After the glory…or Marathon Blues 101

Wowza.

So, I did a little something on November 3rd, 2019.

That little something transpired from 6 months of training runs breezing through Spring, suffering through Summer and damn right anxious to get it over with by Fall.

I completed my 2nd TCS NYC Marathon and crossed that finish line 30 minutes faster than last years’ time at the same marathon when it was my 1st. 989336_297160320_XLarge

Oh my…

The glory is truly mine!!!

Actually, the glory will always be mom, my mom, who encouraged me to trot (run) the marathon in the first place.

So yeah.

The glory is mine anyway!!

But…

After the marathon is done, the pain in the hips and knees linger for a few days. The ravenous appetite, the rampant endorphins, Facebook pages blowing up with “Congratulations” and other accolades galore—the glory gradually dissapates.

Glory, Glory…hallelujah!

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Yesterday the doldrums came and took the place of glory, sometime after midnight, while I was trying to sleep, fighting with my greyhound over bed space she feels entitled to. Today the doldrums left and I’m back to reality.

No guts…no glory!

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Back to a schedule, back to work, back to crowded subways, back to garbage pick-up days, back to life back to reality.      

 Glory be.

 In three weeks, (God willing) I’ll be running another marathon on another Sunday, November 24, 2019 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Got to keep chasing Glory!!!

 

 

 

“I’m just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round”…or Boredom is a b…h.

This week…
I’m grateful to have had the opportunity to experience each day as most were not.

This week…
Has not been the greatest, in terms of my living through each day.

This week…
Was filled with drama, angst and all bad things I’d like to drink away which one knows doesn’t work.  Once the drunken haze dissapates, reality kicks in big time and not always on the butt.

This week…
Should I break it down? I guess.

Work
At times it can be a mindless job with no mental or creative stimulation. At times the work reminds me of an assembly line production with an oversize stamp freshly dipped in a way too small ink pad primed to stamp ‘accept’ or ‘reject’ on a pale beige Staples office envelope. (ok bit of exaggeration on the assembly line thingy)
Work
Is where I go to make the Benjamins.
Working 35 hours at a place filled with drama, angst and all bad things or how about having my mind on autopilot reciting Nie mój cyrk, nie moje małpy. As paperwork piles up only to realize on the 3rd round of chanting— I AM the monkeys!

Work
It can be a job where your strengths and creativity are appreciated and used to the best of your potential. It can also be a job where your strengths and creativity are stifled, squashed and thrown out the back door.-oh well.

Work
If you don’t own your own business, you are subject to the rules of others, sought of living the life of a peasant on a lord’s land (the lord being your boss and the land, well that depends where you work).

Work 
Is all the wonderful stuff that makes most of those who work only working for a the Benjamins at the end of the day.

*John Lennon 

 

Not sure where this came from but worth the read:
A father before he died said to his son: “This is a watch your grandfather gave me, and it is more than 100 years old. But before I give it to you, go to the watch shop on the first street, and tell him I want to sell it, and see how much he offers you”.  He went, and then came back to his father, and said, “the watchmaker offered 5 dollars because it’s old”. He said to his son: “go to the coffee shop”. He went and then came back and said: “He offered $5 father”.  “Go to the museum and show the watch”. He went then came back and said to his father “They offered me a million dollars for this piece”. The father said: “I wanted to let you know that the right place values you in the right way. Don’t find yourself in the wrong place and get angry if you are not valued. 

Those that know your value are those who appreciate you, don’t stay in a place where nobody sees your value”.

 

 


—images from the WWW

 

Time waits for no one…or, Mom is 100% right.

Time waits for no one…

Procrastination and I were once best buds. We’d hold hands preventing me from moving one step forward, relishing in the here and now and not getting what needs to be done, done. I’d bitched to mom about the consequence of not getting it done and she’d sing song, “Time waits for no one. It passes you by and it goes on forever like the sun in the sky”. Annoyed with her singing I would repeat the song and insert the “sun in the sky” with “a bird in the sky”. Mom replied with, “Birds don’t fly forever” and we would lapse into back and forth retorts ending with hysterical laughter.

Faith move mountains…

“My second interview with them, do you think I’ll get it?”, me to mom.

“Que será, será…”, mom to me.

“What!?, me to mom.

“Faith move mountains”, mom to me.

“You mean Faith moves mountains”, me to mom.

“No. Faith move mountains”, mom to me.

