MY WAY OR... THE HIGHWAY?

Not actually my new kitchen, but close enough

These last few weeks I’ve been dealing with renovations to my house, mainly in the kitchen area, thanks to that little fellow who decided to visit for a while, until it met its destiny. I decided it was kind of like a break up, in which anything it touched is thrown away. I don’t wanna see, it I don’t wanna touch it, I just want it out and done with. Or maybe I just used it as an excuse to finally do what I had been postponing for no good reason at all.

First, I got rid of the sink and a really old oven range in which I couldn’t really bake anything because I was sure I’d fly across the house in a gas leakage related explosion. Because of that I’ve been without the privileges of a kitchen for a whole week, and managing with an electric pan and a microwave oven. I guess I didn’t think that through.

During the week I bought a new kitchen counter, sink, oven and I’m finally having kitchen cabinets. This to me is quite a big deal, which makes me feel more like an adult living in an adult house, with adult things, while watching Downton Abbey like an adult. But none of that will be installed until maybe today.

Home upgrades aside, what I’m learning a lot about here is patience, or the lack of it in me. Not everything has turned out the way I’ve wanted or planned. And it really gets to me. I get really annoyed when a minor setback ensues, I get mad at the wrong people and I end up regretting doing what I started.

If anything I should take this as a valuable life lesson, and accept that not everything will be what I expect it to be. Surprises will be thrown here and there, and what matters is how you deal with it. Nothing good comes out of making a tantrum, or crying, or worse, giving up on what you are working for, just because someone else tells you it can’t be done the way you had planned. It’s not really the end of the world, and it’s not that it’s impossible to achieve it your way, you’re just taking another road which eventually will take you to where you want to go, so to speak.

I’m nearly at the end of my kitchen project, and some curve balls could be thrown my way, but I will try and remember there is no way that is going to stop me. If you’re a little bit like me and delays in your plans irritate you, don’t let it take over you. You’ll feel sorry afterwards. I learned it not the hard way, more like the embarrassing way. Take my word for it, you don’t want to be like me and cry in front of the two guys who tell you they can’t install your kitchen sink because the current placement of your plumbing is actually getting in the way. These guys are not sensitive and pretty much don’t care what you’ve already been through. So suck it up and ask what the next step is and move on. And pray that all is done by the time the third season of Downton Abbey gets here, because that’s the only kind of drama worth crying for anyway.

Feature image taken by me.

R.I.P. NORA EPHRON

Today I was going to write a whole other post, but upon reading recent news of Nora Ephron’s demise, I’d like to dedicate this piece to her.

Nora Ephron was a writer and director that made millions of other women around the world laugh, cry, fall in love with Meg Ryan and made us dare to dream of the idea of living in New York. Nobody portrays New York like she did. Nobody else will.

The stories she told were filled with quirky characters, compelling love stories, inspiring friendships and above all the extraordinary presence of hope.

What I love most about her movies is the fact that even if they are fictional, with the exception of Heartburn and Julie & Julia, she handled them in a way that they seem so real, like you actually know a couple like Harry Burns and Sally Albright, who bicker in the most adorable way, and while she might be high maintenance he doesn’t care and he loves her because of that. Or maybe you and your best friend are like Annie Reed and Becky in Sleepless in Seattle and together you read into every single sign or obsess over An Affair to Remember together. Or maybe you feel comfortable talking to a stranger you’ve never met and tell him anything and everything that’s on your mind making a connection like you’ve never felt with anyone else you’ve met in person.

See, that’s the secret to Nora Ephron’s movies, she held ordinary situations in her hands and turned them into extraordinary stories that transcend time, making every bit of her work into a masterpiece. I believe her passing away is a big loss for the film industry, and the fact that we shall never see something new from her, is reason enough to mourn.

She was sensitive and had a tender way to narrate, but at the same time she was a strong woman who lived an amazing life.  A great example of feminine power she lead the way for many other directing and writing women in an industry that was largely male in her time.

To me, her movies mean so much to me, and maybe she might have thought it was nothing, but if I would’ve had the opportunity to say it to her, I would say that all this nothing has meant more to me than so many somethings. And also, maybe ask her what sort of hat a butterfly would buy, even if it turned out o be a mistake, like most hats are.

Feature image via

RESOLUTION: RESPECT

I guess it’s kinda weird to talk about New Year resolutions when we are half way through the year, but hear me out for a bit. Do you make resolutions at all? Have you kept any? Are they the same every year or do you make new ones?

