Street smart art

Tuxedo Man, Soho, June 2011

Street art or dirt?

I walked across this earlier today. It took me a few minutes to try to decode whether it was someones deliberate attempt at art or whether it was just some mess I translated into a portrait.

Today I started reading about the NYC crime rates of the 1980s & 1990s in Gladwell's book The Tipping Point. The interesting part being that (researchers & sociologists etc) first targeted the graffiti problem in their efforts to clean up their streets. And it worked.

Obviously I wasn't around here then. And am scared to imagine what life must have been like. But to think of this city without it's mysterious, camouflaged flowers wouldn't be the same.

This is one of my favorite things about NYC. It doesn't make up for the lack of greenery but sure is interesting scenery.

Metamorphosis ?

What is it about getting a hair cut? When it goes right it feels like peeling an orange and inhaling the intense, citrus scent as it infiltrates the rest of your senses. Then as you start peeling off the remaining white sticky strands, you start anticipating the sweet juiciness of possibilities that await.

In my younger days, every time my mood changed so did my hair. But ever since I cut off my dreads last Spring it has been on sabbatical.

Today that changed. I went out and got bangs. While my feelings about them are still up in the air, for the first time changing my hair didn't have the life-changing effect I was hoping for.

Maybe I was hoping too hard it'd steer me towards some kind of answers.

Livejournal Shot, June 2011

Do you have a classic cut you prefer to stick to? Or are you more of an adventurous style maven?

Working girl

Schedules: I'm good at making work-related ones, but I can't figure out how to make a personal one.

When I read about people "scheduling themselves in" I scoffed. PFT! I don't need to schedule myself in! I do what I want when I want!


Apparently, that train of thought wasn't entirely accurate. At least not at this moment of my life. For example: I tell myself I'll wake up early to go for a jog, but that doesn't happen. And after work is a definite no-go. I say I'm going to dedicate time to write at least a decent paragraph daily. Not to mention I need to lean basic French by September somehow

Maybe I'm being prematurely hard on myself? (Sure...) Should I wait a full month before I worry about my personal goals?

Do you have any tips on how to prioritize your personal life? How to reach your own goals, even if it involves small steps at a time?

Lovin' is what I got

Birthday Latte, @DoraCoffee, LES, NYC, May 16, 2011

(In an effort to avoid whining about the fact I'll have spent the second day in a row on my hands and knees scrubbing our new office space in the basement of a project that hasn't been used in two years nor cleaned, I'm auto-setting this post before I have a reason to complain about more things and sharing the happier moments from the past few days.)

24th Birthday & Graduation Weekend, NYC, May 15, 2011

24th Birthday & Graduation Weekend, NYC, May 15,2011

Birthday Sapphires & Love, Sunnyside, May 16, 2011

Birthday Ohana, Sunnyside, May 16, 2011

Keep on smiling!

You're a good man, Charlie Brown

Is it too early to start complaining about my new job?

Complain isn't the right word per say. More like a misunderstanding due to miscommunication a top my already gloomy demeanor is resulting in a lot of whining and questioning on my part.

I don't grumble this much out loud or in "real life". In fact, that's the problem. It stays bottled up until I explode and viscously lash out at unsuspecting victims. And then I feel bad and apologize despite really meaning what I say. And start bottling things up again etcetcetc.

So despite this bloggy-whineyness, I believe it is best to get it out one way or another .

After all, all this growing up stuff means I can't keep throwing temper-tantrums, right?



How do you release your thoughts & emotions without hurting others and/or appearing overly negative?Please share your thoughts!

Alas, I am still alive. (Or am I?)

Here I am, a week later. Full of sleepiness. Full of excuses. Full of definitely not myself.

But I do have a good reason for my absence. Two Saturdays ago I received a call at 11 am.

I was offered a job. And I took it. Without thinking (much).

