Neurotic & Creative

"You've Got Mail"

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 00:01:00 -0400

Anecdote of the day:

I’m sitting in bed multi-tasking, a.k.a watching videos on youtube and listening to “You’ve Got Mail” on the TV, and it gets to the part of the movie where Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan are sitting in their respective beds composing emails to each other when all of a sudden Tom Hanks decided to IM Meg Ryan. Tom, you sly fox you. Anyway, he IMs her and of course, with the movie being so wonderfully dated, Meg Ryan’s computer dings with the all too familiar IM noise. Forgetting that it is currently 2013 and that I’m using the Internet Explorer, I got so excited that I thought I was getting an IM I almost fell off the bed.

After my breathing returned to normal, I added one more thing to my multi-task list. Should I write out a Facebook status about this situation? Create a whole blog post? I finally decided (about 45 seconds later.. too long?) that I would mix the best of both worlds and make a short blog post and link it to my Facebook. I’ll wait while you put your head back together since I’m sure I just blew your mind.

Now, why should you care and why am I still going on about this? Honestly, you don’t have to care. I’m still typing because I’ve decided that since I truly want to get into writing, I should write. So instead of making mundane status updates all the time, I’ll make mundane blog posts some of the time. My goal is to write a one or two paragraph post on things that are too long for a status update but too short for a rambly blog post. I hope you feel lucky because you are. Now let’s see if I remember/am motivated enough to actually do this. Ten bucks says I slack off after two posts. Any takers?

#throwbackthursday

Fri, 07 Jun 2013 10:00:00 -0400

This month marks the eighth anniversary of my high school graduation. Hoooly shit. It feels like yesterday that I swiped my ID card and stepped through the metal detectors for the first time. You mean your high school didn’t have metal detectors? Well, this is Brooklyn, we go hard. All stereotypes aside and with hindsight being what it is, I loved high school. Actually, love might be too strong of a word. I liked high school as a friend. A good friend with no benefits. And really, I probably wouldn’t go back unless you paid me a shit ton of money.

I had a lot of memorable experiences in high school. That’s where I was when 9/11 happened. Technically, that’s where I was headed. We heard the news in the car and by the time I got to my first class the buildings had started to fall. I went to countless football games to check out – I mean cheer on the team. In my freshman year the junior varsity team was 18-0. By senior year the boys had moved up to varsity and they were 0-18. It’s like Freddie Mercury wrote “We are the Champions” just for James Madison High School. I made friends, lost them and made new ones all in one class period. I was in the writing group of the yearbook committee. I wrote one poem that the leader of the group hated. He made me redo it to make it “more adult”. When the yearbook came out I couldn’t wait to see my work in print. It turns out that one didn’t go over too well either since someone changed the whole thing without my permission.

Academically, I was average. My SATs were nothing to write home about. Honestly, I wouldn’t even bother mentioning them in a P.S. at the bottom of the page. I did very well in English. I read The Great Gatsby for the first time and hated it (GASP!). Little did I know, I would read it two more times in college and learn to love it. I made it to the highest level in Spanish but I still can’t speak a lick of it. Math was not my strong subject; it never was. That being said, tell me how I received a higher grade on my math regent than my English regent. Mr. Cohen, that’s how. The man was nuts. He had a big black pompadour, thick 70’s porn star mustache, and wore acid washed denim jeans with a jacket to match. HOT. MESS. He used to sashay around the classroom telling us that if we did well on the regent he would get a raise and he needed a raise to redo his basement in his house on Staten Island. He also needed a raise because his son, Michael was going to college soon and he needed to pay for it. Truth be told, I couldn’t imagine him living on Staten Island or being a father but hey, whatever you say. He used to break up our little “coffee clatches” and wouldn’t allow us to speak for the rest of the class. Obviously he didn’t realize that we had important issues to discuss, like could you believe that what’s her name hooked up with what’s her face’s boyfriend at so and so’s Sweet 16? Tramp. But this post isn’t about Mr. Cohen or his pompadour (God, I wish I had pictures). It isn’t about my math class either. It’s about economics and the surprise I would get so many years later.

I took economics in my second semester senior year. It was probably an elective because I can’t think of a time in my life where economics interested me enough to take a class on it. Which totally sucks because in college not only did I have to take an economics class, I had to pay for it. My teacher was Ms. Rago. She was young; probably not much older than I am now. She made the class fun. On the last day of school, yes I actually went in on the last day and yes I really went to class, she told us that instead of doing work we were going to write letters to our future selves. She gave us a sheet that looked like it came from an Ad-Libs book and told us to fill it in. She also handed out envelopes and told us to address them to ourselves. When we were all done with our sheets, letters and envelopes she collected them and told us to forget about them. We were told to expect something in the mail around the time we would graduate college.

I left the class that day hoping that she would send it early. I don’t know why. I guess in a weird way I wanted to know that something was coming for me. I also knew that even though I was instructed to, I wouldn’t be able to forget about it. A year passed, two years, five years and no letter. I figured she forgot about it, but every June I would wait expectantly by the mailbox.

The letter came today. I couldn’t believe when I saw it sitting on the table this afternoon. I asked my mom if it was part of today’s mail. She said yes and wanted to know what it is. “A letter from 17 year old me” is what I told her. I explained the exercise while I carefully opened the envelope. I read my answers to the worksheet out loud to my mom and after a few questions, I couldn’t hold back the tears.

Mom: Why are you crying?

Me: I have no idea!

The girl I was re-introduced to knew what she wanted. She knew that she needed to go to college, get a job and work hard to be somebody in this world. She knew who she was and liked herself. She was afraid of the war but was optimistic about the future. She wanted to work in the field of communications and make $1,000,000 a week. All she wanted in the future was to be happy and to be doing things she loved. She was articulate and had damn good hand writing for a 17 year old lefty. I was proud of that girl. I forgot she existed for a while.

I’m at a point in my life where I feel like an adult, yet like the teenager who sent me a letter today. Sometimes I feel like I let that girl down and that I have a lot of work to do to gain her respect back. I know I’ll get there; hopefully sooner rather than later. I think that girl gave me the shot of hope I desperately needed. I was afraid that when I read the letter it would say something stupid and trivial like, “Are you married yet? I hope he’s cute” or “Did you ever get the H3 Hummer? It looks great in yellow.” I am so happy and proud to say that not once was a yellow Hummer mentioned. I am mad at my 25 year old self for having such low expectations of my 17 year old self. Shame on me.

