Archive | April, 2011

Day Eight

29 Apr

Oddly enough, I just realized that if said quickly enough – it sounds like “date.”  Something that I have not done in a while, and am still quite skeptical of.

I was out with a friend last night, and she clearly articulated what I am sure many of us in our late 30’s feel – “I do not want to date, I want a relationship.”

Yup.  But whatevs.  I am aware that you need to date in order to find someone to have a relationship with.  But I am no longer interested (or feel it NECESSARY) to put too much time or effort into it.  An adequate amount is OK, but really, I am just trying to live my life, and enjoy the things I have.

That is not to say that I am not still open to the online dating thing, or being set up, yadda yadda – but am not looking too sift through all the sand 9even the sand that is littered with garbage and crushed beer cans) to see if I can pan for a little bit of (fool’s) gold.

I talked to one dude a few nights ago that I had been emailing with off and on…as soon as homeboy started with all-too-adamant “I” statements (as in “I am a provider, I am stable but my ex is bi-polar, blah blah”) and launched into some child custody issues, this I decided to politely, but firmly, end the conversation.

Even though he said he would call me again to set up our first date, he has not, as of yet done so.

And for this, I am pretty psyched.  A few years ago, even after noticing some red flags, I would have dropped the dude an email by now, thanking him for the conversation and letting him know that I was looking forward to hanging out.

No more of that nonsense, thank you very much.  Only the serious and stable and ready need apply, and I am not going to make it remotely easier or even slightly tempting for those that are in no place to be in a relationship with me to step up to the plate.  Baby-mama drama?  No thanks.

There is one guy that I have been corresponding with lately…I find myself smiling each time I read his emails.   He seems nice, and a bit shy.  We will see if he is a candidate.

Today is day 8 – no cigs, and no booze.  Feels pretty good.  But I sometimes see people on the street, walking with a cigarette in hand, and I want to weep.


Kitty. Dentist. Me. Scared.

26 Apr

Laugh all you want.  But I am a Noyvous Nelly when it comes to my cat, Don Gato (aka DG), going to his vet for a dental cleaning.

Let me backtrack.  I never had a pet growing up.  My parents (not from this country) were raised in pretty poor circumstances, where animals were not “pets” – they were workers with jobs…guarding property, catching rodents, laying eggs.  You get the point.  So my parents  were never keen on having a dog or cat in a small apartment in the Bronx.

Instead, I had imaginary pets and once dragged a stuffed animal along on a piece of string for “walks” – much to my mother’s (un)amusement.

A few years ago, I decided that I was ready to nurture a living, breathing being that did not have leaves, and was part of the mammal species.  I REALLY wanted a dog, but kept going back and forth on it.  Was it ethical or humane to get a dog and have it locked up in an apartment all day?  I work 9-5, live alone, have no backyard, and am also in school.  Then again, I have a relatively big enough apartment (bigger than the cage a dog is kept in at the pound) and live near the park.

I would search the rescues on the site, (like internet dating, ha!) and read many “profiles”.  A few caught my eye.  I would write, and said pup would be adopted, or I would never hear back. (Yup.  Just like online dating).

Every once in a while, I would check out the cats.  I saw Gulliver’s profile – a tiny kitty that looked out with doleful eyes that melted my slightly skeptical heart.  I wrote, and again, received a reply saying that he was happily in a new home.

And then….I saw Don Gato.  His name alone grabbed my attention.

When I was a kid, my parents used to sing me this song in Spanish about a cat (named Senor Don Gato) that was sitting on a rooftop when he receives a letter from a chic white cat (the niece of a calico cat), asking him if he wants to marry.  The news stuns him so, that he falls off the roof, breaks a bunch of bones, and dies.  As he is being carried to his burial, passing the fish market, the smell of sardines resuscitates Don Gato, and so it is said that cats have 7 lives (I guess that the life expectancy is lower for cats in Spanish-speaking countries when compared to their US counterparts.)

Anyway, my Don Gato’s real life story was equally rough & tumble.  He was living the hard life in an abandoned building in Brooklyn, with a colony of cats.  When he was rescued, he was very sick – he has FIV & herpes  (kitty HIV and herpes, canNOT be transmitted to humans, and kitties with FIV can live long and healthy lives, people!) – and originally the rescuers thought he was feral.

As it turned out, DG was a big old softie, and with some very tender loving care by his foster “parent” Rob, he got stronger and healthier everyday.  He was ready for adoption and looking for a home.

