Grilled Cheesus

Praise be to grilled cheesus. Ah, the power of the combination of cheese and bread grilled to perfection to lift the spirits. 

For the last few weeks, I’ve been feeling oddly uninspired.  Not only that but I’ve not been as likely to notice the little things that would typically make me smile.

ENTER GRILLED CHEESUS. 

I and my colleague decided to indulge in a craving and go for the gusto with classic american grilled cheese sandwiches on sourdough with carmelized onions and roasted tomatoes.  As I savored my first bite, a smile broke through to my face from the depths of my being and that was when I knew.  I’m BACK.

My heartfelt thanks goes out to the Melt Shop NYC.  Their bread is baked fresh daily by a local artisinal bakery making their grilled cheese the  finest known to man. 

Maybe Glee was on to something when they coined the term ”Grilled
Cheesus.”  AMEN.

Next To Normal

Last night I had what I’ve been told is a “normal” night for lots of people.  After work, I didn’t have any rehearsals or meetings so I (WAIT FOR IT) went directly home. 

I arrived at my apartment at about 6:30pm and sat down on my couch.  After about 10 minutes, I got up and heated a frozen dinner then ate it slowly after which it was only 7pm.  7PM!   So I met up with a friend – on a week night – I’ve been told this isn’t all that uncommon. We had a leisurely chat over a beer at my favorite laid back pub then headed home at (WAIT FOR IT) 9pm.  Only 9PM! 

Ummmm …. I’m probably boring you to death but this moment was revelational to me!  Listen, if this is boring, I’d like to put in my vote for boring as the new exciting.  And if this is normal, I’d love to live next to it.

Maybe I would get bored eventually.  Oh, alright.  I would definitely get bored eventually.  I love living life in New York’s fast lane.  This week, however, I’m soaking in turtle speed normalcy.  Reveling in every boring moment of it too.

THIS MOMENT

Life is so overwhelmingly busy at present; yet, I am compelled to write this.  In fact, I am writing *because* I am so busy.  Recently, amidst my schedule’s madness, I find myself contemplating at great length the value of a moment.  Then yesterday I was introduced to the following thought provoker:

• The Dalai Lama, when asked what surprised him most about humanity, answered “Man. Because he sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health. And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present; the result being that he does not live in the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die, and then dies having never really lived.”

Let’s bring this home, shall we?   

I currently work full time as an Executive Assistant in a Private Equity firm and pursue a full time music career in my “spare” time.  I have managed this juggle (pay the bills + pursue the passion) numerous ways over the years and am always looking for a more efficient means by which to keep all the balls in the air.  (Shouldn’t there be an Olympic category for schedule jugglers?  Mothers?  Business men? Can I get an Amen?!)  The balance I have now is the best yet but there’s always a give and in my current scenario, the give is TIME.  There isn’t enough of it.  Over the years, I have learned to create intricate lists and timelines to ensure all the music gets learned, all resources are collected, all the bills are paid and all rehearsal commitments are scheduled and met.  There are other categories as well: phone calls and hang outs with friends and family, exercise, eating and sleeping.  Yes, sleep is in the calendar.  It’s embarrassing but I actually have to make decisions about when to put the work away (‘cuz it’s never done!) and go to sleep.  I don’t prefer my life to be so structured but there is simply no other way to manage. 

Other things fall by the wayside: daily appearance (make-up is SO overrated), manicures (Ha! Yeah, right!), laundry (I simply buy more underwear when I run out.), jewelry for concerts, cards at Christmas, etc and so on and so forth …

The only way I see to lessen the “struggle of the juggle” is to sacrifice the pursuit of music as a career.  At this point in my journey, this is not an option.  It’s not time.   As of today, I can’t imagine it ever being that time. 

Where does that leave me?  Let’s talk about Moments.    

In a cab en route to a concert last Sunday, it hit me.  If I allow this Moment to pass me by because I can’t de-stress enough to be present in it, all the toil and sacrifice will have been for naught.  The whole journey, afterall, is about *this* Moment.    

So, upon arrival to the concert location, I took a deep breath and let all the stress go on the exhale.  As I stood up in front of the audience with the choir behind me, I began meditating on the text of the 5^th Movement of Brahms’ Requiem:

German: Ihr habt nun Traurigkeit; aber ich will euch wieder sehen, und euer Herz soll sich freuen, und eure Freude soll niemand von euch nehmen.

Translation: And ye now therefore have sorrow: but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you.

One hot second later, I was standing in an 8 minute Moment.  Although the vocal line and tessitura had been a challenge to me in the preparation process,  the message was now singing itself effortlessly through me .  I, the choir and audience were fully alive together in this moment.  It wasn’t my Moment.  It was our Moment.  All those differences dividing us when we entered the building disappeared with the arrival of the music.  Through music, we were united in our humanity.

