Easier Said Than Done

       We-he-hell change most certainly is hard. 
If I want to make myself better, who cares about the difficulty when the result is happiness, hope, and a better future. What good can come from being afraid of it? So, come what may - may it be certain thoughts keeping me up all night, which always makes me want to spend a few moments in the bathroom, just to occupy my brain with something else for a bit ("maybe if my stomach's empty, my brain will be quieted and feel empty too?") - I know I can still beat it.
Sheeit, son! The twisted lies one can tell themselves.


I fought it off this time, but "easier said than done" indeed. Even still, I feel kinda sorta awful, but I know it will be OK. Patience, Fata, patience.
Change is OK. I'm not afraid anymore to know myself without these issues. I know I can be better, and I want to be better fowah evereh bodeh ayelse. 


I hear it from everyone - "you can beat it. You're great and will push through just fine." Why can't just speaking it out loud be a cure? Can't I just sit back and say it a few times and be done with it? Changing takes so much wooork. I already have a job, a thank ya very much. wTF keeps me plenty occupied. But nooo, it requires effort and perseverance. 
Meh - it's OK. Because, again,  I know in the end it's worth it. So whether or not I do this for someone or with someone I just know I have to do it. I can't hold onto an issue for other people to deal with too - that's not fair. 


So, as I [sigh], I let it go. it's OK to do that. I know I will have to remind myself many times, hence my redundancy here. Other things may come up, pr'aps just as hard to beat, who knows. Who cares anymore; I'm fed up with being afraid of it. 
So let's play my Anthem of the Day another time, shall we?...

Different Pudding

So there's this. 
Yet, I don't think I'm too old or in too deep to break away. I don't know if anyone can be so far gone to lose all heart to fight for something - maybe they just haven't found something/someone for which to fight. So, if I cannot find enough worth in myself to fight  it right now, then I'll remember you have never failed me, so I won't fail you.
You're worth it to me along with all the others for whom I care so deeply.
And I'll do it for my future. I'd like to be worry-free and healthy for whatever else may come.
So, I may have tried to take it on before - it's been two steps back, one step forward mostly. Just remembering to swallow smaller bites. "It's gonna be alright".
I'm working towards a permanent vacation from my problems*.
[Sigh] 


If anything that is scaring me, aside from all of this, it is the fact I can't focus or sort through this puddin' o' feelings. Quite the large and strong brew, and I can't stop sticking my fingers in it, making them all pruny.


In muh brain.


*What About Bob ref. [Fist bump] if you got that.

Cabbage is What Bwings us Togethaaah Today

Oh, sweet Cabbage, allow me to wax poetic over your majestic...ness...


You, aside from your nutritionally noble qualities possess a flavor worthy of all superlatives.
Your firm, crisp leaves send me roaming about hills of delicate greens and rich purples. I, wearing a dreamy smile, julienne you along with jalapeno, ginger, parsley, red onion, garlic, balsamic vinegar, and extra virgin olive oil, sprinkled with Sicilian sea salt (my spesh reserve) and black peppaaah.
I love you. Marry me.


Effusively yours,
Juliet 

Gaminishness...

It is a strange phenomenon to feel completely at home and a foreigner about the same place.
I find a certain solace walking around my neighborhood when striking up conversation with my bodega guy while playing with Bodega Kitty (Smokey), in knowing the usual routes so well (yet still manage to always trip over that same mangled slab of sidewalk), and having my secret favorite spot in Prospect Park.
I love when I spot familiar people on familiar routes or that dog walker dragging that ugly cocker spaniel around the same block. Listening to the morning banjo guy on the subway platform has its charms and peaking at my fellow commuter's book choices over time, attempting to figure out what kind of person they must be (I'd ask if it wasn't so much fun to imagine) is always amusing. I'm never bored, and if I find myself doing nothing in particular, even still I am quite content. 
I make acquaintances and some build into friendships, pr'aps while doing shots watching the Golden Globes at Plan B or after I'm stopped and scolded for walking around with my bag unzipped; small talk is also a way to remain sane while waiting for a Q Train, which moves at a glacial pace on Saturdays. 


I must say, being (w)TF's concierge certainly has taught me how to break out of my impossible shell in many ways. So I guess I'm...[gulp]...thankful for my posish [gag] here in some ways. [pants]...shyoof...


I'm surrounded by people who, for the most part, are from anywhere but New York. Espesh in muh nabe. Body Builder is from Trinidad, Artist Assistant is from somewhere in the prairie lands (I forget where), Danny Diva is from Ohio, Aimless Scavenger Man scavenged his way from Maine, and Joe Hipster is from Savayannah, Gawigah (for the record, I've found many a Joe Hipster from Savannah and its surrounding areas huddled in pockets of Williamsburg and Brooklyn Heights...I'm starting to form a theory of their migration here to Brooklyn. For another time...).


So, I remember I'm never alone in feeling awkward and out of place in my own stompin' grounds. Many feel the same way; I've just had to allow myself to see the friendly faces who have been or are in the same boat.
It took almost two years to develop mah Noo Yoawk swag. I'm also a registered voter. I have my usual post office - full of Dominican pride (and by pride, I mean a rain cloud, stop-talking-to-me attitude) and Thai Place knows who I am when I call for a delivery. 


There's still many a tahm when NY shows an ugly face, turns a cold shoulder, and becomes relentlessly overwhelming. It's a love-hate, bittersweet relationship we share as I roam these streets. 
When it gets to one of those points, I'll remember to spot a fellow foreigner and plop down on a fake rock in Central Park to swap stories.


“You walk along the road with all people, and you sing as you go forward. So sing love songs of your homeland, the kind travellers sins and, most of the time, they sing at night.”
-St. Augustine