I grew up a lot in the eight years that have passed since graduation. Sometimes it feels like nothing has changed, but when I look around everything is different. I went to college and did well. I might have the same job as I did back then, but I know that will change – eventually. I’ve had great experiences, including seeing Graceland and meeting Tom Hardy. Thankfully my choice of car has changed; I’d kill for a BMW.

I hope that in another eight years I’ll be able to look at this post and smile; maybe even shed a tear. I’ll look at my cute husband and say “Warm up the Hummer honey. Let’s go buy an island with my $1,000,000 weekly salary.”

HAPPY 20TH ANNIVERSARY BRIAN, NICK, AJ, HOWIE AND KEVIN! As most...

Sat, 20 Apr 2013 10:00:54 -0400

HAPPY 20TH ANNIVERSARY BRIAN, NICK, AJ, HOWIE AND KEVIN!

As most people know, I am a huge Backstreet Boys fan. If you didn’t know let me tell you. I am a HUUUUGE Backstreet Boys fan. Feel free to judge all you want.

Being a kid of the 90’s, I found myself in the middle of some very heated debates. BSB or NSYNC? Justin or Nick? Black and Blue or No Strings Attached. In my eyes (and ears), there was no contest. How could you even compare? No one else comes close!

I hung their posters on my walls, scoured Tiger Beat, BOP, and BB to gain any nugget of information on them as I could, played all of their albums on repeat, watched all of the major award and talk shows hoping to catch a glimpse. Call me a stalker. Just remember that when you’re browsing TMZ while watching some incarnation of the Kardashians, hoping to get a retweet from Justin Beiber; I’m sure he loves all of your SWAG hashtags.

At 25, I know this post might seem dumb, juvenile or unnecessary. I also know that in today’s world almost nothing lasts twenty minutes let alone twenty years. Congratulations, Boys! You’ve (still) got it going on! Thank you for showing us the shape of your heart(s). Can’t wait for the new record. Backstreet’s back, alright!

(In case the video above doesn’t work, click here to watch it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zA73_clsVik )

Beware! Ugly shirts ahead!

Thu, 21 Feb 2013 10:33:00 -0500

If you are my friend on Facebook, you might have seen the picture I posted yesterday of the shirts I found at Kohls. If you aren’t my friend, I’ll include the picture below, but I feel like I have to warn you, it’s pretty… offensive.

WHOOMP THERE IT IS!

I mean, did you ever? I’m a 25 year old woman who lives in New york. Why should I dress like a 75 year old Floridian man? This is the problem I have with Kohls. I find that as much as they try to keep the plus size section on the same page as their straight sizes, they usually fall a few paragraphs behind. Case in point: I went there today looking for one of those sheer button down hi/low shirts. They had really nice ones.. in the petites and juniors sections. That’s ok because I pride myself on making things work. So I wandered over to ”my section” The only thing that came close was a mustard colored silk button down shirt. I had to walk away. It was just not workable. I wracked my brain as I walked through the section and I spotted a collared half button down 3/4 sleeve shirt in mint green. SCORE! It was trendy, it looked comfortable, and my new favorite color of the moment is mint green. I grabbed one and headed for the dressing room. I pulled the shirt on and my happiness faded. It fit and it was comfortable; it just made me look like a manly camp counselor. It was not a good look. That’s an important question I ask myself in the dressing room. It actually made the top three. Does it fit? How does my chest/butt look? Does it make me look like a fat, man-ish camp counselor? Can I afford it? As I said before, I pride myself on making my clothes work for me. I think I do a pretty good job at it too. Sure, I have had many break downs in dressing rooms, in front of my closet, and, on particularly bad days, in front of the mirror. It’s normal and almost expected. Seeing shirts like the ones in the picture above always seem to throw me. I understand that the buyers for Kohls have to keep many different demographics in mind when choosing the items that will eventually be sold in stores. I just feel like they lean towards the older, more conservative woman more often than not. Don’t get me wrong, I love Kohls. Seriously, I LOVE Kohls. Lately it seems like I really have to work on finding things that someone my age would wear. It’s not just at Kohls that I am noticing this problem. It’s all over because designers and buyers seem to like to ignore that the average American woman wears a size 14, which is considered plus sized. You can’t tell me all of those women regardless of age, want to look like an extra from the Golden Girls. Another thing I notice about Kohls and alot of the other clothing stores is that once a particular style hits it big, they don’t stop buying it. I can’t tell you how many batwing/dolman sleeve shirts I have. Peplum seems to be the next thing that will fill my closet ad nauseum.

Clothing isn’t the only place the Kohls buyers need help in. Need I remind you?

I still cringe.

I was having a conversation with one of my cousins one night and she paid me one of the best compliments I have ever received. She said to me “I’ve always been jealous of the confidence you have.” I said “What confidence?” She told me “In what you wear. Even when we were younger you wore color, you went sleeveless, and you always seemed like you didn’t care what people thought.” That’s because I learned that I really CAN’T care what other people think of my clothes. If it’s 103 degrees out I’m wearing a tank top AND shorts. If you’re offended that my thighs know each other intimately and that my arms can give Old Glory lessons in flapping in the breeze, well honestly, you can just SUCK IT. Believe me you do not want me to be hot and miserable. With the help and patience of my mom, many family members, and close friends I’ve learned over the years that it doesn’t matter where you shop, what size you are, and what you buy as long as you’re comfortable in it. Just remember, confidence is sexy. Know it, love it, own it.

My prom dress had no back, no sleeves and I didn’t care!

I wore sequin leggings for New Years once. Who cares if I looked like a disco ball?

I was channeling JLo when I put this outfit together. I loved it so much that I even made this my Facebook profile picture for a while.

What did I say about wearing tanktops AND shorts? I had so much fun that day I didn’t even care that I had no makeup on (well, maybe a little).

Oh man. I just realized I might be coming off as conceited with all of these LOOK AT ME! DON’T I LOOK PRETTY? pictures. That’s not my intention. I’m just proving that I really practice what I preach. But seriously, look at me! Don’t I look pretty?

