In my everyday travels I always find things that inspire me. I am optimistic.
A few days ago during a lunch with an old college friend I had an Oprah Show “AHA” moment. I was sitting at the table listening to my friend speak about his life.
This friend, Chad, I admire a lot. He’s a great guy. The kind of person that would be there for you in the middle of the night if you were broke down on the side of the road. Through space and time we never lose sight of our friendship. He’s intelligent, kind hearted, ambitious, and decisive. He knows what he wants out of life.
I sat and listened. I told him that I was feeling off focus. I have too many things I want to do. “I feel like I am all over the map.” I said with confusion in my heart and anxiety in my mind. He gave me the best answer anyone has in a while.
“Janine, that’s the thing that is great about you. You have all the qualities to succeed. You’re a dreamer, ambitious, and persistent; and all of these things are ingredients for success.” Chad poignantly stated as if he were my guidance counselor back in school.
And, you know what? Chad is right. I am all of those things. I do dream, I create, and I never quit. But, sometimes when you feel low, lost, and tired of trying you need to find inspiration somewhere other than your own dreams.
I left our lunch thinking a few things. I wondered why we only get together once a year, because, well, that’s just ridiculous. I thought about everything he said and I was back on track and I had even more focus than before. I needed a friend’s guidance to teach me that I can have many tracks. I have many interests and that’s what fulfills my life.
I left our lunch feeling INSPIRED.
I look at life and the chapters that have been lived thus far. I read the stories of the past and I laugh a little about what I know now that I didn’t know then.
I have always been that person that felt a little “Special.”
Possibly, a little “Different.”
I see things that a lot of people may not see. I’m spiritual and aware. I know that there’s so much more to this life.
Whenever I need some good old fashioned inspiration I look to my loved ones. But, it’s their job to inspire me and raise me up.
So, when I need more I think of people that have helped change my life or the ones who believe in me that are not blood related.
I think of a man that taught me while in college. This same man INSPIRED me.
The last week of classes before my college graduation I received the most beautiful gift from Mr. Howard Rice. He was my professor at Temple University for my intensive writing class. We had to write three papers a week. It was certainly intense but thought provoking and life changing. I loved it.
We also had to write a journal. This would be read only by Professor Rice. He just wanted us to get in the habit of writing how we feel and reading it.
Each class I knew I would be chosen to read aloud so I was always ready. Spilling your guts to your peers wasn’t easy at first but we all got used to it and by the end of the semester I think we even enjoyed it. It was therapeutic.
Each assignment seemed so simple. The topics were elementary, until you had to write about them. He gave us word or page limits and we had to put our thoughts on paper.
“What would you do with one day left to live?”
“My Best Friend”
“A Moment that Changed My Life”
“My Family”
These were just a few topics. And, there were so many more. I learned more in that class than my whole four years of college.
I learned how to be a better writer. I learned to let go and tell my stories. I learned to accept others. Most importantly, I learned who I was.
I was about to enter the “Real World” wide eyed and INSPIRED.
The last day of that class Professor Howard Rice had a message for me. He stopped me in the hall after class ended and told me what he thought.
“In all the years I’ve been teaching I have only told this to about three other people, but you are one of my best students ever and a pleasure to have in my classroom. If you ever need anything please ask. I know you are going places, and I want you to share your voice with the world. I enjoyed your journal entries and I want you to know that you will succeed. Promise me that you will always write and reflect on your life.”
He said a few more things, but this is all I heard. He was proud of me and that made me higher than anything in the world.
He believed in me.
His faith in me was just one of many inspirational moments in my life. It’s times like that when you realize you have an impact on people.
Clearly, my professor and I were both INSPIRED by each other.
Just as Chad and I are, almost fourteen years after meeting in a college classroom.
I never did keep in touch or ask Mr. Rice for anything. But, I never forgot him and never will.
I only hope he remembers me too.
And, that promise that he asked me to keep…I did.
It’s those moments in your life when just one person believes in you that doesn’t have to, but chooses to, that’s when you finally believe in yourself too.
I think I will look Mr. Rice up and thank him again. He did his duty as a teacher; he INSPIRED me and taught me one of the most valuable lessons of my adult life.
You can impact lives, you just have to try.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
"Commercial Christmas"
Halloween has just wrapped up and all the unwrapped candy has been ingested by all the little trick-or-treaters. My mums are prettier than ever and my pumpkins are still sitting pretty in the patch I made for them. I just took down the scarecrows and witches from the spooky night when out of sight comes a Christmas commercial.
Are you kidding me?