DG was being fostered right by my job, so after work one evening, I stopped by to meet him.  It was truly love at first sight.  He was curious but not clingy.  I would pet him, he would walk away and sit on the window ledge behind me.  Every few minutes or so, a little paw would lightly tap my shoulder for some more petting.

And now, a few years later – I have a happy, healthy and slightly (well, more than just slightly) demanding furry feline sharing my home and heart.

Because of his FIV, I am pretty vigilant about his vet visits.  And when it comes to his dental hygiene, I actually prefer to shell out the big bucks to get annual cleanings.  Because if his gums become infected, it could get really ugly.

However, he does not know this is all for “his own good.”  He cries and struggles when I put him in the carrier, and it BREAKS my heart having to drop him off, knowing that they are going to put him under, and he is going to spend all day  scared and confused – like “WTF?  What did I do to deserve this?”

Luckily, all went well.  Last night I picked him up from the office, and he was no worse for the wear.  (he is a very resilient little guy, I must say!)  He ate, he demanded, he slept.  This AM, he woke me up at 6 to be fed.  Then again to get a treat.

Man, if and (hopefully) when I have kids, I will be well prepared for the medical appointments, shots, and various early morning/late night feedings!

And I will have DG to thank for the training;)

Yup. Need a new tactic.

22 Apr

If you have read my last post, I was all chuffed about starting my new transition into my last year as a thirty-something with a healthy lifestyle that includes no smoking.

Well – yesterday I went out with a friend to a bar.  Had too much to drink.  Had one cigarette.

Now I have a horrible hangover and feel like crap.

So this is it and I mean it this time.  For one whole year – 365 days, I will not have one more cigarette.  And because alcohol does make me less steadfast about this, I will not have any alcohol, either.

Hopefully, if I can just take it day by day, I can feel like I am not a complete and total failure in this process of quitting smoking.

Today is day one.

Welcome to the new and improved Goyagrrl Blog

21 Apr

I decided to change the look of this blog – it was dark and kind of gloomy and dreary, which was fitting for where I was at when I first started writing.

But time passes.  Shit happens.  Or does not happen.  And things start to seem a bit better.  I can actually say things are, for the most part (and really, isn’t it all about the proportion?) relatively good.

This particular style I have chosen is “Bueno”.  I liked the look, I liked the name, and bueno…it was an easy transition.

At least some are.

I have also transitioned into being a non-smoker.  Not a “once-in-a-while-if-I-really-feel-like-it-then-ok” non/smoker.  I decided.  I am 39.  And I am (as David Sedaris said) “finished with the cigarettes.”  Unfortunately, unlike David, I cannot move to Japan to quit…but I also was never as heavy a smoker (not at least since college).  I guess I am/was more like President Obama – a chipper.

It has been exactly 2 weeks. I have gone for longer before, but this is somehow different.

I am actually scared because I am going to be hanging out with a bunch of smoker friends on Friday.  Not because I am afraid that I will give in, more that I am afraid of how sad I will be that I can no longer indulge in what has to be the world’s unhealthiest but most satisfying and wonderful vice (other than what I imagine heroin to be like, but THANK GOD I never went down that road!).

I fear sadness and anger.  Also anxiety, but less so as of late.  I have slowly started to form a relationship with my anxiety by really looking at it and trying to describe it to myself.

Anxiety is like cold, molten lead – metallic and heavy and steely – filling my body from lungs and core, slowly on out to my extremities and tips of my fingers, toes, eyelashes and hair.

I guess I can do the same with sadness and anger.  And I guess I will have the opportunity to start on Friday!

Riding the waves versus breaking the waves

7 Apr

Overall, I have felt like I have gotten better at riding the waves of life – the inevitable tosses and turns, crashes and occasional “oh-my-god-I-think-I-am-drowning,” that daily life presents us all, in the last few months.

But sometimes, like this past week – I try to brace myself to break the wave, and feel completely thrown over, dragged about and smashed against sharp rocks.  I think in part this has to do with the fact that I:

1) Found myself intrigued by a man, and asked him to hang out. (I have now really REALLY made the resolution to not go after the guys anymore, not even online.  Am taking yet another break from my non-dating online.)

2) Found myself disappointed when we hung out and even though I was slightly disappointed, I loved the illusion that maybe this was the one dude for me (he felt slightly familiar -red flag!) – so I fixated on him for a few days.  (Will not make any assumptions about anyone’s character after only one meeting from now on.)

3) Became increasingly sad, annoyed, depressed, angry that he did not respond to my interest as I had hoped – leading me to feel rejected and…(this happens.  I am human.  Cannot resolve to ever not feel this way again, so….suck it up, honey pie!)


4) Now I feel so disappointed and upset with myself, for not seeing it all for what it really was – desperation.  My constant struggle with feeling lonely and inadequate.

It leads me to feeling so bad about myself, that I begin to question the very core of my abilities and strengths, my work and my intelligence, my looks, my luck, my progress, my weaknesses.

I smoke some cigarettes on and off for a few days ( I bought a pack of cigarettes, smoked a few, threw out the rest of the pack.  A few times.)

I sleep poorly a few nights and am a bit blocked at work.  (Did not attend my exercise classes because I felt tired….leaving me feeling increasingly more tired).

It begins to snowball.

And now – here I am a week later – feeling a bit embarrassed.

What was all this about?  Who am I really trying to get to like me really?  Who REALLY am I trying to form a healthy relationship with?  And why does it seem like this last person – also an only child, slightly removed and aloof, slightly self-involved and extroverted, with a strange family history – is so much like my ex….and also slightly like me….and also a bit like my Dad?

Hello?  Freud?  Is that you?  So now…I got nothing but two huge bags under my eyes.  I guess that is not too bad.  It could have been worse.

I am glad that I did not do what I impulsively and instinctively wanted to do after the “date” – write him an email.  But it also took me a few days to really discern that I actually HAD been quite disappointed at different times during our evening hanging out.  I actually saw some red-flags.  And I have to believe, really believe, that something was emanating from me saying to this dude – “OK, I may be available, but NOT THAT available, and definitely not available for nonsense” – and this is why he did not contact me after.  And why other men that I hope will contact me, do not.

Because maybe, just maybe, I am still in the process of figuring it all out – the right one for me.

So here I am – slightly more resolved and compassionate with myself.  Yes, I was hoping to be “done”.  Yes, I am really f*cking tired and lonely.  Yes, I want love.  But this was not it.  It is disappointing, and it is ok to be disappointed by it.  No more, no less.

It will pass – the wave.

In two days, I will be 39.  This makes me SUPER SUPER DUPER sad and anxious.  I have come so far in a year, and yet at times feel like I am stuck in my life – but my life is not the one I imagined or wanted for myself.

How to come to terms?  For the most part, I have been practicing acceptance.  But it is difficult.

On my way to work

5 Apr

…today, it sort of hit me.  See, I really am trying to do something new in my life.  I am trying to really allow myself to believe, really believe deeply that the universe will take care of me.  To settle into that comfort, to have that sense of peace and stability in my core.  To not look for it outside of myself.

It is hard, for sure, and I expect that there will be ebbs and flows.  But I realized on my way to work this morning that this may be a bit more difficult for those of us who never even felt this sense of peace and stability in our own homes growing up – like, “it is ok, my parents will take care of it.”

I grew up in a home where my parents loved me and I felt loved and cared for – but at the same time, there was always a lot unsaid, and a lot of tension in my home and between my parents.  Being an only child, I had to carry alot of that emotional burden between them all on my own.  At times, I felt like I was the one that had to make things happen in order for things to run relatively smoothly at home.  Often, my efforts were futile, because I did not have any “real” power – I was just a kid.

Sound familiar?  So now, I am just trying to witness my reservation and frustrations,  fears and anxieties, and not be entangled in them.  Instead, I want to ease myself into this new understanding that the universe is taking care of me, that I am the adult now and am taking care of myself, …(and this is the hard part)….trust the process.

Feeling Floppy

5 Apr

I really do not get men.  I have been on this planet (almost) 39 years and I am still confused.

Men seeking to meet and date ladies online that email back and forth but never ask about the other person’s interests, work, etc…Don’t get them.

Men that spend hours upon hours talking all night with a lady and then, nothing.  No “let’s hang out again,” no nothing…..don’t get them.

I used to think that in these situations, the men were “just not that into” me.  But now I see it as maybe a glimmer from the universe that these are the ones best left alone…

No need to chase them and no need to make things “easier” for them – no matter how cute and engaging they may seem on “virtual” paper or even in person.

Regardless, I feel like my latest interactions with the male species have just been sad little flops.

Maybe I am being too pessimistic though – I mean, really – I hung out with the dude until 1AM on Thursday, and I started emailing with the other dude yesterday.

whatevs.  Still feeling floppy and am going to allow the floppiness to swirl on through and run its course;)  It actually ain’t so bad.