This is what you get when I have too much time on my hands

Sun, 18 Nov 2012 19:43:02 -0500

I haven’t posted on here in a while and, as usual I have EXCELLENT ~~excuses~~ reasons for that.

I was in Africa helping starving children.
I was designing a plus size line for Chanel. You know how Uncle Karl loves us big ladies!
I was curing the common cold.
I met, fell in love with, and married Zac Efron and we have been so wrapped up in each other that I couldn’t tear myself away long enough to even check my email, let alone write a blog post.
I lead a pretty boring life and have had nothing to write about.

DING DING DING! We have a winner!

Ok, my life isn’t that boring (yes it is) but that doesn’t mean I should neglect something that I truly like to do. They say to write everyday you MUST write everyday. How am I supposed to write every single day when I’m too busy beating myself up for not writing every single day? I mean, come on.

I’m sitting here at work (Don’t get excited. That was not my “I got a job” announcement. You’ll know it when you see it - trust me.) and it’s pretty quiet and I forgot my lunch so I decided to drown out the growling of my stomach by pounding on the keyboard. Aren’t you lucky?

I guess I could start by filling you in since my last post, which was in JULY. As you can see from the list above, I have been a pretty busy bee since then and really don’t know how to cram all of my journeys and accomplishments into one post. And really, it would be so unfair for me to go on and on like a Braggy Betty. Nobody likes a Braggy Betty.

However, for the sake of this post, brag I must. Last month I met Michael Strahan! And got a picture with him! And realized the about 5 of my hands could fit into one of his! And he liked me so much that he asked Gelman right then and there if I could have a recurring segment on the Live show! I start next Monday! I told you that you’d know my “I got a job” announcement. Unfortunately, only 3 of those statements are true. I could only fit 3 of my hands into one of his hands. He was really nice. I was about to ask him how his mom was (because that’s what happens when you meet celebrities, you remember the weirdest things about them and then the overwhelming desire to ask them about it takes over - it’s in God’s hands after that) but someone totally interrupted me asking if he would take a picture with me and my cousin. That interrupter was totally me.

It’s hard living in the fast and fabulous lane but someone’s gotta do it. I have to get back to the drawing board - Chanel Spring/Summer 2013 is almost finished!

Zac wanted to share some of our photos with you too! Sometimes it’s so unbelievable, it’s like it’s not even really me! I am really “The Lucky One”.

I need SERIOUS PROFESSIONAL HELP.

I don't watch the news: Martina talks about the CO shooting.

Fri, 20 Jul 2012 13:21:00 -0400

As I’ve mentioned before, I am not a watcher of the news. I am not proud of that fact seeing as I am now 25 years old and should really care about things other than what Kim Kardashian had for lunch yesterday. That being said, there are some news stories that make you stop, watch, (collaborate) and listen.

The shooting that occured in Colorado last night (this morning?) was that kind of news story. I had heard little snippets of the story all morning - through Facebook, Twitter, the AOL Welcome screen (yes, I still use AOL and I love it. Judge me, I don’t care). My television has not been on all morning so I had no idea the gravity of this situation. I had no idea that the death toll was so high or that it keeps climbing. I had no idea how pre-meditated this attack was. It wasn’t until I signed on to Facebook and saw all of the statuses about it that I realized that I was missing something.

I pulled up the Welcome screen and started to click through the articles and I read the timeline of events. I didn’t read more than 3 paragraphs and I started to tear up. Seriously. The accounts were TERRIFYING. All I could think of was myself (surprise, surprise) and what would I do? How would I save myself and the people around me? Would I freeze up and not do anything? Would I unleash my inner Rambo and take the gunman down? My next thought was “I am never going to the movies again”.

I don’t want to trash talk the gunman since obviously, something is not right in his head. His problems did not start during the opening credits of the latest Batman movie, nor did they end when he was arrested. All I can say about him is that I hope this was not his idea to gain notoriety or to bathe in his 15 minutes of fame. I hope for his sake and for the sake of his victims, especially the 3 month old that he shot, he gets the help he needs.

My heart and my prayers go out to the victims of this tragedy.

One of Those Days.

Fri, 04 May 2012 01:00:00 -0400

This is my first post since March 22 and they both begin the same way.

Today has been “one of those days”. I feel like when the time comes for me to have a tombstone, that’s what will be inscribed on it. Please say one Hail Mary because it’s been “one of those days”.

I had an appointment with the Career Center at St. Francis. My father has been on my case to make an appointment with them so I did. Even though I saw the gray clouds of doom in the distance. Nothing goes the way it should when my father asks me to do it. Seriously. So I get to the office and I find out the person I’m supposed to meet with isn’t in today. The people in the office were so nice that it really didn’t bother me that I just spent 45 minutes getting there.

With nothing else to do, I left and made my way over to my job because today was PAYDAY!! Or so I thought. After going through the pile of checks twice, I was told there was no check for me. Ok no problem. Maybe it was left in the payroll office. NOPE. After a few phone calls, I was told that the payroll office has a ton of paperwork and my timesheet was “overlooked”. -__- Now it will be anywhere between 2 weeks and a month before I see that check. For some reason, this didn’t bother me too much either. I mean it pisses me off that the payroll office is so non chalant about blatantly not handing in my paperwork but there’s nothing I can do about it.

Now here we are at the end of the day. I’m settling in to watch The Pauly D Project. I fired up the old laptop and pulled up my mail. Amongst the messages about penis enhancements, dating websites and the like, I found an email from a company that I just made a purchase from. They were canceling my order because my credit card could not be authorized (of course they were). The company is in the United Kingdom and I had already told my credit card company that the charges were legit. SO WHY ARE THEY SCREWING WITH ME?? I quickly re-purchased the item because I don’t want it to sell out. Then, I sent them an email explaining the situation. Needless to say, I’ve been obsessively checking my email to see if the problem was resolved. Life needed much?

My great grandmother used to say (or so I’m told) “If everyone you know were to hang their problems out on the clothes line for everyone to see, you’d be scrambling to get yours back because you’d realize yours weren’t so bad after all”. She’s 100% right. Even though for all intents and purposes my day wasn’t the best, it wasn’t the worst. I know that I’ll meet with who I need to meet with, I’ll get my paycheck, and I’ll get what I ordered (eventually, hopefully). There’s no use in sweating things you can’t change. (who is writing this and where did she come from?) Now if you’ll excuse me I have to refresh my mailbox because hey, you never know.

joblessness ramblings.

