Living Proof

In an instance, everything can be taken away from us like that. All of our belongings, loved ones, things that we cherish can vanish in blink of an eye. Most of us take for granted what’s in front of us right now - today - in the present. We focus on the past, mourning about things and people we’ve lost and we look too much into the future: who we’ll love, what career we’ll have next and where we will live. Many of us miss out on the best part: the journey. We let our emotions take control and drive us way back into our past or have it tinker with our desires in life and focus on what we don’t have. Desiring things are good, but skipping out on the path there, isn’t.  By the time we figure it all out, we'll be too old to do anything about it. For a long time, I was missing out on the “now”. I focused way too much on what I had lost, and focused way too much on the future. I spent too much time inside my own head mourning the past and not letting go. My mind was fixated with

Sometimes I have to take a step back, retreat and hide from the rest of the world, before I start loathing it; before I start realizing how self-absorbed and obnoxious some people can be. I’m accountable too. The one difference I see from myself and others is: I retaliate and speak before thinking sometimes. I don’t hurt others out of jealousy, resentment or to just be plain mean to them. My words of anger stem from hurtful attacks by other people. Sometimes, these “hurtful attacks” can be misconstrued of course by my own little pointed noggin. I take things the wrong way. I also take things the way they are. It is what it is. The past few years have been really interesting. I’ve encountered people hating me out of pure jealousy. My question would be: why? Another mystery would be why others, especially people that are close to me, seem to be “nice” while in my presence and then completely turn around and badmouth me to a bloody pulp as if they’ll never think their words woul

I felt the need to continue the discussion I had in the comment section of my previous post , with someone that went under “anonymous”. The post mainly dealt about issues of emotional, verbal abuse when someone that was loved once before has been jaded or hurt. “Sticks and stones” was referenced and basically how two wrongs don’t make a right, questioning if the first wrong...was in indeed “wrong”. When a person is trying to heal from an intense relationship that has ended, is it healthy for that person to go through a “healing process” of slandering and dragging their ex love’s name through the mud? I totally understand the fragile emotions of the first few months of the breakup. It’s raw. It’s hurtful. It’s the feeling of a great loss. It’s also feelings of jadedness, anger, resentment and bitterness sometimes. It’s rare you find a mutual breakup that deals with mutual respect and admiration to continue a friendship thereafter. How do we heal the “healthy way”? There is no a

The basic lessons in life when you’re a child are all about social skills: saying please and thank you and being polite to those around you. Learning the golden rule of life deemed important and “sticks and stones” were embedded into our brain so we wouldn’t get offended so easily. We were taught to protect ourselves with the “sticks and stones” quote, by those who would hurt us with mere words. Did we ever really learn? What about “two wrongs don’t make a right”? It seemed to have lost its importance as years went by. So, when someone bad mouthed you, it was because they were hurt by what you did, therefore hurting you back twice as badly. Especially in matters of the heart and relationships, all of these great rules to live by have simply trickled down the drain. Nobody likes getting hurt. And, as hard as this may be to swallow: nobody enjoys hurting others - even if it seems as though they do. I guess this is what I believe anyway. We try to give the benefit of the doubt. If y

A Sunday with Ida in New York City... Visit her @ www.amybeckerman.com If you'd like to see Amy Beckerman live, she'll be performing at Stand Up NY - 236 W. 78th St. New York, NY 10024, this Thursday on May 21rst!  Visit her website for more scheduled performances. Her stand up comedy is hysterical!

Purging. It’s what I do best, since I absorb so much. It’s equivalent to bingeing on negative energy and then finally letting it release upon an unknown source. To some extent, we all do this. We’re human. Bottled up emotions, secretive battles within ourselves that makes our heart scream with anguish and mourn with sorrow are all energies that need to finally come out. Whether it comes out “as is”, or as an alias, is solely up to us. Some mask what’s hidden inside and blow up at something or someone that isn’t necessarily the triggering source. It’s just dumping your trash into another bin. Although my spirits have been high, I’ve been feeling the heaviness; keeping it inside and having a difficult time purging it all. It’s not healthy. I went and renewed my gym membership, this way I can plunge into a good workout if I feel pent up. I started working out every single day, until my back locked up on me.   Although exercise has been known to relieve stress, it’s still not enoug

