Packing my thing$s

As I sit here and pack my things to go back to school, I can't help but reminisce about my vacation. Immediately from the start I was kind of dreading it because of the work situation. I know that I was welcome to go back to Ali Baba, but that I didn't want to go back at all. So, instead, I broke my back looking for new work, and found it during the last week of vacation. I'll be going back in May (they promised me the job).

Other than that, my vacation was pretty uneventful.. and looong. It's funny but home doesn't seem like home to me anymore. I can't count how many times I forgot where the light switch was in my room or in other rooms. That never happened before. Also, I felt weird at first cooking in a real kitchen again!

Besides the boredom aspect, I hung out a lot with the B.F., as expected. He's such a great guy and so are his parents. I visited him a few times up in Mohegan Lake, but mostly he came down to visit me. Guess his love for the city helps! We went out to eat quite a bit (Tomi sushi comes to mind) and experienced some great new flavors. I recommend Woo Chon Korean Restaurant in Flushing for the fun atmosphere and funky 70s disco music.

Can't talk much now as I'm arranging my stuff for my return to Long Island.

Tired, crampy, and lazy

I died my hair back to its natural color yesterday. Very excited about that! I was sick of blonde highlights...

So, in other news, I'm sitting here watching the Golden Girls with cramps and I'm too lazy to get up to take aspirin (during my period is the only time I take aspirin). Such is life.

Not much else to report except yesterday I sort of had a breakdown on my couch at 3 AM in the boyfriend's arms. I was feeling pretty crummy about myself, and so was he. It's nice to talk about these things like adults. I'm really glad he's a man that can verbalize his feelings-- talking/communicating is key in any relationship. We both ended up crying about it; in retrospect, he must love me a lot to let me cry on his shoulders. God, he's a keeper. I'm serious.

That would be us. Doesn't he look positively enthralled to be on the receiving end of a Miss Understood lick? :-P This was taken while I was taking my highlights out and baking brownies at the same time. Multitasking... a woman's lot in life!

This is something I ponder a lot: are female porn stars being degraded by the male producers and the male audience? Or are they in control of their own destinies and their bodies? Why is it that although most female porn stars will deny it, they've either had absent or abusive father figures in their lives? I really find it hard to believe that that are well adjusted female porn stars out there.. Let me examine the arguments here.

Take female porn star A. A is a smart businesswoman, she markets many adult toys in her image, has starred in many movies, and might even be recognized by many mainstream people. She makes lots of money, and although she has been in the industry for a long time, she enjoys relative success and has a great life. She, for the record, has probably undergone many cosmetic procedures to attain a look suitable for porn, but quite frankly, odd for real life. Many would say she is control of her own destiny and doing alright by herself.

Female porn star B is not like female porn star A. B was abused/had no father figure growing up, so subconsciously to "show the world" how deserving of the attention she once lacked is, she takes her clothes off for the camera and has sex with men. B is trying to overcompensate for feeling unwanted and ugly when she was younger. B does scenes with multiple men, and might even dabble in "degrading" porn (what porn isn't?). Many would say she is being degraded.

Don't think I'm a prude. In fact, if you catch me in the right mood, I quite enjoy pornography. I think the feeling we get inside that makes us want to watch nudity is both natural and should be encouraged. However, I can't help but also feel bad for the women in the industry. The men can be hideous and overweight; the women must be considered "beautiful" by the industry's standards-- most porn stars have tiny waists, bleached blonde hair, lots of makeup and silicone breasts (again, I am generalizing here) or they're relegated to fetish films. I, personally, have never seen a pornographic film in which the woman was in control. The men treat women like they're their personal dolls to be thrown around and even borderline abused.

There are people who say that some women are to "beautiful" for porn. Take Aria Giovanni, for example. Something about this girl just irks me. In the beginning, I thought she was pretty because she's curvy and has brown hair in a sea of stick thin blondes. However, the more I thought about it, the more she disgusted me. Most men defend her because they think she's hot, but in my opinion, she looks trashy. How could you not when you're lying on your back spreading your labia for people you don't even know? Many say she was smart and unpopular in school and so she's too "worldly" for porn. Give me a break. Fisting yourself or penetrating yourself with a very large dildo on camera is quite worldly. By the way, people call her an "Italian goddess," but she's 1/4 Italian and her birth name is Cindy Renee Volk.

I think encyclopedia dramatica put it quite nicely: Aria Giovanni is Italy's biggest porn star, or she would be if she wasn't born in California and named Cindy Renee Volk by her parets. Apparently an unpopular and shy kid at high school, she decided that education was too hard and that pushing most of her arm up her vagina was a much better way to make friends and earn a living. Doesn't do hardcore, because that would be icky.