Thu, 22 Mar 2012 17:26:07 -0400

Today has been “one of those days”. It is 75 degrees and beautiful. I’m wearing capris and flip flops and it’s still only March 22. Second day of spring? More like full day of awesome! I looked good, felt good, smelled good. I was ready to enjoy a nice day of errand running with my mom. Until we started to run the errands.

We started our day by heading over to the place that employs me to pick up my paycheck. On the way there we started to argue about my joblessness. I started to cry and she started the silent treatment. I’ve probably said this before but I’m not a crier so just know that whatever was said in the 10 minutes it took to ruin the day must have hit me hard. It wasn’t even what was said, it was the little points brought up to make it to the major point of me not having a real job and hating myself everyday for it.

We started to talk about friends of mine who I haven’t hung out with in a while but have sort of kept up with. In person, not digitally. I was filling my mom in on the great jobs they have and the fact that their lives are so much better than mine. So instead of assuring me that my life would change and that things would start to work out, my mom told me I had to be more agressive about things. Believe me, I don’t need to be coddled and told that the job fairy is going to leave a great salary and benefits package under my pillow tonight, but “you need to be more agressive” is not what I wanted to hear. Especially since this morning I tried for the 3rd time to make an appointment to speak to someone about job postings/availability in a department that is different from where I am now (same institution, different department).

When we got home, I went on to careerbuilder.com and searched for entry level positions in a media/journalism field. What did I come up with? Well, there was an interesting post for Segment Producer at NBC (YES! Backstreet Boys here I come!). All I needed was a 4 year degree (check!) and 5 years experience (huh?). Wait, this is entry level? You’re kidding. So I kept looking and found a job for an military recruiter, a telemarketer, and then an assistant at some undisclosed agency that when I read the description the company may or may not have been called “Adult Entertainment”. Thanks, but no thanks.

This led me to question myself as to what I wanted to do. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I cannot be at the job I’m at for much longer. My new boss is 2 years younger than me and obviously thinks I’m stupid because she talks to me like I’m 2. (Among other reasons.) I love to write. I would love for people to read stuff that I wrote and laugh, or know that they aren’t alone, or just be informed. I don’t know how to do that. I can’t be a freelancer because I’m not known so who would publish me? (1) and they’re a dime a dozen (2). I need good benefits because if I don’t get dental soon, the cavity I diagnosed myself with is going to take over my mouth and I’ll have to start charging rent. (plus side: income!) I want a job with perks. I want that cool job that gives it’s employees giftbags, free samples, unwanted concert tickets, cellphones and other great swag. I want one of those jobs where you walk in and BAM there’s a celebrity drinking their morning iced coffee. Don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’ve never signed on to Facebook and saw a friend from high school or college or whatever standing next to ___________ (fill in name here) on your newsfeed; which made your stomach sink into your toes because you’re stuck handing out basketballs all day? Oh, that’s only me? Touche. I JUST WANT TO SLIP ZAC EFRON MY PHONE NUMBER! Is that so much to ask?

KONY 2012

Wed, 07 Mar 2012 01:54:00 -0500

As embarassed as I am to admit this, I don’t usually watch the news or really even keep up with it. But when something is all over my Facebook newsfeed and my beloved Youtube, it forces me to take notice.

There is a very dangerous and powerful* man who is abducting children from their homes and familes to fight for him. CHILDREN. Forced to kill their own parents, siblings and loved ones. He doesn’t stop at boys either. Girls are used as sex slaves. Lovely. His name is Joseph Kony and he needs to be stopped.

For the whole story please watch this video : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4MnpzG5Sqc&feature=share

It’s about a half an hour but really, this monster has been terrorizing for 26 years, you can spare 30 mins.

For even more information please go to www.kony2012.com

And to just blindly donate because I’ve done enough persuading please visit : https://www.stayclassy.org/checkout/donation?eid=14711

or to buy the kit/ other merchandise go to : http://invisiblechildrenstore.myshopify.com/

At the very least, please watch the video. Be informed.

And at the very VERY least, please reblog this post.

*powerful by his own making;not by votes or public acceptance. the bad kind of power, you know?

World Book Day = My Favorite Holiday!

Thu, 01 Mar 2012 11:01:00 -0500

I know you’re probably wondering where I went. Nowhere far. Actually, just nowhere. I have been a little uninspired to write anything lately. The only reason I’m writing anything now is because the Occupy Martina movement camped on my lawn has spilled out to the sidewalk and is starting to annoy the neighbors(and you never know when you’ll need a cup of sugar).

To appease the masses I sat down and wracked my brain for ideas. The only topics I came up with were my job, religion, and politics. Funny how the mind wanders. So I started to give up and went to Youtube. As I’ve mentioned before, everything I’ve learned, I’ve learned from Youtube. I was clicking through my subscriptions and found that one of the girls I go to when I need the name of a good foundation had posted a book haul. I’ve seen this type of video from her before but we don’t find the same type of books interesting so I usually pass over it. Having nothing to lose, I clicked the video and started to watch. She mentioned that she liked to watch book hauls on Youtube to get some ideas on what to read next.

HELLO! Did it just get brighter in here? Yes! because the light over my head just turned on.

I had to search for a couple of days to find people who read books in the same genre that I do, but they’re out there and slowly but surely I’m finding them and subscribing the shit out of them. Oh, cool they also have a Twitter? Follow. Tumblr? Follow. Facebook? Like. Ok, NEXT! In case you’re wondering, I like to read anything mindless,frothy and girly. I read chick-lit and I’m proud of it.

So that’s where I’ve been. Watching book hauls on Youtube and getting ideas on what to read next. I’ve also been spending alot of time trying to figure out how to get those books into my house without my mom seeing them. It kind of takes the fun out of it when I’m getting THE LOOK from her when the mail comes.

