"It's bothering me!"

Sorry for the gaps between posts, dear ones.

Life has been a bit hectic lately--well let's be honest, it's been hectic since May. So I haven't had as much energy or creative juices to write some truly jarring and politically incorrect blog posts. I do apologize and hope you accept it as sincere.

Since not much has changed since my last post (well...certain things have, but I'm not willing to divulge specifics yet. Stay Tuned :) ) I thought I'd write about something that I found truly hilarious and very typical in my house.




After spending 5 days in the ICU after her double mastectomy and reconstructive surgery, my mother was finally able to come home. She was healing "beautifully" and the cancer is generalized to the area they removed (although she still needs to do a round of chemotherapy).

I have never been so happy to see my mother hobble in our front door, and I think she felt the same way. While my dad went to the pharmacy to pick up her MANY pain meds, my mom settled in on the couch and seemed at peace. I did everything I could to make her as comfortable as I could--even made her 3 different kinds of soup, because after a bite of the first two she decided she didn't like them--but all she truly wanted was to get into her own bed and go to sleep. Which she couldn't do until my dad got home so we could get her up the steps.

So she waited and waited, staring down our front door. She was anxious and excited, and also wanted my dad to "hurry the fuck up," so she could get into her big, comfy bed. Suddenly the doorknob turned and opened. My mom was up off the couch so fast, you wouldn't have known she just had major surgery 5 days before. It was almost funny--like a little kid waiting at tops of the steps on Christmas morning.

We got her up into bed, surrounded her with pillows on all sides, and she let out a huge sigh of relief.

"You don't know how good this feels," she said with a lazy smile on her face. We laughed and tucked her in extra tight, after which my dad went back downstairs. My mom then turned to me and asked if I would lay with her for awhile. I was happy to oblige. I cuddled in next to her, and she took her hand in mine. It felt great to have her home.

I must have fallen asleep at some point, because when I turned over I felt a big empty space next to me. I opened my eyes to find my mother.

Up, and out of bed with a sock in one hand and a can of Pledge in the other.

Polishing and dusting my dad's dresser.

"What the hell are you doing," I laughed.

"It's bothering me," as she looked back at me, with the face of a little child getting caught in the cookie jar. She continued to spray and polish at a feverish pace, knowing I was about to end her party.

I got out of bed and de-Pledged her saying, "You're nuts. Only you would try and clean while your body is literally sewn together. Get back in bed." She took the sock off her hand and begrudgingly laid back down. I then removed all cleaning products from her room, knowing it was too big of a temptation for her.

I spent the rest of the afternoon rearranging the pictures on her wall, as she gave orders from her bed about where they should be.

It finally happened.

My mother has officially turned into her mother.
And all it took was losing her boobs.

My Mom's Angel

The last few days have been undeniably hard.

My mother had a double mastectomy on Friday (October 24th) at Fox Chase Cancer Center. She was in surgery for over 12 hours as they removed both of her breasts, and reconstructed them from fat tissue from her stomach. Her body was butchered in every sense of the word. And we tensely waited in the surgical waiting room for close to 16 hours. Every door that opened, every footstep heard coming down the hall, every telephone ring made us jump. The surgery ended with no complications around 9pm and the first thing she asked once awake was, "Where are my girls?"

Still makes me cry thinking about it.

We weren't able to see her for more than a few minutes--basically to give her a kiss goodnight--but we returned early the next morning, armed with pink roses. And even though she was groggy and in a lot of pain, she was all smiles for us.

The last two days have been up and down--yesterday she was in a lot of pain and couldn't get comfortable. It was awful to watch--all I wanted was to take the pain away. But they also had her up and walking, which was astonishing. My mom is a true fighter and has the strength of a warrior.

I realize now, writing this, how lucky she is. How lucky we all are that my aunt--on her deathbed--urged her to go get a mammogram. My mom had been neglecting her own health in the last few years because she was so concerned about her. I thank God that she listened to her. My aunt saved her life because they caught it early. We were surrounded by others in that waiting room who weren't as lucky. Who will have long battles ahead with a lot of bad news.

It's truly scary to think about how close she was--the tumors were right in her armpit, inches from lymph nodes. If she had waited any longer, the outcome would be drastically different.

We truly have someone watching over us on the other side. And I know she's with her even now. Thanks Aunt Annie for protecting her and filling her with strength.

 Love you.

Kicked in the Nuts and the Woman Equalitive

My life has been a complete whirlwind the last few months. Or as my Dad says, "We are being kicked in the nuts over and over again." Obviously, I am a female and I do not have nuts. The only female comparison I can compare to this rational is being punch in the boob during certain times of the month.

Or a mammogram; where a heavy steel plate is slammed into your boob over and over again.

Yeah, that sounds about right.

And as I make that comparison, I realize it's pretty fitting for what my family is going through at the moment.

About a month ago, my mom revealed to us that her doctor found something in her right breast during her annual mammogram. And being the person my mother was, she had known for quite awhile and waited to tell us until she had conclusive results; which she now had. She has 3 lumps in her breast, all of which are cancerous.

Are you imagining that foot retracting slowly, then forcefully thrusting forward towards your nuts? Yeah after the summer we just had, it's pretty good imagery.

Obviously, we were all very upset. But that quickly turned to extreme anger.

How is this fair?
Haven't we suffered enough?
Given enough?
Lost enough?
Grieved enough?

We just watched my Aunt--my mom's sister and the closest person to her and us--die after a horrific battle with cancer, only to now watch my mother potentially go through the same thing. I know people say life isn't meant to be fair, but Jesus God this is a lot to handle!

But....I think what we went through this summer has mentally prepared us for this; a hard-won lesson, but meant to prepare us for future hardship. We've been through this--the worst of it in fact--and we know what to expect. We know we need a game plan. We know we need a stress-free environment and positive energy around her. And we know the road is going to be tough. But we are strong; stronger because of what we went through. I'm actually pretty proud of how we have all taken this news; yes we cried and were very upset, but we got it out of our systems and now are on survival and positivity mode. We are not dwelling on what could be, but focusing on recovery. It's the only thing we can do at this point.

My mom will be having a mastectomy and immediate reconstructive surgery on the 24th. It was a hard decision for her to make--one that my Dad wasn't too happy with at first--but it's the best preventative for future reoccurrences. It's an 8-hour long surgery, which blows my mind a bit. She doesn't let on, but I know she's scared--more for us than herself. I catch her every so often just staring into space with a sad look on her face, and I know what she's thinking and I know the only person in the world who could ease her mind isn't here. And it's the one person she needs more than anything. It kills me that she isn't here to talk her through this. But I know she'll be holding her hand through the surgery. At least I hope.

I'm not going to say, "I hope things turn around soon," because I've learned better. Once one thing ends, something else comes creeping up to replace it. It's a constant circle. Instead, I hope we continue to stand strong and be what my mom needs. And if anything else happens--which most likely it will--we'll continue to face it together.

And ice our nuts thoroughly for the next swift kick.

100th Post

When I opened my blogger page this morning, I came to the stark realization that my next post would be my 100th. I had one of those "WOW! Holy Shit!" moments because I definitely did not realize this would my 100th, which yes is a pretty big deal. I started reading through some of my previous blogs, which made me semi-sentimental, laugh a bit at my stupidity and pretty proud. Proud because I mainly started this blog as an outlet for my writer's frustration and my angst towards life in general. But, in the process it has become something quite different.

For me at least.

I've found this whole other writing world that has really helped me through some pretty hard shit. Yes, I admit most of my blogs have to do with my dating life because that was important in my life. But there are also some great original stories and funny little life-isodes that I think many can relate to. I also feel like I have a genuine voice--like my writing is honest and direct. Not flowery or overly dramatic--unless I am purposely trying to be, of course. I am 100% myself on this blog because I have no censorship or have to worry about pissing anyone off. This is truly my own little safe-haven. One that I have come to cherish.

