without question- I knew we'd be here someday. And you...what are you absolutely sure of? Do tell...

sharing is caring...

As of this moment- I'm 11 weeks into my B1 training course with 8 weeks separating me from being a Certified Health Coach. To date- I admit...I've become much more grounded, self aware, and best of all...I've learned to appreciate the intricacies of life, particularly my own. Between modern malama, my work as a health coach, and the infinite possibilities that lie ahead- I am hopeful that somehow, in a large or small way- I can make the world we live in a better place. Below you'll find a very uplifting and insightful blog by one of my fellow Health Coaching classmates, Maureen Miller. Enjoy...I know I do.

Be inspirational, people! Do great things!!

http://livinglifemakingchoices.wordpress.com/

always, les

do you know- where you're going to...

Listening to my friends' adventures of backpacking through Europe with little money, no hotel reservations, and a guidebook to lead their way- I found myself thinking about the journeys we take in life. I imagine that my version of a European excursion would involve a backpack (merely for effect), an English speaking tour guide, and a five star hotel complete with a tempurpedic mattress and Egyptian cotton sheets. And though my experience would differ greatly from my very brave friends' whose jaunts  included a night at a countryside hostel in Amsterdam and Ethiopian food in London; it occurred to me that in matters of travel- there's no wrong way to do it, so long as it's your own.

It's natural for me to choose a sense of adventure over good old common sense. A move to Hawaii, marrying my husband, and a mid life career change are proof of that. Luckily I rarely ever wonder about the "what if's?" in life. My journeys have taken me far from the streets of Jersey City to an exotic locale surrounded by an eclectic culture and interesting people. And what I've finally come to realize is whether it's life or travel- there is no wrong way, so long as the path you follow is your own. And you- do you know where you're going to, do you know? Do tell...

sustenance...

Stepping onto the scale this morning, I braced myself for the outcome of two gluttonous months filled with traveling, assorted alcoholic beverages, and pasta's glorious return back into my diet since Lent ended. Looking at my daily calendar, I noticed that I may have occasionally (okay, okay- more like, regularly) slacked on working out, but how in the world did those extra pounds find me so quickly? Determined not to undo months of hard work and effort, I headed straight for my nemesis- the elliptical machine for an intense cardio workout. As I flipped through the New Yorker (some geriatric swiped the US Weekly), sweat dripping, and goal heart rate achieved- I felt invigorated. Finally overcoming weeks of dread and avoidance, I dealt with the fact that scales and skinny jeans rarely ever lie.

Thanks to genetics and my own mother's disdain for physical activity, I remained blissfully sedentary for most of my life. That of course changed when I realized that youth was no longer on my side. (traitor!) Sadly, all the extra weight packed on over the years (both emotionally and physically) wasn't budging, and it was time to do something about it. And while I still indulge in heaping bowls of my husband's home made penne a la vodka and a glass or two of Merlot; nothing feeds your body more than getting physical and unloading all the baggage. And you- how much weight do you carry? Do tell...

it is written...(maktub)

I recently read a wonderful book by Stephen King called, On Writing. In it he asks 2 questions....do you read a lot? (me: NO) Do you write a lot? (me: SOMETIMES) Aside from winning a poetry contest about the Statue of Liberty in 1986 and submitting two random essay's in 2009; in which I won both grand prizes (stand up paddle lessons and attendance to the Hawaii Writer's Conference)- I've never taken any formal writing courses or imagined where my writing could take me. Sure, I've got my blog and a few published pieces under my belt thanks to Modern Luxury- but so what? No God loving, responsible Filipina gives up a healthcare career to be a writer. "Leslie, writing is a hobby- not a profession", says my disapproving conscience. And just like that- I steer clear of any natural inclination.

If you ask me what my life's ambition is, I'd tell you that I want to get paid for being myself. And with that comes flailing hand gestures, over exaggerated facial expressions, and a knack for telling stories in person and on paper. I enjoy studying people's behaviors and understanding what makes them tick, which according to Mr. King, makes me a good writer. (or at least, a competent one) So why haven't I won any awards in nursing? And why is a substantial amount of money needed for me to show up to work everyday? Well...ignoring your instincts will do that. You know, steer you clear from natural talent and inclinations, and all. And you...what are you ignoring? Do tell...