I’ve loved the thrill of a new book since I was able to hold them. My favorite day of the school year was the book sale; and those Scholastic book flyers were like puppies and kittens and Lisa Frank stickers. Remember them? Ahh childhood. So what I was the only one who ordered that month? At least I had something to read while all of you losers watched cartoons on Saturday mornings. Thanks to that monthly magazine of magic (see what I did there?) I was introduced to some of my favorite childhood books. The Babysitter’s Club (and their little sisters) came with me on family vacations, to family functions, anywhere and everywhere. My mom called me the bag lady because I would pack them all up in an old backpack and haul it around like it held the Holy Grail.(Thanks Mom!)

^ Apparently, I was running the first toddler book mobile in Brooklyn ^

I still carry a book with me almost everywhere I go. “Get a Kindle, Martina!” Well, I already have one. I’m sharing it with my mom and it seems that she’s getting into paperless reading; I’m still digging my heels in the sand. I love pages; the turning, the smell, the feel of them. I love the sound of a book. Yes! the sound. Call me old fashioned but it’s really hard for me to wrap my head around digital books. Not to get too off topic but it’s getting harder for me to wrap my head around alot of new digital things. It’s sort of scary and sometimes it would be nice to just go back to a simpler way of living. That’s a different story, though for a different post.

Now that you’ve read this, please leave my lawn and take your stuff with you. Go read a book!

Fun fact: Today, March 1st is World Book Day. How appropriate!

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Fri, 10 Feb 2012 01:42:34 -0500

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Any idiot could walk on a balance beam...

Wed, 08 Feb 2012 18:24:54 -0500

One of the most embarassing things to happen to a person is falling. One minute you’re vertical and the next you’re eye level with ants. It is the one thing that can make people laugh automatically. I know I do. I am one of the worst people to fall in front of because while you’re trying to collect yourself and brush yourself off, I have my back turned to you, wiping the tears of laughter from my face. Sorry. It’s a reflex.

For most of my childhood, my mom was a stay at home mom. It was cool because unlike some of the kids in my class, I had my mom at my every beck and call. School trip? My mom can come! Need a class mom? Yep! I got one right here! You have 30 tee shirts that need to be puffy painted for the dance festival? Send them to my house! I don’t know how she got it all done, but she did and did it well. I couldn’t wait for the summer to be home with her all day. Maybe she would teach me some of her puffy paint secrets. Imagine my surprise when she took me to sign up for camp. CAMP? You mean that place where I have to go everyday that is just like school except none of my friends are there and we are essentially in gym class all day? Not a good time.

For the first couple of years, she sent me to a camp that she knew a few kids from my block attended also. That would have been all well and good if she sent me at the same time as them. So I trudged through the last two weeks in July and the first two weeks in August. I gave everyone a hard time. I didn’t care how annoying I was or how pathetic I looked I didn’t want to be there and I was making it known. Finally, the summer before 8th grade(or maybe 7th, I can’t remember), my mom thought it would be fun to sign me up for gymnastics camp. Her reasoning was that two of my best friends were going also, how bad could it be? To this day, I wondered if my mom had ever met me before that summer. I mean, me in a gymnastics camp? ME? I was like those hippos from Fantasia except less graceful. I went along with it because my friends would be there (FINALLY!). There are alot of things that I remember from that camp but the most memorable moment was when I fell off the balance beam.

The balance beam was one of the more tolerable activities that the camp offered. Any idiot could walk on an elevated straight line and jump into a pile of foam bricks. Or so I thought. The beams were set up on a stage it height order. When you got to the last one, you jumped into the pit of foam. I never got to the last one because 1). I didn’t want to and 2). I tried to get on the beam and it wasn’t happening so I stuck with the lower ones. I got on walked the length of it, turned, and fell. It didn’t take long for it to register with my friends that I was on the floor and the laughter started soon after. After the shock of being on the floor faded away, I brushed myself off and started to laugh right along with them. I guess I’m the only idiot who couldn’t walk on an elevated straight line. I was fine and continued about my day as if nothing happened. In the back of my mind I couldn’t help but to be a little upset. Years later I admitted to my friend (who was one of the ones to get her seven laughs in that day) that I was disappointed that I was OK that day because I thought it would be my ticket out of there. She gave me a look that only people who have known each other for most of thier lives could give. My response was “I was told that by the time I left the camp I would know how to do a cartwheel. Do I know how to do one? No. Obviously something was not working.” She shrugged and said “I guess I see your point”.

The other night I was leaving work. I had dropped the nightly deposit in the safe and was making my way to lock the door and BAM. On the floor. I landed first on my left knee and the rest of my body caught up shortly afterwards. My first reaction was to cry. You know when a baby falls and for a second they look around too see what emotion they should have? That was me. 24 years old, lying on the floor looking for someone to tell me how to feel. For a split second I felt like the 12 year old sitting next to the balance beam. “Is this my ticket out?” Nope. I got up, brushed myself off and limped out of the building.

Money Issues

Fri, 27 Jan 2012 00:40:55 -0500

This will probably be one of the most personal post I make on here so don’t get used to it.

I started writing a post at work which was supposed to be about online dating. It was a pretty good look at my life in internet dating world; or some suburb next to it. Then I got home and opened my pay check. My light hearted mood that was making the entry one of my better ones was gone and the feeling of dread and anger crept into me like smoke creeps under closed doorways.

Opening that check and realizing the reality of that one check wouldn’t even cover one of my credit card bills killed me. It cut me to the core. I should be used to it since it happens twice a month and this time was no different. My mom DVRed American Idol for me and we were supposed to watch it together but instead I snapped at her saying that I’ll never have money or “the perfect job” and stormed up to my room. Of course it wasn’t her fault but we always take out our frustrations on the ones closest to us, don’t we?

After re-reading this I realize that if you’re still reading it you’re probably saying, “Here she goes crying about her money troubles. Wake up Martina it’s a recession! We all got pains. Put down the credit card already!” And I totally agree. I’m just tired of opening my check and being surprised with the amount. I’m tired of knowing that if I don’t work, I don’t get paid. I’ll be 25 in July and I’m still living like a teenager. It’s like soooo totally frustratingggg! (That’s teen-speak for I’m banging my head against the wall and I can’t stop but the wall just won’t break)

As I’ve said before, I’ve been at this job since high school and even though I’ve graduated (and graduated again!) I’m still there, still trudging through. Back then it was supposed to help me 1). learn the value of a dollar. Most (spoiled) only children aren’t pre-programmed with this knowledge and I was (am) no different. 2). it was supposed to keep my parents pockets a little fuller because I would start to pay for things that I wanted. Needless to say, this only worked when I was granted enough hours;when they decreased so did my parent’s wallets.