Now I know you must be thinking that I should write something epic because it's my 100th. That I have this whole plan and synopsis in my head, that will truly blow your mind and change your life forever.

Honestly, I don't.

It's currently 8:40 am on the Wednesday after Irish Weekend and I am still trying to recover from binge drinking for the last 4 days. Yes, there are a great many stories from the last weekend that I could divulge, but I am choosing not to. Maybe in a week or two I will, but right now I just don't have the energy or head-space to think something out.

I just wanted to thank this blog, honestly. It has helped me through a lot of tough moments, especially over the last few months. And I'm sure it will do the same over the next few years. It's helped me grow in a lot of ways and really take a look at what I hold most dear and how I should change things. I truly believe I am a different person now. Different things are more important and I appreciate things in a different way.

I've changed.

I know I'm rambling and I doubt any of this is cohesive or makes any sense, but I'm not going to reread and edit like I usually do. This is it.

This is my 100th blog.

Not what anyone would expect, or even myself. But I don't give a fuck.

This is me.

"It's about Joy that comes out of Sorrow"

I've had this one line from Billy Joel's song All About Soul stuck in my head for weeks now. Mainly because it was the song that my cousin Sarah danced with her father at her wedding in June. This song has a pretty big significance to them as it is the song that reminds my uncle of my Aunt Ann. And listening to the lyrics closely I know exactly why.

She waits for me at night, she waits for me in silence
She gives me all her tenderness and takes away my pain
And so far she hasn't run, though I swear she's had her moments
She still believes in miracles while others cry in vain

 

It's all about soul
It's all about faith and a deeper devotion
It's all about soul
'Cause under the love it is a stronger emotion

She's got to be strong
'Cause so many things getting out of control
Should drive her away, so why does she stay?
It's all about soul

 

She turns to me sometimes and she asks me what I'm dreaming
And I realize I must have gone a million miles away
And I ask her how she knew to reach out for me at that moment
And she smiles because it's understood there are no words to say

 

It's all about soul
It's all about knowing what someone is feeling
The woman's got soul
The power of love and the power of healing

This life isn't fair
It's gonna get dark, it's gonna get cold
You gotta get tough but that ain't enough
It's all about soul

It's all about soul
Yes, it is
It's all about soul

 

There are people who have lost every trace of human kindness
There are many who have fallen, there are some who still survive
As she comes to me at night and she tells me her desires
And she gives me all the love I need to keep my faith alive

 

It's all about soul
It's all about joy that comes out of sorrow
It's all about soul
Who's standing now, who's standing tomorrow

You've got to be hard
As hard as the rock in that old rock 'n' roll
But that's only part, you know in your heart
It's all about soul

It's all about soul
Yes, it is
All about soul
Yes, it is
All about soul
Yes, it is
It's all about soul

 

 

In the weeks following her death, I've been listening to this song on repeat wanting to be close to her. And I almost always end up in tears by the last refrain. It captures every aspect of her personality--her selflessness, her strength when all seemed lost, her endless hope. And now I think about my cousin's dance with her father, while my aunt watched on a monitor from home via Skype--none of them knowing she'd only be with us for 4 more days.

 

But it's that one line that I've been stuck on relentlessly.

 

Because I've been looking for the joy that comes out of sorrow for awhile now. Waiting for something great to come out of this awful summer my family has been stuck in. Something to have made all the sorrow we've experienced in such a small period of time worth it in the end.

 

And I thought the easiest form of joy would come with the birth of my sister's new baby.

 

But the joy didn't come easy.

 

My sister gave birth to my nephew, Owen Robert at 7:53 AM on August 11th via C-Section. He was beautiful--looking just like his big sister Maggie--big, and we thought healthy. After the doctors took him back to examine him closer around 8am, my sister did not see him again for nearly 12 hours.

 

Something was wrong.

 

But no one would tell any of us what or allow us to see him. My sister was hysterical and beyond exhaustion, all she wanted was to see her baby and know what was wrong. My brother-in-law was hounding the nurses in the NICU and calling the doctor every hour. It was mass chaos and we all tried to keep our spirits ups for sake of my sister--but we were all worried.

 

Around 9pm, the doctor called and told my sister that Owen was going to be taken to CHOP for further testing. There seemed to be a defect in his heart, and he went blue twice while the nurses attempted to feed him. They also believed a syndrome was involved as his head was a little large, his ears very small, and his arms short. Naturally, we were all terrified of the implications of this and my sister basically had to be sedated.

 

For the last week, my family has been splitting our time between CHOP and taking care of my 11month old niece. We'd switch twice a day, making sure one of us was always at the hospital while another was home with Maggie. It was hectic and we still had no answers---test after test was done, with no results. Everyone was diagnosing him--the worst was the possibility he could be blind and death.

 

We all just prayed to Aunt Ann and Pop. Asking them both to protect him.

 

By the end of the week we had an official diagnosis; Owen has DiGeorge Syndrome. Here's the main issues associated with it:

1. congenital heart disease
2. learning disabilities
3. problems with speech and swallowing due to a vascular ring in the throat
4. susceptible to infection due to a low T-Cell count
5. small ears 

Finally having a diagnosis put us all at ease. No more wondering or worrying. But the reality set in--Owen was going to be different and would need a lot of attention and work. Having just one child with this issue is a lot, but also having an 11-month old who is just learning to walk makes the situation a little more precarious. My sister and brother-in-law were going to have their hands full.

 

But after the dust settled, we realized Owen was born into a loving and supportive family, where he would thrive and grow to the best of his ability. We would all band together and do anything they needed to make life easier. That the best and only hospital in the country to have an entire wing devoted to DiGeorge Syndrome was at CHOP, and Owen would have a team of doctors to help him as he grows. We would not take this diagnosis as a set-back, but a reason to keep fighting. We'd love him even more.

 

And that's where I found it.

 

Owen Robert.
Our joy that came out of sorrow.

Where did the Summer go?

The summer is flying by. I looked at my planner this morning and couldn't believe it's August 7th already. No, I haven't been avoiding calendars or have been living on a deserted island for the last two months with no concept of time. It literally just hit me this morning--as I sat down at my computer for work, and decided to write this blog instead--that the summer is almost over. Labor Day, the official end of the summer season, is three weeks away.

What the heck happened summer?

Regardless of the fact that the East Coast has had maybe.....3 weeks of truly summer hot days in this entire three month period and it's rained almost twice a week, it just hasn't felt like a true summer. And yes, I've done summery things that I haven't touched on in this blog--gone to the shore a few times, swam in a pool, worn flip-flops and shorts, took a vacation with my sisters to Florida (and FINALLY Disney World), and got pretty wicked sun-burn on multiple occasions.

 

But it's been different.

And recalling all that has happened this summer, I'm not too surprised. Made me realize why the summer flew by.

Thinking about how extreme things got the past weeks makes me exhausted. My life literally flip-flopped between extreme pain, to extreme joy and then back again. Summer started with a blind-sided breakup and my aunt's cancer coming back, then to my cousin pushing up her wedding and marrying the man of her dreams in time for her mother to see it, then my aunt passed, I had my first editing session with my editor for my new project, and Pop got sick and then passed a week later. And over the next few weeks I have more joys and sorrows coming--my other cousin is getting married on Saturday, without my aunt there to see it. My sister is giving birth to her second child on Monday, and Pop will never meet his second great-grandchild.

 

I really feel like I'm on one of those teeter-totters we played on as kids. Once you get down to safety and security, you're kicked back off into the air. Almost like I'm looking for the next tragedy in life, and I can't keep my guard down.