Today

So, what's on the menu for today?

+ Go food shopping for grandma, who fell two days ago and now has bruises over her face.
+ Put said food away.
+ Go on a job interview at this cute Argentine restaurant near our apartment. I'm going back to university on the 27th, and I explained this to them, but they still want me to come down and have an interview. I will gladly work these coming days before my return and then come back in May, when I'm done for the year. Wish me luck!

Now I'm contemplating-- shut off Maury Povich (the topic? Abusive men.) or go take a shower. Speaking of shower, some woman just said her man doesn't let her shower. If any man ever did that to me, I think I would drown him in the tub. Are you kidding me?!


... Shower.

P.S. Someone should update their blog.. *cough cough* Jor.

i just want to align my body with yours
inhale you through my nose
and exhale us

mmmm

breathe with me
i want to smell your evergreen
and what i mean

is you are always fresh
not in the sense of "that guy can dress"
but that you're nothing less than the best

and its not even your voice
because that swagger speaks for itself.
its you always leaving a lasting impression on my mind

Monday through Monday
being my simile; or metaphorically
taking my hand as only my lover can.

maybe, i've been too stressed over the superficial
but your laugh bring me back to earth
your little things uncover my soft spots

and your touch makes my life easier to manage
i want to align our chi
inhale you through my nose

exhale us through my mouth
hmmmmmm
breath with me.

you realize the potential that i realized long ago
the love we have is more than just a we thing
its a universal for me thing

i am grateful for ever second you spend on this earth
but when we are on cloud 9 i cherish it even more
i feel you when youre near and even more when you're not

because absence makes the heart grow fonder...
[fuck that]
your kisses make my lips stronger

and i need you to breathe
hmmmm
inhale through my nose

exhale through my toes
not just through my body
but through my laced up chucks

and all i've ever known.
i want to breathe you when im 60 years old
and as unrealistic as that sounds

i don't care about reality
because reality has a hole in the ozone layer the size of mars
and I have smokers get me into fits

but breathing you is pure
purer than the purest bliss
mmmmm

let's inhale this.

your essence doesn't get me high
it gets me sober
reversing shit

issues and heartaches
healing wounds
and ripping off bandaids

You lie there like a lion on the prowl,
knowing damn well you're the king of my jungle.
Poetic minds breed poetic sex
and I have to thank you for letting me think things
that I've never done before.
Speak of things I've never sung before
Touching places that have been hidden for years
behind walls of adolescence.
I'm glad you're working it out with true sincerity
Take your time with me
There are certain things that are still fragile,
things that get weak to the touch.
Places that moan
"Yes thats the spot"
I'm still not sure if I'm all that you want
but your whispers calm my fears.
It feels like I haven't done this in some years
Just lay with me here and now, kissing my neck.
Let me rub your back
You might pull my hair
Look me in the eyes and tell me
you want me for me at this point
(and I won't hold back even if you don't).
This doesn't have to be a mind thing..
You can talk to me with your hands
Oh how you make my body sing.
It's like notes I've never hit
as you melt the spots
where no heat has ever been.
Baby, teach me something new.
Let's make this thing mutual.
I'm all yours.

Diets? Oh yeah.. I almost forgot.

In my first semester away at college, I gained 20 lbs. When they say the Freshman 15, they aren't kidding! Wow. So when I came home on the 21st, I decided to go on a diet. Up until now, I've successfully lost 14lbs, but with yesterday's dinner and today's lunch at a Dominican restaurant, I feel like a cow. I mean, when I got home yesterday I looked at the scale and I had gained 5 lbs. That's okay, two days of eating a lot won't make or break me. Size 6 here I come! I *will* do it.

I'm still sewing that shrug, by the way.

Brooklyn, roommates, and sewing

Good afternoon!

I'm still waiting for an e-mail back from someone at college confirming what I already suspect-- the room I was approved to move into for next semester is a single. That would be the awesomest of the awesome things I know. I like my roommate, but who wouldn't like their own room?

Anywho, today I'm going into Brooklyn to buy some fabric. I'd like to consider myself a crafty kind of gal, so I intend to do some damage with my new sewing machine! I'm thinking I'll make a shrug using a pattern I found online and maybe pick up a pattern or two and some fabric at the store. If I hadn't left my digicam at my dorm, I'd take pics of the finished product. Guess the webcam will have to suffice for that.

Dinner

Okay, so this is a new blog. And as a new blogger is wont to do, I am seriously dying to write on here. So let me tell you all what I did tonight: I went to dinner with my boyfriend and his parents. Let me preface this story by saying that we have been dating since September, and we're totally awesome for each other. I mean, what other guy can I fart around and still be considered cute? Really now, he's a keeper. And who else would even dream of sucking my toes?