When I started college I was 100% optimistic that I would get a job that I loved and I’d be happy. Wrong. I never knew what I wanted to do with my life and college didn’t help. I majored in what I thought I liked, (and what was available - I went to a SMALL school) and figured things would work out. Then the bubble burst and no one had a job. No one was hiring. I mean, I don’t have to tell you, everything was falling down the rabbit hole - FAST. Since I had a job, part time or not, I decided to stay put. If they needed extra help I’d pick up a few hours here and there. “It will all work out. I will all work out” I had to keep telling myself that or else I’d go crazy.

I graduated two years ago with even less direction than I went in with. Especially since I knew there was little to nothing to choose from in my field. Again, since I had some sort of job I didn’t give it much thought. I mean, I yearned to get out of where I was but I was scared to leave and be left with nothing. Now look at where I am. I still have that same job AND I’m left with nothing. I’m so glad I get to have my cake AND eat it too!

I’m trying to tell myself that it will all be OK, and that if all else fails my parents have never said no (you can hate me for saying that because I hate myself for publicly admitting it). When does that end though? When will I stop running to mommy and daddy when I need money, or when something goes wrong? Will I ever stop feeling like a child?

Ok, even though writing this didn’t make me feel better at all, I feel the need to end it here. Partially because I know there are a ton of people in the same sinking boat that I’m in so there’s no reason to keep complaining. The other part being that I just want to go to bed.

Got MLK?

Tue, 17 Jan 2012 02:05:00 -0500

When I was a kid Dr. Martin Luther King Jr’s birthday didn’t mean much more than a day off. I looked forward to sleeping in, going shopping, and just not being in school for the day. As I got older, I learned of the changes that Dr. King had made, the progress he put into motion. Learning of these things did not make me feel any different about my day off, however it opened my eyes to what a special man was born on this day.

A long while ago, while I was flipping through the channels I stumbled across the show on MTV called True Life. In this episode they were dealing with interracial couples and the problems that they may face. It showed one couple walk through the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis, Tennessee. I was intrigued by the museum and put it on my Places to Go list. Years passed and I filed it in the bottom drawer of my mind’s filing cabinet.

Fast foward to 2009. My mom and a family friend were planning a vacation to Memphis. Other than Graceland, I had no idea what Memphis had to offer. (I’m ashamed to admit that now.) I Googled Memphis and after I got past all of the websites about Elvis and Graceland I saw The National Civil Rights Museum. Immediately I remembered the True Life episode and needed to go there. I brought the information to my mom and asked if she thought it was possible that we make a stop at the museum. She assured me that we would get there if that’s what I wanted.

A little background on the museum. It is broken into two buildings located across the street from one another. The main building is the old Lorriane Hotel. This is an important location because this is the hotel where Dr. King was shot. (See, this whole post had a point) The second building is the apartment building in which James Earl Ray sat in the bathtub and shot Dr. King.

We took the trolley (reason # 641648 why I need to live in Memphis) down to the museum. From the outside the museum still looks like a hotel from the 1960’s. They have the original sign, and a few authentic cars in the parking lot. (So cool!) As we were walking through the doors there were big signs all over saying:

NO PICTURE TAKING AT ALL. PLEASE PUT YOUR CAMERAS AWAY.

Seriously? So of course I had to ask if this is real.

Me: So, like are they serious about the camera thing? I really can’t take pictures in here?

Ticket Lady: Yes m’am. You can’t take pictures in the museum.

Me: Even without flash? Because in Graceland they let you take pictures without flash. What if I just hold the camera?

Ticket Lady: Even without flash. Please put the camera in your bag. They will confiscate it if they see it.

HARDCORE.

Before you are able to walk through the exhibits you have to sit and watch a short movie on the history of civil rights. It showed pictures from the time of slavery all the way until the 1960’s. The last few minutes of the film they showed pictures of the race riots and the people getting hosed by the police. Now, I’m not a cryer but I seriously teared up. They look on the faces of the people were haunting.

So, because this post is much longer than I expected and totally off topic, I’ll just list the highlights of the museum.

The Rosa Parks bus
Lunch Counter Sit-Ins
MLK’s Birmingham jail cell and his phone call to his wife
The burned out Freedom Bus

Then we got to the end. The room that MLK spent his last hours. It was surreal. The preservation efforts were amazing. The bed was unmade, the coffee was untouched (well, ok the fake coffee was untouched but you get my drift), his toiletry bag was still in the bathroom.

We made our way across the street to the boarding house where James Earl Ray stayed. They showed the mattress that he slept on, the clothes he left, and the bathtub he sat in when he shot Dr. King. It was eerie. I had that scared feeling in the pit of my stomach as if I was watching a horror movie.

The point of this post was not to recant my trip to Memphis (even though it turned out that way). The museum changed my view on civil rights. I have always had the motto of “If you’re nice to me I’ll be nice to you”. This trip just reaffirmed that. There’s no reason to treat someone else like shit. I feel like I’m veering off course again so I’ll get off my soapbox. That’s another topic for another post.

I’ll end this now and hopefully it makes sense. Happy Birthday Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and thank you for all you started. We have alot more work to do but without you the foundations might not have ever been laid.

NEW YEAR, OLD GOALS.

Tue, 03 Jan 2012 03:00:56 -0500

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I figured I should post this before wishing everyone a happy new year makes me look like the drunk cousin at the family barbecues (you know the one). I have mixed feelings about the new year. It makes me sad because the holiday season is over. There’s no more magic in the air. The world has a certain blah-ness to it. On the other hand, there’s a feeling of hope and new-ness to it that makes the changing of the calendar so much more significant. Pretty soon though the hope will fade, the new-ness will wear off and we’ll look at the calendar and think “It’s January ___th already?! This year is FLYING”. Before all of that happens, I want to publicly (to the 5 people who read this) announce my “goals” for the new year. I hesitate to use the word goals because goals are meant to be met after a while and I sometimes, OK usually, forget to finish what I start.