But I guess what this summer has taught me is that that's life; we weeble and wooble between the extremes in emotion. That from great pain can come great joy, it's just a matter of finding it. Life isn't always smooth and easy, but giving in to grief and sadness isn't the way to live. We need to take the bad with the good, and just remember peace will eventually come.

I can't wait til this summer is over, to be honest. I want to get to that peace and move on.

A summer I can't wait to end, but one I will never forget.

"Top of the World Ma"

It's hard for me to think about how crazy and devastating the last month of my life has been. My Aunt passed on June 17th, after succumbing to her 8 year battle with cancer. She was in so much pain, and truly wasn't living a life. I'll miss her terribly, but I have some consolation in knowing that she is no longer in pain and finally at peace.

Then last week Pop died.

I've written about my paternal grandfather quite a bit--he's the subject of my first book as well. And his death was a complete shock. Yes, he was 91 but up until a month ago he was perfectly healthy. He was hospitalized for about a week--because he had stopped eating and fell while at my aunt's. But he seemed ok. He was even combative in the hospital--he punched out a nurse, and had to be sedated so he wouldn't pull out his IV's. Now I know that sounds extreme, but if you knew Pop you wouldn't be surprised. He is not the type of person who liked being told what to do and what he couldn't do.

They brought him home last Monday, and he finally seemed at ease. He settled down and slept--and never really came out of it. Almost like he knew this was his time, that this is how he wanted to go out--at home, with his family around him, no prolonged suffering or life in a wheelchair. And that's what happened. He slipped away on July 2nd.

The loss was tremendous. I got the call while in work, and I don't know how I was able to drive home. The next few days passed in a blur. People came and went, and we prepared for the funeral.

My grandmother asked me to give the Eulogy. I was honored she asked.
Here is the speech I gave on Monday:

 

On November 4^th 1922, a baby boy was born to Joseph and Mary Steinmetz of North Philadelphia. He would be their fourth boy and last baby. He was big, had bright blue eyes and the beginnings of a mischievous grin. He completed their family in every way. With three older brothers, he was always the butt of every joke, the tag-along play-mate, and the punching-bag. He constantly tried to win his brothers attention and respect. He was a show-off and excelled in almost everything he did. He played baseball in the spring, football in the fall, and boxed with his father every Saturday morning. He was a happy kid and his future seemed bright.

But life changed, as it did for many young boys, on December 7^th 1941.

Pearl Harbor. He was 19.

For five years, I’ve had the privilege of being the official autobiographer of Robert J. Steinmetz Sr. But for 28 years, I’ve had the bigger honor of being his granddaughter.

I’ve been asked a lot over the years about the beginnings of Pop’s book; what my process was, and how I was able to get him to tell me his stories. My answer has always been the same—I don’t really know, but it was always the same. I’d show up at my grandparents house in North Wales by late morning, I’d setup my tape recorder and writing materials, Pop would promptly offer me a shot of whiskey—which I never accepted but he always took for me—we’d sit down and Pop would start to talk. Usually for hours at a time, Pop would tell me story after story—going in chronological order according to a list he had from the War Department of everywhere he was in the Pacific. Usually by the end, he was hoarse and my fingers were numb from writing. It was truly astounding that he remembered so much. 70 years had gone by, but for him it could have been yesterday. He remembered everything. Names of his shipmates, and ships he saw, exact dates and events, what he was doing, specifics on what he welded and how bad the damage was, the emotions of the moment. Everything. He teared up quite a few times, recalling the deaths of friends or how hopeless the situation seemed to be. Other times he’d start a story by saying “Now I know I can tell you this because you’re older”—which I loved. I don’t think either of us wanted our “Book Dates” to end and he was always anxious and excited to set our next meeting. I got to know him in a way that every grandchild should.

I will remember those moments for the rest of my life.

Steiny was one of the youngest on his ship but he ran it like he was a seasoned veteran. He fought through 7 major invasions, saw the worst parts of humanity and war, but he never gave up. He never gave up on life and worked hard every day to get home. He was proud of all he did for his country. I asked him once if he had any regrets, he smiled and said “Regrets? Nah. I was born to beat the Japanese. That’s what these hands were made for.”

 

He found his manhood at sea, but his proudest moments he created in Philadelphia. These people sitting in front of me were his biggest achievement. To his children—Bee Bop Bobby and Jane, Lynny-Pie and Rick, Ween, Bake and Lisa—he was Daddy. No matter how tired he was from working long hours at PGW, he always made time to play with his children. He taught his sons the important things in life—that hardwork is paramount, and the only way to do something is to do it right the first time—and showered his daughters with affection and love. To his grandchildren—Carolina Moon, Wabe, Fire Engine Megan and Bob, Tweetybird, Crackers, Kitty-Cat Katie, AC Moore Lizzy, PeeWee, Cole Cole, Freihofer and his Prize Maggie Jane—he was Pop Pop. He had a special relationship with each and every one of us. He played games, pulled practical jokes, and gave us memories to last a lifetime. He sat us on his lap at 3 and let us drive his car, popped a cigars in my mouth at 5 and told me to take a puff, and gave me my first drink of beer at 8.

And to his wife Marion. His Mag. The love of his life. His anchor. The air he breathed. He told me he fell in love with her the moment he saw her—at the PGW Christmas Party. He chased her for weeks until she finally went on a date with him. Within 3 months, he had bought a ring. He spent the next 61 years at her side, and I’m pretty sure he fell more in love with her every day. The way he looked at her when she walked in a room always gave me chills. He loved you Mom-Mom. He spent his life loving you and still does.

What else can I say about Bob Steinmetz? He liked his whiskey straight and his beer cold. He put butter on everything and loved his sweets. He loved Casablanca and Yankee Doodle Dandy. He had movie star good-looks. He had a wicked sense of humor and a hearty laugh that I can still hear in my head. He was known to take 2 hour long baths because he loved it so much. He worked hard, but played harder—his antics are that of legend. He was a die-hard Philadelphia sports fan—especially the Phillies and Eagles, even when they were awful. He played baseball until he was 75. He loved going to the VFW. There was nothing he didn’t know how to fix. He loved when we all got together for holidays and never wanted the party to end—“Hey what you leavin’ for! We just started” he’d say. He was stubborn and could be pig-headed, but what German isn’t? He loved life and lived every second to its fullest. A moment was never wasted.

He was everything to us.

Thank you for the memories Pop. Thank you for your love and being here for 91 wonderful years. We love you.

“Top of the World Ma!”

My heart grieves for both Aunt Ann and Pop. I'm not sure I will ever be the same. But I think I'm stronger having gone through this back to back. It's made me a different person. It's made me appreciate my family more and try and live my life to the fullest--as they both had done.

Trying

I've been trying to write this post for a week now. Have started, stopped, deleted everything, thought really hard, broke down and cried, screamed, and tried to write again. I guess I'm a little afraid to put the words out there quite yet. That writing them down will make it more real and that this all just isn't some awful dream. And maybe I've fooled myself into thinking that, because it still doesn't seem real.

That she's not gone.

But I know I have to get it out. I have to write about her, even if its hard.

On Tuesday, June 17th heaven gained another angel. My aunt Ann succumbed to her 8 year battle with cancer. She fought hard--the doctors gave her a year after her first diagnosis--and she beat it for so long. We all believed and had high hopes--she always got better, always. But this time her body could take no more. She's finally at peace and feels no more pain. My uncle called us in time to say goodbye and I was able to kiss her and smooth her hair across her face, take one last smell of her to remember her perfume, hold her hand, and whisper in her ear to wait for me. She looked beautiful.

It was one of the most painful yet beautiful moments of my life. One I will never forget.