It’s only the beginning of November and the greedy mongrels have forced Christmas down my throat already. I LOVE Christmas! It’s my favorite holiday. As children my brother and I were spoiled. There was no room left under the tree when Santa left our house. It looked like we had our very own Toys R Us in the living room. It was magical.
I loved everything about December and the days leading up to family dinners, cookies, snowmen, presents, and winter vacation! It was a glorious time of year.
I made my list every year. I wrote it in crayon and made it big so Santa could read it without any problems. I even ripped out magazine pages with the toys so Old Saint Nick would know exactly what I wanted. I wasn’t very subtle. Even as a child I got right to the point. (I guess some things never change)
I called the North Pole and spoke to some elves. I made sure I was a good little girl because I never wanted coal under the tree for me.
My childhood memories of Christmas were unbelievable. I love my family and everything about the holidays; with them it was always perfect.
Then, I grew up. It’s still perfect. But, let’s be serious. For a little while it changed. The magic was gone. But as I grew even older I realized that the magic is just beginning.
It’s really not about the gifts. It’s about giving. That is the best gift of all. Sounds cliché, but I know it’s true.
My mom called me this week and said, “Instead of gifts this year lets give to the children who need it most. We have everything we want and need.”
My mother is right. There is nothing we need. If I want it I buy it. I don’t wait for anyone to get it for me. I have all the handbags, shoes, jewelry, coats, and perfume I will ever need.
My house is furnished, my family is full, and my heart is happy. Life is good for me. I thank God everyday.
I am so tired of seeing the commercials on television. Buy, buy, buy and that will make you happy!
I’m not against the presents and shopping. I’m against turning this awesome time of the year into a job that you hate rather than a holiday you can’t wait to celebrate.
We have lost the spirit. We are greedy and materialistic.
Every year I do buy presents. I walk around aimlessly through the shopping malls and run from store to store to check off my list. I have toned it down, but I still have something for everyone I love.
Each year I try to top the gift from last year, but it’s almost impossible to do. You simply run out of great ideas.
However, I have the secret to the best gifts in the world. HOMEMADE!
A do it yourself number never gets old.
Since I was a child I loved to write. So, every year I made homemade cards for my parents. I used crayons, pen, pencil, and paint. Everything about them came straight from my little heart.
My parents loved them.
Now, that I’m older I still do it and I even branched out into the family. I do it for my grandparents, my brother, and a few others.
It’s important to me that the most important people in my life know what they mean to me. Now, everything is written straight from my big heart.
Every year they wait patiently for their cards. These days I print them on pretty paper. Maybe I will get creative with my Crayola again one day.
The cards are special to me. It’s a tradition and every year the night before Christmas Eve I sit up and type away until the wee hours of the morning. I love the pressure.
My cards make grown men weep. To them I write how I feel and from them I get the best reactions and feelings in the world. Proud parents…you could say that. Every year my mother’s same reaction, “Janine, you are a great writer; I don’t know why you aren’t doing anything about it.”
Mom, I am. I write to you and the ones I love. I have made our traditions greater. I have given you something precious from my heart that can never get old, go out of style, not fit, not be liked, or be returned.
This year if you can you should do something special not just swipe your credit card a hundred times.
Volunteer at a homeless shelter, sponsor a family in need, go to the hospitals, and invite lonely people over to celebrate. Whatever you do make it meaningful.
Nothing saddens me more than seeing people alone on the holidays. Maybe it’s hypocritical to say that about just the holidays, but that’s where the magic comes into play. That’s what the spirit is all about.
If you make it a homemade kind of year…I promise someone will shed a tear of happiness.
This thing we call Christmas has turned into a monster. It’s like a tornado that comes into town and leaves us broke, miserable, in debt, and out of touch with the true meaning.
Commercial Christmas is all about money. Make your holidays all about family and friends.
Make it count. I don’t remember all the toys I received. But, I do remember the memories of family, the traditions, and the warmth of the season.
On this beautiful Commercial Christmas, remember to give and you will receive. Turn off the television and turn on your hearts. Instead of commercial make it personal.
P.S.
Merry Christmas in November, put off the pressure till December, and try to
keep singing with cheer when your mountain of debt arrives for a wonderful Happy New Year!
Are you kidding me?
It’s only the beginning of November and the greedy mongrels have forced Christmas down my throat already. I LOVE Christmas! It’s my favorite holiday. As children my brother and I were spoiled. There was no room left under the tree when Santa left our house. It looked like we had our very own Toys R Us in the living room. It was magical.
