G L A M O R O U S

Since Friday's post was so somber I thought I'd share this little piece of delight that I created:

incredible sadness

i feel

deflated.

sitting upright is a chore. i'm hunched over my keyboard. i don't know what to do. thoughts are rushing through my head.

and so i write.

does one feel this kind of overwhelming sadness because death is truly sad? or because one is so deeply connected to the survivors?

when i heard J's voice this morning i thought something had happened to JF and was actually relieved (horrible, i know) it wasn't as i thought. i am continually in awe of my thoughts.

i don't think anyone deals well with death but i think i'm even more ill-suited than most. probably because of what happened to my mother. i think i was an emotional piece of stone at the time which probably laid the groundwork to my current state of paper flower sensitivity. isn't it interesting how things work? how our minds work? how i internalize things so much when it's not even about me boggles my mind. it's not about me right now.

i feel small and insignificant. here i am whiling my days away. what am i doing to improve humanity. am i making a difference in anyone's life? what is my contribution?

but alas, i guess that's the purpose of death.

it forces you to value life.

in the words of Maxwell (thanks V):

'I should be crying but I just can't let it show
I should be hoping but I can't stop thinking
Of all the things we should've said that were never said
All the things we should've done that we never did
All the things that you needed from me
All the things that that you wanted from me
All the things I should of given but I didn't
Oh darling make it go away
Just make it go away now.'

to never having to say 'should've'

it is with this realization. at this moment. that i once again sit upright and continue plugging away...

JF i love you.

I hope everyone has seen this

'The "National Organization for Marriage" is responding to the amazing marriage equality victories in Iowa and Vermont with this national TV ad filled with fear about a same-sex marriage "storm" gathering across the country.

This disturbing ad -- airing across the country and 8 times a day in California -- uses actors to push lies claiming that marriage equalty threatens personal freedoms.'

https://secure.couragecampaign.org/page/contribute/TurnFearIntoHope

subway characters

i was surrounded by a cast of three just now on my way home.

on my right was father time, could also be ole St. Nick except he had a very stern look on his face. he was wearing a too-tight black tee that had writing in multiple languages. actually, he was wearing black from head to toe. tres chic. not really. he had the prerequisite father time beard and thinning bald spot on his head. he had the belly. but he was crabby, perhaps the crazy wind bothered father time today. he had a shopping bag, looked like he hit up the book store except there weren't any books. they looked more like pamphlets. perhaps he just went to the New Museum and picked up some brochures.

on my left was a classic 80's pimp. i can't even come up with an alternate identity because he was spot on. he was wearing a light blue velour sweatsuit. the big ring. the thin mustache. the fedora-esque hat. the longish greasy black hair. the you-better-pay-me-on-time look on his face. i think the only thing he may have missed is some longer finger nails and a lady of the night on his left.

on the right of father time was a little boy sleeping on his mother's lap. completely passed out. completely. father time's shopping bag came precariously close to grazing the little boy's face. mom was not pleased by father time's callousness and quickly shielded the boy's face with his too-large baseball hat. father time managed a weak but genuine smile as an attempt to apologize. once father time got off the train i scooted over to his spot next to the little boy. he slept and slept. i wish i could sleep like that. mom had to move him from one leg to the other, likely that her leg was falling asleep. it was quite adorable how she was looking at home. so adoringly. especially when she was trying to wake him up as their stop was approaching. she nuzzled his very pinchable cheek. put his hat back on and gently patted him in an attempt to stir him from his deep slumber. his eyes were struggling to open and i'm pretty sure every person on that side of the train was amused at their little struggle. her to wake him. he to go back to his peaceful sleep. she propped him up on his feet. he just leaned forward onto her legs. she walked him towards the doors as the train was pulling in and he just swayed and stumbled back and forth eyes opening and closing. and then they got off and that was their moment in my life.

you do realize you can comment on these posts right? i think it's funny that people email and text me to comment on my posts. that's what the comment button is for! but i'll take it either way. :)

In threes.

i'm sitting in the Porter terminal in Toronto waiting for my flight back to EWR that's delayed because of major air traffic in the NY area. better safe than sorry right? right. one day i'll learn the lesson to not fly back on Sundays. instead of skipping out of work on Fridays I should skip out on Mondays! dumb. dumb. dumb.

i've got that feeling again. the same feeling i had last time i was sitting in this terminal. what is it? i think it's a combination of things. of course, it's sadness at leaving peeps behind and getting back to regularly scheduled programming on monday. and i just get upset with myself for being upset. my mind is vicious! have to get over the fact that there's a time and a place for sadness and i have to let it happen. don't fight it barb! slap. slap. slap. it's okay to be down once in awhile.

i love new york so much. but there's also a feeling i really love about discovering another city. i know i've been to toronto a gajillion times but this time around i got to stroll about a bit and explore areas i hadn't gotten to before. the feeling of the new, the unexpected, not really knowing where you are. not being in control. not being asked to pick this? or where's that? bc, i try to control so much of my life in ny. it's refreshing to let go, follow other people's agendas. walk at the back of the pack and stare at the clouds in the sky. really live in the moment. honestly, genuinely, earnestly. it's both mentally and physically exhausting to be 'on' all the time. and when i'm not 'on,' people notice and then i feel bad about that. what's wrong with you barb? what's wrong with you? it amazes me how much i think about thinking. how silly does that sound? how much i think about thinking. what? why?