I think of her everyday. Wish I could talk to her everyday. I'm  worried she's lonely without us,  and wonder if she's still hovering around. Sometimes, I pray that she is. It gives me a little comfort that I'm not alone.

I just loved her so much. And I don't think this hole in my heart will ever be filled.

I'm uncomfortable with one word, that my mother uttered the other night and I felt the pain all over again. I literally told my mom "Please don't use that word." The word is the reality, but I refuse to use it. Say anything else. Say "Passed on." Or "Gone to a better place." Anything but that one ugly word that sends my heart spiraling. Again, words have power to me. Saying it makes it more real.

I hate it.

And I miss her.

Please pray for me and my family.
Especially Ann Ford.

Flags of My Grandfather

February 23, 1945
Iwo Jima

It had been hours since our day started, and hours still probably lay ahead. The work was unending and exhausting. --I was pulled in every direction, barely had time to turn off my torch before the next disaster struck. In fact, my welding torch was blistered into my hand, after hours of holding it steady and never putting it down. It was now part of my hand.

But I walked the gangway between a destroyer and the Gear, with the legs of a 90-year old man. I had a few minutes reprieve--a mandate reprieve from the Captain-- to grab some grub and take a breath. Then it was right back to it. Just fifteen minutes, I thought as my feet landed back on the Gear's deck. I grabbed the sandwich handed to me by the Mess Crew, who had set up a make-shift kitchen on deck and were giving sandwiches and hot coffee to the whole crew. Most took the food and dropped to their knees right where they stood--everyone was feeling the strains of the day. I walked back to the guardrail of the Gear and sat up against it; looking at the island, for the first time in hours, looming ahead.

To the puffs of smoke, ash and cinder that enveloped the beaches.

The work was hard and backbreaking, but in that moment I was relieve to be sitting where I was and not on the hazardous beaches of Iwo Jima.


We arrived first to Iwo, towing a broken-down destroyer of Marines. It was hours before the fleet showed up, and we were already hard at work getting the hunk-of-shit we hauled up and moving. We were invading, everyone knew it. The Marines surrounding me were set to storm the beaches at a moments command, As I moved among them, I saw the looks on their faces--the adrenaline building, the excitement of a major battle, the fear as they looked towards Iwo. I could see the gears turning in their brains, that they knew death, victory or both lay ahead for each of them and they were powerless against it. That their lives were no longer their own, but forfeit to a bigger cause. To freedom and all they left at home. Young boys, turned into machines of war, for the sake and love of their country.

It almost made me angry.

I had to looks away from them and concentrate on the metal and mechanical issues that sit in front of me. Looking back, staring too long only made the guilt worse. That I may be the rat of the Naval fleet, but they were the pigs sent to slaughter..

I blocked out the chaos and worked. Just kept working.

Hours later, the fleet arrived and order were given.

"Give 'em hell! Fire every round you got. Kill every last one of those Jap scum! Make them remember this day! Make them regret ever fuckin' with America! This is what we've trained for. We are Marines!" I heard a Commander scream.

"HOORAH" was the overwhelming response. Arms raised in salute, boots stomps and screams of excitement echoes. The energy was contagious and the fear seemed to drift away. Then the chaos of movement started towards the landing crafts and over the side of ship. I stood up from what I was doing and watched them go over the side and on to their destinies; whatever they may be. I said a silent prayer as I watched the last man leave.

The entire fleet was doing the same.

The invasion began, as I stood from afar watching the whole thing. The landing crafts docked and the Marines jumped into the ocean and waded ashore. At least they tried. Bullets rained down on them from the waiting enemy. The tide turned red with blood, and the wind hissed with the sound of sailing bullets. Heads jerked and arms flailed as the bullets found homes. They dropped beneath the raising waters, never to stand back up.

It was a massacre. The screams were almost unbearable.

Still they raged on and fought their way to the beach; the ones who survived the first onslaught. Most dropped to their bellies and army-crawled to the dunes and safety. A few stagnant breaths was all they could take before they were ordered to push forward and into enemy territory. Tommy-guns and heavy artillery were set up, and let lose on the enemy. Grenades, heavy rounds and fire bombs exploded on every inch of the beach, turning up the ashy landscape and covering the island in a huge haze of smoke. And once it started, there was no stopping. There was no distinguishing where the rounds were coming from and whose side was where. It was complete chaos.

And I stood on a broken destroyer, powerless to it all. Looking out at the destruction and death around me, I doubted our victory. I doubted everything.  

How can we win this? How?


And now I sat on the Gear, waiting for what came next. For the surrender? For the victory? Hours had passed and the battle seemed to have slowed. But still we had no way of knowing which way it all went. Our radio was silenced during the battle, so we just had to wait for a sign. I choked down my sandwich--it scrapped against my throat like sandpaper and hit my stomach like a ton of bricks. I put my head between my knees and closed my eyes; I needed to pretend I was somewhere else, somewhere safe and away from all this.

Then I heard the roar of cheers.

And the blaring of ship horns.

My head snapped up and I jumped to my feet. Everyone else had done the same and were darting to the other side of the Gear. I pushed my way to the front and saw it. I saw the flag. The American flag, with its blue and white stripes and stars flapping in the wind, being raised on the beach of Iwo Jima by Marines. And the waiting fleet reacted with cheers and "HOORAH".

It was the sign I needed.

"We're going to win this war," I said aloud.

And it was the first time I knew it.

*This is a story my grandfather recently told me, that is not included in my book. I thought it was appropriate given the holiday. Hug a veteran this weekend; thank them for their service*

*Click Here for a copy of my book*

Trolling the Internet for Love Advice

Today I was trolling the internets, as I do in most of my spare time at work, and I found this little diddy. I thought I'd share, as it seemed to speak to me directly

15 Hard-Won Lessons You Can Only Learn From a Break-up

1. "A relationship involves two people. I used to put all the responsibility on myself whenever something would go wrong. When her actions would hurt me, I'd think about myself and what I could have done better. In the end, I stayed in that relationship way too long."
2. "I learned to always keep my money separate and to have a backup plan."
3. "Never settle. Love is a verb. People are who they are. Don't expect them to change."
4. "Your happiness and validation come from within. Relying on one person in order to feel happy is unhealthy for both parties involved."
5. "I learned to cultivate me -- my interests, my hobbies -- and let the hobbies and interests I once shared with my ex fall to the wayside. I learned my own strength."
6. "I learned that loving someone and loving the idea of being with someone are two very different things."
7. "It's a big ocean with many fish. You'll find someone else. The heart is resilient."
8. "Once you've broken up, cut all ties with that person. Delete them from Facebook, delete their phone number and send their email and text to a spam folder. Stay away from them and you'll move on quicker."
9. "Always read the signs and be aware of the red flags. They are there flashing and waving if you just pay attention."
10. "I am worth more than what I accepted from the person I loved. I can make myself happy."
11. "Don't even think about falling in love again if your self-esteem is zapped post-split. Heal and love yourself first, then look for love again."
12. "Being unattached is way better than being in an unhappy or unfulfilling relationship."
13. "Get your stuff before you break up."
14. "Your wellness is more important than the relationship."
15. "The pain does go away even though it seems so hard to believe in the beginning."

The link is here if you want to read the whole thing.

And for all you out there in the blog-osphere who are slightly worried about me after my last few posts, my heart is on the mend. I've realized that the issue in our relationship and its demise was him, not me. I did everything right in that relationship and he is looking for a perfection that he will never get. I've come to realize he thinks he is better than me and our relationship was sub-par to his standards. I deserve more. And he will never be satisfied with what is right in front of him, or be happy for that matter.

But me, on the other hand, I will be happy. And I'm getting there.

