It's not goodbye.

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So happy I am a sentimental pack rat.

As I was looking through old photos and cards in preparation for recent bridal event, I discovered one of many cards from my Mom. She was the queen of snail mail, sending cards throughout my adult life for any event large or small. The following (from my college years) is typical. 

This didn't show as clearly as I had hoped. It says "Hello- Nothing happened in Vermont AGAIN today. Goodnight."

Dear Marissa,

I can’t find what I bought you. Big surprise, huh? But when I do find it and mail it, look at it very carefully, especially the label because it is especially for you. Nothing new in CT, same as VT. Well only 16 more days to Valentine’s Day + only 11 more days to my special day + 2 more days until my special month. I hope everything is special with you. Your plant is groovy + misses you. Beauty misses you + Daddy and I miss you. Well now that I‘ve written you a card I hope you’re happy.

Love

Mother

This is such an embodiment of so many of her characteristics. Thoughtful, wacky, funny, and constantly losing presents. I was trying to remember if she ever ended up sending me the lost item. I couldn't recall,  but I am sure it was hilarious.

See something. Say something?

It recently became apparent to me that I am more paranoid about in tune to potential homicides than most.  It started innocently enough, when after being blown off by one guy or another I began to justify this sudden absence by assuming the man was in a coma. It was after I began to increase my Investigation Discovery consumption that I accelerated my justification of said rejection from coma to murder.

It became old hat for me to say, “Oh that guy? Haven’t heard from him, I am pretty positive he was the Long Island strangler anyway.” And as I type this, I still think this to be true. I guess the feeling of relief of having my life spared is meant to outweigh the annoyance at rejection? I don’t know…. I have issues. I am working on them. 

Apparently, all of this television watching combined with the belief that I exclusively date murderers, makes me feel like the female American version of Sherlock Holmes. This belief has forced me into a constant state of questioning whether I should be saying something about all of the potential criminals I am seeing throughout the streets of NYC, which is quite problematic because as paranoid as I might be, I dislike any type of authority figure beyond reason.  I am not necessarily proud of this fact, but at least I am aware of my weaknesses?

Anyway- so I am constantly paranoid and in denial about the fact that someone could ever not want to date me, you get it. But I have a point beyond that. This is basically a 2 part revelation.  Last week I had the great pleasure of going to Montreal for an unforgettable work experience. And I have to say those Canadians have it right.

Flying can be a pretty harrowing experience for most. But immediately after physically detaching our plane from LGA and entering a flight pattern towards Canada I could feel a tide shifting. People were friendly. And helpful. And that adorable little accent! I could just listen to flight attendants discuss safety procedures for days! The Canadians also know that a well timed drink (11 am on a Monday? Absolutely) is the way to this American’s heart! The French language, the cobblestone, and mostly that calm Canadian vibe, sold me on Montreal. I didn’t think anyone was going to murder me once! Although… I wasn’t there long enough to find someone to date and then reject me. Regardless I have drawn the conclusion that I am not overly anxiety prone, it’s New York!  Je t’aime Montreal. Je t’aime.

The love I have for rainbows is insane. I am not a mathematician but rainbows + Canadians= heaven. 

need.water.now.

This past July 4th was spent, as most past have been, on the Cape. Having spent nearly every summer, with the exception of a few, on Cape Cod for a better part of my life, it’s always good to be home. And I am not sure if it’s because I am a water sign or due to my aggressive hot flashes, but I am never happier and more comfortable than when by some large body of water.   Anyway, I was forced to come back to the sauna I call a home due to my obligation to work for a living post July 4^th and although the isle of Manhattan is surrounded by water by definition, my ability to be submerged in water is limited.

I’ve mentioned in the past that I have the good fortune to live just steps away from the ever classy John Jay Community Pool.  So imagine my surprise and delight when my best friend stopped by on Sunday and wanted to go for a swim. (Most times when I suggest a trip to the pool to friends, it is met with laughter. I am never kidding.)  As the words were out of her mouth I simultaneously donned my swimsuit and was ready to go.  I almost felt the same joy as when my parents would inform me of an upcoming trip to Disneyworld as a youth. (slash if I were to decide to go to Disneyworld right this minute.