i know i do it to myself. it's a responsibility i choose to take on because, generally, it makes me feel happy and fulfilled. particularly, to facilitate other people's fun times and general merriment. it's a selfish thing. i want to be the go-to person. i want to be the non-flake. the planner. the organizer. i think you get the point. if i say i'll do something, i want to do it. and i say 'yes' a lot. A LOT. i have this idea of perfection in my mind and it's a really high bar. i'm always trying, trying, trying to meet it and sometimes i feel like i fall short, short, short. i also hate that i impose that high bar on other people (through little fault of their own) so i let myself get disappointed when people don't meet that bar. but how are they supposed to when they don't even know it's being imposed on them? and the bigger point is...why is my bar 'the' bar? who am i to expect my version of perfection? how can anyone possibly meet 'my' bar when i can't even do it myself? but, hey, maybe that's why i impose it. projection! god i love stream-of-consciousness writing. so cathartic. hopefully, it's at least mildly entertaining to read. so it's projection. makes sense. now i gotta work on it. let go barb. like Frou Frou says, 'let go.'

i think partly why i love music so much is because it's an escapist thing and secretly i know my wanderlust is an escapist thing too. but i also know i have to let it play out. and really, i don't think there's anything wrong with escapism as long as i acknowledge to myself that it is because i'm searching for something in everything i do. every place i go. every one i meet. what is it exactly? i don't know. and who knows if i'll ever know though i hope i do. but i'd like to think that i'll recognize it when the universe chooses to reveal it to me. i have to acknowledge that there's nothing for me to control. there's nothing i'm in control of in this scenario. except to do my best to enjoy the process. the ride. the experience. i have to trust that everything happens as it's supposed to, and will, regardless of any efforts i make. i can't force it. i can't. i can't. i can't.

lead me.

the moral of the story is that i have stop trying to control. i have to let go more. inwardly and outwardly. it's okay to not meet my 'bar' because, really, who can? and why? what's the point? intellectually, i know no one's perfect. so why am i doing this to myself and the people around me? i read this and think that sometimes i envy people who aren't in their heads so much. ha. but we've all got our own process right?

believe it or not, if you've made it this far down in the post. this has been very cathartic and i feel the little cloud over my head lifting. this is my process. but know that i'm harder on myself than anyone can ever be but i'm working on it.

thanks for reading! i'm finally getting on the jetplane...

"Colombia. Food capital. Fun as hell.'

So Thursday night I got back from a week in Colombia. (Yes, it's spelled with two 'o's.) I had a spectacular time. I went in with no expectations and I was simply blown away. Makes me think I should try going into more situations with that mindset. It's definitely one of the poorest countries I've been to and yet the people have a zest for life I don't see very often.

As we were driving through the shantytowns in Barranquilla I thought, "I feel lucky to be able to see places like these because it makes me appreciative of where I get to go home to." It's sad that I have to see that kind of poverty before I realize the privileged life I lead in comparison. However it also makes me think that in this age of entitlement in which we live, my peers could stand to benefit from the wake up call only that kind of reality check could bring. These people live on cents per day. Cents. When I say shantytowns, I mean that I saw structures that didn't even have four walls. They didn't appear to all have indoor plumbing and electricity. Even in Cartagena there were vendors who rented cell-phones on the street for people to use as if they were telephone booths. But I don't want to dwell on the poverty. I'd like to move on to the highlights...

Cartagena's Old Town is probably one of the most magical places I've been to. The Spanish influence is apparent. It's a UNESCO world heritage site so many of the buildings are well preserved. The vibe is a cross between the French Quarter of New Orleans and Sevilla, Spain. One of the most striking things is how colorful the buildings are ranging from Greek Island blue to mango orange. The narrow (yet clean) streets are littered with street vendors, small taxis, and shops. Walking aimlessly, we encountered a multitude of romantic squares where locals congregated near restaurant patrons dining in the warm breeze. If I had to describe the Old Town in one word, I'd say it's romantic. Unbelievably so.



Coincidentally we also traveled in the shadow of Anthony Bourdain. We came across La Cevicheria, a restaurant where he dines in the episode where he visits Colombia where we wiled away an afternoon. Tierrabomba, an island he visits for serious 'local' food where the time from ocean to plate is whittled down to minutes and not hours and days. We happened upon a number of other spots recognized from the episode. In his words, "Colombia. Food capital. Fun as hell.'

Papaya. Papaya. Papaya.

I love it. I've never had papaya (and mango) as sweet. I'd had never cut a papaya until this trip and I know I'll be cutting many more.

Coconut rice. Coconut rice. Coconut rice.



Have you heard of a better (yet more simple) combination of flavor?

Patacon.

I think I've had enough but also delicious.

The pearl, the hidden gem, the masterpiece of our 7 days...Isla del Pirata (pictured below). We felt like we were our own private island. It wasn't luxurious. But as luck would have it, our timing was perfect. We were there for 3 days/2 nights and there were only a handful of other guests aside from us. We were spoiled with 3 days of perfect weather, 3 delicious meals per day, and cocktails to boot. And it was cheap! Did I say it was cheap? It's cheap!



Also, it's where I saw my first "22° halo" (a circular rainbow around the sun)! Unbelieveable.



Props to Luis for the halo image.

I could go on and on.

But seriously, the people are friendly and incredibly eager to show you the best of their country. They are well aware of the reputation Colombia has in the world and in my mind they're doing their best to change that rep. Check it ouuuuuut. Don't drink haterade without good cause.

Way to sum it up

'In the opening sequence of The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Mary's in a supermarket, hurrying through the aisles. She pauses at the meat case, picks up a steak and checks the price. Then she rolls her eyes, shrugs and tosses it in the cart.
That's kind of how I felt. Sure, I would have liked for things to have been difference. But, roll of the eyes, what can you do? Shrug.
I threw the meat in my cart. And moved on.'

- p.302, Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs