Wednesday, February 23, 2011
i have had the good fortune of being asked to write a column devoted to my very favorite topic: the voices in my head. these spots will be brief, but they will be all me, and hopefully at least marginally entertaining. today was my first post so please check it out.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
i was raised to be a self sufficient, independent woman. i paid for my own education; i work fifteen jobs to support my travels, and i virtually never ask for help. for the past decade or so, i thought these characteristics made me a desirable partner. more than just desirable, ideal. i thought every man would want a destiny's child independent woman who didn't need anyone to pay their automo bills. man, was i wrong.
a couple years back i was having a conversation with a local character i refer to as cuban tony soprano. we were discussing a recent break up between me and my then spanish paramour. cuban tony soprano was more than flattering and seemed to genuinely think i was a good girl, however, he made it very clear as to why my latin lover had moved on to greener pastures. according to tony, it was not my impeccable sense of humor, considerate nature or killer ass that did not keep my man happy; it was my inability to cook. plain and simple. cuban tony soprano actually said to me in the year 2009 that my boyfriend broke up with me because i could not cook.
this statement stuck with me and, being the talker i am, i have been taking my own informal poll about this subject in particular over the past couple of years. turns out, there is some truth to it. although i confirmed with my ex that it was not my lack of culinary expertise that resulted in our going our separate ways, it seems that, although the modern women can join the military, vote, and wear pants in public, they still are expected to be the little mrs. in the kitchen.
becoming less obstinate and combative in my old age, i have begun my adventures in kitchen craftiness. baking has never been a problem, but cooking...that is a whole other story. this is why yesterday, when i made a breakfast utilizing more than my toasting acumen or expert ability to pour cereal and milk into a bowl, i took pride, and photos. above is a shot of my first attempt at home made maduros. not rocket science, i know, but proof positive that i am not only becoming a cook, i am becoming a dominican and, most importantly, i am becoming the perfect woman.
also seen on: the uptown collective
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
new york is like life on steroids. or hallucinogens, depending on how you choose to look at it.
in my 29 years of existence, i have learned to appreciate the little things in life. the bizarre; the awkward; the insane. i used to love to spot the lady who sat on the corner of golden gate and van ness with her life sized teddy bear and i can never help but smile when the old man who tells michael jackson jokes gets on the 1 train and starts in on his diatribe.
this joy found in the nuances of life is what, in my opinion, make it worth living.
as i was using the path underground at the 14th street stop to get from the f to the 1, i spotted this lonely dress shoe. no owner in sight. no partner to be found. and no attention being paid to the singular leather piece of footwear.
kind of lonely. kind of beautiful. and most certainly strange, as is life in new york.