30 Day Challenge, cont.

Day 2: Where you'd like to be in 10 years.

I would like to be in an apartment that is nice but affordable. 

I would like to have traveled across the country on a white Vespa. 

I would like to have long, full, wavy hair that is manageable.

I would like to have had more than three luxurious, lazy beach vacations and at least one Times Square NYE celebration with Brandy. 

I would like to still have Dan, and maybe one other all the time dog named Carlin. 

I would like to have finished school, excelled and also received my doctorate in social work. 

I would like to have had a boob job. 

I would like to still be the "cool" Aunt Abi. 

I would like to be a practicing social worker, preferably for the state, or working with a state-funded institution.

I would like to be able to visit Whitney's & Merman's bar.   

I would like to have a drivers license. 

I would like to still think I am beautiful. 

I would like to have apartments in both New York and either Portland or Seattle. 

I would like to wear glasses most of the time. 

I would like to be a foster mom. 

I would like to own the dog walking business with Maggy and work the weekends. 

I would like to weigh 142 pounds.  

I would like to be submitting my 2nd book to editors. 

I would like to be working on handmade items for my friend's children. 

I would like to have finished my tattoos. 

I would like to still call my mom a few times a week. 

I would like to have mastered yoga and be crazy flexible. 

I would like to have found a hobby that I LOVE and that brings joy to others, and have that be a source, no matter how small, of income for me. 

I would like to still be blogging, even if no one ever sees it. 

I would like to have traveled to Greece, Rome, and Italy by myself. 

I would like to have seen my dearest friends celebrate themselves in whatever ways they wish. 

I would like to still be able to have Jerome laugh at words I make up. 

I would like to still be the kind of girl who takes angled pictures of myself. 

I would like to have found someone I could trust with my heart again. 

I would like to have found someone I could trust with my heart again, again.

I would like to be filling this out once more and putting it on my blog. 

30 DAY CHALLENGE.

Here we go:

This is sort of a writing exercise for me, just to keep me going. I recently had the pleasure of reading Whitney's blog(and yes, I went ALL THE WAY back, and yes, I cried).  She is...one of the most incredible women I know, and I think she said something that really struck a chord in me... That her and I don't have much in common aside from how much we absolutely love each other, and both of us are better people for knowing each other. I'm paraphrasing, of course. :) 

Anyway, she's doing this, and I stole it from her. I think it's going to be really good for me. 

Day 1: Your current relationship, if single, discuss how single life is. 

Okay. Single. Well, it's me and Dan Fashion, my wee dog. Happy to be so. Cannot really imagine myself happy with anyone as a "significant other" at the moment. 

After Farran and everything that happened with us, the things that still affect me, the things that do not, the way I find myself thinking about the things I did right, and the things I did wrong, how I have to remind myself that no matter how right the things I did right were, or how wrong the wrongs, I didn't deserve what happened to me as a result of someone I loved not being able to honor me with something as simple as fidelity, if not fidelity, at least honesty, so I could protect myself. 

That I still feel like I must've done SOMETHING, because having the choice to have children taken away like that, without my knowledge or consent... the pain echoes inside of me on a daily basis. 

If I believed in Karma, as my mother does, I would believe that to have something like this happen to me would be a clear sign that I am a total piece of shit. 

I do not believe in Karma, and some days it feels like the non-belief is a defense. 

I just… I had no idea I would ever need to protect myself from someone I loved. 

I hate talking about it, it feels like I'm trying to get people to feel sorry for me, but I feel compelled to do so at times. It usually happens with people who knew us together and then separately, or vice versa. It's like I have this overwhelming need to make sure that people know how terrible he is, what he's ruined, this piece of me. 

That I will never know my own child makes me want to fully weep almost every time it crosses my mind. 

That this is a direct result of someone I loved's lack of respect for me and my body, what could have been possible in my life after him… makes me want to strike out at him. 

I have made the unfortunate decision to write about this while sitting in a school hallway, waiting for Ellexis, daughter of my oldest friend. The sounds of children all around make my throat thick, and I sit here on this bench and hope that there is no need for me to speak anytime soon, for I could not without betraying at least some of what I currently carry. 