I NEED A JOB. This week marks the 7th anniversary of me being at my high school job. I was able to get out of high school, but not out of this place. I never in my wildest dreams thought I’d be there this long. I won’t go into how I feel about the place just in case someone from there finds this. However, I will say that working there has been the most exhausting, tumultuous, educational ride I’ve ever been on. One that will definitely leave my head spinning for a while after I finally get off. It’s been a good run but I’m ready to explore the rest of the amusement park. There are many rides I want to try and games I want to play.
I NEED TO LOSE WEIGHT. So cliche - I know. It’s just gotten to a point where I can’t stand it anymore. I look in the mirror and the person who looks back at me does not match the picture in my head. There’s not much more to say. Wish me luck.
I DON’T WANT TO BE ALONE. Ok, so that was a little dramatic. Let’s face it though, there’s no way to say “I want a boyfriend” without sounding needy, desperate or childish. I’m 24 years old; enough is enough. My 6 year old self is getting worried that when I’m 30 I’ll be the only single person in the nursing home (side note: I found a school journal from when I was in 1st grade and one of the entries said something about when I’m 30, I’ll be so old that I’ll need a wheelchair. When I read that, I laughed so hard I almost needed some Depends - ahead of schedule.) My 8 year old self is pretty disappointed that my last name isn’t DiCaprio yet. I think she’s more disappointed that it never will be. I’m not looking to get married or anything but it would be nice to know that someone might want to marry me someday. (Does that make sense? Moving on.)
I WANT TO FIND MY PASSION. Right now, I feel like I have so many pots on the stove and none of them are getting heated up. I started this blog to try to light the fire. I like to write, I just get sidetracked. I usually either forget to post something, or I don’t know what to write, or I’ll start a post and then I won’t like how it’s coming together so I shut the window and watch videos on Youtube instead. I’m too hard on myself and I need to change that. Sometimes I’ll write a post that I feel isn’t good at all but after I post it go back to read it a few weeks later and I surprise myself. This will probably be one of those posts. This is the second time I’m writing it because I stupidly didn’t save it the first time and tried to insert a picture and lost the whole thing. For the record, I loved the first one. It was one of the best things I’ve written, in my opinion. It’s the same thing with my photography. For my thesis project in college I made a photo book of pictures that I took of my family’s house on the beach and all of the surrounding areas. When I handed it in my professor glanced at it and asked me if I took all of the pictures myself. I told him that I had. He seemed impressed. I was too embarrassed to stick around any longer so I wished him a happy summer and I got out of there. I checked my grades everyday expecting the worst. (The “worst” being a B; I think that’s the lowest I could handle. I worked HARD on that project. No matter what anyone says.) It turned out that I got an A. Not to toot my own horn, but whenever I show my copy of the book to anyone I get such positve feedback on my photos. (toot, toot!) It’s humbling, really.
I WANT TO RECONNECT. I feel like I’ve lost touch with so many people that I used to be so close to. I’m horrible with the phone and I acknowledge that, but here’s the funny thing about the phone - it works both ways. MIND BLOWING. I know. I’m willing to work on using the phone if you’re willing to work with me. I’m a plan maker. If I make plans with you, I’m sticking to them and expect you to do the same. Don’t stand me up. Don’t call me last minute to cancel. Don’t pretend to forget we had plans (or even worse, don’t actually forget we had plans). Don’t cut the night short. I thrive on the past (which is a problem in it’s own) and love to reminisce about things. Deal with it for a few hours.

Other things I want for 2012 (and beyond):

to be a happier person
to be a more positive person
to stop sweating the small stuff
to be healthy
for my family, friends and loved ones to be happy, healthy and safe
to stop worrying and being so nervous
to remember to save my work
for the 1st post to magically appear (wishful thinking)
a new Backstreet Boys album (you think I’m joking?)

stop the HATE!

Wed, 21 Dec 2011 01:43:34 -0500

Let me just say that I’ve tried to start this post at least 5 times now. I’m going to just throw what I’m thinking out there and hopefully it comes together the right way.

Like most of the world, when I want to learn how to do something I turn to Youtube. If it were around when I was a kid, I’d know how to swim, ride a bike and rollerskate. That being said, I have my list of subscriptions and on that list there are people who I will make sure to watch their videos. One of these people is Samantha Schuerman. She has a beauty channel, from which I learned how to do a french braid, how to get a smokey eye, and how to ensure my teeth won’t be wearing more lipstick than my lips are. She is a sweet, perky, bubbly, funny woman who was just looking to help girls who needed a little beauty direction. She also has a vlog channel in which she and her husband, Jay tape their daily lives (duh, VLOG channel). They have a beautiful son named Phoenix and a wonderful extended family who live nearby. They let the world into their lives and daily routine. By doing this they brought a smile to the face of someone who was having a bad day (I know I can attest to that!), they gave a glimpse of what a happy family to people who might not have it, bringing them hope for their future. Now, what did the get in return? HATE - and lots of it.

They deleted their account yesterday and she took down all of her tutorials. The closed their facebooks and twitters. They let the haters win. But not for long. After hundreds (thousands?) of their fans,friends and family rallied around them and showed them what their little family meant to them the Schuermans made another vlog channel. They re-openened their facebook and twitter pages. They are rebuilding what the haters tore down. And I am so happy for them.

You know what kills me about these bullies? Most of them have youtube channels only so that they can comment on videos! I want them to put their families out there for the whole internet to see. Let’s see how easy it is for them to deal with the haters and the rude, unnecessary comments. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. I think it’s crazy that people have enough time in their day to sit at the computer and make other people’s lives miserable. Who cares what someone’s house looks like or what they’re wearing or how they speak? If it doesn’t physically hurt you, what’s the big deal? If you don’t like it change the channel, close the website, unsubscribe! These comments are being sent to REAL people with REAL feelings; not some fictional character on a TV show.