Anyway, I’ll cut to the chase. This city is so damn hot we were rejected from the community pool.  Desperate, sweaty city dwellers were lined up for hours in wait as the shrieks and cheer of swimmers echoed from within the confines of the swimming area. I am so depressed. I never thought the day would come when I would be rejected from the community pool, but alas, new accommodations must be made. Fortunately there are options and I will be exploring them all. King and Grove, prepare your waters for me!

They say it's my birthday

So it’s my birthday.

I have never been a huge fan. It’s like most things in my life. I get overly excited, then stressed out in order to achieve the dreams I have established for the day of my birth and ultimately let down that I cannot reach the ridiculous expectations I have set forth for the celebration.

Birthdays to me mean straightening my hair, being with my best pals, and potentially dancing the night away until dawn’s early light with the knowledge that I can do what I want because it’s my birthday. Not that I typically shy away from the “I do what I want” attitude, it’s just that usually what I want is to be snuggled up in my bed far before the dawn’s early light.

So ultimately, I can’t actually stay awake to celebrate appropriately. I wish I were a person that wanted to shout from the rooftops that it’s my birth month. Plan extravagant trips and celebrations. Be the guest of honor at a surprise party. But at the end of the day birthdays bring about a lot of emotion and anxiety to me. It marks the fact that I am one year older and not necessarily a year closer to where I envisioned I would be at this stage of my life.

I am looking past that anxiety this year and focusing on how 29 will be my best year yet. Just like New Year’s Day, I will plan to do things better this year. I will be more focused on peace, love, and happiness… and all that jazz. Let’s see how it goes. Happy B-day to me…

New York I love you, but you're letting me down. Part Deux.

So where was I? Oh yeah I was taking about plants. I know you have been in suspense so let’s get right back to it. The remaining 5 points to my list. Without further ado.

6. Greenery. Speaking of Palm Fronds [which I had been], a little green space is totally necessary even for city living. It’s funny how after living in the city for about 6 months, if you visit friend’s apartments and as long as their one window doesn’t overlook a cement prison yard, it’s a view. The other day I looked out my friend’s window and I literally felt like I was in the rainforest. I overlook a courtyard and I feel like British royalty. Move over Will and Kate. Ahh and Harry… A little deprivation goes a long way.

7. Parks. Green space warrants 2 points. Central Park, long with many other parks, Brooklyn Bride, Prospect, and the highline, is amazing. Incredible I would say. Picnicking is my favorite sport and doing so in these locations brings me immense pleasure. Until I get hot. Which is immediately. At which point, I plummet into an abyss and just want to be within the nearest body of water as soon as physically possible.

8. Swimming. Love it. Could do it all day every day. I have the great fortune to live just steps away from The John Jay Swimming Pool. I personally feel like this classy establishment is the equivalent to a cabana riddled, swim up bar equipped South beach haven. The reality is you need to bring your own lock and you get frisked at the door, but hey water is water.

9. Restaurants. There are so many amazing restaurants. But due #5 on this list, I can basically only afford mediocre Vietnamese on the regular. This is actually a lie. This point is only a positive. The food in NYC is amazing despite what some snooty BK hipster indicated to me last weekend when he was touting the San Francisco “organic” restaurant scene. NYC has something for everyone and more.  In every price range, in every neighborhood, 24 hours a day. Sigh. It’s overwhelming.

10. And Finally.  Transportation. Ugh this one gets me every time. After living in Southern Florida for a mere year I came to appreciate the public transportation system in NYC immensely. I had to drive everywhere in FL and it really got me down. Although sidebar this did force me to drink substantially less and it was the healthiest I have ever been, but alas I don’t like to be forced to do anything. I love the fact that I can walk, subway, bus, or on a very rare occasion bike wherever I want whenever I want to in NYC.  But on days when I am most definitely late and have to wait 10 minutes on a rat invested platform, enter a steamy subway car only to be slammed against 50-100 other sweaty disgruntled commuters at which point there will most likely be delays due to “Train traffic ahead or an investigation at 14^th St. I decidedly hate it.