I for one have never done a resolution to make New Year resolutions in my entire life. That is until this year started. You see, as I was leaving town to visit my parents for the holidays, and as i waited for my plane to arrive, browsing for light, humoristic reading material in an airport book store, I found shoved under paperbacks in a corner a book by Gretchen Rubin titled The Happiness Project. The author narrates how in a span of a year she made it her mission to achieve happiness, even though it is a highly subjective matter, through resolutions she assigned herself for every month of that year in order to fix or improve different aspects of her life, such as her relationships with her husband, her daughters, household, friends, work and even to start a blog. Of course, her project was specific to her own needs, but it is adaptable for anyone else if desired to follow something like that.

It appealed to me at first, being that I wanted a fresh start in a lot of things going on for me at that moment. Since I was also going through some setbacks in certain relationships, I decided to give it a go, and step by step fix or improve and see what would happen. Things could only be for the better.

January and February resolutions were started but not quite kept, so maybe I’ll start over on them, which were to keep a tidier house and to eat healthier.

On March I followed into Mrs. Rubin footsteps and began a blog. That resolution I kept, but I guess I should pick up the pace.

After that I sort of stopped setting resolutions for myself and let 2012 go on by as any other year.  Except for one little detail. Since the beginning of the year I meant to make this my year. Not in a “I’m getting married this year” like Charlotte kind of way, but in the sense that I will do what I want when I want to do it, just as long as I don’t step on people’s feelings.

I usually felt like I had to do things that would please others and masquerade that as something I wanted to do. Sometimes it was in order for them to feel better about themselves, even when it was clear I wasn’t up for it, for the sake of not having a major drama spill. Kind of like trying to contain acid in a Styrofoam cup all the while smiling and telling people I don’t mind getting my hands burned.

Really, it’s not that big a deal the shift I made. I just say yes when I want to say yes and no if I want to say no, of course, always minding others feelings. See, it might be a bit selfish on my part but there is no reason to be rude. I’m already rude in other ways so no need to add more to it. Just kidding. Sort of. I mean, if I don’t feel like going out one weekend, I don’t see the big deal in saying I’ll just stay in. Unless of course I’m nagging to go out and then don’t show up, well that’s just rude. Anyway, what I mean is that I won’t care if people think I don’t want to socialize with them, because probably they don’t even think that and it’s me who’s extra worrying over what others think of me.

Actually, that means that the shift I made isn’t really about what others think but what I think they are thinking, which, let’s face it, is boring even to type. Really! Why would I set myself up for that before? It was clearly nobody’s problem but my own, except now I know and I can do something about it. The thing is, I have always had this “whatever” attitude and had pretty much no regard what anybody else thinks, (or so it seems) and I just decided to put a label on it so I could justify it. But then I hadn’t realized I didn’t need to justify it to anyone.

So, without knowing, I basically made a resolution to respect myself, which in the end (or actually, the beginning) was all I wanted to achieve. I felt I wasn’t respected by some people and until I decided to do something about it did I truly feel that respect. Maybe, not directly from them but, at least I respected my decisions and stopped hating myself at the end of the day. I had to make drastic changes and hard decisions in order to get where I am in that matter, but I feel more like myself and lighter even.

Any change to make yourself feel better could only be for the best, so if you feel like throwing caution to the wind and do what your heart desires go for it, you will not regret it. Maybe it could be taking a trip alone, or quitting your job to start a business on your own, it could be anything really, but if you want to do it, who’s to say you can’t? Maybe someday I’ll do any of those things, too, when the time is right, but for now I will do my own version of making everyone gasp in horror when I go to the theaters to watch Breaking Dawn Part 2 premiere this fall. You can all suck it. Get it? Suck it? Haha.

SEX & THE CITY (A premise)

From Sex and the City The Movie.

So, I used to think I’d seen plenty of New York through sitcoms such as Mad About You, Seinfeld, and of course, Friends, and my favorite movies set in the Big Apple like You’ve Got Mail, When Harry Met Sally, and Godzilla. I’ve got wide range of taste, here.

Boy, was I wrong. Not about Godzilla, (duh!) but about my idea of New York as a character in itself for telling a story. You see, up until the beginning of this year did I start watching Sex and the City with the sole purpose of finding out what the big fuss was all about. At first, I guess it was okay, I mean, I had literally not seen anything like it and even if I was 14 years behind the whole excitement I found it refreshing. I was actually 13 when the show aired for the first time, so maybe it would’ve been a little inappropriate for me to watch it back then. But then I got older and never really wondered about the series, either.

