One Reason to Love New Yorkers.
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Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Monday, July 16, 2012
God Not Included
"Freedom means you are unobstructed in living your life as you choose. Anything less is a form of slavery. If you are living out of a sense of obligation you are slave."
W. Dyer
Friday, July 13, 2012
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
A Flicker
"And the LORD will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail." Isaiah 58:11
"Mama if that's moving up, then I'm moving out." B. Joel
I need to review the last three and half years of my life.
I am appreciative I spilled it out here in black and white for me to ponder and blush.
The desire to know Manhattan like a friend has burned in me and I am blessed to have let the flame spread its fury and make a lasting imprint on my life.
If not better, I am a more fulfilled human being because of it.
I was 32 when the bitter cold, January air kissed my cheeks and welcomed me here. I'm 36.
And there comes a line in my aging face, where I have look in the mirror and admit it iss time to cross it. Cross into greener, cleaner, and cheaper pastures.
Where the give and take isn't so tough and The Daily News so brutal.
The rats and the Asian women on my block can commence their fighting over the mountainous piles of garbage. I won't be here to shoo them away anymore.
I've committed a crime. One many before me have, but nonetheless in the eyes of the faithful, a crime.
I gave my 30 day notice to relinquish one of the most covetous and desired materials in all of Manhattan; An affordable one bedroom East Village apartment.
And the desperate arms have already started to flail in knocking down my tenement's door.
There are people who are content with their mission and their impending mortality, experiencing the same vistas and the same pressures life brings day to day.
There are those that suffer in their stifled existence, with the knowledge that there is something more for them beyond the horizon.
The journey is to find our purpose and if you're not inspired by your direction, its time to move on and chase that fire.
I know I'll miss it, but there's always the Greyhound on the Hudson River line.
"Mama if that's moving up, then I'm moving out." B. Joel
I need to review the last three and half years of my life.
I am appreciative I spilled it out here in black and white for me to ponder and blush.
The desire to know Manhattan like a friend has burned in me and I am blessed to have let the flame spread its fury and make a lasting imprint on my life.
If not better, I am a more fulfilled human being because of it.
I was 32 when the bitter cold, January air kissed my cheeks and welcomed me here. I'm 36.
And there comes a line in my aging face, where I have look in the mirror and admit it iss time to cross it. Cross into greener, cleaner, and cheaper pastures.
Where the give and take isn't so tough and The Daily News so brutal.
The rats and the Asian women on my block can commence their fighting over the mountainous piles of garbage. I won't be here to shoo them away anymore.
I've committed a crime. One many before me have, but nonetheless in the eyes of the faithful, a crime.
I gave my 30 day notice to relinquish one of the most covetous and desired materials in all of Manhattan; An affordable one bedroom East Village apartment.
And the desperate arms have already started to flail in knocking down my tenement's door.
There are people who are content with their mission and their impending mortality, experiencing the same vistas and the same pressures life brings day to day.
There are those that suffer in their stifled existence, with the knowledge that there is something more for them beyond the horizon.
The journey is to find our purpose and if you're not inspired by your direction, its time to move on and chase that fire.
I know I'll miss it, but there's always the Greyhound on the Hudson River line.
Friday, July 6, 2012
All These Things That I Have Loved
"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven" Ecclesiastes 3:1
My days of blogging are numbered.
I've unsubscribed to most of my daily emails providing me the deals on highlights, low lives, haute cuisine, and any other clever puns telling me how to the live or look like I live the perfect life in the city.
I'm throwing away my earmarked magazines singing the praises of the best of New York. These people, places, and events I thought I might encounter; I did.
I've taken to my bed with the classics in hardback at sundown...anything past that is the witching hour.
My new neighbors are very popular drug dealers with a revolving door like the Plaza at high noon.
This has my head in my hands well past four in the morning...every single night.
Good for them.
But I'm tired.
Someone was stabbed in Webster Hall last night. And on Avenue B a few nights ago.
Bloody face crusty punks pace my street dragging their mangy companions, cursing the oppression of the man.
The new manger of the tattoo shop below me sweeps his curb and plants annuals in his window box.
This is nice.
But not enough to mask the vomit splattered at my threshold. A result from yet another drunken violent cat fight last night before both girls got in their car and headed back to Jersey.
Thanks for visiting.