So there you have it. Marissa’s guide to what is spectacular/awful about the greatest/worst city in the world.  I love it. I hate it. Could I really live somewhere else? Probably not. But only time shall tell….

New York I love you, but you're letting me down.

As the seasons change, I am once again in a state of retrospection. Who am I? Where am I? Why am I here?  You know those real life altering meditations where I am once again reminded of why I both love and hate New York City. It is a fascinating situation where I literally feel both emotions equally and fully. Due to the fact that I am a victim of a top 10 list society, I will list here the top 10 reasons contributing to this dichotomous relationship.** After writing this it got lengthy so will be broken out into 2 installments.

1. The people. God why are there so many people??? I love people! I hate people! Sometimes it’s nice to look around and think “Wow all of these tourists are visiting MY home, because it is so cool and great.” Most times, I am thinking “WOW I want all of these tourists gone immediately, along with half of the residents of the isle of Manhattan.” Mama needs room to breathe.

2. Said people like to talk to you. Sometimes this is in the form of friendly banter and I feel like “Wow this is amazing people care about me!” Most times it’s some variation of heckling my reaction is “Dude I am not actually going to smile right now, no things are not okay, I am sad and I am going to continue to cry directly into my martini in public and it’s okay to do that because I am in NYC and everyone here is nuts and at least I am fully clothed.” And all other times these people just want me to join some type of feminist cult.

3. Dining Al Fresco. There are so many options of dining outside. It’s fantastic! The sun is shining, people are jolly, and things are feeling fine. Although 75% of these places are located directly behind a dumpster, you have 30 centimeters between the diners next to you, or if you are lucky you are on a roof. Roofs are good. I love roofs. On to the next.

4. Roofs. Everybody loves a good rooftop bar. I am included in this populous. They make me feel like I am Beyonce and Jay Z. I want to roll up to every single Roof Top bar wearing a white linen suit and a fedora. Maybe I am thinking of the Will Smith video for Miami, whatever I just love being roof side. And everyone cool has a rooftop terrace of their own. Except me. Because I am poor. So that’s why I also hate them.

5.The rent. You've heard that LCD Soundsystem Song. “New  York’s the greatest if you get someone to pay the rent.” Well it’s true. NYC rent is damn expensive. And most people live in what the rest of the country could only consider a pantry. And you continually feel like a pauper. But if you are rich in NYC I imagine it is simply amazing. If I won the lottery I would get a Butler and make him fan me with a giant Palm Frond all year long. 

We are halfway there. The rest is to be continued. Can you contain your excitement?? 

Namaste.

7 years ago I would have never imagined myself spending 90 minutes in a 120 degree room in search of a workout.  Thanks to my sister in law for being the kind of person who would want to do something like this for a bachelorette activity, I discovered although Bikram yoga was just as awful as it sounds, it could potentially cure me of my hot flashes so I continued on.  

Personally – I feel like there have to be some issues with a workout that has more warnings in the beginning of the class than apparent benefits. Teachers casually mention that yogis might pass out, feel dizzy, nauseated, light headed, and become short of breath in the same sentence that they tell you to lengthen your spine.  And that frightens me slightly, but then they mention things like that I am a “flower petal blooming”  and that I am there to “fall more in love with myself” and that I am replenishing my body and soul and I feel pretty much incredible. Plus they convinced me with all the heat and bending I could release some what can seem like unbearable amounts of stress I feel on a daily basis and I was cautiously optimistic. 

So for the past few weeks I have been going on the semi regular and it isn’t that bad. I am not so sure about how much my chackras are aligning, but I do feel like that sweating out approximarely 2 gallons of water  has to be somewhat cleansing right? Until I arrived tonight and someone was being carried out on a stretcher  and I realized that Bikram yoga is beyond my threshold of weird.  Anyone that likes stretching and balance in 120 degrees, while drinking the sweat of 45 strangers is a whole new level of crazy I can’t even begin to comprehend. People get carried out on strechers and nobody blinks an eye! Some chick was muttering in the corner to herself repeatedly about toxins! It smells like rotten foot! I am going another 5 days until my trial membership expires in the hopes that my face thins out a little bit for photos, but that’s about it. Later yogis.  I need cooler temps and better aromas. 