(photo cred: Carlo Guzman @ www.ag2photography.com)

friends by dissociation

When I first logged on to the wonderful world of social networking via facebook, twitter, and an incomplete linkedin account- I felt as if my hip factor multiplied exponentially. Everyday was a new friend request, an added follower, and an opportunity to catch up with people I haven't spoken to in decades. DECADES! In a matter of months- I'd gone from having 5 friends to an astronomical 472. Without thinking twice- I racked up a slew of acquaintances, friends of friends, and became rather chummy with a handful of high school students. (I can't help it if my daughter's friends find me fascinating!) Admittedly, I enjoy updating "what's on my mind?", melt when I see family photos, and have had fascinating IM chats with people all over the world. For a girl who thought her friend making days were over- this virtual opportunity at "getting to know you" without the hint of an awkward conversation or a forced air kiss is absolutely delightful.

But let's face it- there is a downside to letting 400 people you barely know into your life. I've actually run into FB "friends" at weddings and street corners and without so much as a glance or even a faux 'hello'- we continue to remain as anonymous in person as we do online. So, the question is...how many friends do I have? Well, I'm glad to report that it's more than 5 but much, much less than 500. It's been rather lovely getting reacquainted with old acquaintances whom I'm certain we'd exchange more than a fake kiss and a forced smile. As for the rest...I suppose that's who the delete button and privacy settings were made for. And you- who's got your back? Do tell...

i got a feelin'....

I recently returned from a very short but much needed 4 day trip back east. As the plane landed, my husband lifted the shade to reveal a dark, rainy, miserable day- from which I beamed a smile that only the sight of the Parkway, my best friends, and my entire family could induce. Home at last! As we stepped off the plane, my husband and I tried to keep pace with thousands of over zealous travelers who darted and weaved in and out of airport rest rooms, restaurants, and on and off those godforsaken travelators. And though I was tempted to get right back into the Jersey swing of things- I thought to myself, "What's the rush?" Surely, I was in no hurry for this vacation to end or to text my tearful good-byes, and certainly, I was in no rush to rush back to Hawaii. So, with a deep breath- I vowed to soak it all in. (both the rain AND the memories)

As predicted- the trip was a whirlwind. Many vodka crans downed, plenty of babies kissed, and all too many moments wishing it would never end. Like dinner at Komegashi with my BFF's, a cousin brunch filled with laughter and longanisa, a beautiful, heartfelt wedding in the middle of a storm, cocktails with my siblings, and a quick trip into Chinatown for some Wonton Garden. Most people are perplexed, even downright annoyed that I'd even consider trading in the sunny, blue skies of Hawaii in exchange for life in the armpit of America (that's right- Jersey, baby!) but truthfully, at least for me- it's not always about location, location, location. And you- where does your heart pull you? Do tell...

truth is stranger than fiction (or is it?)

As I got into the elevator with our dog, Phifey a curious Asian man asked in broken English, "How many time you take out dog?" Before the door could open I cheerfully blurted, "Ususally 3 or 4 times a day". Immediately, Phifey shot me a look of disbelief as I began to blush at an apparently innocent yet little (white) lie. "WOW!", he said stunned as I tried to change the subject by asking if he had any pets. Shaking his head with a vigorous "no", he appeared appalled as he calculated the number of times I ride the elevator on a daily basis. And just as I was about to explain that, "pets are really no trouble at all and that in theory- I'd like to take my dog out 4 times a day but realistically...well, you know, it was more like twice and sometimes, most times it's 3"...the elevator doors shut. There I was- mouth ajar, Asian man perplexed, and Phifey...let's just say she got all 4 walks, a romp on the beach, and extra kalbi bones with dinner.

So why do we do it? The exaggerating and stretching of the truth, that is. Lucky for us and I mean ALL of us- turns out that little white lies are more common than you think. Whether we're saving face or sparing feelings- the truth is, the truth hurts. And so what if I fudge the number of days I actually go to the gym or fib about how fabulous my overweight co-worker looked in a tank top? Researchers say that embellishers use their "fiction" as a way of some day becoming self fulfilled and that positive biases can be beneficial. Hell! If that's the case then, next year- you can find me on the New York Times best sellers list, hosting a show on Oprah's OWN network, and out walking my dog 5 times a day! And you- what white lies do you tell? Do tell...


my due diligence while clearing my conscience:
We're All Lying Liars: Why People Tell Lies, and Why White Lies Can Be OK - US News and World Report

my own worst cynic...

