On Running…or random acts of self-gloating.

Running, seriously keeps me in the moment, in the present, with thoughts dabbing tearfully at the past and  plans my hand enjoys squashing like a giant bug swatter dealing with the future.

The act of running,

Is not running…

It’s training to run. IMG_2504

Training is…

Humiliating, teaching one to be humble during a race as gastrointestinal issues make an unexpected appearance before hitting a porta potty. Once there, one recuperates, cursing the lack of tp and continues afterwards with the…

Training that becomes…

Humbling, when a cocky self assured self decides to run a ½ marathon without the training and ends up puking on the side of the running path. Once there, one recuperates cursing at not having the time to train and continues afterwards with the…

Training that inspires…

Aspirations which turn into goals and thus become accomplishments. Once there, one recuperates, cursing at not recognizing what the hard work was for and duh, reveling in the feely, good thingys not only felt but held close to the heart.IMG_2503

Well, those are my thoughts on running or random acts of self-gloating.


Transparency or why the hell can’t ya just tell the truth…


Transparency is our motto…

Yea right. Transparency is far from your motto and if the need is so great to state it, it says one thing: You’re lying.

We believe in transparency…

Really now? Transparency is what you call a twisted version of the truth which is lying to make it seem real.

Transparency is our commitment to you…

To me? Or did you mean your Board Members who are fully aware of the transparency and what lies behind it.


Our transparency speaks for itself…

Does it now? I guess the attention of your transparency should focus on what you’re not saying.

Our money supply is transparent…

Um…like those over seas bank accounts?

I feel if I hear the usage of ‘transparency’ one mo’ time, I’ma gonna go ballistic and put going postal to shame.


Cut the crap, when has ‘transparency’ replaced telling the truth?

Or is lying in any form necessary to make a buck the new norm?

I do not have the answers.

Transparency is bull…


But, there are some great quotes on it:

“Truth never damages a cause that is just.”
― Mahatma Gandhi

“In the kingdom of glass everything is transparent, and there is no place to hide a dark heart.”
― Vera NazarianThe Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

“If you remove Al Sharpton’s blackness, he disappears. He’s transparent. There’s nothing there because he bases his whole life on his blackness. Me, I’m a black man; but my blackness has submission to my Christianity.”
― Ken Hutcherson

“You have to be transparent
so you no longer cast a shadow
but instead let the light pass through you.”
― Kamand Kojouri

Give me lies or give me transparency!!!

**First photo is mine, the rest, courtesy of the WWW





Mega Millions…


2017 is almost out the door.

So many memorable political moments in the year as well as some notable human souls going into shadow that will leave a dent in our social fabric-most recently Erica Garner.

She passed on at the age of 27 from a heart attack or as Al Sharpton stated  Many will say that Erica died of a heart attack, but that’s only partially true because her heart was already broken when she couldn’t get justice for her father”.

Erica Garner was a warrior who turned tragedy into a platform for social justice instead of wallowing in bitterness and should haves, could haves.


2017 is almost out the door.

Habits and routines are difficult to break because, habits and routines are dependable, always there, nothing to question and no anxiety.

I wanna be superwoman

I wanna make a major change in the world

I wanna be like Erica Garner and stand for social injustice

I wanna be a rebel and give the middle finger to every passive aggressive white person I’ve had to deal with

I wanna win the Mega Millions jackpot and take care of the people who have remained in my life along with its idiosyncrasies.Mega_Millions_Lottery_logo.svg

I wanna buy a large piece of Russian River land in Cali and set up an animal/artist sanctuary with a friend who is dear to mi alma.      fbae963da2b442690d03f6a3e8a1f7d0


Does that promote social justice?

It would be a sanctuary for the outcasts of America, the eclectics, insane, irrationals, unpredictable dreamers, wanna be r’s and the right to live without you eatin’ me.

Animals and artists, so much in need of love, support and hope.


2017 left the building.




**photos from the World Wide Web-not mine.

Frustration intolerance or…if I don’t get my way, hell will freeze over.