My so-called senile life.

On a recent Friday night as I was folding my laundry I went to tune into my nightly episode of Frasier on the Hallmark channel and was dismayed to discover said channel, was “out of order”. In a fit of rage I grabbed my phone to call Time Warner, when it dawned on me that I was spending my Friday night folding laundry and watching Frasier. Or not watching as the case may be. Then I further realized I am actually a 98-year-old woman trapped in a 28-year-old body and I began to hyperventilate. But then decided to write this top 10 list explaining my elderly nature.

1. I love lace.
2. I also love aprons.
3. Teapots are also a favorite.
4. My affinity for Frasier is equivalent to my love of Golden Girls. 
5. I can’t stay awake past 11:30 on most nights.
6. I often find myself referring to kids these days, not in a bad way, but in an “I’m completely clueless about what’s cool way.”
7. I am deaf enough that I am constantly shouting, but also get mildly offended by how loud music is in restaurants.
8. Every day I grow a little more comfortable with the idea of multiple cats.
9. I have an unnatural love for BINGO.
10. I can’t remember the last item on the list.

So that it’s I am getting BJ a brother and a Life Alert ASAP. If you need me I’ll be finding a way to crochet seashells onto doilies. OR alternatively amping up my street cred with tats and aggressive nail art, I am undecided. I’ll keep you abreast of the situation. 

Weekend Discovery: The Bus

This is not a bus.

So I am ashamed to admit that in the recent past I have held judgmental feelings toward the bus. I don’t know if it is emotional scarring from the Yellow variety of my youth or if the bus just conjures up extremely negative connotations on its own, but I never gave it a fair shot. In my mind the bus was a place for the drudges of society. A place where the homeless hobnob with the criminal and so forth. I don’t know if I watched a lot of gang related bus entertainment in a past life because these assumptions have proven to be the furthest thing from reality I could ever imagine.

This past weekend I made this glorious discovery and it will forever be imprinted on my mind. Throughout the weekend I dabbled in numerous modes of transportation. Cabs in the city, driving in the suburbs, a train, a subway, some heavy walking, and the piece de resistance, the bus.  I literally cannot write enough good things about this glorious experience [Author’s Note: I can write 6 good things about said experience]. Here is why the bus is the best thing ever. OR at the very least, better than the subway.

1. You can’t fall into the tracks, which I guess never have done in a subway, but it seems super scary.
2. It is basically like riding a really fun ride in Disney World, and by this I mean it is fairly bouncy and fun to sit in the middle accordion-like section.
3. You can peruse the Internet the whole time and pin everything in sight. 
4.  It is not covered in trash and urine. Huge plus. 
5.  If it were to break down, I wouldn’t be stuck underground. Also never happened to me, but a major source of anxiety.
6. It is a normal temperature. I know I have heat regulation issues, but the temperature differential between the world and the subway is absolutely not normal. 

This discovery is a huge game changer.  If anyone needs me,  I’ll be cruising around town on the bus. It is now what I do.

 

My Year in Instagram

Many social networks of late trend towards aspirational. Meaning that what one's life appears to be on Pinterest/Instagram tends to be more indicative of the person one would like to be than in reality. I would like to think I am a bit more balanced, but based on the fact that this past year was one of my most challenging (read:absolutelyunbearablyterrible) I would hope what was represented to my social networks was slightly more favorable than reality. Hence, I have decided to pull the highlights of 2012 + early 2013 in the form of a top 10 list. Introducing, 2012 via Instagram.

1. This wasn't in the past year, but an adult trip to Disney World and the purchase of the pictured Minnie ears was one of the best decisions of my life. Sometimes acting 12 is the only way to survive early adulthood. (Late adulthood?? How old am I??!!? Slightly ambiguous...)

2. Of equal importance= my acquisition of retro paper mustache straws. Plus these sweet picnic cups. Picnics make me feel warm and happy. 