On a never ending quest for answers about myself- I've consulted everyone from family members to fortune tellers and have been thisclose to figuring things out, but at the present moment...still no cigar. In an effort to save face and a few hundred bucks (psychics aint cheap)- I've now turned to some free, anonymous methods of advice seeking via the Honolulu Weekly's horoscope page, Martha Beck, and egads...Men's Health magazine. Between an astrologer, a life coach, and a witty men's magazine writer- it's safe to say that I'm hardly the glass half full kinda gal that I thought I was. My natural instincts towards snarky commentary, pessimism, and an overall distrust toward the general population was what I believed to be the epitome of a Jersey girl. (insert FIST PUMP!) And there's nothing wrong with that! 

However, through the years I've noticed an increase in skepticism, eye rolling, and paranoia...all of which can make for a very lonely existence. I recently read an article about successful people and their unwillingness to be cynical. I thought perhaps I misread the piece and deemed it bullshit until I re-read it again and yup, it said "unwillingness" to be cynical. But, who doesn't have doubts? Who doesn't second guess? Who in their right mind totally believes in all the bullshit they say? Well, apparently- successful people do. And with that said, I'm off to work on an attitude adjustment and go find some optimism. And you...want to come? Do tell...

there's no place like home...(click, click, click)

When I lived amidst the misery and cold of the east coast, I often fantasized about warm weather living. Convinced I had seasonal affect disorder- I'd blame my foul disposition on dirty, slushy snow and my less than attractive figure on a severe case of hibernation. Finally fed up with dreading winters and rationalizing that bulky sweaters and mittens were indeed, sexy- my family and I pulled the trigger and moved to Hawaii. For the past four years, I've yet to detest the months of November through April and haven't purchased anything heavier than a t-shirt since 2006. Any given day is a day at the beach and thanks to this stint in paradise- I unfortunately, may have lost any and all rights to bitch and moan about anything.

But truthfully, as we all know- not everything is what it seems. Sunshine and gorgeous blue skies don't necessarily equate to pleasant dispositions and syrupy sweet friendliness. In fact, I've met quite a few miserable curmudgeons who've made me question whether the weather has anything to do with happiness or is it simply just a state of mind? After taking a stab at this island locale- I've come to realize that certain things never get old like the sound of crashing waves and warm tropical tradewinds. However, for someone who's accustomed to changing seasons, the fast pace of the city, and speed walking just to use the restroom- I must admit, the constant constants of island living can get pretty stale. And while the lush landscape certainly helps to brighten the mood- there is no guarantee that happiness is just somewhere over the rainbow. And you...where's your happy place? Do tell...

deny...deny...deny!!

Last night, I devoured an entire bowl of spaghetti with seafood drenched in garlic oil for my brother-in-laws birthday dinner and I must admit- I felt undeniably content yet obscenely bloated. It finally occurred to me that this was the kind of self denial I'd seen posted all over Facebook earlier in the day. I saw everything from giving up on chocolate to refuting negative self talk and decided, "How bad could it be?" As usual, I was fashionably late for the start of the Lenten season but clearly willing, or at least, thinking about making the sacrifice. So, I sat at my desk and devised a short list of things I simply can't do without. In no particular order since they all rank the same, my list looked like this: coffee, vodka, Bravo TV, and pasta. There was a time in my 20's when cutting carbs would've been the equivalent to nixing caffeine and alcohol in my mid 30's but that's just ridiculous! So, I officially bid adieu to the likes of penne and ziti...today, on day 39.

Evidently, I'm no angel. You know, being late for Lent and all. But, I did owe it to myself to delve a little deeper into the benefits of self denial. Obviously, a month without pasta would flaunt the effects of less belly bulging and visible cellulite- but I wondered...how and when would I begin to see the spiritual repercussions? This fast/sacrifice/temporary loss of sanity wasn't just about being pleasantly surprised when I stepped on the scale, right?  Wasn't this about giving back and letting go of what we over indulge in? If that's the case- then along with heaping plates of linguini, I'm throwing in excuse making and procrastination and having them all take a nice, long hike. Well, at least one that lasts 39 days, that is. And you- what are you giving up? Do tell...

this post is dedicated to our kuya Romey! Happy forty...ooops, I meant thirty something!!! Aloha.

en garde...

