Living Proof

So I'll admit, most of my posts nonsensical. I have a million and one fluff pieces to dish out so bear with me. I never said I was a journalist, so just keep that in mind. Also it's Saturday and I'm in my pajamas still and of course…I'm a blogger. I. am. a. blogger. Even with that being said, I have received quite a few emails regarding a few of my posts where people were so outraged over my opinion. Who really cares what I have to say? But hey, it stirred the pot and if people are outraged by your content, then you must be doing something right.  It's my nonsensical opinion as a blogger. The art of blogging is so lost. So many of my blogging buddies have either deleted their accounts or have just let their blogs float away out into cyberspace somewhere. A lot of the opinionated bloggers, such as myself can easily received more than their share of hate emails per day. I try to limit my 'piss you off' posts the best I can. At times, it's great to have t...

That was me bored out of my mind. There was a time when I once thought that getting older would be somehow easier, perhaps a bit carefree and more spontaneous, because well, grown ups were allowed to do everything and anything they wanted. As a kid, looking up at people who were adults, I envied the "freedom" I thought they had. I envied the millions of things that they could have done, but most around me didn't do most of what I thought I would do myself, say if God came down and said, "Voila Deb! You're an adult! Go do whatever it is that makes you happy!" So then one day, I became an adult. I became that person who had the freedom to live her life the way I wanted. Then I learned about fear, not only learned it, absorbed it. I saw people getting into trouble, getting hurt, getting killed over the things I thought were once "fun". I saw people being at the wrong place at the wrong time. I saw young adults having heart attacks, dying of cance...

This morning I woke up, rolled out of bed and made my way to grab a cup of coffee. Mad wakes up before I do, so while she is in the shower, I'll make her breakfast. We have a little routine. Afterwards, we sit, watch the news together and talk about whatever is happening or even look at stuff on the computer --together. This morning I found a little note left on the coffee maker just to let me know I was her 'everything'. Although she may have wanted a lumberjack type of breakfast, it was something my heart really needed today. We never run out of things to talk about - we're like two hens yappin' & yappin' about this-n-that. One morning, while vacationing in Provincetown, we went to the dining area of the bed & breakfast we were staying at. It was Women's Week, and needless to say the entire greenhouse-like dining room was filled with coupled up women. It was strange though, we were the only couple chitchatting and laughing. We looked around and w...

Remember back in the 90's, all you had to do was either call or email a friend to check up on their "status" to see how they were doing, and generally, you'd get a pretty honest answer? ...Not so much anymore. These days, it's not that simple since we have social media websites that let us tell the world 'how we're doing' or 'what we're doing'. There's no need for an email or phone call anymore. Just log onto Facebook or Twitter and check to see if that person's still breathing. I remember a few months back, a friend of mine came over for dinner. She looked depressed and not her ol' chipper self. I asked what was wrong and she said, "Everything." Her life had come to a place she had never expected. I was baffled, because on her Facebook account, she always had a "smile" - not in photos per se, but in her general status updates. They were all filled with happiness, a life well lived and even at times, a li...

Have you ever heard someone talk about their past with such enthusiasm that their eyes light up? I love seeing that each time my mom talks about her childhood years growing up in Brooklyn, NY. From her playing Jax in an alley with her friends to meeting my father at a church dance when they were only seventeen years old. All of her stories are so entertaining, even when she told me she used to use two tin cans attached to a string, sending one over a clothes line in the courtyard of her mom's tenement building to reach her best friend in the apartment over on the other side. They would have conversations at night using this ancient method. Back then, creativity was forced upon you. There were no cell phones, texting, computers or social networking sites to see what your friends were doing every single second of the day. You had to literally walk a few blocks to “check their statuses”. There was no such thing as an “obesity epidemic” - people actually walked to communicate, because ...

Words are powerful. Many people don’t even realize how much power they have when they open their mouths. Whether it’s a verbal attack on a stranger, friend or a loved one ---they’re all painful. At the age of thirteen when I was in school, I was verbally attacked by someone I was actually friends with. Of course, we were fighting at the time, but those words.. .those insults.. .those ugly remarks that twisted like a knife in my stomach. Those words still echo today. On occasion, I still sometimes see this person. We’re in our mid-thirties now, but there’s a level of contention that brings back flooding memories of a time when it wasn’t so ‘cordial’ as it is today. Even though I’ve already forgiven this person years ago , and hey - we were very young anyway - the child inside me is still wounded. If thought about long enough, it can actually bring me to tears. In fact, to even give you a better picture, I can tell you word for word what she said ...but I won’t. I just remember the ...