My curiosity got the best of me after I sat through the painful to watch Sex and the City pt. 2, and that’s the funny part I guess, since it was pretty much a flop for the franchise. The script was no good, the acting was less than commendable, and it basically made me cringe at the whole nonsense of the story. I think I laughed only once the entire 146 minutes of the film.

And yet, here I am, ready to praise the series that spawned that sad excuse of a movie that baited me into the Carrie and Big drama which spanned on and off for six seasons. Of course, SATC isn’t just about Carrie Bradshaw, the sex columnist and narrator throughout the series, it includes the stories of her closest friends Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha.

There is already so much that has been said of SATC everywhere since it aired in 1998, but I too wish to discuss it, because I have no outlet whatsoever. I don’t know anyone personally who has actually watched the show. Ever. This probably has to do with the fact that sex is still (although not admittedly) a taboo subject in my country. Maybe not in the grand scheme of things, but I just know it would be an uncomfortable conversation with my friends for example, and don’t misunderstand me, please, it’s not like I want to talk about it all the time, it’s just that I admire the blunt frankness with which the subject is dealt when the girls of the show discuss any aspect of it.

Anyway, the fact that I watched the six seasons in 2 weeks caused a few raised eyebrows and joking remarks when I told people. So when I was actually hooked and a self- proclaimed fan I unwillingly accepted it as my guilty pleasure. But not anymore, because that stains it with the color of shame, and I don’t feel ashamed of the fact that I genuinely love the show and everything about it.

Beyond the puns intended and the play on words in Carrie’s voice over, SATC is more than just the detailing of the characters’ sex lives; it is also the story of four independent, successful women who are in search of their happiness on their own terms. Whether it may be through love, sex (these two not the same), shoes (love and shoes are, however, almost the same), professional success, friendship, or family. It is a not so subtle feminist message that shows the empowerment of modern women and all that it entails.

For now, I’ll leave this post up until here, because, like I said before, there is so much I’d like to talk about it, but would make for a very long one. This is a premise of more posts to come about SATC and the girls, for my own guiltless pleasure. So, let’s toast with Cosmos and drink in all that fashion, lovers, broken hearts and Manhattan streets this show has to offer, because I swear on Chanel this will be fun. 

SO POLITIC

I plead guilty of going too far when giving my opinion about certain candidates to the presidential chair. Yes, I do rant, and a lot of the time I get carried away by my views and sometimes in my rush to get them across I might be a bit rude. OK more than just a bit. And that’s what I wanted to write about today, because everyone’s entitled to their own opinions and I, as everybody else, should respect that.

Just yesterday I got into a discussion (via Facebook on a friend’s publication) with some stranger who clearly had some issues with my friend’s post and most of us who agreed with him. I ranted, I let myself go on this one and very similar to a rodeo bull I was quite eager to put this clown down to the ground. I’m not saying it’s okay, I’m just describing what it felt like at the moment. Neither of us was about to give in and it got messy. As soon as I realized this I apologized to him, and told him that even if we can’t seem to agree I’m at least sure that what we both wish for is a better future for our country. He agreed on that and then suggested we further exchanged our points of views and then I got a friend request from him on Facebook.

Honestly, I will not accept his request, because I know he will try to convince me that his candidate is the best when I couldn’t disagree more. It would be like setting myself up for endless and more importantly, pointless confrontation and more ranting. I know, I know, discussion is a great way to get one’s point across as well as broadening it, but this guy and I will just be bumping heads and I’m pretty sure nothing good will come from it. Also, when I considered friending him I got the same feeling I get when Jehova’s Witnesses come knocking at my door.

I stand firm in my belief that information is crucial for this year’s election and everyone should use that as an instrument when going to the voting polls, and question, always question, the contenders. Full trust in a single candidate is a mistake, as far as this elections go. Also, it couldn’t hurt to even have reservations regarding independent movements (both that are going on right now) as every day it becomes more and more unclear what hands are really rocking those cradles.

I promise that from now on I will not fall into political arguments that lead nowhere and create a bigger gap between us as citizens of this country. OK, I promise I will try harder not to. I’ll try. Maybe I will accept that dude’s friend request, but only after elections, no matter who wins, because our future isn’t just about that particular day but what happens next, months and years after the next president gets elected and to see what he/ she has accomplished or not. And that’s a discussion I’m looking forward to.  


Feature image via

AN EPIC TAIL

Yeah, the one in my house lived in the kitchen, but not once did it make me breakfast. Humph.

First of all, my apologies for not writing sooner, and though, not an excuse for neglecting my writing duties, I did have a few issues that needed my attention and time was not allowing. Also, my mind was sort of elsewhere with said issues which I will be talking about on today’s post.