I don't mind the occasional garden variety rumor, some of which happens to be true but mostly, for entertainment purposes only. Like when Bennifer imploded and Manniston bit the dust- reports of their super star love affair gone awry hit newstands before they could even comment with a, "no comment." And as sad as it is to see poor Jen (Aniston not Lopez) single, yet again...I suppose that's just how the celebrity cookie crumbles. Recently, as the target of speculation and innuendo, I couldn't help but to empathize with the Brangelina's of the world. (without the money or fame, of course). Thanks to a little creative embellishment, I was unexpectedly fodder for versions of the truth and blatant lies that swirled dizzily throughout the coconut wireless which FYI-  is the island equivalent to the mainland grapevine. To put things in perspective, my husband's philosophical response to rumors is, "At least we're relevant enough to talk about." And yes- while that is true, I can't help but feel a much more emphatic, "WTF?!" kind of response.

After a few deep breaths and a couple glasses of Cabernet, clarity began to set in about people who ignore the truth. While spinning webs about the rest of us, I'm sure even the most prudent of gossipers clearly have issues with honesty in their own lives. Sadly, anyone who takes a remote interest in my simple life or enthusiastically asks 3 or more questions at any given time- is automatically demoted to the "do not tell" list. Nowadays, I have little desire to expand on my rolodex of friends but I can always assure this, you can count on me to tell you like it is...and that's no lie. And you, do you keep it real? Do tell...

6 degrees

Thanks to modern technology, I'm able to stay close to loved ones despite a massive ocean, a five hour time difference, and a 4 year sabbatical from the east coast. Social networking, Skype, and PDA's have replaced the need for any sort of personal, intimate interactions and has enabled us to dodge the proverbial uncomfortableness associated with defriending or dissing someone to their face. And even in a virtual world- true emotion is a possibility. I've had heart to hearts via the web, shared coming of age stories with my blog, and even managed to text words of wisdom in the middle of a teenage crisis. Staying connected no longer requires hours of coffee talk and golf outings in order to get better acquainted.  And communicating isn't necessarily about being present but simply a matter of logging on.

According to Google Analytics, my blog numbers are up. Apparently, my cousins and unsuspecting strangers aren't the only ones who find me amusing. I've received random comments, emails, FB posts, and a VERY sweet text message from my husband complimenting my photo and yeah...the blog was good too, he said. It's amazing how far a message can travel, how deep a voice can be heard, and how lucky a girl like me is to know someone like you....even if it is only technologically speaking, that is. Well, anyhow- enough about me. And you...who are you? Seriously, do tell...

PS: no need for anything poetic or witty...and don't go editing your response either. It's just me.

it's elementary, my dear...

I'm not sure if I've become a little more grounded over the years or people around me have just gotten a lot more crazy. What I do know however, is that instead of craving constant turmoil and a need to over complicate things- I've grown to appreciate a simple life. But, quite frankly, living on island will do that to you. Its forced us to stop and smell the plumeria and unlike Manhattan, Honolulu is definitely a city that sleeps at approximately 5:15pm. And though I live downtown surrounded by fire trucks, buses, and LGBT protests at the State Capitol, I don't mind the noise considering how frenetic my life used to be. There was a time when I thrived off of high levels of stress and enjoyed barking harsh (yet obvious) judgments on everything and everybody. I'd be the last person to get in touch with nature and truly dreaded the effort of becoming physically fit. My mind was filled with appointments, family squabbles, vendetta's, and making snap decisions. So really- who has time to stop and smell anything? Sadly, I spent the last 3 decades trapped in my own world instead of enjoying the one out there.

Don't worry- I haven't turned into a tree hugging vegan or become an ordained minister. I still enjoy critiquing bad fashion choices and mocking silly people and their silly games. And although the landscape has changed dramatically thanks to palm trees and perfect weather- what's actually changed the most is, me. I no longer welcome drama with open arms (though, I will give it an occasional hug) and in lieu of making things complicated, I simply roll with it. And you... what world do you live in? Do tell...

expect the expected...