They wanted me to start ASAP, which meant this Monday. But due to my last remaining graduate school final, I started Tuesday after signing the papers officially on Monday- after said final.

I didn't want to announce anything to anyone before I signed the HR papers. And then I started working and have been so exhausted I completely conk out within minutes of getting home.

So here I am.
After my last graduate school finals.
Before my official graduation.
After my first official week as a Mental Health Counselor.
A few days before my 24th birthday.
First time on the computer since last Saturday (no lie).
Completely pooped- physically, mentally, spiritually.

And here I go. To sleep. Before 9 PM on a Friday night. And I have no problem admitting that.

2 years 2 many

As I've mentioned, recent weeks have been hectic. But from them came Jon's 24th birthday and our two-year anniversary. (Did you know 2 years stands for cotton or china? Or something like that)

So. For the sake of my lovely boo, I am here to commemorate these past couple of years. And cheers to many more. Instead of flowery words I just wanted to share some smiley pics. We are a pair for words with few flicks to parade our silliness.

Here's to loving to live and living to love.

"History" in the making ?

Last night I fell asleep before the news hit. Jon tried to wake me up when he got home to fill me in, but exhaustion caught the best of me and I mumbled a groggy "go awaaaaaay".

I guess on some level I heard what he said because at 4 am I shot up out of bed terrified. Osama is "dead" ? What does that mean? What is going to happen?! 

You see, I'm more of a realist-borderline-occasional-conspiracy theorist especially since living in NYC. By 4:02 AM I started scouring MSN and NYTimes to read the details. Osama "buried at sea"? Found in a millionaire compound? Blahblahblah? By the time Jon roused at 7:30 I had plenty of pent up fear and questions to wake him up with.

Everyone is entitled to their opinion. It is not my place to bash ideologies. But like many mourners have mentioned, an eye for an eye leaves the world blind. One "death" does not equate to thousands lost. Nor does it take into account that this occurrence will most likely spur massive retaliation. (We the people should not be so gullible nor blindly celebratory- after all isn't that what got us in this mess in the first place?!?!)

"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that"

- Martin Luther King, Jr.

What are your thoughts and feelings regarding the recent news? I'd love to hear your conversations, but please be respectful of others' beliefs!

Questioning q's quintessence

quin·tes·sence

[kwin-tes-uhns]–noun

1. the pure and concentrated essence of a substance.

2. the most perfect embodiment of something.

It seems like forever ago when I posted this, though it is still relevant. Especially after this weekend's play-cation.

What characteristics compose me? What desires? What needs? Some people can rattle off a laundry list by memory of what defines them. But me? Not so much. Like my moods, my necessities tend to fluctuate around the ideas of love, laughter, family, nature, and comfort.

But this weekend rattled what I had thought had become a somewhat stable mentality.

You see, I'm a native Miami-an. I skipped town in 2005 to embark on collegiate wonders renouncing the state of Florida with its perpetual heat. Here I am, six years later wondering if Florida really is so bad. This weekend I was reminded how much I miss the simplicity of being able to see grass, the remarkable difference that an ocean breeze has on rising temperatures and in turn my sanity.

Maybe it's because I'm still partially in a playcation-coma, and maybe it's partially due to the overwhelming anxiety about if I'll be able to land a job in NYC. (And I'm not going to lie, a BIG part is because I have been absolutely miserable the past two completely unbearable NYC summers.)

So what is my quintessence at this point in my life? I guess I'll have to see....

What is the "pure essence of you"? Or what would be the "perfect embodiment of something" for you?

Life with L

Is it really April 14??? Talk about an eventful week. Lack of time is leading me to loosely post my life in pictures from the week. I guess there really are only so many hours in a day....

Subway Art, 6 train, April 2011

Sunnyside and the livin ain't too sunny, April 2011

Chelsea Drear, Chelsea, April 2011
(no filters)

Melanie & Andrea & May, Hospital Part Deux, April 2011

PB&J Doughnut, Doughnut Plan LES, April 2011

Bird Skull?, SoHo, April 2011

If only... (LOLCats)

Death of a student.