I write this blog and I am lucky if I post this on my facebook and one person will read it, but I hope one day it will reach a complete stranger. I hope that something I wrote will affect in such a positive way that they will reach out to me telling me so. I recently read an article that I loved; so much so that I sent the person who wrote it a facebook comment. It was a quick note and I was a little embarassed since I am shy by nature and don’t usually do things like that. A few days later I got a message back from the author telling me that it was sweet that I reached out to her. I could be wrong but she seemed genuinely happy and suprised that someone even took the time to write anything. It made me feel good that my message might have made her day. My point is why don’t we have more of those comments/messages in the world. If you like something, SAY IT! If you walk into your place of work and a co-worker is wearing a fierce pair of shoes TELL THEM! If someone passes you on the street and they smell nice, let them know. I can’t tell you how much brighter my day is when someone compliments my shirt or my makeup or even makes a comment about my accent or my handwriting (don’t laugh, the other day someone told me they liked my heavy Brooklyn, New Yawwwk accent. Ehh, whatever floats your boat).

My question to the haters is, how were you raised? Do you really think it’s OK to make people feel lousy? And to do it hiding behind a computer screen? Be an adult about things. I was taught to not say anything if I didn’t have anything nice to say. Apparently they were absent the day that was taught.

acceptance.

Mon, 19 Dec 2011 02:01:40 -0500

This post is from my livejounal account. I’m going to post some of those entries on here because no one is going to my page on that site. This was written on October 30, 2010. Hope you enjoy it!

Growing up I was never really a small kid. I have always had some extra meat on my bones. While my friends were shaped like bananas, I was always the apple of the group. It truly never bothered me because unlike what we hear about in the news today, I can honestly say I don’t remember being bullied because of my weight or how I looked. Until now.

Last week I had the opportunity to watch a little bit of the new show, “The Talk” while I ate lunch at work the other day. They had a story in the beginning of the show about a writer from Marie Claire magazine online. The article was about the show “Mike and Molly” and if “fatties” should be shown in love ( or some other ridiculousness). The writer goes on a rant about how watching obese people on TV is gross and how she basically can’t stomach seeing fat people in public. ( for the full article click here.. shine.yahoo.com/channel/sex/should-quot-fatties-quot-get-a-room-even-on-tv-2403141 conveniently, Marie Claire took the article down but thank God for Yahoo) She even gives tips on how to lose weight. If that isn’t ballsy, I don’t know what is.

Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize obese (or whatever word you prefer here) people don’t have feelings. My mistake. I must have been dreaming when I have meltdowns in the dressing room. I must have imagined feeling left out when I went shopping with friends and family who are skinnier than me. On the other side of the coin, I must have been wrong for being proud of myself when I received my college diploma. I probably shouldn’t get nervous or excited when possible employers start to call me for interviews for my first real big girl job. Above all, as the article points out I don’t have the right be to loved, or to be intimate (which doesn’t necessarily mean sex.) You’re right, only skinny people should feel these things.

I sat there stunned for a few seconds. Who does she think she is? Just because she can wear a size 2 and look good while walking across a room (she brought it up; check the article) doesn’t make her any better than me. Luckily, the women on the panel felt the same way I did. Sharon Osbourne laced into the author as if she was standing right in front of her; and I won’t lie, hearing Sharon call this woman a bitch made me feel pretty good. Secretly, I hoped Sharon would find out her address and send Ozzy over to chuck a ham over her fence to retaliate. Even after lunch was over and I went back to work I couldn’t stop thinking of this article and the stupidity it spewed.

Taking out the fact that the main characters are obsese, “Mike and Molly” is a show about love. Love between a man and a woman, love between family and love between friends. I watch the show every week and I was excited to see that they finally took their relationship to the next level. I hope the show lasts and does well because I enjoy it.

Unfortunately, I am a Molly who has yet to find her Mike. Does that mean I’m not entitled to? I sure hope not.

Miracle on 34th Street

Sun, 18 Dec 2011 12:26:19 -0500

As we all know Christmas is a mere week away. This year I feel like it’s been impossible to get myself into the holiday spirit. I’ve gone through all the motions. I saw the tree at Rockefeller Center, I blast Christmas music in the car, I shopped for the perfect gifts, baked my favorite holiday cookies. OK, you get it. I tried. In a last ditch effort to muster up some holiday cheer I popped my favorite Christmas movie into my DVD player and hoped for the best.

Miracle on 34th Street has been enchanting me since I saw it almost 18 years ago. I can’t even properly express how I feel when Santa puts on his suit, adjusts his hat, and walks out into Santa’s Village in the middle of the department store. If I tried though, it might sound a little something like “This movie is so friggin’ magical”. Spoken like a true New Yorker.

When I think of New York at Christmas time this is where my mind goes. The city is beautiful all year round but it takes on a certain type of beauty that shines through right after Thanksgiving until New Years. The buildings take on a new look when illuminated by the glow of thousands of Christmas lights. There’s a feeling in the air that makes you feel like all is right with the world.

It’s OK to read this and think, “What’s the zip code to fantasy island? I’d love to visit” but watch the movie and then try to tell me that I’m wrong.

Embarassingly Desparate.

Thu, 15 Dec 2011 01:26:47 -0500

Here we go again. I signed up for another blogging website in hopes of actually keeping up with this one. I really like Tumblr (check out my other blog here —> www.marteenieeee.tumblr.com) and hope that means I’ll keep coming back. Following me would be a great incentive so click the follow button on the top right of the screen. It’s quick and painless and you won’t regret it.

Now that I sound totally desperate and lame I’ll get to the real reason I’m posting this blog. Honestly, I don’t have one. I just needed something to post on Facebook announcing my arrival to Tumblr. (again, LAME.) Anyway, these posts will get less pathetic and more fun soon, I promise! (and by promise, I mean hope).

Now you can help me out by dragging your mouse to the upper right hand corner of the page and clicking the “Follow” button. That would be great and much appreciated. It’s not mandatory but how else are you going to see my pearls of wisdom as soon as they’re posted?

Ok Martina enough. Stop bothering everyone and go to bed.

For Starters...

Sun, 04 Dec 2011 03:07:22 -0500

I’ve been meaning to start a blog on here for a while now. Actually, I did start one but I haven’t written anything on it. It turned into a place for me to show what was going through my mind in picture form. I feel like it’s time to get back into actual writing.

It’s late now so I’ll end this post here. If you want to check out the brain vomit on my other page click the link here:

http://marteenieeee.tumblr.com/

My original blog can be found here:

http://www.martinacziraky.livejournal.com

My posts are not getting any traffic where they are so hopefully by linking them here, you’ll see them and enjoy them.

Feel free to follow me and leave questions and other things in my ask box. =D