Frustration comes with life.despaired-2261021__340

I get frustrated, you get frustrated, we get frustrated, they get frustrated, she gets frustrated, he gets frustrated…then what?

More Frustration

Frustration is:

-Waiting in forever lines,

-the express 15 item line at the supermarket and the person in front of you has fifty items shoved into their cart and the checkout clerk says nothing

-rushing to the Fed-X facility to pick up that package delivered unsuccessfully two hours ago to be told, “Hey, it’s still on the truck, come back near closing”

-the doctor’s appt so desperately needed, paid for by the insurance earned from the madness endured by working with others you’d never associate with outside of work

-working the job to get the insurance to see the doctor but cannot because the “pile of papers sitting on your desk needs to be addressed” to avoid the wrath of the anxious boss, who sits at their desk searching for dresses on eBayoffice-2539844__340


-trying to stretch a dollar into usage for a week

-not having the money to pay bills after working 35 hours a week

This stops here…

Frustration is here, daily, interrupting the easy flow we’d like to have in our lives, from morning to night and especially during lunchtime. We have no control on how and where it comes from, only control on how to deal with it once it makes its presence known.

For the lucky ones, Frustration is felt, experienced and put in its place as it is a no brainer, easily dealt with and discarded. There are more important things in life worth your time and effort.

For the unlucky ones, like me, Frustration is an evil incarnate!!! Set forth from the gates of hell, Frustration throws your whole game plan into the gutter.

It stifles and cripples your ability to deal.

Defeated, you retreat into your inner sanctum, praying for Frustration to leave you alone and pick on somebody else!


Frustration stays and festers until after downing glasses of wine, pizza and hotdogs you finally defeat it. It’s behind you, drama dealt with, done and done.


You are left with the hangover, and the enlarged painfully bloated abdomen.




No money in my pocket…

The job I do which comes with money, insurance, sick and vacation days-

Will Never Define Me.

If I left tomorrow, another would take my place and yesterday’s trash would hold my memory.  I work for an organization that bears no ownership from me but seeks to own me 9-5 five days a week, 52 weeks of the year.

Not my circus, not my monkeys and,

still I work.

For the pitiful salary that allows me to live paycheck to paycheck.

I work.

Twenty-three dollars of green and cream coloured paper can pay for a NYRR race so yes, I


Some money is better than no money.

Before 9am I am the person who owns myself, running 4-6 miles through Ppark alleviating all the knots and kinks required for the introvert in me to go forth into the wonderful office space world where, annoying can’t be alone extroverts, rule.

After 5pm, I revert to being me, in my apartment, wearing the jammies, with the furbabies, two glasses of wine and a good book or SVU on the tube. The introvert in me welcomes my non-inclusive space.

Non-inclusive means space for me and surely not you.

Lord have mercy…

for the extroverts and their lonely selves cannot exist without the attention sucked from introverts who long for the private office the extroverts occupy.

Still I work.

Money is earned not given in my case.

I work…

not for the accolades which are reserved for those who make the most and work the least.


because it pays the endless bills left always in arrears.

Some money is better than no money so

I work and will keep working until the bills ride off into the sunset or I win mega millions and with my middle finger held high, I ride off into the sunset.

***images from the web…

Tobias Walsh…Toby.


Tobias, Toba, Tub of lard, Mr. Tobes, Mr. T, Tobester, Tobadia, Mr Tobadia.

Toby, for me

YOU will always be…just Toby. 1440421056303 (2016-11-02T19_58_20.842)

I want to write down the words that tell my feelings about



When I think of

USTED, I get all mamba jamba boogied up tight lip and my chest hurts, missing your bunny hopping days through Ppark.

The pain is so real and so there…as

TÚ is no longer here, and neither is Pi and I long to touch and smell

USTED as I do him.

Although, stink, Pi did, as did

YOU, and it did not matter because being all mine, all the time, unconditionally, lovingly far surpassed the dirty dog, musty stink after swimming at the doggy beach in Ppark brought into the house.

USTED passed into shadow on Monday evening, October 9, 2017, licking peanut butter from my finger as Propofol made its way through the vein that would eventually connect with other veins on a path to your heart-unstoppable as your personality and love was.