3. Oh W Vieques, let me count the ways... I love you, I love you, and I don't care who knows it! You are so beautiful and mellow and fabulous. 2012 was the year I nearly moved to Puerto Rico. Can't wait to be back. 

4. 2nd Avenue Deli came to to 1st Ave and thus made my life. Nothing better than a sweet tender ball and an overbearing elderly woman aggressively serving multiple courses of gluttony. 

5. Yeah this happened. On a beautiful summer day I met an idol, Ina Garten, The Barefoot Contessa, Wife to Jeffery, owner of my dream life. Was glorious.

6. The adoption of a new signature cocktail is always an exciting time. A time of change and progress. A time to be enjoyed with a Hendricks martinis with a twist. So sweet and refreshing, I don't know if I'll ever change it up again!

7. I have wanted tea cups, I have searched for tea cups, I have pinned tea cups. I guess it was only natural to purchase tea cups. It counts as a tea party even if you only drink champagne out of them right?

8. Once I saw something on Pinterest and it was a sock bun. It took me a few weeks to digest what this meant. This was my first attempt at creating one and apparently exciting enough for me to Instagram and now blog about. This is totally going viral. 

9. Dessert terrariums oh how I love you. Sand, seashells, weird plants, and trinkets. So many wonderful things to adore. 

10. This one time when I bought hydrangeas and these cabbage flowers and I accidently dropped a starfish in the center made me feel super crafty. So crafty I needed to immediately photograph it. I am awesome. 

So lets just pretend this is all that happened last year. Good year 2012, good year. Watch out 2013...

*** Okay I had to add an 11. My life before nail art is essentially irrelevant.

Won't you be my valentine?

It started as a dream really. Just a few college kids with a love for a good themed party.  Our first Valentine’s Day celebration was in 2007 and the tradition has continued, somewhat sporadically, into the present day. Valentine’s Day might be the ultimate date night for most American couples, however for me it symbolizes much more than that. Valentine’s Day epitomizes life essentials including champagne, crafts involving doilies, candy, heart shaped baked goods, the color pink, and themed cocktails. For the past several years I have had the great pleasure of celebrating this fabulous holiday with the best of friends and each year it gets better with age.

Beyond the joy of hosting a themed party, I really enjoy any holiday that celebrates love in a tangible way. When we are children, each child brings a valentine for all of the other classmates. Some might find that this cheapens the sentiment or find the practice insulting, but I think it is a) adorable and b) valuable. What better a lesson that to teach others to appreciate all of their peers? Yes we should share the love 365, but I am all for crafting and affection with glitter is simply more meaningful. :)  I just hope that by the time I have children it is not entirely politically incorrect to send valentines. Cross that bridge when I get there.

In sum, I hope to never have to resign myself to pre-fixe dinners and a sense of obligation. I hope that for  each following year I will continue to recognize how lucky I am to have such wonderful people in my life in a festive way. And there had better be jello shots. J

Courtship, shmortship.

Everyone’s been sharing, posting, tweeting, and talking about this article in the New York Times speaking to the end of courtship. I don’t know if this is such colossal news, but I found it to be quite depressing nonetheless. I enjoyed it like one might enjoy watching a train wreck or perhaps how individuals used to view men being mauled by lions as entertainment.  Read here or check out my brief synopsis below.

The article essentially outlines modern dating. Today, couples meet via the web, meet up in larger groups, and primarily communicate via text. It discussed how traditional “courtship” no longer takes place. Meaning men do not court women by taking them out to dinner or even drinks for that matter.  One of the reasons this could be the case, the article surmises is based on the decline of men’s careers as women become more financially successful. Meh- none of this really shocks or bothers me. What really gets my goat is the negative association surrounding men in general in the present day.

Dating is one of my all time favorite topics, however I realized of late that as much as I relish the details of each of my girlfriends’ new flames and first dates, it seems that ultimately more time is spent on the let down, the realization he isn't “the one”,  provides. I will admit there are many times when my girlfriends, acquaintances, and even I (shockingly) over invest in casual dating scenarios and ultimately believe it to have the potential to be more than it ever could. Women tend to be dreamers, however what I have come to realize is there is a good chunk of time when men truly are just jerks. 