Without a doubt, I know most people who read my blog are also writers or have the urge to, at least. Some days it comes easy and other days, it feels as though there isn’t one word to describe how I’m feeling; I’m just simply out of steam. For work purposes, it comes easily because there’s an agenda. There’s more of a structured type of program I follow. But, for this blog, my personal little doodling pad, I find it difficult at times to express myself the way I want to, or find the words I want to type. The other night I was watching, Finding Forester , a movie about an afro-american teen writing prodigy who finds a mentor in a reclusive author.  The author was encouraging the boy to write. He said something very significant: “Your first draft you write with your heart. Your second draft you write with your head.” I remember in grammar school we had those ditto sheets. The teacher would tell us to “speed write”---meaning: write every single thought onto the paper as fast as you

Ah, peace and quiet. That’s how it was from last night until this morning. (See previous post .) I thought it would be a good idea to leave a note on my neighbor's door in an envelope before I left to go out for the day. In the letter I had written, I had asked if she was ok and if she ever needed anything, to not hesitate to call or even come upstairs. I also indicated that I realized we have never met before, but I was really concerned because I thought she was getting robbed or God forbid, something worse. Figuring that the letter would defuse the 'war of the stereos', it would also give her a sense of neighborly kindness.  One would only assume... At around 6pm I got a phone call from the boyfriend. Now, the letter was left more for the girl, because I was really concerned about her and the blood curdling scream. Her boyfriend has not been home in almost a week. Here’s the conversation that the boyfriend and I had over the phone: “Yeah hi, it’s Bobby from downstair

As some of you already know, our neighbors downstairs are quite loud and boisterous at times. Ever since they’ve put in hard wooden floors, they sound like two horses galloping around. We’ve recently learned that they’ve been having wars with the neighbors below them. I had heard her saying, “Well the neighbors don’t give a shit. Thank God they don’t live above us.” (Which indicated it was not us she was complaining about.) So as days went on, every 6am they would have a sound war. She would blast awful Michael Jackson music and the apartment beneath her would blast out really good club music - stuff that my wife and I would listen to. You gotta side with the people who like good music. Anyway, this morning at 6am, I hear the neighbor below me blasting Amy Winehouse (which is much better than Michael Jackson), but so loud, that it sounded as though someone was using our stereo out in our very own living room. Then, we heard a blood curdling scream. That, woke us right up! We g

Everyone’s crunching down, saving money or trying to steer clear of the luxuries they once dabbled in every so often, or more often than not. Some people are feeling the pangs of the economy and other people, well, not so much. I’ve had to cut down on certain things to increase the bulge in my wallet, but gradually, it does look like things are getting better. Dad insists he’s going to quit smoking. Dad’s 72 years old. He’s been smoking since he was born. From four packs of cigarettes to zilch? He and my mom used to have cigarettes shipped to their house by the Indians who didn’t tax them. Now, even their price is too high. “You gotta be kiddin’ me! You crazy or sumptin’? Nine dolliz’ a pack?” my father welps over the phone to his little stogy dealer. “It’s like a goddam car payment, yanno? Ah fuggedaboudit’!” With my father’s promise of quitting and my anticipation of walking into their house without having an asthma attack, my mother is still hunching under the microwave, lea

Such things are immaterial: an old lamp that used to sit on my night stand as a teenager growing up that now sheds light upon my office desk and a picture frame given to me by a former friend. There are two antique ships that are hanging on my hallway wall, to remind me how long my parents had them up on their wall at one time. Some things are sentimental and others are just things I’ve brought with me on my way towards the next chapter in my life. Most things in this apartment are new, fresh, without reminders of ‘a time when’. I have had to rid of many things I had owned in order to set my place as “a new start”. Mere objects: simple things like furniture, books or coffee mugs given by someone else that was in your past can conjure up many emotions. Depending on how that person has affected your life, the object may bring certain feelings up to the surface. This time last year I had to purge of many of my belongings that were given to me by other people, so that it no longer hau

There are people who write and there are people who aren’t able to express their feelings onto ‘paper’. Maybe it’s not about being “able” to write or express themselves; maybe it’s more about fear. Have you ever come across a person who writes poetry and you ask to see their work and they get all shy? What about blogs that keep getting deleted by the author? People are so afraid to get it all out there and the one word that comes to mind is: vulnerability. Nobody wants to be critiqued or ridiculed for what they think, what they feel or how they express themselves with words. They hate rejection - we all hate rejection, but if we don’t receive the criticism we need, then how do we become better writers or artists? Opinions are like assholes - everyone has one. Why let a few bad eggs ruin your ability to be brilliantly open and creative? Not everyone is going to like what you write or do artistically. And the truth is: that’s okay. But who can say that they can keep pushing thro