TÚ paused in the peanut butter licking, confused somewhat and before I could acknowledge what was taking place, the ER vet plunged Euthasol into that same vein, which stopped, and ended the pumping of your sweet heart that held mi alma intact and made me realize that yes,

YOU and your love were stoppable.IMG_2112

Pi took my heart…

TÚ my dear first fur baby, the oldest of the pack, took my soul (mi alma).

Beat on…run on…free at last from the arthritis, the crippling of the joints, the senioritis which left you at times confused looking for our house on return walks the sometimes incontinence, the sometimes-foggy vision, free at last, thank HIM almighty you are free.

Gracias me perrito  que vivir en mi vida por catorce años.

Gracias for choosing me.

I want to say to

YOU all that wasn’t said while this earth was lucky to have your soul in its presence, it’s concrete jungle, pseudo Ppark in the woods landscape with me by your side. Gracias a

TÚ for finding and choosing me to spend time in your life. Pi was not part of

the package, pero


USTED accepted him or better yet, tolerated him on your own terms.

The residents at the now defunct Bishop Hulces nursing home would also join in this thanks to

YOU, the certified therapy dog who strutted through the dementia ward bringing the gift of words to those who would not normally speak. 1094724054094 (2016-11-02T19_58_16.355)

USTED, my sweet baby boy would allow the locked words to flow in their gibberish, unstoppable, accepted and not challenged or corrected way.

I remember the young teenage girl who was placed in the nursing home due to her disability of severed legs sacrificed from her attempted suicide gone wrong pact with an MTA train. Mother and father were at her bedside during our visits and the tension and awkwardness were too real to ignore. They spoke no English and who knows what if they knew what to make of you grizzly Adams appearance.

YOU jumped on me, and unto her bed, snuggled up to a hip that no longer had an extension.  She in turn was happy to pet your fur which brought forth a smile easing the tensions from the parents who now mirar a

USTED at what I perceived to be respect and admiration. The visits to her room always brought out the best in the soul that resided en



TÚ and el alma that took my own away.

Bereavement is not so acceptable when it comes to fur babies because for many they are insignificant, easily discarded as the wrapper on a wad of gum. Going into shadow is as irrelevant as swatting a mosquito of an arm.

But guess what…

For me not having

YOU, the job of life can be done but trust me, it will be half assed done, for your unconditional no judgement love does not await me when I return home and I’m left with no defense to put the day’s sucking vampires behind me.


I go to work, forced to converse in conversations when I’d rather be home licking my wounds and thinking of you. Grieving for your lil bro was much easier-I was unemployed. 580

To pick up your ashes, I must return to the place your last breath was drawn and I will bring


YOU home.IMG_2164

Which is where you are now, my sweet Toby boy.






** TÚ, USTED = You.  Mirar=look. Gracias a tú=thanks to you. en= in. pero=but. Gracias me perrito  que vivir en mi vida por catorce años=Thank you my doggy who lived in my life for 14 years.

Dignified Toby-001img_0555roomies-220140916_113709


Routines…routes…Peace out.


easy to follow a staunch routine when it comes to others. For myself? Nope. Routines are erratic, completed by convenience, routines disguised as promises broken, no follow through or follow up-sounds like my childhood.


Bustelo coffee, brew the same way, everyday

Mind you,

attachment to mom, my mom is akin to that of a momma and baby bear where the roles flip flop as a fish on dry land.

Oh boy,

this writing started out as a five-minute morning routine I seldom follow and of course, forgot to set the timer. Five minutes tops, not a minute under or over.


The writing desk with all the idea prompting chutskies.

Well now,

guess this writing turns into a post about routines, easy to establish, impossible at times to follow. Routines are predictable structures set in place by the grandest of intentions, never veering from its designated path, constant.

Alrighty then,

let’s give a cheer for the routines I follow when it comes to others, but nope, not for myself.

-cinco minutos a escribir-(NOT)

Big E

The feline furs demand the 6am breakfast-6pm dinner.

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