Dear school,

For the past 1.5 years you have made my life miserable and crushed my dreams. You have ripped me open, stepped on and tossed out my guts straight into the sewers for the rodents to feast. You have kicked me in the stomach when there has been nothing left. You have yelled at me for first being TOO emotional and then being un-emotional. My heart has quite literally been squeezed to death, left shriveled and useless.

You have left me with unpaid hospital bills, more mental health issues than my clients, and the shell of my body with no mind, sense of self nor esteem within. You have crushed me over and over again. I can only take so much from you and I seem to have found my limit.

WHYWHYWHY

"New York I love you, but you're bringing me down"

View From the Top- Sunnyside 7, March 2011

My mom says I was a pretty healthy kid, getting sick maybe once or twice a year with nothing more serious than strep throat. And pretty typical mental health for any hormonal, female adolescent.

But ever since moving to New York in summer 2009 I have come down with just about everything. Bronchitis, a 3 month flu, food poisoning, stomach problems, a torn ligament. And I've developed fears I once thought were irrational: clausterphobia, heights, heavy things falling on my head, being mugged, morbid thoughts about whether dying on an underground or above-ground subway would be the worst way to go (still haven't decided on that one)...

And anxiety. Anxiety that is so disabling, it causes me to have "pseudo-seizures" AKA attacks that manifest as seizure symptoms. And as of Monday, anxiety that also leaves me completely unable to breathe forcing me to rush to the doctor.

I was never really a particular anxious person. Sure, I'd get pre-test jitters. But these "anxiety attacks" come usually when I'm completely calm and relaxed. A few of my more holistic professors that I've mentioned it to said its probably because "when relaxed, your body/mind finally has time to release all the built up anxiety that is usually too distracted, so it manifests itself more intensely by bubbling up".

I've tried breathing exercises, meditation, my recent foray into active physical exercise. But they all only help so much, apparently. I don't know what to do anymore. Is this all what growing up entails- developing awareness leading to health issues? It's gotten to a point where on some level, I'm starting to believe that maybe some higher power is trying to kick me out of the city; New York doesn't want me around.

I wanted to stick around the city at least another year to experience it as a non-student. But I don't know. Maybe my body is trying to tell me something that I can't quite grasp- or not ready to at least.

"Above ground train- 5 stories up"

How do you deal with anxiety?

"It is not what you look at that matters, it is what you see" -HDT

There it was: a big, red "REJECTED" stamped across a plain white sheet of paper with my bolded name and contact information in the header followed by a plea for employment. As I looked closer I realized I was not only rejected- I was downright ridiculed with a red finger pointing out at me. The more I kept staring at the sheet of sadness I realized the paper was suddenly talking. That's right, a talking sheet of paper with black-framed glasses and beady eyes not only rebuffing me but calling me out. Telling me, "who do I think I am trying to apply for professional positions with this excuse of selling yourself !"

My eyes jumped awake as much eyes can possibly actually jump but the room was dark. Reaching for my phone, I realized it was only 3:30 in the morning. I was supposed to sleep until 6:00 and then start working on sending out my resume. That was my plan. That's why I had worked on editing my cover letter the night before.

But at that point I was so paralyzed with fears of inadequacy I immediately propped open my laptop and started editing the letter. Correcting the same lines over and over again. Trying to make myself sound like a viable candidate for otherwise menial positions. At 6:30, I closed my laptop and tried to find some peace with the back of my eyes but I still couldn't. I had developed a cold, nervous sweat despite the open windows blowing in 26 degree snowflakes. Next thing I knew it was 9 am and I could barely move from my bed from panic.