They say what they think you want to hear, they lie, they tell you every thought from every crevice of their mind, you hold them, you comfort them, advise them, apparently pay for their dinner, only to be told you are expecting too much from them or alternatively never hear from them again.  And there you are just thinking you were getting to know someone, utterly confused about what your expectations ever were to begin with. So anyway boo hoo, courtship is dead and seemingly all age appropriate men are truly either gay, married, or crazy. Despite all of this, I don’t know if I fully believe that.

Not to get all self help book, but I think maybe courtship or love for that matter is just rare and not dead after all. Maybe it’s that all of this nonsense and confusion just makes it clearer when true love is knocking on your door. Or maybe it just makes it easier to determine when you should call your friends and buy a big plot of land in the country and start a commune. I can go either way on this. But I will say this. Men. Be clear and stop blaming everything on women. You dudes love talking about your feelings way more than any female I know and it’s confusing. Women. Let's try to stop making something out of nothing and try to be a little more realistic with our expectations. And let’s all make a concerted effort to be nicer to each other.

Real resolution.

Well 2013, the holidays are over and I’ve had some time to reflect. One of the many traits I shared with my mom is our love for the holidays. She was the true spirit of any family gathering. She was always the first to raise a glass, prematurely present a gift, or send a card for any occasion large or small.  This was one of the most amazing things about her, she pretty much continually was thinking of ways to give to other people. I have boxes of notes she’d send me throughout college, Valentines, St. Patty’s day cards, Christmas, New Years, President’s Day, Happy Monday. Whatever the occasion, the woman knew how to celebrate.

So this holiday, as were the past two, was bitter sweet. A major guest/host was missing. There was a giant hole from which joy once emanated. I missed her in her red dress, which housed a favored pocket made sock puppet named Delmore. I missed her forcing our entire family, even those less verbose than herself, to give thanks for what gifts we had been given over the year. I missed her company in the kitchen, guiding me on what to chop or plate.

I missed her prodding me for information on my social life, my dating life, and gossip amongst my friends, as we would prepare the holiday meal. I missed her telling me she had cut back on the holiday menu, only to discover one dish out of twenty had been eliminated. (And then most likely added back on at the last minute in a faux panic). So for the third year I felt sad again this holiday season, versus the joy I used to feel over Christmases past. At the promise of a gingerbread house, flurry of wrapping paper, and the potential for carols. I was left in a state of confusion, uncertainty, and although much reflection and honoring was dedicated to my mom, a feeling of enormous loss. 

The only thing I know is that she is in a place where there is only the best champagne and foie gras all day long. Where she can listen to all of her favorite songs and be surrounded only by those that make her laugh.  I also know if she were here she would tell me to stop wallowing. She would most likely tell me to live my life and find my passion and dedicate myself to it fully. I hope that in the year to come I can follow her wise words even without her here to reinforce them. I hope that I can continue to represent all of the values she instilled. And I hope I can celebrate the joys of life with the vigor she once did.   Once again this one is for you woman, wishing you the best of everything there is and missing you every second. I love you always and forever. 

New Year, New Me

Every year, like most of the universe, I go about the resolution making process. I plot, diagram, meditate, and map out how I am going to get in shape, be nicer, more successful, and better in every way.

This year I am taking a different approach. By default, 2013 will be better than 2012. So I have that going for me.  Point for Marissa.  Beyond that, I am keeping it simple. I have one resolution and it is to go with my gut. The fact of the matter is I am pretty much always aware when I am doing something I shouldn’t; yet I continue to do it.

I know that ultimately one (or 4) of the 5 times I go to happy hour a week, I should probably go to the gym. Yet I continually choose happy hour and stay there until “I’ve done something wrong” feeling goes away, most often by continuing to indulge in the something wrong.

So that is it, henceforth I shall trust my gut, which will hopefully get smaller with said trust. The desired outcome is that I will say yes to productive activities and say no to excessive happy hours, overconsumption, men that are anything less than wonderful. As my mom used to say to me as a wee lass “Make good choices.” It’s as simple as that. Come on 2013. Meet me halfway?