In our youth, we can't help but to dream big. For as long as I can remember- I've always wanted to be on TV whether it was through acting, writing, or reporting the evening news. In my early teens I took a stab at stardom and enrolled in the Barbizon School of Modeling, had professional headshots taken, and even auditioned for plays despite being tone deaf and not much of an actress. To this day, I'm not sure that I'd ever be deemed talented but I do know one thing... I've got balls. I'm not easily deterred by what I can't accomplish but like most, my downfall involves a huge case of doubt and a serious lack of motivation. Once prancing on the catwalk got too difficult or singing, "Hopelessly devoted to you" became embarrassing- my hopes for fame were quickly dashed and tucked away with other unfavorable memories like my fuchsia leg warmers and lime green stretchy pants. My penchant for starting things I could never finish would ultimately lead to the safety of a 9-5 job and a modest lifestyle. (yay- just what I wanted!!)

But deep inside, I must admit- I still dream of my big break. And thanks to years of avoiding my passion and intentionally veering off course- I realized that if I really want something (ie: a Bentley, a hosting gig on E!, and a feature on Cribs) I need to get steppin'. My days of dreaming are numbered and since gravity doesn't discriminate...it's time to make some moves and go for what's mine. And so what if everything doesn't go according to plan? (who needs a Bentley, anyway) At least I know I did all that I could - what else did I expect? And you...what are your great expectations? Do tell...

happy monday! (insert sarcasm)

Inspiration is everywhere. Most of the time, I stumble upon it when I'm not paying attention. My recent blog entries have all been a result of random conversations, FB status updates, and stalker-esque observations. When you do what you love- the world seems to be a much more fascinating place. Below is a list of questions I pulled from another blogsite: http://www.marcandangel.com/. All I'm saying is...just think about it.

1. How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are?
2. If life is so short, why do we do so many things we don't like and like so many things we don't do?
3. Are you doing what you believe in, or are you settling for what you are doing?
4. If the average human life span was 40 years, how would you live your life differently?
5. Are you holding onto something you need to let go of?
6. Has your greatest fear ever come true?
7. Do you feel like you've lived this day a hundred times before?
8. If we learn from our mistakes, why are we always so afraid to make a mistake?
9. What would you do differently if you knew nobody would judge you?
10. In 5 years from now, will you remember what you did yesterday? What about the day before that? Or the day before that?
11. Decisions are being made right now. The question is: Are you making them for yourself, or are you letting others make them for you?

HAPPY MONDAY (insert sincerity)

pasalubong...(souvenirs)

Despite all efforts to act and think positively- I must admit that there are times when nothing helps pull you out of a funk like a little bitching and moaning (though, margarita's work too). I should know, for the better part of my existence- that's exactly what I did. Being disgruntled is a pre-requisite especially if you're from Jersey and need to drive on the Parkway or work in Manhattan, Newark, and most area hospitals. Your chances of survival increase dramatically if you learn to give a little lip and aren't afraid of getting into altercations. But since moving to Hawaii- none of these scare tactics seem appropos...afterall- this is paradise, right? So, alternate measures like cat napping and frolicking in the sun have replaced my once tightly wound, neurotic, east coast habits. And I won't lie- it is a fabulous existence but like you, I have my moments. The biggest difference however, is that I'm not pushed and shoved out of path trains, hustled and bustled on 6th Avenue, or need to take a defensive stance when walking my dog. Peace, quiet, and talking story best describes island living.

Soon enough, I plan on making a reappearance back on the mainland where my natural instincts and tendencies make me feel right at home. And though, it would be lovely to bottle up some downtime and a laissez faire state of mind when the pangs of anxiety and road rage begin to resurface- we all know that REAL happiness doesn't come in a can or a jar. (i said real happiness!)  So, what will I bring home? Hmm- I'm actually not really sure. But, what I can say is that living outside my comfort zone and dropping old habits for new ones will mean more than a box of chocolate covered macadamia nuts and a dashboard hula girl in a grass skirt. What are you bringing back? Do tell...

thanks but, no thanks...

I can honestly say that I’ve made some serious headway when it comes to owning “my time”. I used to suffer from a severe case of over extension with delusions about being in three places at once and hated the thought of disappointing anyone. I enjoyed making others happy hence a career in healthcare and a short lived stint as a wedding coordinator. As time passed however, I found myself less and less enthused with bitchy, Vera Wang clad brides and belligerent elderly patients and their taunts to spit and smear when provoked. (let’s not even go there!) Soon enough, I couldn’t help but wonder whether all the attention to detail and knack for people pleasing was actually just a subconscious attempt to elude my own happiness? For the time I spent fretting and obsessing over minute issues and insignificant people - it’s no wonder that the one person I never paid any mind to was…myself.