I sent out the first round of applications this morning. And I already received one rejection back. And you know what? It feels as terrible as I had imagined it would despite the respondent wording it nicely. Before I moved to the city, I had applied at literally over 100 random positions. But the rejection didn't phase me- I believed they were the one's losing out.  Now, I feel stupefied. There is too much responsibility riding on these applications.

Now, I'm really a grown-up looking for a grown-up job with my grown-up degrees. The anxiety is overwhelming. I already had one pseudo-seizure/anxiety attack today before coming to class. All my self-soothing methods have failed me, all my classroom learned techniques a flop.

And now? I wait. Just like the thousands of others unemployed Americans.

No drizzle ma nizzle

TC corner, March 2011

NYC has a pathetic excuse for rain. In all honesty, if I was a cloud responsible for this territory I would feel lame about my raining abilities.

Because it really isn't rain, non-technically speaking. It is an annoying drizzle that lasts all day without pause. It's not the kind of rain that makes you want to go out and frolic in your bathing suit on a hot summer day but the kind that leaves your clothes muddy once the bus plows by with it's 4' sewer wave  in it's wake. It feels as if the residue from someone else's sneeze is loitering your radial being. It doesn't rain hard enough to actually open up the umbrella (which even if you did you'd still end up wet thanks to the wind's temperamental wheezing) but enough that your coat will develop a light layer of wetness and your skin becomes moist. The subways are a slippery, condensated mess. The sky stays a foggy shade of clouded gray, though one can't actually make out any clouds.

Miami on the other hand has my kind of rain. The term torrential downpour is more accurate. You can smell the rain before it even hits. The sun will be shining brightly in the front yard and all of a sudden the backyard becomes a swampy marsh within minutes. And then it's over. The clouds swim over and garden the next block. The rainbow shines brightly overhead.

Soggy masses- 2 train, March 2011

Sunnyside and the livin' ain't easy

Sitting in a waiting room overflowing with older Latinos takes me back to Miami. For two and a half hours, I was spouted back to my hometown on a brief mental holiday wondering why I have such a love-hate relationship with my Latin-fused roots.

This doctor's waiting room wasn't like the typical American office. As a matter of fact, it was a replica of the many offices I've waited in back home. The usual sense of quiet nerves was replaced with high-wattage conversations between relative strangers who became fast friends drinking cortaditos y pastelitos juntos in between meals.

That's what Latinos do: they talk a lot very loudly with anyone around them. The small cramped waiting room was the adulterated version of a high school cafeteria full of exuberant cries of laughter and frustration-- not to mention avid discussions of Lady Gaga and the latest Cristina drama. Silence is an unknown concept as is the preference to be alone.

My mother is like this. She will talk to anyone anywhere anytime. A trait that has mostly annoyed me out of sheer embarrassment. Now it just makes me laugh on a good day. But it's not just my mom- it's almost every Latino I've ever met or heard about. I'm the exact opposite. Reserved, quiet to downplay my mother's loudness, and selective with who I decide to share secrets with. An unmistakeable reflection of my own Americanness despite my bicultural identification. In my textbooks we (Latinos) are described as being passionate. An adjective I enthusiastically subscribe to when defining myself.

But this loudness, the constant chatter that creates the humming sound of a shopping mall food court gets to me. It vibrates my synapses and rattles my brain because sometimes I just need some quiet time in my head. Something NYC gives me too much of apparently. These extremes- white noise and constant rumblings make me crankily crabby. On vacations, it's nice to delve right into the loudness of tropical Miami or the eerie silence of too-many-thinkers in overpopulated Manhattan. But living in either one of these polarities daily makes my neurons cha-cha right out of my ear drums into a panicked suicide jump towards the ground.

Which is why I live in Sunnyside (Queens). A brief seven minute train ride gets me out of the roarings from my multicultural neighbors into the silence of the masses. Just like I do with my different names or rather alter-egos, I alternate between my conflicted surroundings.