But this entry is not about why I must sing (although, the power of this Moment does make a strong case for why many pursue music!).  I’ve experienced Moments in the most mundane of activities.  I’ve also experienced Moments while praying, Moments with friends, Moments at the park and Moments at work.  I experienced a Moment 5 minutes ago when my sister sent me a picture of my nephew sleeping in his car seat.  But the frightening truth is this.  I am confident I’ve missed more Moments than I have captured.  

I refuse to die never having really lived.

Today, I am grateful for my health, my family, music, friends, salsa dancing, food, my job and all the little Moments that give my life breath.  My life’s goal is becoming this:  Be Present.   

May your Christmas season be filled with Moments.  I would love to hear about some of them.  Please do share!!

Urban Chivalry

Dear New York Male,

Please purchase a pair of high heels and walk around New York City for a day. This shall serve as your education on the war between high heels and subway grates. It’s not too late. Bring chivalry back.

Sincerely,
Disgruntled Heels

Two days ago, I was rushing toward an entrance when out of nowhere, New York Male shoves by me to get to the door first.  Wait.  It gets better.  The door then SLAMS IN MY FACE.  “He looked back to apologize, right?” you ask me desperately and in disbelief.  To which I respond by laughing hysterically then “Bless your heart.  No, Sweetie.  He didn’t.”

Growing up in the Southwest, things were, well, simple.  No man dared sidestep the ground rules:

• Ask a woman out on a date using the spoken WORD  (versus texts/emails).
• Pick a woman up for the date (in a car) then drop her off and walk her to her door (without asking to come in).
• Pull out a woman’s chair and ensure she’s comfortable before sitting in your own.
• Stand when a woman stands to excuse herself from a table (for any reason).
• Pay the bill.  Do not, under any circumstances, allow a woman to pay on a first date and for most southwestern men that goes for all dates.
• Open car doors for women.
• Open doors for women generally speaking.
• Notice when a woman is carrying something heavy and offer to carry it for her.

To earn bonus points, a man might try the following:

• Walk on the street side of the sidewalk. (You know, just in case the horse and carriage rolls by and splashes mud all over the woman’s parasol.)
• Place a hand on the small of a woman’s back while leading her through a door (Note: This is a “mutually beneficial” bonus.  Woman feels taken care of <– >  Man gets to touch woman.)

Yep.  That’s how they roll in the Southwest but let’s be honest.  New York ain’t havin’ it.  How do you like them Big Apples?  “Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Texas anymore …”

In all fairness to the New York Male (“NYM”), this city is a different beast.  What is the protocol when one doesn’t own a car?  NYM can’t very well pick me up and let’s be honest, I typically don’t want NYM to know where I live until I’m certain he’s not loco en la cabeza.  Additionally, I’m often moving too quickly to allow a man to open a door for me.  NYM would have to anticipate my arrival on supersonic levels.   A few men have tried, failing miserably (pobresitos).

Maybe you’re waiting for this, NYM …

Yeah … I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.

I don’t expect the NYM to undergo a drastic makeover but I would like to leave him with at least one suggestion.  Think of it as one small step for NYM; one giant leap for urban chivalry:

Dear New York Male,

Next time you see me walking toward you in high heels, please move your own flat soled stride over to the subway grate thereby allowing me to pass you on the sidewalk.

Forever Yours If You’ll Do This For Me,

Wistful in Manhattan

Time. It’s the new black.

When I’m not in a hurry, I love to take the bus instead of the subway. It’s nice to be above ground. Also, the bus slows life down a bit which always leaves me feeling oddly luxurious.

Just the other day, I opted for the M79 (runs crosstown, east-west in NYC) and couldn’t help but notice there were people passing us. And I do mean, there were people on the sidewalk walking faster than this bus. I’ve been told the M79 is the 4th slowest bus in the city. To date, I have experienced no evidence to the contrary.

But you know what? As I watched through the window while all those people rushed around outside and all those speedy cars zoomed by us, I couldn’t help but feel like I was winning.

Time. It’s the new black.

Skip-A-Dee-Doo-Da

Have you ever allowed yourself, as an adult, to skip down a public street in broad daylight?  I have.  Done it several times actually.  I’ve even convinced a friend or two to join in.  Oh, the friend never wants to but once he/she gives in, giggles and smiles ensue.

When I’m overwhelmed with happy feelings, I MUST skip.  The urge commandeers me and before you know it, I’m bouncing around like a 5 year old.  I think that’s what it is.  It’s the childlike, not-a-care-in-the-world aspect of it that appeals to me. No inhibitions.  No worries about what people might think.   Nothing heavy enough to hold my spirit down.

Have you ever seen a frowning skipper?  What?  “No.” you say?  Yeah, neither have I.

Go on.  Give it a try.