The last couple of weeks an unexpected guest was living in my house, chose the kitchen for itself and sometimes wandered around the working space in my humble abode, probably while Passpartout and I were sleeping our out for a walk. Speaking of which, Passpartout either was fine with it or just plain ignored it. I couldn’t, so I decided to do what I could, and as I was instantly assigned to the welcome committee, I placed a few “treats” to deal with it. Of course, as you might have guessed, I’m talking about a rat.

This is my epic tale I might be turning into a book or something. It’s like I was Frodo to its Mordor. I was Batman to its Joker. I was Mario to its Bowser.

Turns out, this was one relentless vermin. First of all, I thought it was just a mouse, “Haha” the thing must have thought, as it had me fooled as to what I was really dealing with. I was determined to get rid of it, but I must confess I was terrified at the possibility of finding it there, lying dead or agonizing or whatever. Not a good mental picture. Then, one day, I was in the kitchen (its turf) and I heard it, in a drawer (which I’ve had months without the need to open) in the dishwasher so I knew it was real, and I hadn’t been imagining things. I once scared myself to death by my own shadow because from the corner of my eye it looked like the rat coming right at me. Yup. Anyway, I called my sister and told her I knew where it was and apparently still living regardless of the amount of poison it had ingested before. I called her for I needed the moral support because I was going in, by which I mean I put on boots that cover half my legs and climbed on a stool and opened the kitchen door to the back yard. I rattled the drawer a bit and the thing climbed behind the dishwasher and found its way out through the window. At this point I’m screaming bloody murder and probably startling most of my neighbors, who maybe assumed that a crime was in process. I shut the door and the window and just tried to calm myself down hoping that the bastard rodent would just find itself out of the yard and into the wild.

No such luck, the thing was too comfy in my house and wanted to be part of this family. I wasn’t having it, no, no, I said and though I wasn’t really sure I put out more poison for it. Evidence pointed out that the rat was still around, but at least it was outside now and I took cautionary measures to keep it that way.

One night I found a few red spots around where I placed the poison, so I assumed it would die soon enough. The very next day I went out to check and there it was, in the corner near the kitchen window, kinda looking like “Do you think she saw me?” on its face. You know how they tell you that it is probably more scared of you than you of it? Well, I might just be the antithesis of that expression. Again, I shrieked and slammed the door shut, and ran for the phone. Maybe I should have ran for the broom or if I had one a shotgun, but I just needed to hear either my sister’s or my mother’s voice, even if they couldn’t make out what I was saying through my panting panic attack. So, yeah, basically that’s my reaction when I see a rat. I scream. I run. I call someone. It’s real simple to remember and follow through.

So, the next day, I went out again, but I had my weapon of choice, a broom, and ventured outside. I didn’t have to go far, or even leave the frame of the door because there it was again, only this time it was nearer to the floor, and after a squeamish yelp I tried hitting it with the broom, successfully, but not fatally. It hid somewhere I couldn’t reach and I gave up for the time being, since I had stuff to do. Either way, there is no such thing as a small victory, and I was proud I at least mustered the courage to at least strike it, since I wasn’t even sure I was capable of.

Later that same day, a handy man came to the house, since I’m doing a few renovations at home (will post pictures), mostly accelerated due to the presence of the rat. Anyway, while I was showing him where the renovations would be (right where the rat had decided to camp) I walked out with the broom in my hands and explained why. This man kinda chuckled and asked where I thought it was and as he was assessing the situation, the flashlight illuminated the dark hideout of the rat and there it was just standing there still with the halo of the light around it. Of course, I squealed. For those PETA supporters out there I suggest you stop reading, because the man took a useless broomstick and clubbed the rodent. Actually, stabbed it. And it made squeaky noises while I squealed some more. This was on repeat for a bit. Wham. Squeal. Squeak. Wham. Squeal. Squeak. Then he said it was over and I grabbed some plastic bag to place it and then to the garbage bin. I must say I didn’t look at the remains for fear that I would spread last week’s instant ramen noodles on the rat and the man’s shoes.

So it was over. It was finally over. Granted I did not do it myself, but it’s not like I made the man do it. He was amused by the whole thing. And before anyone revokes my membership of feminism, I did make a few proactive moves which I never would have thought I was capable of. I was fortunate enough that the handy man came along and the rat was as he put it “a little disoriented”.

For everyone’s sake, mostly my own, I did not make this a “It’s not me, it’s Eew” episode because that would require a picture of the rat itself, so, you’re welcome.