Sunnyside, Queens January 2011

Boxing:3, iPad:0

Exercise makes the heart grow...exasperated? The body...exhausted? Yes, I think so. After my "cardio" routine yesterday morning I decided to ask one of the trainers for some tips. This simple question led to an hour long private boxing lesson.

Last night I was pooped but nothing in comparison to what I felt this morning. All pain aside, it was really a fun experience. The trainer, Charlie, had me cracking up the entire time which led to a pretty intense ab workout in itself. Though I spent most of today unable to laugh/cough/sneeze/move anything involving mobility from my shoulders through my waist, it was worth it.

Enough so that I decided to enroll in his 8-week training program. Why?

1. I'm obviously in pretty pathetic shape
2. I'm a female... living in a major metropolis (self-defense)
3. Apparently, punching things is a good anger-management program in itself (AKA no more unnecessary outbursts at Jon)

On the other hand, I've been trying to come up with rational excuses to slap down money for an iPad. I've REALLY wanted one since last year.  But every reason I come up with I can negate, which is making it less and less likely. See, I just got a new iPhone last month because my old one broke (which I LOVE- as much as one can love an inanimate, non-being object). It was a necessity- or as much of a necessity buying a smart phone can be. But the iPad?

1. I can take it on the Europe trip instead of lugging around my laptop (but that's a 1-time stint)
2. I can take it to class instead of writing hand-notes I don't understand later or taking my laptop ( but I'll only be in school for 2 more months hopefully)
3. I can share it with Jon? (But Jon pretends to hate Macs and would probably "need" it on days I "need" it)
4. I can use that as a primary computer and my laptop as a storage device (But I just inherited Jon's old external hard drive so I really don't need that either)
5. I really WANT it (but I just splurged on this European vacation for Jon & I. And I obviously don't NEED it)

See, I'm kind of an impulsive spender and a great saver. I've been working since 16 out of both necessity and want (for my own independence). My spending habits reflect my overall dichotomous personality. But as I've matured I try to make my purchases more justifiable (see lists above). 

Decisions decisions. 

Preened Practice

You hear about teachers permanently scarring children in grade school from ever being or becoming competent in subjects. Sometimes, enough to completely discourage the child from enjoying their educational experience leading them to fail.

Well. It happens in higher education too.

Last Spring I began taking experiential classes in my program. It was rumored that regularly nice professors were absurdly difficult on students in these classes. Supposedly to motivate growth and preen pre-professionals into becoming professionals. But in my case (and several others), that rumor was very saliently a solid, harsh fact. My professor told me I should consider leaving the program. I wanted to, oh how I wanted to. But at that point I was determined to stay through the completion of the program no matter how long it would take since I had already took out a ridiculous amount in loans. Plus. I couldn't bear facing my family and being an Ivy-league-graduate-school-drop-out. I couldn't cop out then when all my friends back in Miami were cheering for me, living the NYC dream.

I was destroyed. I seriously considered changing my profession. I asked myself why, oh why, did I want to do this. And more importantly, if I was even capable of helping others if I couldn't help myself through those hard times.

Well. Today I received my midterm evaluation from my Practicum supervisor. And that nice man down right made me cry. I blabbered everything to him; about how I felt so insecure with certain (older) clients because my professor had made me feel so inadequately incompetent. And he said, "I don't know why he would say that...you're right where you need to be and in some cases even beyond it".

My faith in myself has been somewhat renewed. Of course I'm still learning what it takes to be a counselor- A LOT! And I know I'm far from being amazing. But I've regained a sense of confidence in myself that seemed so lost and unreachable. And in this field you need confidence in yourself to believe you can make a difference- even when clients don't show it or when they're rude or treat you bad. You need tough-skin to be another persons tough skin.

Such simple feedback made such a drastic difference in my own sense of self. Thank you, Professor.

Listen to the pauses in people's speech. There, often, is where the message lies.