I loved everything about December and the days leading up to family dinners, cookies, snowmen, presents, and winter vacation! It was a glorious time of year.
I made my list every year. I wrote it in crayon and made it big so Santa could read it without any problems. I even ripped out magazine pages with the toys so Old Saint Nick would know exactly what I wanted. I wasn’t very subtle. Even as a child I got right to the point. (I guess some things never change)
I called the North Pole and spoke to some elves. I made sure I was a good little girl because I never wanted coal under the tree for me.
My childhood memories of Christmas were unbelievable. I love my family and everything about the holidays; with them it was always perfect.
Then, I grew up. It’s still perfect. But, let’s be serious. For a little while it changed. The magic was gone. But as I grew even older I realized that the magic is just beginning.
It’s really not about the gifts. It’s about giving. That is the best gift of all. Sounds cliché, but I know it’s true.
My mom called me this week and said, “Instead of gifts this year lets give to the children who need it most. We have everything we want and need.”
My mother is right. There is nothing we need. If I want it I buy it. I don’t wait for anyone to get it for me. I have all the handbags, shoes, jewelry, coats, and perfume I will ever need.
My house is furnished, my family is full, and my heart is happy. Life is good for me. I thank God everyday.
I am so tired of seeing the commercials on television. Buy, buy, buy and that will make you happy!
I’m not against the presents and shopping. I’m against turning this awesome time of the year into a job that you hate rather than a holiday you can’t wait to celebrate.
We have lost the spirit. We are greedy and materialistic.
Every year I do buy presents. I walk around aimlessly through the shopping malls and run from store to store to check off my list. I have toned it down, but I still have something for everyone I love.
Each year I try to top the gift from last year, but it’s almost impossible to do. You simply run out of great ideas.
However, I have the secret to the best gifts in the world. HOMEMADE!
A do it yourself number never gets old.
Since I was a child I loved to write. So, every year I made homemade cards for my parents. I used crayons, pen, pencil, and paint. Everything about them came straight from my little heart.
My parents loved them.
Now, that I’m older I still do it and I even branched out into the family. I do it for my grandparents, my brother, and a few others.
It’s important to me that the most important people in my life know what they mean to me. Now, everything is written straight from my big heart.
Every year they wait patiently for their cards. These days I print them on pretty paper. Maybe I will get creative with my Crayola again one day.
The cards are special to me. It’s a tradition and every year the night before Christmas Eve I sit up and type away until the wee hours of the morning. I love the pressure.
My cards make grown men weep. To them I write how I feel and from them I get the best reactions and feelings in the world. Proud parents…you could say that. Every year my mother’s same reaction, “Janine, you are a great writer; I don’t know why you aren’t doing anything about it.”
Mom, I am. I write to you and the ones I love. I have made our traditions greater. I have given you something precious from my heart that can never get old, go out of style, not fit, not be liked, or be returned.
This year if you can you should do something special not just swipe your credit card a hundred times.
Volunteer at a homeless shelter, sponsor a family in need, go to the hospitals, and invite lonely people over to celebrate. Whatever you do make it meaningful.
Nothing saddens me more than seeing people alone on the holidays. Maybe it’s hypocritical to say that about just the holidays, but that’s where the magic comes into play. That’s what the spirit is all about.
If you make it a homemade kind of year…I promise someone will shed a tear of happiness.
This thing we call Christmas has turned into a monster. It’s like a tornado that comes into town and leaves us broke, miserable, in debt, and out of touch with the true meaning.
Commercial Christmas is all about money. Make your holidays all about family and friends.
Make it count. I don’t remember all the toys I received. But, I do remember the memories of family, the traditions, and the warmth of the season.
On this beautiful Commercial Christmas, remember to give and you will receive. Turn off the television and turn on your hearts. Instead of commercial make it personal.
P.S.
Merry Christmas in November, put off the pressure till December, and try to
keep singing with cheer when your mountain of debt arrives for a wonderful Happy New Year!
Monday, November 8, 2010
“Mirror, Mirror on the Wall”
I love to decorate my house. I treasure hunt for little things that are unique. If it’s one of a kind, it’s mine. I like unusual and different. Somewhere during my decorating I have acquired a lot of mirrors.
I love mirrors. They go anywhere. I especially like the ones with beautiful frames. If they are antique they are even better.
How many times have you needed a mirror? You want to check your hair, face, make-up?
We check for bats in the cave; flash a smile to pluck that piece of spinach from our two front teeth, and check our hair to make sure it’s still there.
We can’t live without mirrors.