So, that happened. Believe me, it was not pretty going to bed and shutting my bedroom thinking that outside there was a rat living it large at my expense and fear. I felt safe now that it is dead, that is until my sister dropped by and looking at the garbage bags that hold the carcass of the rodent she says “Hope it’s not a zombie rat.” Thank you for the nightmares.

Feature image: Disney Pixar's Ratatouille from the movie Ratatouille.

WITH MILES TO GO

So, when the world all over is tuning in to Call me maybe, I am practically obsessed with Swedish singer-songwriter Lykke Li. I’d heard her about a year ago when I would put on the Indie category on jukesy.com (by the way, I can’t listen to my music by categories now anymore, what's up with that?) and sort of just bopped my head to the melodic voice in I follow rivers and Little bit.

Anyways, by the time the video of dance like nobody’s watching went viral I kind of got hooked on the song and the songstress as well. For a while now (a big while), I’m Good, I’m Gone, which went out in ’08, is my new hymn, and even though I don’t really know the background that inspired this particular song, and also it took me like 4 years to actually listen to it, I just lo-o-o-o-ve the message of not giving up, and when people laugh at your choices or whatever, well, in the end you will shut them up with what you achieved. Since I’ve been listening to her a lot, I just wanted to share about it through here, and if you hadn’t listened to it (but I mean pay attention to it) I recommend you do, and if you don’t live under a rock like I apparently had, duh, well here’s a refresher, hehe.

I'd also give a listen to Sadness is a Blessing, which actually cheers me up every time a lsiten to it.

PJ’S ARE NOT CLOTHING!

Before you keep reading on, I should probably warn this is going to sound like a rant. Maybe because it is a rant? I don’t know. Anyways I want to ask you to ask yourself a deep meaningful question that could and will change the rest of your life. OK, so it might not change it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not quite of a head scratcher this one. How lazy must a woman be to leave the house in order to run errands around town wearing pajama bottoms? When did this become an acceptable trend? Really. I need answers here! It is not okay, honestly. Maybe to run down the street to the store around the corner to buy milk for your morning breakfast or if you’re sick and have to go to the pharmacy for meds and can’t muster the strength to put clothes on, that could be acceptable. I don’t really mean to sound judgmental here, but when I saw this young, healthy looking woman, going in to pay for her cell- phone bill wearing pajama bottoms, I can’t find excuses for going out like that.

Is it too much trouble pulling on some real pants like regular jeans? I guess it’s alright if they are yoga pants and you use them to sleep in them rather than going to yoga, but nobody has to know that, right? But to go out in pajama bottoms made out of some flimsy fabric and an unflattering shape, with circus animals printed on them only makes me wonder of how lazy women are getting.

I am a feminist and I don´t think that women should look like they just came out of a Stepford Wive’s commercial with colorful pumps and red lipstick on, or that we should always look our very best all the time, because I know it’s ridiculous, but wearing pants shouldn’t be considered like an extra effort on our part. I’d rather go out wearing a raggedy old jean than my sleeping attire. You might say “Well, maybe your pj’s must be really ugly if you don’t go out in them” (mind you, I imagine this with a very nasal annoying voice, so if that’s what you’re thinking you sound obnoxious), but that’s not even the case, because even if I’m not necessarily dressed to impress, I at least want to look like I care. Just so you know, no, I’m not in my house wearing pajamas while writing this, I’m actually at work wearing a cute Colors of Benetton gray dress and pink flats, so there.

For me, before I’ll ever consider going out like I literally just rolled out of bed or wondering if I’m about to make a fashion faux- pas (and I recommend you do this too) I always turn to two of my fashion mentors. First, I ask myself “WWAW?” which means What Would Audrey Wear? Of course, I am talking about Audrey Hepburn, since she is the epitome of what it is to be a lady, and if she wouldn’t leave the house wearing her nightie, well then I most certainly won’t do it either.  And then, just to be on the safe side, I close my eyes and picture what my reaction would be if Tim Gunn were at my house and saw what I was wearing. Would I be embarrassed or proud of myself and my look? Sometimes I will not be completely satisfied, since I wish I were rich and had a lot of clothes and stuff, but I make do with what I have, so I’m probably not all the way up there to Tim’s standards, but I know that wearing pajamas in public would be going in the exact opposite direction of what I’m striving for.

So, please, stop this insane trend of slumber inspired attire, because lowering the bar this low is one of the saddest things in fashion since knit vests, people. What if you were at the bank and there’s a robbery or something? You wouldn’t like to go on the five o’clock news having people noticing you as the woman in the pajamas, would you?

Girls, if this isn’t convincing enough, think about this for a moment: not even men go out to the bank wearing their pj’s.

Feature image via