Heavy Boots

“In bed that night I invented a special drain that would be underneath every pillow in New York, and would connect to the reservoir. Whenever people cried themselves to sleep, the tears would all go to the same place, and in the morning the weatherman could report if the water level of the Reservoir of Tears had gone up or down, and you could know if New York is in heavy boots.”  Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by J. S. Foer

Heavy Boots.  Yes, I am in heavy boots. Though there have been tens of little, beautiful moments that would have painted beautiful word pictures, I have felt an irrational need to hoard these moments.  I haven’t wanted to give them to you in blogs. I am storing them in the way, perhaps, a chipmunk stores food, in its cheeks, to be eaten over the barren winter.  Sustenance for my soul’s winter.

Do you ever feel words are inadequate?  I do.  I feel this most of the time.

I’ve not been blogging but I have been writing.  Immersed in the not so happy/whimsical topics, I’ve been attempting, in vain, to find words to elucidate my boots’ heaviness.

I am largely, possibly wrongly, convinced that people don’t want to know my boots are heavy.  Take Facebook for example.  Funny status –> 30 thousand comments and likes.  Serious status post –> awkward internet silence.  Plus, I’m the funny/inspirational one. That’s my M.O.   While this is an authentic aspect of my personality, at times, it doubles as a costume.  The kind of costume one dons on Halloween – lots of fun to wear but mostly because it’s not permanent.  Masks have a way of releasing one’s inhibitions.

“I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others–the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad.”  Everything is Illuminated by J. S. Foer

Maybe we don’t want anyone to know we’re sad because we don’t want anyone to feel sorry for us.  We don’t want to dwell on it, give power to it or make people feel uncomfortable over it.   Maybe we don’t want to admit we’re sad because there are so many wonderful and blessed things happening in our lives.  Quite possibly, it’s because we don’t *want* to be sad.  Admitting it makes it somehow more real.

But sometimes I am.  Once in a while, I am sad.  Sometimes I am aware of the reason and other times, I am not.

“In bed that night I invented a special drain that would be underneath every pillow in New York, and would connect to the reservoir. Whenever people cried themselves to sleep, the tears would all go to the same place …”

When I read this, I felt a strange kind of joy as if surrendering to the sadness is actually a brilliant, revelational thing!  I love the idea that there is a drain under every pillow in New York and ALL of our tears are flowing to this glistening Tear Reservoir rather than into mascara puddles on our pillow cases (not sure what the male equivalent is here).  I will never be the only one crying myself to sleep.  I will never be wearing heavy boots alone.  Our tears are, in fact, flowing together to this Reservoir. I bet every tear creates a ripple …

If you’re wearing heavy boots today, I hope it helps to know that I often wear them too.  In fact, everyone owns a pair.

MAKE BELIEVE

Walking around in NYC is very much like a live, interactive video game. Whilst attempting to rapidly reach a destination (to conquer a level, if you will), one must dodge all sorts of obstacles. You wouldn’t believe how suddenly a child on a skateboard can appear or how unexpectedly one might lose an eyeball by umbrella jousting. Today, I nearly died several times.

I prefer, if possible, to make it to work with all my lives left because typically I need at least two to get through a day there.  I then earn my extra lives after work which is how I manage to progress from level to level. On the next level, I can earn a scooter – super excited about that. If I’m smooth enough, I’ll snatch a helmet too.

My walk to work this morning would have been stressful had it not turned into a video game. A dodging game of sorts!  “Aha!! You missed me, you bitter person with the huge, ugly frown, swinging your incredibly large backpack around and refusing to give an inch on the sidewalk.”

The game of life isn’t all that different, eh? I’d like to think that I have the same choice in life as in video gaming. The next time I get taken out by an obstacle, I’m going to pick myself up, take the 2 lives I have remaining, go back to the beginning and kick that level’s *#%^$.

MAKE BELIEVE.  It saves lives.

Skate Boarding Business Suit Guy

So, there’s this guy.  He wears a full business suit while skate boarding down Park Avenue presumably to work.  I haven’t been quick enough on the draw to capture him on camera – hey, skate boarders are fast!

I LOVE that he’s on a skateboard. In a business suit. On Park Avenue. Flying by all those fancy people with their fancy dogs and fancy children and all those business men in Armani suits doing business deals in transit and all those dog walkers and nannies and beautiful, thin women in their fancy jogging suits.  He’s flying by them, passing all the cabs and limos stuck in traffic, wind in his lapel and not a care in the world.

This is why it is now absolutely neccessary for me to get a razor scooter.  Park Avenue needs me.  Skate Boarding Business Suit Guy needs me.  The WORLD needs me to razor scoot.  And now, thanks to the Toys R Us coupon I received this morning, my time has arrived.

   See y’all on the Avenue.

Pictures coming soon.

Cup O’ Joe

I have always loved the smell of coffee but didn’t really care for the taste.  That is, until some evil person sold me on a cup of sugar with a touch of coffee about 6 years ago.  After that, I was a goner.   

Today’s simple little thing: Cup O’ Joe.  

Put down whatever it is that you’re doing right now and take a moment to truly appreciate your java.   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4xLwK4IUaE