Clearly, I’m no expert at time management. But over the years I do feel less inclined to RSVP to every event that I’m invited to, refuse to network for the sake of kissing ass, and consciously avoid exerting effort towards people who are essentially a waste of my time. When it comes to the pursuit of happiness and living a life of fulfillment- I’ve learned that no one else’s bliss matters more than my own. What makes you happy? Do tell…

Nest Egg

Like everyone else cum a new year- my husband and I renewed our commitment to a healthier lifestyle by hitting the gym hardcore. It's rare that we partake in the same activities since he's not a fan of yoga and I'm not a fan of him telling me what to do. Between his "expertise" in bicep curls and proper squat formation- I save us both the trouble and head right for the yoga studio while he joins the rest of his testosterone cronies amongst the weights and big screen tv's. On a random Monday evening, I noticed a longer than usual line out of the parking lot and realized we weren't alone in our quest for fitness. Although, we couldn't help but wonder just how many weeks and/or months of enthusiasm and pinky swear promises really get you? Whether it's 13 days into January or the Lenten season for that matter, I often find myself quickly disqualified from keeping any sort of resolution or adhering to a religious fast. Restriction, limitation, and moderation are very dirty 10 letter words, if you ask me. And probably reason alone why I'll never have a six figure retirement fund or a summer home in the Hamptons.

Living in the moment seems to work for most of us. However, I can't help but notice that a little self restraint in times of overindulgence wouldn't have been so bad either. All the splurging and decadence through the years has surely come at a cost, whether it's via the waistline, an emotional bankruptcy, or the LV Neverfull...we all pay one way or another. So, without further adieu- I think it's time to start making smarter investments. And no...not by way of stocks or bonds but moreso in things like patience, promises, and obligations. What are you saving for? Do tell...

Monkey Business

By sheer genetic predisposition and anatomical design- I've been shunned to a life of mood swings, bad hair days, and a constant need for high maintenance upkeep. Don't get me wrong- I love being a woman! I've learned how to use my irrational, yet sometimes psychotic rants to my advantage and easily get what I want when I want it. The pitfalls however to being a girl are of course, having to deal with other girls. Those crazy bitches are a handful and without the proper wherewithal in dealing with gossip, manipulation, and back stabbing- don't be surprised when you find yourself alone in the jungle with a bruised ego and a few missing patches of hair. Getting sucked into playground squabbles, office love triangles, or jumping on board with the latest smear campaign seems fascinating until the day YOU become public enemy #1. And at that moment- you realize that unless you want to keep getting burned...stop playing with fire.

But, those days of sandbox throw downs and cubicle warfare are long behind me now. I've learned through the years and thanks to my husband's teflon exterior that the simplest way to avoid a messy situation is to...stay the fu#@! out of it. So, instead of getting my hands dirty in the someone else's business- I tend to plead the 5th and save myself the aggravation when it comes to chic flicks and petty mud slinging. And even when temptation has a gravitational chokehold on me and my Manolo's- I'll  resort to a few moves I've learned from the guys over the years...acting deaf and playing dumb works like a charm- trust me! How do you stay out of trouble? Do tell...

Part Deux

If someone told me that an old friend from high school and I would be walking around in our bikini's on Sandy Beach in Waimanalo- I'd think they were crazy. (especially the Nalo part!) But in fact, that's exactly what happened last weekend. Just two Jersey girls indulging in the hot Hawaiian sun and catching up some 20 years after we said our good byes on the steps of St. Aloysius Church in 1991. With the advent of Facebook- I've been able to reconnect with quite a few blasts from the past, which has been lovely considering how kind time and maturity softens you through the years. I'd always adored my friend, Marie- but at 15, I probably had a weird way of showing it. Those teenage years spent in an all girls Catholic school drudge up bittersweet memories mostly filled with catfights and misunderstandings. But luckily- we were also blessed with the fabulous moments of our youth via Hudson Catholic Pep rally's, ASA dances, and Prep football games.

All this looking back got me thinking about do-overs and second chances. Imagine living in a world without them..where everything you do and say as an immature 16, 22, 30, or 43 year old pegs you as a marked wo/man for life. Without a shot at redemption or the ability to shake off nasty habits- why is it that the image of single people harboring a house full of cats come to mind? But, thankfully- we all get repeats, makeovers, and sequels in this lifetime- it's all a matter of what direction you want to go...forward or back. Which way did you go? Do tell...