Without him.

It Still Hurts

I wish it didn't.
Wish and pray with all my heart
That I was made of stronger stuff
And could bounce back like rubber.
But I feel so lost and alone.

The memories are what keep me crying.

Remembering the things we did and planned.
Your sneaky grin as you walked by
After you lightly hit my butt.
The butterflies that filled me when we kissed.
Laying next to you and how you pulled me in.
How you always seemed to know what I was thinking
Before I said a word; knew every whim or need.
Playing boardgames or reading in bed.
Planning a future we both seemed to want.

The first time I wanted us to last forever.

But you say it wasn't real.
That you were pretending and can't anymore.
That you're done with this "limbo" and
Have no room for me in your life.
That I'm not worthy of your time and
"There's not easy way to do this."
That I'm not important anymore and
You want your stuff back.

But for me it was so real.

My feelings can't go away overnight.
I can't just pretend the last few months didn't happen
And that it meant nothing to me.
I can't smile and pretend I've moved on when
Everyday I hope you'll call and take it back.
That I think about you all the time.

I hate it.

I wish this would go away and
I could feel whole again.
That my heart is back in my chest
Instead of torn to pieces and thrown away.
I was happy and unaware of any of your feelings
And I guess that's what hurts the most.
That I didn't see this coming.

I miss you.
And I wish I didn't.

On The Eve of My Birth: Part Tres

I've done this for the past 2 years--written a blog entry right before my impending birthday. Usually it's a post about what I've learned from the last year and what I hope to gain in the following. It's always been fun for me to look back at where I was the year before and the hopes I had for myself.

I'll admit, last year came in on a high. My book had just been released, I was in a relationship with a guy who I was crazy about, working for a company I really liked, and I was excited for the birth of my first niece/nephew.

2013 seemed to be my year.

And for the most part it was. I got accolades on my first novel--voted to Kirkus Reviews Best of 2013 List--my niece Maggie was born and she brought light and love to all our lives. I started my next novel and am really excited about it. I also had my heart broken by the same guy I was crazy about. Not once but multiple times--every 2 weeks to be exact when he'd go on a weekend bender and "forget about me." But I took a chance on new love right at the end of the year, and for the first time I thought "this is my person."

But 2014, thus far, sucks ass.

• I've gotten very complacent with my job and don't feel the same way about it anymore.
• My "new love" turned out to be a sham. Of which I am still reeling--I don't think you realize how much you miss someone when they stop calling, even if they've hurt you beyond measure.
• My aunt has been given a fatal diagnosis and she has 4 months to live.
• I've given in to my mother's request and will be going back on medication for anxiety--a huge failure in my book.

I might be fixating on the awful things at the moment, but I'm truly consumed by it. Yes, some good things have happened this year--1 of which is I will be working with Larry Kane's (the Philadelphia Beatles guru) editor for my next book, which is HUGE for me and my sister is pregnant with her second child--but right now I can't see beyond the hurt in my heart to be excited for it.

I usually look forward to my birthday and this year I'm just not. I almost don't want the reminder of another year going by--another wasted year of more heartbreak and tragedy. Honestly, I'd rather sleep through the whole day and pretend it never happened.

So dreams for the next year?

I don't have any at the moment. All I want is to get through this next year with my wits about me and not completely crumble again. Which let's be honest, I know will happen and that reality scares me. I just wish things could be easier and my life would fall into place, instead of this constant upheaval every few months. Which YES, I get that's part of life and everyone goes through it. I guess I feel like I've had my fill for awhile.

Hopefully I'll look back at this post next year with a smile--because things were so bad but got better.

I guess I can hope....

Ripping off the Band-Aid

I've been contemplating for a few days whether or not to blog about what's been going on the last week or so. I use this blog a lot to vent about things going on and my life in general, and usually it's not in the greatest of taste and it's blunt. Not to say that I don't like that about myself because I do--and I don't really intend on changing that about my personality. But I'm in a numb state of devastation and bewilderment, and my feelings are really very raw at the moment.

That being said, I feel like I need some clarity and introspective re-evaluating of my life at the moment. That recent events have made me question a lot about myself and decisions I make.

The first would be with my personal life and relationship status.

It always comes back to this, doesn't it?

I was (and writing WAS still kind of stings) dating someone for about 4 months. I was happy. Unbelievably, completely, stupidly happy with him. It was sort of the first mature relationship I've been in ever. An adult relationship where I wasn't the sole stable one--he had his own house, a great career, ambitions and seemed to be sane. Everything sort of happened fast--within a month I had met his family, was being invited to family events, and spending a lot of time together. It also got to the point that he asked me if things got serious, would I consider moving to NYC with him--he works in NYC, but put his house up for sale in the hopes of moving there in the very near future. He also would be starting grad school in May, which would require him to be in NYC more--because he was going to NYU. And because I was so deliriously happy, I seriously started to consider it. Like to the point that I was imagining myself there and even went apartment-hunting with him. I really got involved with many aspects of his life, to the point that I feel like I was living his life and not my own anymore. Everything kind of became about him and his needs and schedule--which at the time I was okay with. I was happy just to be with him.

But I won't lie, I started to get kind of resentful of it. I started to realize he didn't seem too interested in things I had going on, and that conversations were always being switched back to him. Like we were out to dinner 3 weeks ago and I started a conversation about something, and it instantly went back to him and the amount of money he was paying out that month. I was annoyed and I know he saw it--I started looking out the window a lot, suddenly got very quiet and mentally decided to get really drunk that night just to get thru it.

Then within a week, everything crashed down and suddenly he "didn't have time" for me anymore. Granted, his schedule was getting crazy (as far as I know) but it doesn't take much to answer a phone call or shoot someone a text. It all led up him canceling plans on me twice in one week, not seeing me at all that weekend and then breaking up with me last Monday.

I was devastated. Beyond. And just confused--how can you go from wanting me like crazy to "my life's changed, I've changed and I don't want a long term commitment anymore." I'm not going to rehash the nitty gritty of it because I don't feel like reliving it again. Basically, he used me. He needed someone to fill a role for this (as he called it) "limbo period" between him living in PA and moving to NYC. That he thought he wanted a relationship, convinced himself  and me as much, but realized he didn't anymore--at my expense. So I filled his selfish needs and now he was done with me--even though he will probably remain in PA for quite sometime as his house hasn't sold yet and probably won't for awhile (a reality I don't think has hit him yet.)

Naturally, I was stupid and begged and pleaded to make it work. I sent him this massive e-mail describing our relationship and what I loved about him. Really making a complete fool of myself. He led me to believe he wanted to make things work, then ripped the rug from under me again. I've never felt so....violated and wronged in my life. And TRUST ME I've been through bad break-ups. But he really did me dirty and I'm still feeling the affects of it.

The worse part about is that I still care about him and wish things could be different. I threw some pretty nasty descriptions at him--including "Complete heartless dick" "Selfish Prick" "Cold" "inhuman" "Douchebag"--which I kind of regret now because I stooped to his level. I should have just cut off contact and I wish I had. But I was upset and....desperate. And I wanted him to feel and ounce of the pain he caused me.

I'm hurt. Very hurt. My self esteem is shattered. And I still think about him and want to cry. The worst part about it is that I miss him. More than anything, I miss him and what we used to have. Last night I packed up his stuff for him to come get--including the key to his house--and I waited for him to come. I guess to catch one last glimpse. I don't know why, I just felt like I needed to see him. Naturally he never showed. So I'll have to go through this song and dance all over again.