***Me-throws eyes up to the sky while leaving the room

Elenita or Boobie

Almost everyone in this family has a nickname.

Judy

Nina

Peggy

Bobby

Dinero

Tub of Lard

Aggie

Fatee

I’ll…

No nickname.

Just plain ole Elena from most in the family and those ‘most’ not even pronouncing it correctly. (Thank you, my uncle, for naming me after Tia Peggy’s middle name!). 

But…

Not mom, my mom. 

I was “Elenita” and most especially when she was so happy with me, “Boobie”. 

Boobie, to me, means love, a mother’s love, unique and so only bestowed to the child mom truly loves, her undisclosed favourite. 

Yes.

I am/was my mom’s favourite and no shame in that.

Not all have a blessed mom for whatever reasons and, 

You know what?…

That’s more than okay as you don’t need a maternal figure to get that special feeling or nickname from: some fathers, friends, uncles, aunts, cousins-relationships period- that make you feel so special, unique and loved for who you are.

If there is no one for you, I will be that someone for you!!!! 

(As being alone right now with no mom or support from family, I know, cannot always be so good).

Those who have, those who struggle, those who wanna be…or “Girl, you carry your Mac in a plastic bag?”

Back in the 80’s my neighbourhood was filled with creative and artsy peeps who flowed through the avenues during the day and had trendy thought-provoking convos at night in the bars. I gravitated towards the writers and artists who bragged about their latest accomplishments or latest failures as back then bragging had no qualifications.

But, in this present day, this ‘hood’ is filled with those who have, because those who struggled to have, were pushed out with rent increases, aimed at making room for the new, at the expense of the old. 

The  wanna be’s arrived on the scene and venture through the avenues, stopping at restaurants then exiting quietly or nosily as some of you do on the weekend nights when you’ve had one too many and I have to listen to your nonsensical crap as I try to fall asleep hoping to dream of puffy rabbits and green turtles.

Those who have are busy tearing down the old in their apartments or brownstones for updated, functional appliances and wares to create a home one can truly relax in. Those who have also have the required child under two and nannies galore.  Those who have work at high end jobs or accumulated wealth or trust fund babies or related to the Hiltons or the orange turd that sits with his hemorrhoids in the house that is now truly white. 

Those who have, can be seen sitting in a designer coffee shop situated on every corner in PSlope with their macbooks proudly displayed on the countertops. One of those macbooks belonging to those who have was the impetus for this blog post. I witness one of those who have, carrying their macbook in a see through plastic bag while standing on 5thave waiting for an Uber!

I am now the recent proud owner of a macbook air in rose. It took allot to purchase this item, financially, emotionally, whatever else comes with baggage stored deep in the heart. 

My Mackbook Air is proudly called, “Rose Gold” and she’s encased in a heavy plastic shell with a keypad overlay and is rarely transported in a heavy black padded case.

My point to all this jibbering or jabbering, as the mac autocorrect is insisting I use? 

Those who have don’t have to care for what they have for what they have will always be replaceable.

Those who ‘wanna be’ will always be wanna be’s living in a fantasy that is obtainable only through lunch specials and splitting entrée’s at the so called ‘elite’ restaurants in the ‘hood’.

Those who struggle will always struggle and will gain experience, empathy and survival instincts through those struggles. Not to paint all those who struggle as martyrs in an unfair world because we know those who struggle can be so full of shit at times and such big narcissists but for those who struggle and truly come from good will always be on top for they cherish what was so hard to acquire and appreciate what it took to get it. 

Peace out.

****I dedicate this post to my niece and little brother who work so hard for what they have.

I like, I don’t like…or Who wants Bacon?!!!

I like Bacon…

I don’t approve of mass market killing of pigs

I like Eggs…

I don’t like male chicks being sacrificed to the blades of convenient death

I like Beef…

I don’t approve of fear of death before dying

I like Sheep…

And have not eaten sheep since the age of 19 

I like fish especially salmon…

I buy my fish at the supermarket cleaned, scaled and ready for steaming in my pan

I like hot dogs, uncured, Nathan’s or Grey Papaya…

I don’t like the video I saw with Snoop Dog on the making of hot dogs

I like Milk…

I don’t like the milk industry, hormones and separating calfs from their feeding source for veal on someone’s plate at an Italian restaurant

I love Oysters…

Umm…oysters don’t feel do they?

I love shrimp, lobster and crab…

Unfortunately, at the age of 40 my body decided not to like them.

