Be Authentic

•August 14, 2009 • Leave a Comment

As it happens every year as my birthday nears, I think back on all the things I didn’t do this past year – lose weight, live healthy, keep in touch with friends/family, write a book, quit <insert my oh-so many bad habits>.

But this year is different.  While I still didn’t accomplish any of the perennial goals listed above, I realized that my life has marched to a beat of my own design.  And, maybe, for the first time in a long time I am getting to know the real me, the authentic me.

For the past year, I’ve lived as authentic-ly as I’ve had the courage to live (which is pretty damn authentic if you ask me).

I’ve pissed off my parents (and they’ve pissed me off), and found that our love is truly boundless.

I’ve watched my sister fall in love…


…and find her authentic self in the process (which is a total relief because she could be a real bitch sometimes 😉 wink!).

I’ve nursed my mother through her fight with breast cancer, and held a friend’s hand through a losing battle with AIDS.

I’ve invited anyone and everyone into the not-so-normal world that I’ve crafted with my son…


…and seen parts of him come alive with the diverse cast of characters I call friends.  We’ve had visitors from 13 states and 4 countries crash at our pad.  We’ve travelled together to over 10 cities & 2 countries.  We’ve slept at camp sites, in cars, on floors, on planes, on sofas, and in each other’s arms.

I’ve fallen in love a dozen or so times…


…and fallen out just as many.

I’ve laughed til I cried, and cried til I laughed (at my pathetic self).  I lost the one person whose gaze was like x-ray vision into my soul, and quit others who couldn’t accept me authentic-ly.

By choosing the road-less-travelled a year ago, I found the road back to me.

And by choosing to be just plain ol’ me, I fell in love…with me.

What a great year!  Getting old never felt so good!     -i


Classy Break-Up

•August 7, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Shit happens. Sometimes love is for a season and not a reason. Jesus is the ONLY reason for the season, so say a couple of prayers and deal with the hurt by following these tips for a classy break-up…and you’ll always end up on top (figuratively, not literally…wink!)

1. Go ahead and cry.


It is medically proven that tears release anxiety. Let it flow…but don’t make any plans for that day. You WILL look like shit if you do it right.

2. Bite Your Tongue.


How easy is it to diss your Ex by spitin’ their worst traits to friends? Forget about it! Save your dignity (and class) and claim an “amicable ” separation at all costs! It takes TWO to tango. You were in a relationship. It should have been sacred. Keep it that way and bite your tongue.

3. Catch a rebound.


Okay, so I feel a little guilty for saying this in the same blog as I praised The Lord…but…let’s keep it real…if you were sprung out on love, sometimes gettin’ sprung out on “lovin'” will clear your mind like nut-tin else (another wink!).  Sometimes all that’s left after being scraped clean by love is the body. Use it to your advantage. (Damn. I really kinda feel bad for this one.)

4. Get a Life…or a hobby will do. If you’re like me, once you’re in a relationship, that relationship becomes your life. The hardest part about breaking up is adjusting to a new life without that person. Every song on the radio reminds you of a moment with that person. Every movie you watch reminds you of a part of the life you’d created/dreamed with them (that’s now GONE!). Every happy couple reminds you of what you don’t have. And every night, when silence is golden, you dream of them. BUT STOP! Visualize a NEW life, find a NEW hobby, and soon a NEW life will emerge for you. The NEW life of your dreams. I promise. Cross my heart.

5. Pack it up & Move it out.


You leave shit at his place. He leaves shit at your place. Make the exchange (within 2 weeks of the break-up) and neither one of you have to hear from the other again. Isn’t that the purpose of breaking-up? Okay, 4 weeks if it’s long distance…but after that if you ain’t got your shit, you can kiss your shit good-bye. They either threw it away, gave it away, or don’t give a shit if you ever see your shit again.

Happy Breaking to you!     -i

Be Suspicious…

•August 4, 2009 • Leave a Comment


Who makes these changes?

I shoot an arrow right.

It lands left.

I ride after a deer and find myself

chased by a hog.

I plot to get what I want

and end up in prison.

I dig pits to trap others

and fall in.

I should be suspicious

of what I want.


Style File #2

•July 27, 2009 • Leave a Comment


{ i wonder }

•July 23, 2009 • 1 Comment




why we lose what we love

why we love what we’ve lost


Style File #1

•July 16, 2009 • Leave a Comment


I “heart” New York

•July 14, 2009 • 2 Comments

New York pulses with energy & freedom.


I always get lost on the streets.

I always miss my train stop.

I always eat amazing food.

I *never* go shopping.

My recent trip started off a bit lackluster as I was nursing some open wounds.  But how lovely to retreat to such an irritable city where my mood could so easily be dismissed as “artistic” and I could lose myself in the crowd?

My sister and her fiance decided I do a damn good imitation of The Blob after my first week of complete apathy.

What do you think?


My sister tempted me off the sofa with gluttonous promises and we feasted our way through New York the second week.  I ate pheasant pate, broiled pears, sauteed shrimp, simmered escargo, duck a l’Orange, lemongrass chicken; all in a place no larger than a walk-in-closet.  The Chef cooked here.

(I didn’t crop out a single thing! Cross my heart!  It was just this small!)


…and in a drunken attempt to showcase my spanish I accidentally told him, “I love the Chef!” when what I meant to say was “I Love the Cooking!”.

Here we are. The Jackson Girls. Team Agua v. Team Vino.


We dined on arepa after arepa in a Venezulan hall tagged Caracas on the Lower East Side with people who adorned their bodies to match their souls.


Our stomachs travelled to India, Thailand, Japan, Memphis and Italy.

And yet, the coup de grace of this global gastronomic tour was…

…drum roll please…

BLUEBERRY PANCAKES at Clinton St. Bakery!

Created by Goddess herself, these pancakes are clouds of heavenly yumminess.



Beyond tastebud delights, I entertained my brother-in-law until the wee-hours of the morning while my sister worked the midnight shift at her hospital.  This is us at about 5am, sufficiently “happy” at some Dominican club on the upper west side.


And at Summer Stage – a free concert series in Central Park – where I swayed my hips to a latin extravaganza.



There were a few mishaps while I munched on the Big Apple.

This is the door that I stood in front of for far too long praying for a miracle after I’d locked myself out of my sister’s crib.

Anyone who knows me will read that and say, “Typical”.  And they’d be right.


* * * * *

In the city that never sleeps I found rest.  My bruises began to heal and I gifted myself carte blanche to re-write my story.

How does your life read?