I am still incredibly hurt but I'm trying to move on--which is hard when everything I see reminds me of him and I just want to call him and tell him. Being angry helps to an extent but I need to start looking at this as a lesson learned. If I can't be a priority for someone, why should I waste my time? I should listen to the little voice in my head more often, especially if it's shooting off red flags, which was happening in the beginning--like the fact that he wanted to sleep with me after our first date, was clingy to an extent in the beginning, and was lonely. That I can't let myself get so absorbed in someone I date's life that I lose my own. That I deserve better.

It also kind of showed me that I need to stop looking for "Mr. Right". Actually, obsessing about it. I need to take it easy for awhile and let myself heal from this latest blow to my heart. I don't know how faithful I will be to it, but I want to at least try and stay single for a bit.

Hate that it still hurts so much. Wish there was a turnoff switch for feelings and love.

On top of all of this (and during the same week this all went down) my aunt got some pretty devastating news about her cancer. It's spread into her liver and rectum. And because of her extensive past, there isn't much they can do. Even if there was, I don't think my aunt would pursue any of it. She's given up--she's fought long and hard, but she wants to enjoy the time she has left. She wants to die.

And it's a hard truth to face, as people who love and care about her so much. I wish she could go on fighting. That maybe, as my mother has been saying the last few days, the doctor has a magic solution and it will see her through this. That she will see her children get married and become a grandmother--which I know she wanted above anything else. That she would stay with us.

Sorry, I'm getting emotional and can't really talk about it more.

It's just another hard truth to face. And I guess I want to spend as much time with her as I can. Try and make things easier for her and the rest of the family. I feel guilty because I was so consumed with the demise of my relationship, that my emotions kind of took over when we got this news. The two overlapped in one week, and the pain my family was feeling turned into anxiety about me. When I should have been focusing on my aunt and family, I was focused on my own pain. I cannot think of myself--or even him--anymore. There are more important things in life, and it took this to make me realize it.

I'm hoping this week is better. That all of this will settle in a bit and we can all get back to semi-normal lives. Things have changed so drastically in one week, it's hard to believe.

But I guess that's life.

A Funny Little Four Letter Word

No, not the four letter word you think I'm going to drop here.

The word I'm thinking of is Hope.

It's a pretty ordinary word. Obviously really short and only one syllable. But it could mean a lot to different people. I decided to Google the definition and this is what I found:

1. The feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best
2. To look forward to with desire and reasonable confidence
3. To believe, desire or trust

And it's origins are before 900; (noun) Middle English.

And for fun I also Googled HOPE in images and found these:

 

 

These are pretty vague, I know and there were a lot of pictures--mostly just the word lit up in bright colors. It's kind of hard to pinpoint something like hope because it's more of a state-of-mind that anything else. It's not really tangible and can manifest in different way. It's believing with all your being in something. That against all odds, your dreams can come true. It's almost like a personal prayer--not necessarily to a god, but just to the universe. It's being optimistic when everything and everyone is fighting against you. It's something that entire nations and cultures have counted on--what would the Civil Rights Movement be without it, or people hiding from Nazi oppression during WWII? These people had to believe things couldn't get worse, that the universe had a greater plan for their suffering and one day, no matter how long it would take, that they would be released. It is a common denominator with all suffering people the world over: they pray and hope things will change.

But hope is a fickle thing.

Because it isn't tangible, there are no guarantees. There is no Hope Bank that grants wishes to a lucky few. Being too optimistic or too generous guarantees nothing. Hope can lead to major disappointment and continued heartbreak. It can let you down over and over again, beat you to the core. Many give up on Hope and just turn to reality--"This is reality. I need to live with what has been dealt me." It's a huge chance.

But still Hope endures.

Hope is something I am clinging to.

The last few days have been rough on me emotionally. I have something going on in my personal life that has broken me down to the core. I spent almost 3 days crying uncontrollably--to the point that my eyes starting to swell and hurt--and I didn't think I could carry on. I've felt the lowest I could possibly feel and what made it worse is that someone I loved made me feel like that. It still hurts.

But last night I got some needed relief in the form of an e-mail and now my despair has been replaced with overflowing Hope. It's my crutch right now--the only thing that made me get up this morning and come to work. To live normally and actually eat something.

But I'm scared. Scared that my Hope is foolish and I'll be thrown right back into my darkness in just a few days. It almost makes me want to abandon Hope; that maybe I'm convincing myself to be optimistic and the reality is I just stalled the pain. That if it all comes crashing in on me again, it will be ten times worse. I don't think I can survive it again.

I have to Hope.
I have to.
I have to.

Please give me strength Hope. Please.

UPDATE: " You're An Idiot. He's Using You."

So if you read my last blog post concerning my sister's resurrected relationship, you'll know that I wasn't too happy that she was giving that scumbag a second chance. And I was grappling with telling my sister the truth about it. In the end,  I spoke my peace to her, presented some pretty damning evidence of his "dick-ery". She kind of shut me out after that. I really haven't heard from her after I let the Tinder bomb drop. Which I attributed to her being mad at me because I was ruining her happiness, or some bull shit like that. I let this whole thing drop and decided to let her deal with her own life--I have enough stress in my own to worry about.

Meanwhile, I had a pretty lengthy conversation with my youngest sister about the situation. Initially, I hadn't because I was asked not to "gossip" about the situation, because my sister didn't want my parents getting wind of it--and rightly so. But after "Tinder-gate" I had to talk to someone. My youngest sister Liz is incredibly close with my other sister, and consequently was extremely close with the scumbag. She hung out with the two of them pretty consistently, and she had a friendship with him outside of their relationship. So I wasn't too sure about how she felt about them reconciling. I wasn't sure if she was happy for her.

Well she wasn't.

THANK GOD!

She basically reiterated everything I said and agreed with the common thought, "YOU'RE AN IDIOT. HE'S USING YOU". She was actually really mad at her about it, saying "Of course her friends are going to stand by her decision because they didn't see what we saw those few weeks. They didn't see her on a daily basis and the mess she was. We were the ones who had to deal with the aftermath, not him." She also went as far as to say that that relationship was the most unhealthy one she had ever been in--which is A LOT to say because her last boyfriend had some mental problems that surfaced and exploded during their relationship. She said that our sister had been trying to butter her up with "Oh he keeps asking about you and wants to hang out." Well she wanted none of that and actually wanted him to go far away forever.

Obviously, this made me feel ten times better.

The issue has died down a bit, but I still haven't really talked to my sister. Which I did find odd. I at least talked to her once or twice a week.

Now I know why. Last night my youngest sister told me that the scumbag was history...at least for now.

I guess when Tinder-gate was revealed, my sister had a sit down chat with the scumbag and aired everything out. Now, I'm not completely sure what was said and how it all went down, but basically he said he still wanted to work on things with my sister and see where it went, BUT he was unwilling to be exclusive or take down his profile. That he still wanted to "see what else was out there".

WHAT???!!!!!!!

He yet again, proved his dick-ery. Luckily, or so I'm told, she dropped him right there. They are no longer speaking and she has no intention of rekindling any flame with him. At least for now.

Apparently this happened almost immediately after I initially told her, which was a few weeks ago. So I'm kind of assuming it's one of those "tail between her legs" scenarios--she definitely does not like admitting she was wrong, ESPECIALLY to me. She'd rather act like it never happened to be honest.

But THANK GOD I had the balls to say something to her. If I hadn't, she'd still be dating the creep and potentially get an STD from whoever else he was sleeping with--and trust me, he is. It sucked having to burst that bubble for her, but it situations like these you have to put your feeling aside and just be honest. No, I did not want or relish in hurting my sister (which I know she was) but I was trying to protect her further heartbreak. I know I did the right thing.