I get ready in front of mine. I brush my teeth, wash my face, pluck my brows, do my hair, makeup, and voila turn into myself in front of my mirror.
I have one in almost every room of my house. They hang in my foyer, hallway, family room, dining room, bedrooms, bathrooms, and even my kitchen.
They make any space look larger. Hang a mirror in any room and it becomes very personal.
More than a mirror adding dimension and making a room look larger, mirrors represent the most beautiful art in the world; human beings.
For centuries artists have tried to capture the human body and face in paintings, sculpture, and drawings. Some have done marvelous work, others miraculous. Michelangelo’s statue of David is a masterpiece.
Mirrors are self awareness. That image you see in the mirrored glass staring back at you is beautiful. It’s you. What you see in the mirror is how the world sees you.
I have looked for artwork. I bought a few paintings and pieces of wall art, but none really compare to my mirrors. Or shall I say the reflections in my mirrors?
My friends, family, my home, the space in which I live my life, can all be reflected in the beautifully framed mirrors that hang in my home.
It’s like photographs. That reflection is permanent. The vision we see in mirrors is permanent in our mind not on paper.
Even a photo begins in the mirror. You fix yourself up and make sure you are putting your best face forward. It all starts looking back at your self; staring yourself in the eyes.
Everyday you must face yourself. Answer to your conscience. Look to see what you love and hate. Stare at your flaws and your perfections. You must seek change. Stare into your eyes and gaze into your soul. That is where you will find yourself.
Seeing is believing and at my house you will see a lot.
Beauty comes in so many different forms. Art is what you make of it. We all find beauty in different things.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall who in the land is fairest of all?”
People are.
When you come to my house don’t look for the artwork. Look for the mirrors because with them you become the focus.
When you stare into the glass you find clarity, character, and color. The light sometimes casts shadows and lines that bounce off your face, but no matter what everything is perfectly placed.
Human beings are the most beautiful creation of all. It’s not just the mirror and its pretty frame, but you and your face that always entertain.
I love mirrors. They go anywhere. I especially like the ones with beautiful frames. If they are antique they are even better.
How many times have you needed a mirror? You want to check your hair, face, make-up?
We check for bats in the cave; flash a smile to pluck that piece of spinach from our two front teeth, and check our hair to make sure it’s still there.
We can’t live without mirrors.
I get ready in front of mine. I brush my teeth, wash my face, pluck my brows, do my hair, makeup, and voila turn into myself in front of my mirror.
I have one in almost every room of my house. They hang in my foyer, hallway, family room, dining room, bedrooms, bathrooms, and even my kitchen.
They make any space look larger. Hang a mirror in any room and it becomes very personal.
More than a mirror adding dimension and making a room look larger, mirrors represent the most beautiful art in the world; human beings.
For centuries artists have tried to capture the human body and face in paintings, sculpture, and drawings. Some have done marvelous work, others miraculous. Michelangelo’s statue of David is a masterpiece.
Mirrors are self awareness. That image you see in the mirrored glass staring back at you is beautiful. It’s you. What you see in the mirror is how the world sees you.
I have looked for artwork. I bought a few paintings and pieces of wall art, but none really compare to my mirrors. Or shall I say the reflections in my mirrors?
My friends, family, my home, the space in which I live my life, can all be reflected in the beautifully framed mirrors that hang in my home.
It’s like photographs. That reflection is permanent. The vision we see in mirrors is permanent in our mind not on paper.
Even a photo begins in the mirror. You fix yourself up and make sure you are putting your best face forward. It all starts looking back at your self; staring yourself in the eyes.
Everyday you must face yourself. Answer to your conscience. Look to see what you love and hate. Stare at your flaws and your perfections. You must seek change. Stare into your eyes and gaze into your soul. That is where you will find yourself.
Seeing is believing and at my house you will see a lot.
Beauty comes in so many different forms. Art is what you make of it. We all find beauty in different things.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall who in the land is fairest of all?”
People are.
When you come to my house don’t look for the artwork. Look for the mirrors because with them you become the focus.
When you stare into the glass you find clarity, character, and color. The light sometimes casts shadows and lines that bounce off your face, but no matter what everything is perfectly placed.
Human beings are the most beautiful creation of all. It’s not just the mirror and its pretty frame, but you and your face that always entertain.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
"New York NEVER Gets Old"
“Wanna go to New York for a night?” My boyfriend asked with excitement.
“Of course I do, dumb question.” I sarcastically replied.
“That’s great because I already booked us a room.” He said with childlike glee.
