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...

I'm Just Sayin'...

A quick search of the word resolution brings up the following definition, "a formal expression of an opinion or intention." As we lay 2009 to rest, it appears that FB status updates, deep discussions around the water cooler, and a lifetime struggle with breaking promises means that technically...we're all on the same boat. It's offically time to start anew and 2010 couldn't come any sooner! (Can I get an Amen?!) Now knowing exactly what a resolution entails- it explains how I've managed to elude weight loss, fitness goals, and attitude adjustments after all these years. By simply, "stating an intention" there it was...an easy escape, a get out of jail free card; to talk the talk but not necessarily walk the...well- you get my drift.

My closing thoughts for 2009 and sincere wish for all 3 of my loyal blog followers is to always remember to "do you". And when tempted to make another faulty resolution riddled with escape routes- consider making commitments to yourself instead. At the end the day...talk is cheap, baby! So here's to a Happy New You!!!



I dedicate my last post of '09 to a wonderful man whose touched my life in more ways than he'll ever know. To the Rafanan and Pena family- my heart is with you always. RIP, tito Jun. 

Tricks Are For Kids

Whenever I find myself a tad bitchier than usual or have a burning desire to turn an insignificant incident into a major catastrophe- I've learned that what I'm actually doing isn't necessarily the result of being crazy, per se. Apparently, all the pomp and circumstance surrounding the need to make much ado about nothing and dramatize miniscule dilemma's turns out to be...just a big girls' cry for attention. Sensitivity and tears tend to fall by the wayside when you're a product of the Northeast, therefore my way of handling adversity comes in heaping doses of swear words, threats of physical violence, and an unmatched bravado thanks to the streets of Jersey City. But by now, at 36- road rage and emotional outbursts have become mentally draining and truthfully, attention seeking appears to be just as juvenile as shoplifting at the Hudson Mall.

If the only way you know how to convey your message is by kicking and screaming- what's the alternative? For most of us- being recognized and acknowledged is more than enough. Once we've got our pat on the back or cushy corner office- we're good to go. However, on the flip side- there lurks an emotionally damaged and neglected soul whose cries for help, pleas for notoriety, and desperate attempts  to be seen and heard never seem to be quenched no matter how much we mind their business, do what they ask, or listen to the same old stories, again! After countless encounters with "those people" and my own botched attempts at attention seeking - I've concluded that the games we played in our youth no longer have a real place in our future. And you- what games do you play? Do tell...