I feel like this is something that I do to myself on purpose, so that I can feel the emotional part of this purely, so that I don't hide my feelings from myself about not being able to bring children into this world, a privilege and right of most women born as women. 

It feels like I'm punishing myself for something I cannot apologize for, as I have no idea what it could be. 

I still do it. 

I think that single life for most is like coupled life. Just the same, but with one less thing. For me, it is the same, only with the unavailable possibility for infinitely more present, like a ghost at my shoulder. Felt, but not fleshed out, and never to be so. 

Who DOESN'T have a New Year's post?

Oh, HELLO! Happy New Year to you from Dan!

I FINALLY got some dogs to walk! I'm WAY excited, and yesterday was my first official day walking them. I met the two puppies over the weekend (16 week old Cavalier King Charles Spaniels) named Bruckner (the red one) and Barley (the tri-color). This is NOT a picture of them, but it is SUPER close to what they actually look like.  I almost can't believe how much these two look like the other two.

So, yeah. They're so cute. So. Cute. Pictures of the actual dogs coming soon. Like, the next post soon. Oh wait! Here's one! HAHA!

I'm realizing how closely that mirrors the above picture. Too cute. I mean, I may die from all of that cute.

Okay, nevermind. I'm good. 

Umm... I hope that everyone's (all two of you, haha) New Year's Eve was lovely and that this year brings everything you need and most of the things you want.

Oh. How was mine? MINE?!?? Well, let me tell you.

My roommate (Magnolia) planned a HUGE party for NYE, and a ton of people were invited. And not just those people, but those people's people. So it was going to be... ridiculous. I mean, we do live in a one-bedroom apartment that is big for Manhattan standards, but still. It's real small.

A quick word about Maggy, who I love SO much: She is brave, smart, talented, ambitious, hard working, has an open and pure heart, and is basically one of the best people I know. She's also 22. And Dominican. And I am her only white friend. I am 8 years her senior, and her ONLY. WHITE. FRIEND.

This gives me some...novelty amongst her friends, but also basically makes me REAL not fit in sometimes. I decided to absent myself from the party and either hang out somewhere with my friend Sarah, or watch her kids for her while she went and got her party on. My other option was to just go to Times Square by myself and watch the ball drop, but to honor my dear friend Brandy's request, I am saving my TS ball-drop watching for next year, when we can both go together.

In the days leading up to the shindig at our place, Maggy actually told me to check the walls the day after the party, because there would be butt marks on the walls from people being so squished,  sweaty, and rubbing against the wall. I told her that at white people parties, we just dance with the other humans, but whatever. I mean, can you even IMAGINE being so sweaty and hot that the actual COLOR from your CLOTHING comes off on the WALL? Well, I can't even imagine WANTING to be in such a place (post-party, I have seen the evidence, and not only does it look slightly...Blair Witch Project-esque, and therefore really creepy, I have to say that I am thrilled to have missed it. Per Maggy and Pierina, it was really fun for them, which I am glad of, but not something that would have made my life better to have been a part of. All that sweating and drinking... did I mention I'm 8 years older than Magnolia? FEELING IT.).

What I did end up doing was watching Sarah's kids, Ellexis (9) and Jeremiyah (7) while she went out for a little while with some friends and then met up with her husband at the bar he works at. Where there was a dress code. Where I had absolutely no desire to be. Because hello? I mean, I don't want some place that legitimately charges 4G's a table top for NYE telling me what to WEAR after I (potentially) drop that kind of dough. But I mean, let's be real. Even if I won the lottery, that shit would never happen.

Sarah told me that the kids were allowed to stay up until midnight, and that they could let off their noisemaker/ribbon spewing party things that looked like this:

AND that they could do it in the house. 

The kids tried hard to stay up, but they lost the battle at about 11:15p. I did tell them, after watching both kids jerk themselves awake three different times, that I would wake them up right before the ball dropped so that they could ring in the new year on time. 