Usually at around 7-8 pm in the evening, the same man across the street comes outside of his apartment to sit out on the stoop and smoke a cigarette. He’s probably in his late 30’s, receding blondish hairline, attractive face and slim build. I can see him sitting there, arms folded upon his bended knees, deep in thought. Sometimes I wonder if he just needs to get away from his wife and family or if he’s not allowed to smoke in his apartment. Other times, I think he’s most likely hiding the fact that he still smokes while promising the wife he had quit a long time ago. Whatever the reason may be: this is his time. Maybe this is his only time to just sit in peace and stare out into space thinking about what could have been or what should have been, or even, how very lucky he is right now. The last option is usually not the case. I find myself doing the same thing right outside my own deck.  I stare out into space, but my thoughts are full of gratitude.  I don’t have much, but what

No. I don’t care who you are or how important you may be, I will not open my door for you unless you provide some sort of identification that you’re an officer or a fire chief. I am not opening doors for workers, mechanics, maintenance people or unexpected deliveries. If you’re sending flowers to me, tell them to leave it at the door because I’m not opening it. And to those idiot Jehovah Witnesses that bring their child in below zero temps with no jacket on (just to make you feel bad so you’ll invite them in), --- put the guilt upon yourself because that child will freeze. If you’re my neighbor that lives below me: you can kiss my ass because I have no respect for you since you blast Michael Jackson 5am every other morning and stomp around on your hard wooden floors like a horse. Remember: I own you. I live on top of you. You’re my drum and I will play you till I wear you down woman! If it’s someone I already know, that face better be visible in the peephole or...I ain’t opening i

As most of you know, I decided to take a huge five month break from drinking on November 18th. I initially did it because I noticed I was drinking to self-medicate. I also took a break because I wanted to lose more weight. I have had five months of sobriety. I even went to AA to get some support. They told me to try the 90 day challenge, because they thought I was a “high bottom”, which is someone who has not seen a great loss because of their drinking habit and well, considered me more of a ‘social drinker’. But at the time, it wasn’t the case. I found myself drinking in the middle of the day if I was stressed out. “Oh one martini won’t hurt.”  And it is ok, except when it’s to self-medicate. During the day while I was attending alcoholics anonymous, I sat in and listened to everyone. Many of the AA members had been there 20+ years. Some were newcomers and usually, I’d never see them again at the same meeting. The stories were so horrific and tragic - my heart went out to

Sometimes I have to stop myself and ask: “Do people really care?” Not just any people, but the people who are here to help us: doctors, healthcare providers and mental health professionals. Do they really want to see us get better, or do they just want us to remain “as is” and collect as long as they can? I’d like to give the benefit of the doubt, and I also know that we’re all in our own types of businesses to make money, but it does seem as though these healthcare professionals don’t have a heart to the people who need their services the most. We can play the blame game all day long, but really - who is at fault? Even with most insurances, they’ll pay a percentage of whatever doctor you’re seeing. If you have a low income, a sliding scale isn’t a sliding scale unless it slides of course. That’s discretionary of the doctor or professional that’s treating you. What good is insurance when you have to pay most of it out of your own pocket? It doesn’t make sense. Let me get in

It’s a very grim time to know that Cinco De Mayo is approaching and we’re not attending our favorite Mexican restaurant to celebrate. Granted, most of the staff are Mexican, we fear that some may have came back from Mexico recently or have had a relative visit, etc., hence being fearful of walking inside their lovely establishment. But is it any different from anywhere else really? Think about it: people of all nationalities visit Mexico and who am I to judge a Mexican restaurant when I’m about to go grocery shopping later on at one of the largest chains in America? Even if I were to get swine flu, it would be the same as getting any other type of flu. The cases are mild here in the states and there are hardly any reported deaths from it, other than what you see from the typical influenza seasons. Nevertheless, we’re having our own little soiree attempting to make Mexican goodies in our own kitchen. I know, that’s a sin - that’s like me trying to cook up a Puerto Rican dish while