But I digress...

Most people who are dating dread the inevitable "in-law" dinner. You know, the kind of date you spend at a run-of-the-mill Italian joint with your disapproving "mother in law" (is she even a mother in law yet if you're just dating?) and your "father in law" who cracks the most obnoxious jokes, trying to liven up the situation as you and your significant other sweat bullets into your respective shrimp scampi and fettucine alfredo (faux Italian food? A whole 'nother post, my dears!).

Tonight, however, couldn't have been a more pleasant experience. I genuinely, positively care for his parents. Not only have they raised him to be a respectful and wonderful person, they've raised him to be a giving and caring man who is precisely just that-- a man. And what's better is they have a sense of humor! I must have done something really awesome in a past life, because I couldn't ask for a better relationship with the parents of my boyfriend (and if you're wondering, my family likes him so pretty much everything is smooth sailing in our relationship).

We ended up going to a great Cuban restaurant on 3rd street between Ave. B and Ave. C (mmm, Alphabet City!). Dinner was fantastic. Started out with empanaditas filled with beef and served with a cilantro garlic dipping sauce. For the main course, I had ox tails. Reminded me of my grandmother's ox tails, only on crack and pumped with steroids. They were seriously that good. The rice and beans were spot on as well. I topped dinner off with rice pudding, and was actually rolled out the door and into the car.

It starts..

If my life were a painting, I think it would be titled "Concrete Rose." I'm sure there would be many great splashes of color, a few strokes of black for those melancholy moments, and maybe some turpentine for good measure (you know... to get rid of those past indiscretions of mine I'd rather forget!). In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm a living art project brought forth by the work of many a New York City artist-- German tourists on the subway, my Puerto Rican "titi" (and favorite neighbor), makeshift magicians on street corners, my colorful Sicilian grandparents (Nonna, I can hear you shouting some off-color saying right now), and best friends with whom I watch obscure indie and foreign movies late into the night.

Oftentimes, I ask myself: "Am I who I am because I grew up here?" The answer is, in fact, quite simple: of course! Honestly, where else could I buy bagels at 3 AM and see trannies shamelessly pulling their latex panties aside and peeing on the doorsteps of buildings? I can never find an answer to that question no matter how hard I try. Even if I tirelessly searched high and low, I doubt I could. Venice? No, probably not. Amsterdam? I'm sure it would be fun (if you're into that), but I doubt it. Miami? Great energy, but not like the bastion of all that is good about America that is New York. In my eyes, nothing will ever come between me and my first man- Manhattan. There's just something about these busy avenues that makes me feel alive. I don't think they've invented a word for it yet.

Now, don't get confused. I was born and raised in Queens, and I'm damn proud of it. You see, only real New Yorkers come from the outer boroughs. As much as I love the City, many of the people there are just transplants from the Midwest anyway... But getting back to the subject at hand, I don't want it to seem like I'm unworldly. I've been to Europe, South America, the Caribbean and back. I don't eat typical American fare (hot dogs? I'll pass), and I absolutely adore learning about new cultures (current obsession: Korean). I've trekked to El Yunque in Puerto Rico, dipped my toes in the Mediterranean, and danced bachata in the Dominican Republic, but I don't think any other place in the world tugs at my heart strings like NYC. You see, I was raised a city girl. My parents were raised in the city. Their parents were of the tenement generation, and after immigrating, spent all their lives here. I guess love for all things urban is just in my blood. I don't think that once a person comes here, s/he can ever forget the glittering wonder of 42nd street, the raw gritttiness of St. Mark's Place, the beauty of Central Park in winter time or even the knishes at Yonah Schimmel's on second avenue (go ahead, try them!).

In all actuality though, even a place like NYC has it's problems. In such an expensive place to live, poverty is a serious issue. Ever since I was little, my parents took my brother and I to volunteer at the Bowery Mission. In true New York fashion, I rolled up my sleeved and served food to the homeless with gusto and genuine compassion. Just knowing that there are people out there who have less than you can make a girl cry. My trips there weren't about me. When I look back, they were about others.. about New York; its residents, its beautification, and its energy. For my family, it was the love for our city, our fellow man, and our compassion that brought us there. After all, weren't we once in sort of the same position? It's true that we came from poor European immigrants and knew the pangs of hunger, too. But at the end of the day, in a city with as many people as ours, life would be beautiful if we could all help one another. If just one of us lent a helping hand, maybe we could make New York even better. It'll be tough though, because I think for all her flaws, she's already a pretty damn cool chick.