So, with that two minute conversation under our belts we just rolled over it and onto our daily business.
For the next few hours I had Jay Z’s voice pounding in my head and I was feeling giddy about all of the shopping that would certainly put a dent in my bank account.
UNTIL…I almost had a panic attack. I could feel my palms getting clammy and my body starting to itch.
I ran downstairs and blurted out, “BEDBUGS!”
“Huh? What’s wrong?” He asked me.
I wondered if he was on another planet. How could he not have heard the word on the bugs that bite through the night? New York City is having a bedbug crisis and I am not about to become victim to the critters that target helpless tourists sleeping in possibly washed sheets. Nope, not gonna be me.
We discussed it for a few days. I really don’t like to live in fear or let things like this stop me from enjoying life, but if you bring them home with you, you’re done. They invade your home, your clothes, carpets, sheets, body, and worst of all, your mind.
I stood firm on my answer to just skip out on this trip. I already lived up there on a part time basis. I know the Upper East Side like the back of my hand. It’s been three years since I have wondered the streets with wonder and joy. And, I was ready to let three more pass by until the city was bedbug free. Or, until Saks and Bergdorf’s were not hiring bedbug sniffing dogs to catch the pests.
Oh, right, Macy’s in Herald Square found some on the upper floors in office land. I guess they want me to think that the bugs won’t travel far and wide to the chenille scarves, men’s suits, or woman’s panties. They hit Victoria Secrets, Nike, and Bloomies! Macy’s is certainly easy prey.
To top off my bug paranoia I called a friend and as we were chit chatting she told me a story about her friend who really got bedbugs! Now, up until this point it seemed like an urban legend or something. But, now I actually knew a woman who had taken the hotel guest’s home.
I felt sorry for my friend, but I was victorious! After that story my boyfriend conceded and let me bass in my glory! I did.
We went for the day. I had strict rules for myself. No clothes shopping. And, most importantly as soon as I hit the door to my home, clothes off and in the dryer for twenty minutes. No bugs here! Not in my bed, and not in my head!
I got to the Lincoln tunnel and there was no traffic. Parked right away and we were off on foot for the next six hours.
I bought a few things but within my guidelines and rules. I had a fabulous dinner, went to the top of the Empire State Building, and ended in Times Square.
“These streets will make you feel brand new…” Alicia was singing in my head.
Sinatra too, “If you can make it here you’ll make it anywhere…”
I was so high on hope and dreams that I forgot the bedbugs were taking over the concrete jungle.
UNTIL…a very dirty man bumped into me. I looked up and I was horrified. Normally, I would be grossed out and just reach for some hand sanitizer but this time I wanted to strip like the Naked Cowboy in Times Square. I knew that wasn’t going to be possible, so I thought about doing a few forward flips to escape the crowd like the kids that come in from Harlem for the street shows. But, I would break a neck. So, no, no, no, no, nothing was making it better!
UNTIL…I walked a few blocks further out of the chaos and into the quiet. Yes, there are quiet city streets in Manhattan. I got a sniff of the roasted peanut aroma corners, the chicken skewers, and the pretzels. All right next to the fake Prada’s, Burberry’s, and Gucci’s.
I bursted into laughter and just said out loud, “God, I love this city!”
If you want it, you can get it...bedbugs optional. It’s New York! The Met! The Plaza! The Waldorf! The shopping (Not on this trip, sadly) The people!
I walked past The Plaza Hotel and felt like I was in a movie fighting with Kate Hudson because there was only one available date for my big wedding.
Remember, I’m dreaming.
I had flashbacks of when Carrie and Aidan ended because she wouldn’t wear the ring around her finger, instead on her necklace.
I thought about all the great movie scenes.
I thought about every good thing that makes New York City so lovable.
It’s full of hope. Everyone wants to make it and has drive. They want to find love and a career. They want to live the dream.
At one time I did too.
UNTIL…I had a taste of the Big Apple. I got my fill for a couple of years. I couldn’t get used to the grueling lifestyle; hailing cabs, rushing for the subway, climbing five flights of raggedy old steps, and no backyard.
I couldn’t imagine raising my children there one day. Not because it’s not rich in culture, and education, but, because it’s too hard, it’s physically exhausting unless you are Rockefeller wealthy.
I didn’t see Park Avenue in the stars for me at that particular time. I saw Philadelphia suburbs with family, friends, and my history.
Manhattan was marvelous like always. This germaphobe is happy to report it was a bedbug free visit.