And I love being right :)

"You're An Idiot. He's Using You"

I know we've all heard the saying "Opinions are like assholes; everyone has one." And obviously this is true. No matter the situation or your involvement in it, everyone thinks they are the expert and want to give their opinion in the hopes that you will take it. And NO ONE can say they don't get a slight satisfaction when they are right and their counterpart says as much. It's a personal high for me--I LOVE being right, and being told is even better

But what if the person who confides in you really doesn't want your opinion, even when they ask for it or involve you in their drama? What if they just expect you to be quiet and nod your head in agreement with whatever they say? Can you in good conscious say nothing when you know they are making a HUGE mistake?

Let me explain.

A few months back, I briefly touched on my younger sister's recent breakup. It was a BAD one. She was very wrapped up in the relationship--she was rarely home, they worked together so it turned into her staying at his place every night and they drove in together, she helped him move and decorated his new place, met his parents, gave up Thanksgiving with her family to go to New York to celebrate Hanukkah with his, catered to his every whim, and really mothered him. She thought she was going to marry him and even started planning their life together. Not gonna lie, it was nauseating.

And let me clarify that I was not jealous of her happiness. It was just frustrating for me to watch her get so wrapped up in a guy who seemed like a jerk and completely lose herself inside of the relationship. She changed. Majorly.

So then he dumped her--which I called 3 months prior--because he "wanted to be single, and he didn't love her, and never wanted a girlfriend." It also had a lot to do with his now single roommate who, as soon as he dumped his own girlfriend, suddenly had a problem with my sister being at their apartment all the time and wanted his "wingman" back. Personally, I think he cheated on her during a "guys trip" to AC that occurred 2 days before the breakup, felt guilty, and wanted his freedom back. Needless to say, my sister's world fell apart. And she took it quite hard. Like beyond hard. She had to call out of work 3 days in a row, stopped eating--and subsequently lost 15 pounds in 1 week--stopped sleeping, and was ready to throw in the towel with her Grad School finals happening that week. In every sense of the word, she was suicidal and we were all very worried about her. It was BAD. And there was no shaking her out of it. All she did was cry and say she just wanted to talk to him, or go to sleep and never wake up. Meanwhile, he immediately de-friended all her friends on Facebook and started friending a bunch of 21 year old sluts who he probably met out that weekend--really classy.

This lasted for about 2 weeks. 2 weeks of hell that had my entire house on edge. To the point that my father--who is not a violent man in the least bit--wanted to drive out to his house and "put a bullet in his skull." It got even worse when she told my parents that she didn't want to celebrate Christmas--which was the next week. That was enough for my parents to give her a taste of tough love. My dad gave her three choices: To get over it and come back to the world of the living, get the hell out of his house, or he'd go and knock his knees out and end up in jail. And I guess that snapped her out of it and she started getting back to normal.

Almost immediately, she started making plans to move out and get an apartment with her friend in Manayunk. Problem is, which we all pointed out to her, that's where her now ex-boyfriend currently resided. She swore he had nothing to do with her choice, but I don't think I'd chose a small town if I wanted to avoid someone who lived there. Just seems stupid. So within 2 weeks of her making this decision, she moved out. And she seemed incredibly happy and back to her old self. And besides 1 awkward run-in she had managed to avoid the ex and seemed to be moving on with her life.

Or so I thought.

On Friday, I got one of those phone calls from her that start with "I'm going to tell you something but you can't be mad at me." Seriously the most awful way to start a conversation. And I knew what was coming next; they were "talking" again. Apparently she had drunk texted him a month before, which turned into her going to his house the next day for a 6 hour long conversation, where he told her he "got scared" and things were moving too fast and he thought she was expecting a ring from him and he missed her and wanted to try it again. And she, like a dope accepted it. And they had been hanging out irregularly--or every 2 weeks, because she didn't want to see him all the time--and "taking things slow." That she wanted to give him a second chance and she knew if she didn't she'd always regret it.

Now I ask you; How would you react? Would you tell her what she wants to hear and keep your mouth shut about your real feelings?

 

Or tell the truth? No matter the result?

Well....I've made it pretty obvious in this blog that I can't keep my mouth shut and I kind of exploded. Like I was mad! More than that, I was disappointed. She had made my, and my family's, life AWFUL with this breakup and now she was going to take him back? Don't you remember what he did to you? Don't you remember the hysterics you went through? Basically I told her that she was an idiot and he was using her--that obviously he was lonely (which was what he told her when they broke up, as  to why he constantly invited her over and wanted her there) and now that she lived closer, it was more convenient. That he obviously couldn't find anything better and came slinking back because he knew it'd be easy. She'd never be able to bring him home or around us because we all hated him (and I hope he knows that) and she will break my father's heart if he gets wind of this. She had complete blinders on and seemed to forget the past--which she said they were trying "to move on from the past". Like come on!

I basically wrapped up my whole opinion telling her that if I ever saw him out, I'd remove from his body what he cherished most of all. Obviously, this wasn't the response she was expecting and I think she got a little angry at me. But I'm not sure what she thought I was going to say--in what universe would I be happy for her?

The plot thickened the next day when I got a text from my older sister's best friend who joined the Dating App Tinder.

And guess who's profile she found.

*GASP*

Yup! The ex-scumbag. She sent me a screenshot of it and there's no denying it's him.

Now this site is very notorious for "booty-call/hookups" by guys. I've actually been told by quite a few that their friends use this site and "get so much ass". I think its because everything is based off your picture. There are no profiles or matching of any kind, so everything is based off of immediate physical attraction.

I was then faced with another burdening question: Do I tell my sister? Or pretend I never saw this?

I mentioned before how I love being right, right?

I sent her the picture and explained how I got it. She immediately wanted more information, especially concerning the last time he was on the site (which after some snooping we found out was 21 hours previous). And apparently she confronted him about it. I really thought this would be the nail in the coffin--who in their right mind would stay with an ex, who you're already on rocky ground with, once you find their dating site profile? How can you ever trust them!? Or trust their intentions!? I didn't like that I was dashing my sister's hopes of a renewed love-affair with the "love of her life", but I was glad he'd shortly be history.

Well I was wrong.

Her response to me asking what happened after the confrontation was; "I need to trust him more. I'm glad you are protective of me and I love you for it but I have to make this decision on my own."

WHAT?!

The evidence that he's a creep and is using you is staring you in the face, but you are still going to give him the benefit of doubt? Are you delusional? It's obvious he's desperate if he's on dating site to begin with, but he's also using it while you two are "trying to work things out". How could she ever trust him? I literally wanted to drive out to her work, go to her office, and shake the shit out of her. I just can't understand how you can be so dumb.

There's literally no talking any sense into her. She's going to do what she wants regardless of what anyone thinks. I still have hopes that she'll wake-up tomorrow morning, text me and say "You were right." But I'm not holding my breath.

But I am keeping my mouth shut for now on when it comes to him.

And praying, for his sake, that he stays the fuck away from me.

Freakin' Frozen

Apparently I am very "late to the party" with one of the best cinematic experiences of 2013. I had been hearing HUGE buzz about it for months, saw a lot of intriguing previews, and had every intention of seeing it in the theater. But no one would go with me or things would come up. And then I just forgot. Then a few weeks back, I started seeing all these YouTube videos about it and got very curious again. Feigning the whole "seeing it by myself in the theater," I figured I'd wait until it came out on DVD. Luckily, my sister found a website that streamed it (*illegally* sorry guys) and two weeks ago I was able to FINALLY watch it (on my iPhone). And I was blown away.

Literally.

What movie you may ask?

Why Disney's FROZEN of course!

 

Yes, I am a twelve year-old girl. AND DAMN PROUD!

 

It was beyond everything I expected and I quickly became quite obsessed--I downloaded the soundtrack moments after finishing it, learned all the words to the songs and also watched it twice in one weekend.

 

Again, I'm a twelve year-old girl.