Sure the once skid row called the Bowery is gentrifying at rapid speed.
The reformed neighborhood crack addict owns the Vegan Bakery.
And Alphabet City has turned its notorious Methadone corner.
But New York isn't really changing. And it shouldn't.
I am.
And I am starting to say my goodbyes.
Fo real dis time.
So can I get a little moral support?
I've unsubscribed to most of my daily emails providing me the deals on highlights, low lives, haute cuisine, and any other clever puns telling me how to the live or look like I live the perfect life in the city.
I'm throwing away my earmarked magazines singing the praises of the best of New York. These people, places, and events I thought I might encounter; I did.
I've taken to my bed with the classics in hardback at sundown...anything past that is the witching hour.
My new neighbors are very popular drug dealers with a revolving door like the Plaza at high noon.
This has my head in my hands well past four in the morning...every single night.
Good for them.
But I'm tired.
Someone was stabbed in Webster Hall last night. And on Avenue B a few nights ago.
Bloody face crusty punks pace my street dragging their mangy companions, cursing the oppression of the man.
The new manger of the tattoo shop below me sweeps his curb and plants annuals in his window box.
This is nice.
But not enough to mask the vomit splattered at my threshold. A result from yet another drunken violent cat fight last night before both girls got in their car and headed back to Jersey.
Thanks for visiting.
Sure the once skid row called the Bowery is gentrifying at rapid speed.
The reformed neighborhood crack addict owns the Vegan Bakery.
And Alphabet City has turned its notorious Methadone corner.
But New York isn't really changing. And it shouldn't.
I am.
And I am starting to say my goodbyes.
Fo real dis time.
So can I get a little moral support?
Monday, July 2, 2012
Creeps In This Petty Pace
"Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained in a righteous life."
Proverbs 16:31
Based on my own general assumptions and the fact that Facebook goers remind me everyday, it is understood that almost no one knows where the time goes.
Apparently, no one out there is impervious to the elusiveness of time and its neck breaking speed. This seems uncommonly acute in parents who are at a total loss of the power of the ticking clock and its whereabouts.
As their babies grow into toddlers, into children, and eventually out their front doors, this birthed life flashes before their weepy eyes and provides that unmistaken measuring stick.
As for me, I had this epiphany when my Mama told me my nearly 90 year old Grandmother is sick.
I have two of them. Living Grandmothers that is...Blessed with two beautiful matriarchs with a wealth of wisdom from which I came. And I've spent so much fleeting time away that I've missed moments with them to hear the stories they have to tell and learn about the people they are.
This is a true tragedy of the passing of time.
Proverbs 16:31
Based on my own general assumptions and the fact that Facebook goers remind me everyday, it is understood that almost no one knows where the time goes.
Apparently, no one out there is impervious to the elusiveness of time and its neck breaking speed. This seems uncommonly acute in parents who are at a total loss of the power of the ticking clock and its whereabouts.
As their babies grow into toddlers, into children, and eventually out their front doors, this birthed life flashes before their weepy eyes and provides that unmistaken measuring stick.
As for me, I had this epiphany when my Mama told me my nearly 90 year old Grandmother is sick.
I have two of them. Living Grandmothers that is...Blessed with two beautiful matriarchs with a wealth of wisdom from which I came. And I've spent so much fleeting time away that I've missed moments with them to hear the stories they have to tell and learn about the people they are.
This is a true tragedy of the passing of time.
Be Afraid, Be Very Afraid
Or better yet, seek the Lord with all your heart and all your soul...
"And it was allowed to give breath to the image of the beast, so that the image of the beast might even speak and might cause those who would not worship the image of the beast to be slain. Also it causes all, both small and great, both rich and poor, both free and slave, to be marked on the right hand or the forehead, so that no one can buy or sell unless he has the mark, that is, the name of the beast or the number of its name." Revelation 13:15-17
"And it was allowed to give breath to the image of the beast, so that the image of the beast might even speak and might cause those who would not worship the image of the beast to be slain. Also it causes all, both small and great, both rich and poor, both free and slave, to be marked on the right hand or the forehead, so that no one can buy or sell unless he has the mark, that is, the name of the beast or the number of its name." Revelation 13:15-17
I just want to live in a nation that Marlo Thomas promised when I was a little girl. A land where the children are free. In a land to a shining sea. And you and me are free to be you and me.
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