At 11:50p, I got Ellexis up, which was not fully successful, but worked better than waking up her brother, who basically said just said "ok" when I told him we had a little less than 10 minutes, kept his eyes closed, and didn't move from his spot on the couch. 

Not quite ready to party...

TOTALLY ready to party!

As the ball dropped in Times Square, I sat with the kids on the couch, urging Jeremiyah to wake up, and counting down with the TV. I handed Ellexis (now fully awake) her streamer-shooter/tool of Satan, and told her to ONLY point it straight up, towards the ceiling. She obliged, holding it perpendicular to the floor, pressed the button, and with a loud "POW", the top shot off of the stick-of-evil, ribbons shot out everywhere, and a lightly acrid burning matchstick scent filled the air.

So excited to be a part of this.

And can you BLAME her?

The loudness of said stupid-stick/party-maker did three things ASIDE from shoot ribbon fragments across the living room. 1. It actually startled me. Those who know me know that I love to scare and be scared, and that it hardly EVER happens that I actually get startled or scared. That shit was loud. Loud and unexpected. 2. Jeremiyah was all of a sudden COMPLETELY awake and sitting upright on the couch, looking around and blinking heavily. He then pushed the button on HIS the-bane-of-my-existence/noisemaker-and-ribbon-spewer and it was #1 all over again. This will be funnier after you read #3.
3. Zore, the kids' 3 year-old Shi-Tzu clawed his way up my body and sat on my chest, where he must have felt safe and secure, because he relaxed in such a way that he promptly emptied his bladder down the front of me. (Get it? #1? Heh. Heh. oh.)

Yes, that's right. My first moments in this new year of 2011 were spent getting peed on.

The worst part was that it was so warm, I actually noticed the smell before I noticed the feeling. It was like a two second difference, so give me a break, but still. So. Gross.

I of course acted like a total lady and calmly walked myself to the bathroom where I removed...

No. I'm totally kidding. I completely flipped my shit. I'm not proud of it, but come ON. I just got PISSED ON. And NO, I am not INTO THAT.

I tore my shirt off, rolling it up and out from my body so that in removing it, I wouldn't  wipe the urine soaked shirt across my face and add insult to injury, pointed at Zore and called him the Devil's spawn as well as a few other choice names, ran into the bathroom, turned on the hot water and just started scooping handfuls of scalding water onto my chest, only taking a break to pump about...oh, half the bottle of hand soap next to the sink into my hands and suds myself up. I kept thinking it was in my hair for some reason, and was running my fingers through my hair like wet fingers never did anything so effective. I yelled, "I canNOT believe this is my LIFE!" and as I finished the sentiment, I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror and it made me freeze. My cheeks were all flushed and puffed out from me holding my breath, my nostrils were flared in anger, I had my mouth turned downwards in a frown and my chin was jutting out.

Hel-lo, ugly face!

I had water running down my face, down my front, through my hair, there were drops in my eyelashes and hanging from my earlobes. Hot. Mess. Alert.

I realized that I didn't want to go into the new year like this, and that even though yes, I HAD just been peed on, I could maybe just tell people it was a good luck charm in some cultures, or even better! Not tell anyone at all! I quickly tossed that idea aside, because I mean, how could I NOT share, right? Right. But I COULD change how I was reacting, so I took a deep DEEP breath (okay, maybe 3 three of them. And maybe one of them was actually a sigh.), calmly dried myself off, grabbed another shirt, and went into the living room.

Me: "Happy New Year, guys. Sorry for all the bad words."
Jeremiyah: (eyes are completely closed again.) "Okay."
Ellexis: "You got PEED ON! HAHA!"
Me: "Hey. That shit is GOOD. LUCK. Don't be jealous."
Ellexis: "Oh, I'm not."
Me: *sigh* "Yeah, me either."

After cleaning up the streamer mess, I tucked both kids into bed, sent Sarah a text telling her that Zore may or may not be tied to the railing outside waiting for her to come home, but that he would, in fact be outside, that there was a pee-soaked t-shirt in the bath tub and why, and "Happy New Year".

Her response text was, "Oh Fuck."

Awesome.

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!

At 30 Rock, with the huge tree behind me. <3