 

Now usually I am very impressed with Disney. Their movies make up the majority of my childhood and I'm a Disney expert--for real, try challenging me to Disney Trivia, you will cry like a baby after I THROTTLE you with the amount of useless Disney knowledge I possess. And although I've never been to Disney World itself ( yes *GASP* but I will be remedying this come June when I go for the first time with my sisters), I consider myself one of the biggest Disney fans. But...I'll admit the animated musicals have been laking lately. Pixar movies aside, there hasn't been much offered in the last 20 years or so. I think the last animated Disney movie I saw and actually enjoyed was Beauty and the Beast which was back in the 90s. I just feel like the story-lines, animation and especially the music has been majorly flawed. Nothing stacks up to the likes of The Little Mermaid, Lion King, Or Sleeping Beauty in my book.  I'll admit I didn't actually see The Princess and the Frog, which is more recent Disney animated musical, but I heard good things.

 

Then Tangled happened.

 

 

 

And my belief in Disney was restored.

 

Obviously Tangled was a HUGE success and in many ways it rejuvenated animation for Disney. I guess they figured they had a winning formula again--fairytale princess, huge dilemma, love story, magic, great music--and they decided to invest in future projects.

 

But if I'm going to be honest here, I have to say Frozen went above and beyond. In fact, it trumped its predecessors--which is a HUGE compliment. The story itself was something Disney hasn't delved into before--yes, it was loosely based on Hans Christian Anderson's The Snow Queen (very VERY loosely based) and sticks with a fairy tale theme. But it looks more to the relationship between sisters, than between a princess and her prince. The sisters are not rivals or set against each other, but both give up something in their lives in order to protect the other. The movie builds on the bond between these two sisters and their love is at the core of it.

 

 

 

And as a girl with 3 sisters, I can totally relate.

 

True love or "love at first sight" is also discussed in length, and shot down as impossible. Which, if you've seen any Disney Princess movie you know is a major theme. The princesses meet their prince for a day, an hour even and instantly fall in love. There is no courtship or "getting to know you" stage, they see each other and are married in the next frame. Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, The Little Mermaid--all the major Disney classics follow this formula. And it honestly gives little girls (and boys) unrealistic expectations, which lead to major disappointments and a "ticking clock" later in life. Love does not happen like this, at least not in the real world in 2014. And Frozen tackles this issue. Ana, the younger sister meets a prince at her sister Elsa's coronation and falls in "love". When she asks for her sister's blessing, Elsa says she won't give it because "you can't fall in love in one day." And the theme goes through the entire movie, with Ana trying to convince people she is, in fact, in love and that it is possible. There is a major twist at the end, which I won't give away, but it confirms Elsa's belief. It's truly genius that they basically knock the Disney movies of the past with this notion, and it's such a positive message for young people.

 

Now the music is something else entirely. Usually the music from Disney movie's is of a high caliber and boasts at least one huge number. And when you think of Disney music, most people think of Alan Menken. He did the music for The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast and Tangled--to name a few. And he was slated to also compose the music for Frozen but backed out for some reason. A fresh new team stepped in and kind of breathed a new life into the genre. The songs were funny, witty, age-appropriate, beautiful and timely. Don't get me wrong, I love Alan Menken, but his music always seems to hit the same note or have the same feel. And the music from Frozen was very different in a good way.

 

And don't even get me started on "Let It Go".

 

 

Probably one of the most powerful songs in Disney history. And with the unbelievably talented IDINA MENZEL's (get it straight, JOHN TRAVOLTA) vocal chops, you can't miss.

 

She killed it! And the song was well deserving of the 2013 Oscar. YouTube her performance on Jimmy Fallon if you want to judge for yourself

 

If this blog hasn't convinced you yet, then I will say it in plain terms: GO SEE FROZEN.

 

Seriously, I have not had that much fun with a movie in a long time and it is well worth your time and money!  And if you don't want to spend the money, message me and I'll forward you the free (*illegal*) link I have.

 

Great....now I want to watch it again!

Love it!







Driving Through the Past

Have you ever passed a building or an old neighborhood that, with just one look, brings back a thousand tiny emotions? Emotions that haven't hit you in awhile? Just driving by one of these places dredges up memories long forgotten. And you don't need to stop or pullover, it just hits you all at once like a ton of bricks and changes everything you were doing before.

Yeah.

Kind of happened to me Saturday night.

I was driving home from my sister's new apartment in Manayunk. She moved out about a month ago and was having all her friends over for an "apartment-warming" and drink-fest. Normally, I am all about these get-togethers, but I'm doing a cleanse this week and can't drink any alcohol and my sister's friends.....well, I don't really like them. Needless to say, I left early and was feeling a bit sad. I just hate going home alone and walking in to a quiet house. Made me feel even more lonely than I had at my sisters apartment. I was also Mario Kart-ing it the whole way home, trying to avoid massive pot holes that are currently plaguing the Philadelphia area. It's pretty stressful actually to drive like that, praying the whole time you get home alive and with all 4 tires intact. And driving down Roosevelt Blvd at 11:30 at night is basically asking for a blow out.

My nerves couldn't take anymore, so once I got into Mayfair I decided to turn off the Blvd and onto Holme Ave. I figured the streets wouldn't be a perilous and the drive would be a tad more scenic. When I pulled onto the street, I realized I hadn't been that way in quite a while. There was construction for almost a year on an old bridge about a quarter mile down and the entire area was detoured off to a side street. I remembered not knowing about the construction when I needed to get to the cleaners on Holme Ave, and having to drive 15 minutes out of my way to get my final destination. So pissed in fact that I completely avoided this area for over a year. But driving on it then made it feel all shiny and new--like a street I had never driven down before. The dark made it feel ominous and magical, and it was almost completely deserted. Still afraid of pot holes, I drove pretty slow and tried to take in the scenery. Ahead of me was a traffic light, so I slowed to a stop and waiting for the green. I turned my head to the side to stifle a yawn, and when I opened them I saw the street sign to my right that was glowing from the street lamp.

And I realized I was in front of Jay's neighborhood.

It took me back instantly.

To that summer before senior year of college when Kyle invited me to Jay's birthday party. Jay and I went to college together and I actually knew his girlfriend pretty well, so I knew a lot of people there. But Kyle invited me. Kyle, the guy who worked with my best friend in high school. Kyle, who I reconnected with in college when he went to DeSales for a year. Kyle, the guy who I secretly had a crush on, but couldn't say anything because so did my best friend. We had started talking again that summer and he invited me to hang out. It was all kinds of awkward but I went anyway. I talked myself out of leaving every ten minutes, especially when I saw Kyle talking to another group of girls. But I stayed and eventually the night turned. We sat and laughed for hours and talked about the basement house party where we met--the night he handed me my first underage beer and I got drunk off of one. It was strangely normal and comfortable, and time slipped by. The sun actually started to rise and I looked at my watch, seeing it was 5:30 am. I knew I had to leave, so he walked me to my car.

And pulled me in for a kiss.

Everything changed in that moment.

It was what I wanted for years, and it fulfilled every expectation.

It was the start of a whirlwind summer that ended far too soon, and with far too many questions lingering. That, to this day I still don't have the answer to.

And never will, because Kyle was killed in a car accident 3 years ago.

It's hard for me to think about him without getting emotional. There was so much there and so much potential for us. Deep down, I truly believed I would end up with him. Soul mates, whatever you want to label it, it was just intense. And distance is what ended things--I was going back to school and he was staying in Philly. But now he's gone and I'll never know if he felt the same way.

And I guess that's what hurts the most.

The not knowing.

The light turned green again, and I drove the rest of the way home. Tears streaming down my face, and a re-opened hole in my heart.