I like Bourbon…

Bourbon does not like me because I abuse it

I like wine: Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc,Cabernet and Merlot…

Wine does not like me since I started abusing it

I like writing, playing piano and researching on the web…

Writing keeps slapping me in the face, the piano gives me dirty looks since I won’t touch her and the web is laughing at me because I’m blindly searching through loads of crap

Death Be Not Proud or…Get busy living or get busy dying

It’s so easy to live and so easy to die

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You can live, take in air, eat, go to the bathroom, physically healthy on the outside and dying inside of a broken heart too weak to fight depression

When you die, you die, no air, no food, at times a final bathroom break, sick on the outside all while the heart fights desperately to live on the insidePicture3

It’s so easy to live and so easy to die

Living is a struggle, learning and navigating through a ‘new normal’ one did not ask to have. I want the old normal where stuff happened the way it should, predictable and expected

Dying is a struggle, learning and navigating through a final stage of life you did not ask to have. Death had no right to disrupt all that was normal, true and kind

It’s so easy to live and so easy to diemom 2

Life is a given.

We live our lives day to day, hour to hour, not thinking once about what it means to live. We take life for granted until we realize it’s gone

Death is a given.

For after the life we’ve taken for granted is gone the aftershocks of raw emotions will be unpredictable, coarse, sneeringly painful and at times forgetful until you wake up in the morning and realize death is not bringing back the one it took recently or those in the past. Your mom, tobias and pi patel are never coming back

It’s not so easy to live when the ones you so loved have died

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Three little birds or…Signs from Heaven Above

The last two weeks have brought water from my eyes. At times behind closed doors and while walking down the middle of a crowded street.

Because of…

Sparrows.

Native to NYC as rats are to the subway as pigeons are to rooftops as hawks are to Ppark as racoons are to Cpark as squirrels are to the ‘hood,

Sparrows rule NYC.

Little dictators who at times remind me of the honey badger when competing with pigeons for bread crumbs.

Mom loved birds, particularly cardinals, blue jays and cockatiels which she had as pets. She kept bird feeders in the backyard filled with seed that attracted every animal imaginable as well as providing seeds for seedlings erupting in the ground below.

 Mom loved birds and I miss her.

The last two weeks with July 4th approaching brought unease and depression.

But,

Three little birds brought awareness.

Situation one…giphy.gif

happened in front of a church during a work-related training. I was feeding a sparrow crumbs from a bagel and thought it strange how the bird would pick up a crumb, fly away, return and repeat the process. It finally dawned on me that the mom bird was actually bringing food to her nest. What an incredible workout her wings endured as she flew across the street, near the opening of a roof to feed her young.

Talk about free food delivery.

Situation two…

During a training run in Ppark, spotted a sparrow I thought was in distress. Not sure what was going on or if interference was required. My run slowed as I approached the tree filled area. This smaller than normal sparrow was trying to fly and at first it looked as if it was cray-cray as I was or directionally challenged as I am. The beautiful being flew down then up, down then up, down then up, down and up then finally, flew in a straight line to another tree across the pathway. 200w.gif

Guess the youngin’ ain’t coming home anytime soon.

(” Fly robin fly. Up, up to the sky” and yes it was a sparrow I saw and not a robin but I like the song)

 

Situation three…

Katie (the greyt) and I strolled up Lincoln Place, a route we normally follow, one block over from our crib. The song of high-pitched bleeps grabbed my attention as it was harsh on the ears. Of course the sound did not bother Katie’s as her nose was to the ground leading her mind. On a low branch in a Ginko tree sat a nest comprised of twigs and NYC’s finest collection of plastics and weeds-yeah bird, for keeping it real and with some serious improving! Three hungry open beaks protruded from the top of the nest. I was in awe.!IMG_0909

A city slicker seeing an actual bird’s nest for the first time!! As I was staring and Katie sniffing the ground beneath our feet, I heard a squawk from a near-by tree and turned to see Mama glaring at me with the biggest black eyes for miles and…she wasn’t no sparrow. But she wasn’t no crow. We exchanged mutual glares and I went on my way because I          remember Alfred Hitchcock’s movie!

Three little birds… 

 I’d like to believe my mom was sending some signs:  eat properly, leave the safety of the nest and explore,  and a home is what you make it to be worts and all.

She always told me to take care of myself and I know she loved me deeply, defensively, and unconditionally.

Thank you mom and I love you round the world and back!

 

 

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