Life As I Know It

The worst thing about NOT being in a relationship is having to give advice about love. I love my friends and if there's something I can do to help. I'm the first one there. But at times having to give advice is a bit draining. Especially when you have to give advice about something you never followed. It reminds you that at some point that's not something you believed in. And that if you had maybe there would have been a different outcome. But there I was on a roller coaster, of all places, when my friend turns and looks at me and says "What do i do? What would you do?" "Scream" I said. She says "Why?" "Because we are about to drop" She looks down and realizes it. And we scream. When we get off, she realizes I haven't given her any advice so she asks again. I look at her and say "Love is a bit of a roller coaster. Sometimes you're up and laughing with giddiness. At times you are down. Screaming inside, holding your stoma...

I rummaged around through the racks looking for a dress for a special occasion. And that’s when I saw it; the most beautiful 1950’s vintage yellow silk dress. It was a one-shoulder dress with a bow cascading over the shoulder with exquisite crystal beading around the waistline. I tried it on to find that it looked even more amazing on. Perfect fit, tailor made just for me. My fashion side would have bought it in an instant but my cynical side thought I could find something better and less pricey. So I put it back on the rack, promising myself that if I didn’t find anything else I liked I would come back and buy this dress. After many tight silk pencil dresses, itchy chiffon dresses, too bright colored gowns, and non-flattering out fits I found myself a bit disappointed. I had yet to find something to wear. A bit defeated and very much ashamed of the time wasted, I found myself traveling to the first store. And as I desperately searched the racks, I observed a girl getting out of the ...

So there I was surrounded by Jimmy Choo sandals, Prada sling backs, Manolo Blahink satin pumps, and in the middle of a fashion blank. As I walked browsing, the sales clerk asked me "what kind of shoes are you looking for?" "Something special" I said. "Arent we all" she says and then proceeded to laugh hysterically. It is normal to pick up the wrong type of shoes every now and then, so I carefully browsed and I began to think about the analogy between men and shoes. Some shoes are drop dead gorgeous. But you have to pay a high ticket for. Then there are the "all that glitters isn't gold shoes". Those completely stricking stilettos that look absolutely fabulous, but after being worn for no more than an hour begin to cause unnecessary pain. There are the shoes you've worn out; ready to be thrown out, but for some reason or another you cannot part with. The shoes that make you feel secure, that you can step over anything and not fall. The ug...

The following short story is dedicated to a dear friend who among all things always believes in happy endings, even when the girl doesn’t get the guy. So here it is, for the eternal optimistic, who always believes in love. She fell in love the most way women do. Among flattery, promises of moon and the stars, and dreams of a fairy tale ending. And she believed in love the way most of us do. Blindly. He was charming and kind, she was swooned and easily fell head over heels for him. Their love blossomed over constant hours of conversation about everything and anything. And even though many opposed the idea of a long distance relationship working - she thought of it romantic and endearing. Sadly after a couple of years and an engagement later it all came crashing down. It was a late winter day when he told her through an email that HE fell out of love. She read it over and over hoping that among those lines there was something she missed. So there she sat staring at the end of what seemed...

Like any grandmother, most of my grandmother’s house was decorated by old priceless possessions. Mementos of the eras gone by, of the people and the moments in them. I had to be extra careful while in the house, never to touch anything for the fear of breaking it. But as any curious child the untouchable seemed tempting. In my grandmothers armoire under a box of letters and papers in a plastic bag was one of my favorite untouchables. It was a rebozo (shawl). This was no ordinary shawl it was made purely of silk. A rebozo so light and thin died the perfect shade of black with a fringe knotted into elaborate designs. Intricate knots looped together that you knew took hundreds of hours to make. On one occasion when my grandmother wasn’t looking I found myself wrapped in it, playing. And as life would have it the fringe got caught in the doorway. The more I moved away from the door way the more the thread unraveled. I remember feeling like the world was going to end in that very instant. ...

They say that truth hurts. That hearing it is a release of honesty but a sharp incision in the heart. The truth can free you of the anxiety but it can bind you to feeling the consequences of its reality. Anchoring you. The thing in telling the truth is that though it’s an honest act, a moral act, that doesn’t mean that what you have to say is what others would like to hear. “I find myself drowning in yesterdays, and talking to sadness.” She says. And that’s when she gets that look. That confused, hurtful, shocked, gleam in the eyes look. I’m sitting at my favorite coffee shop over hearing a conversation near by of a girl who recently broke up with her boyfriend. He cheated on her or so she says and she finds herself at the time heartbroken. Her friends gently pats her shoulder and says “it was better to find out the truth than to continue to live a lie.” And she sighs. “I may have the truth now but I also have the pain that comes with it.” She replies. Her friends says “You will be fin...

Why is it that we are built with the desire to be loved? Appreciated for what we are, tolerated for what we are not. And what in us makes us envy those who have found it so that when your friend shows you her drop dead gorgeous ring makes you wonder where your prince detoured? In a film love is portrayed so effortless. I mean, it would be nice to believe that one day I’ll walk into my favorite coffee shop and he will be walking out - as we carelessly spill our coffee and offer a million apologies. Our hands will touch. Our eyes will meet. He will smile, I will gleam. Music will play and our lives will be forever intertwined… … … But life doesn’t happen that way. While talking to a friend who is in her early 30’s, she sighs as I tell her of a mutual friend’s engagement. She looks at me and says “Where is my happy ending?” What do you do when Prince Charming seems to be taking longer to arrive? Do you buy a neon light in the shape of an arrow pointing towards you? Do you wear a t-shirt t...