As long as dreamers are being born, fashion is passion, and bedbugs only storm the city every so often, New York City will ALWAYS be exciting.
The city that never sleeps may get tired, bitten, and take a beating, but New York, New York will NEVER get old.
“Of course I do, dumb question.” I sarcastically replied.
“That’s great because I already booked us a room.” He said with childlike glee.
So, with that two minute conversation under our belts we just rolled over it and onto our daily business.
For the next few hours I had Jay Z’s voice pounding in my head and I was feeling giddy about all of the shopping that would certainly put a dent in my bank account.
UNTIL…I almost had a panic attack. I could feel my palms getting clammy and my body starting to itch.
I ran downstairs and blurted out, “BEDBUGS!”
“Huh? What’s wrong?” He asked me.
I wondered if he was on another planet. How could he not have heard the word on the bugs that bite through the night? New York City is having a bedbug crisis and I am not about to become victim to the critters that target helpless tourists sleeping in possibly washed sheets. Nope, not gonna be me.
We discussed it for a few days. I really don’t like to live in fear or let things like this stop me from enjoying life, but if you bring them home with you, you’re done. They invade your home, your clothes, carpets, sheets, body, and worst of all, your mind.
I stood firm on my answer to just skip out on this trip. I already lived up there on a part time basis. I know the Upper East Side like the back of my hand. It’s been three years since I have wondered the streets with wonder and joy. And, I was ready to let three more pass by until the city was bedbug free. Or, until Saks and Bergdorf’s were not hiring bedbug sniffing dogs to catch the pests.
Oh, right, Macy’s in Herald Square found some on the upper floors in office land. I guess they want me to think that the bugs won’t travel far and wide to the chenille scarves, men’s suits, or woman’s panties. They hit Victoria Secrets, Nike, and Bloomies! Macy’s is certainly easy prey.
To top off my bug paranoia I called a friend and as we were chit chatting she told me a story about her friend who really got bedbugs! Now, up until this point it seemed like an urban legend or something. But, now I actually knew a woman who had taken the hotel guest’s home.
I felt sorry for my friend, but I was victorious! After that story my boyfriend conceded and let me bass in my glory! I did.
We went for the day. I had strict rules for myself. No clothes shopping. And, most importantly as soon as I hit the door to my home, clothes off and in the dryer for twenty minutes. No bugs here! Not in my bed, and not in my head!
I got to the Lincoln tunnel and there was no traffic. Parked right away and we were off on foot for the next six hours.
I bought a few things but within my guidelines and rules. I had a fabulous dinner, went to the top of the Empire State Building, and ended in Times Square.
“These streets will make you feel brand new…” Alicia was singing in my head.
Sinatra too, “If you can make it here you’ll make it anywhere…”
I was so high on hope and dreams that I forgot the bedbugs were taking over the concrete jungle.
UNTIL…a very dirty man bumped into me. I looked up and I was horrified. Normally, I would be grossed out and just reach for some hand sanitizer but this time I wanted to strip like the Naked Cowboy in Times Square. I knew that wasn’t going to be possible, so I thought about doing a few forward flips to escape the crowd like the kids that come in from Harlem for the street shows. But, I would break a neck. So, no, no, no, no, nothing was making it better!
UNTIL…I walked a few blocks further out of the chaos and into the quiet. Yes, there are quiet city streets in Manhattan. I got a sniff of the roasted peanut aroma corners, the chicken skewers, and the pretzels. All right next to the fake Prada’s, Burberry’s, and Gucci’s.
I bursted into laughter and just said out loud, “God, I love this city!”
If you want it, you can get it...bedbugs optional. It’s New York! The Met! The Plaza! The Waldorf! The shopping (Not on this trip, sadly) The people!
I walked past The Plaza Hotel and felt like I was in a movie fighting with Kate Hudson because there was only one available date for my big wedding.
Remember, I’m dreaming.
I had flashbacks of when Carrie and Aidan ended because she wouldn’t wear the ring around her finger, instead on her necklace.
I thought about all the great movie scenes.
I thought about every good thing that makes New York City so lovable.
It’s full of hope. Everyone wants to make it and has drive. They want to find love and a career. They want to live the dream.
At one time I did too.
UNTIL…I had a taste of the Big Apple. I got my fill for a couple of years. I couldn’t get used to the grueling lifestyle; hailing cabs, rushing for the subway, climbing five flights of raggedy old steps, and no backyard.
I couldn’t imagine raising my children there one day. Not because it’s not rich in culture, and education, but, because it’s too hard, it’s physically exhausting unless you are Rockefeller wealthy.