I've twaddled the majority of the day away trying to decipher whether copying my own words constitutes as plagiarism. Why? Because my thesis/"Special Project" is a case study. Which involves a case conceptualization. Which I wrote about one specific client twice last semester because he was my longest and most consistent client therefore I've had the most to write or rather, conceptualize about him. I have yet to come to a confident decision on the matter. But considering the thin ice I'm already on, I will tread against the simplistic (read:amazing) copy&paste function and reword my previous papers, some how.

I mean if you think about it, it's a bit unfair considering I finished up my fieldwork last semester and thus have no new clients to write a decent conceptualization on!

I thought about writing about my semi-recent foray into NYC-driven consumerism due to having to buy a new smart phone ( I strongly dislike that term. Just ups the ante of technology becoming too persona-fiable). But that's a whole other sheboggle.

Instead, some interesting reads:

For the anti-scholarly-article-read: Does Insight in Therapy Equal Happiness?

And for the therapy enthusiasts particularly interested in Humanistic & Positive psychology (who would have thought the two "happiest" mediums were at each others throats?) : What is the Good Life?

Breakfast of Champions

Wednesdays have never been a super day for me for one reason or another. This time it specifically revolves around the fact that I don't get out of class until nine. Which is kind of ridiculous. Even though the professor is pretty amazing. Nine is just ridiculous.

Plus, I'm just making excuses because I slacked off most of the day after I finished the majority of my thesis. I had all the intention to write before bed. But I passed out watching Dilbert episodes on Netflix (who knew Dilbert had a series in the late 1990s?!?).

Today, I did what every (read: most) female New Yorkers dream of doing at some point in there city existence: I went to the Barney's Warehouse Sale. So I left empty-handed, at least I ventured over and can now check that off of my superficial bucket list of things to do while still living in the city. Honestly, maybe it was because we went so late in the afternoon, but there was nothing worth dropping "sale" money on.

And as we made a pit stop at Better Burger so I could pump some iron, protein, and overall fatty grass-fed, free-range hormone-antibiotic meat into my system since I've been re-suffering my "pseudo-epileptic episodes" and need to monitor my diet, Andrea was offered the job at the hospital she applied at thanks to her soon-to-be sister-in-law.  (run-on much?) Only Andrea can land a high-paying, part-time job with amazing benefits at a coveted hospital within five days of a spontaneous interview. And honestly, that's part of the reason I love her so much.

We ended the afternoon with a celebratory drink at some random pub in the Penn Station area. We use to wake up and celebrate the day with a "breakfast of champions" which consisted of a 12-pack of beer poured in coffee cups split between us. Now with responsibility and a not-so-up-to-par bodily system I gave her the Appletini I ordered to ching-ching with and sipped on a delicious Magic Hat #9.

I always enjoyed Thursdays.

Andrea's Celebratory Toast, Penn Station, February 2011

Manic Mondays

Today was a weird day. For every positive event that happened an equally negative one would occur within a short period of time. I'd get so full of happiness and then BAM! Bad news struck... over and over again.

But one thing that happened today cannot be taken back. Despite occurrences and emotions, this one will stick. Today, I picked up this:

Master of Arts en passant, Teacher's College 2/14/11

Yes, that's right. After a completing 45 credits and a 30 page comprehensive exam I was given this rather large and expensive piece of paper. This means one down one to go. When (if) I ('m) allowed to graduate, I'll then have my Masters of Education- a whopping 60 credit (but mine is worth 62!) title. That also means I have to successfully finish the "Special Project" which is essentially a thesis due this upcoming Monday... that they just handed out today. Funny thing is this paper doesn't say anything about what the degree is about. Makes me wonder what the reasoning behind the vagueness is...

Ahhhh academia. The politics are persnickety but it feels darn good to have something to prove my efforts thus far. 

This is dedicated to my Mom, my best friends Soraya & Andrea, who are always there to listen to my cries, and Jonathan- who's ridiculous patience has been the muscle holding me together the past year and a half.