I didn’t see Park Avenue in the stars for me at that particular time. I saw Philadelphia suburbs with family, friends, and my history.
Manhattan was marvelous like always. This germaphobe is happy to report it was a bedbug free visit.
As long as dreamers are being born, fashion is passion, and bedbugs only storm the city every so often, New York City will ALWAYS be exciting.
The city that never sleeps may get tired, bitten, and take a beating, but New York, New York will NEVER get old.
Monday, November 1, 2010
"Beauty Queen"
I thought I really skipped that addiction gene in life. I recently admitted I had a people watching problem, now I MUST add to the list. This one is written in ink not pencil. As a matter of fact this one is carved in stone. There is really no return to sanity, especially as I age.
What is this addiction, you all ask? I’ll tell you. I’m a proud “Beauty Queen.”
You might be baffled by this label I so proudly stamped across my forehead, but I can and will explain. I’m also willing to suggest you might be one too.
I love products. If it’s in the beauty and skincare sections I’m not leaving without a bag that has a little shiny cardboard box of something colorful or wrinkle reducing in it.
When you go to the skincare counter the newest ingredient of the year promises to be “Liquid Gold.” Hey, if they promise and they did studies and seventy-five percent of women saw clearer, more even toned skin in just four weeks…I’m sold. Why in the world would little ole me slow down the gold rush?
Moisturizer is my must have. Bare Minerals is next for an even complexion. My eyebrows are always in check. And, after that, a pretty pout.
I love products so much that on any given day you can walk into my home open up my bathroom cabinet and my closets and fine a myriad of “Girl Goo” for your face and body.
I just went on a trip to NYC and my first stop was Sephora. I have one near my house, but it’s New York, theirs is better. I will stay in there for an hour and just try on every lip gloss, eye shadow, and blush in the store.
I get a complete high. I want full lips that are luscious. I want my brows to have that perfect arch. I go crazy over the perfect eye shadow trio that all blends together for those smoky eyes.
I leave one store and hit another. I can’t stop. I go in the drugstore and buy more. I don’t neglect the normal brands. I don’t have just a soft spot for the specialty products. I love them all. I don’t discriminate.
I sell my soul to the devil every time I buy another lip gloss. I get home and what do you know? I already have it in one of my many makeup bags.
I walk through my door and play around for another hour with all of my new toys! I love the feeling of looking pretty. I’m a girl all the way, through and through.
If it’s promising beauty or if I’m seeing something I like in the mirror I can’t resist.
Blues, greens, grays, and purples are great for my hazel eyes. Simple black liner, Cleopatra like, or just bold and thick on top is fine. I use pencil, liquid, and gel for the look. I rim the lids well so you see to the windows to my soul. Oh, who am I kidding? I just want my eyes to look pretty and really POP!
I am into skin. If the skin isn’t good the makeup won’t make it much better. It’s all about the product that is right for you.
I buy, buy, buy, and buy some more. I am on a first name basis with all the girls at my nearby Ulta store. They even ask me for my help. Maybe I need my own line.
I can’t get enough of the goods. I work at QVC and well that’s not helping this addiction at all.
I see the face, the founder, and CEO of every awesome beauty and skincare companies you have been buying for years. If it’s on the shelves at the specialty stores, it’s most definitely on QVC.
I’ve heard their names and purchased their products, but now I know them personally.
God, my job is so cool.
I’ve read and heard about Peter Thomas Roth for years, now I know him. Kate Sommerville works on the faces of Hollywood’s leading ladies, know her too.
Celebrity makeup artists, Laura Geller, Mally Roncal, and Bobbi Brown are in the house.
I’m sure you’ve heard of a little company called Bare Escentuals…yup, Leslie Blodgett is in the building. She started a cult following with her cosmetic revolution and I bow when in her presence.
Her makeup changed my skin. My Bare Minerals foundation is one product I’m especially loyal too.
Mostly everyone that you have been reading about in beauty magazines for years is selling their brand on QVC. I’m more impressed with them than the celebrities that walk through the shopping channel doors.
Cetaphil face wash and Complex 15 moisturizer are my other must haves. If I go astray I’m always right back the next night washing and applying with my two oldest favorites. They never go out of style. Not in my house.
I’M A JUNKIE. I find it hard to “Just Say NO.”
I’m confident without makeup, I can leave the house without it, and I don’t hide myself from the world. I just LOVE, LOVE, LOVE it.
My theory: We are all naturally beautiful inside and out, but thank GOD for makeup. You don’t need it but why not wear something that defines your natural beauty even more?
Maybe I have a problem. But, if this is one of the worst things I do, then by all means I am going to keep on applying, lining, glossing, swiping, highlighting, tweezing, framing, smearing, blending, swirling, tapping, buffing, and LOVING my addiction.
God Bless the Beauty Queens of the world and may we always rule with our lip gloss wands and our long lashes.
What is this addiction, you all ask? I’ll tell you. I’m a proud “Beauty Queen.”
You might be baffled by this label I so proudly stamped across my forehead, but I can and will explain. I’m also willing to suggest you might be one too.
I love products. If it’s in the beauty and skincare sections I’m not leaving without a bag that has a little shiny cardboard box of something colorful or wrinkle reducing in it.
When you go to the skincare counter the newest ingredient of the year promises to be “Liquid Gold.” Hey, if they promise and they did studies and seventy-five percent of women saw clearer, more even toned skin in just four weeks…I’m sold. Why in the world would little ole me slow down the gold rush?
Moisturizer is my must have. Bare Minerals is next for an even complexion. My eyebrows are always in check. And, after that, a pretty pout.
I love products so much that on any given day you can walk into my home open up my bathroom cabinet and my closets and fine a myriad of “Girl Goo” for your face and body.
I just went on a trip to NYC and my first stop was Sephora. I have one near my house, but it’s New York, theirs is better. I will stay in there for an hour and just try on every lip gloss, eye shadow, and blush in the store.
I get a complete high. I want full lips that are luscious. I want my brows to have that perfect arch. I go crazy over the perfect eye shadow trio that all blends together for those smoky eyes.
I leave one store and hit another. I can’t stop. I go in the drugstore and buy more. I don’t neglect the normal brands. I don’t have just a soft spot for the specialty products. I love them all. I don’t discriminate.
I sell my soul to the devil every time I buy another lip gloss. I get home and what do you know? I already have it in one of my many makeup bags.
I walk through my door and play around for another hour with all of my new toys! I love the feeling of looking pretty. I’m a girl all the way, through and through.
If it’s promising beauty or if I’m seeing something I like in the mirror I can’t resist.
Blues, greens, grays, and purples are great for my hazel eyes. Simple black liner, Cleopatra like, or just bold and thick on top is fine. I use pencil, liquid, and gel for the look. I rim the lids well so you see to the windows to my soul. Oh, who am I kidding? I just want my eyes to look pretty and really POP!
I am into skin. If the skin isn’t good the makeup won’t make it much better. It’s all about the product that is right for you.
I buy, buy, buy, and buy some more. I am on a first name basis with all the girls at my nearby Ulta store. They even ask me for my help. Maybe I need my own line.
I can’t get enough of the goods. I work at QVC and well that’s not helping this addiction at all.
I see the face, the founder, and CEO of every awesome beauty and skincare companies you have been buying for years. If it’s on the shelves at the specialty stores, it’s most definitely on QVC.
I’ve heard their names and purchased their products, but now I know them personally.
God, my job is so cool.
I’ve read and heard about Peter Thomas Roth for years, now I know him. Kate Sommerville works on the faces of Hollywood’s leading ladies, know her too.
Celebrity makeup artists, Laura Geller, Mally Roncal, and Bobbi Brown are in the house.
I’m sure you’ve heard of a little company called Bare Escentuals…yup, Leslie Blodgett is in the building. She started a cult following with her cosmetic revolution and I bow when in her presence.
Her makeup changed my skin. My Bare Minerals foundation is one product I’m especially loyal too.
Mostly everyone that you have been reading about in beauty magazines for years is selling their brand on QVC. I’m more impressed with them than the celebrities that walk through the shopping channel doors.
Cetaphil face wash and Complex 15 moisturizer are my other must haves. If I go astray I’m always right back the next night washing and applying with my two oldest favorites. They never go out of style. Not in my house.
I’M A JUNKIE. I find it hard to “Just Say NO.”
I’m confident without makeup, I can leave the house without it, and I don’t hide myself from the world. I just LOVE, LOVE, LOVE it.
My theory: We are all naturally beautiful inside and out, but thank GOD for makeup. You don’t need it but why not wear something that defines your natural beauty even more?
Maybe I have a problem. But, if this is one of the worst things I do, then by all means I am going to keep on applying, lining, glossing, swiping, highlighting, tweezing, framing, smearing, blending, swirling, tapping, buffing, and LOVING my addiction.
God Bless the Beauty Queens of the world and may we always rule with our lip gloss wands and our long lashes.
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