Friday, May 4, 2012
RIP MCA
Very sad to hear about the passing of Beastie Boy and all around nice person, Adam Yauch. One of the greats. May you rest in perfection.
Courtesy of ego trip.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
open letter to rihanna
dear rihanna, or should i call you robyn?
let me first note that i am not a hater. i really like your music and i absolutely adore your style. i admire the prowess you and your management team showed after your first record--how you so gracefully transitioned from cutesy caribbean girl to chic pop star without losing that island spice. so honestly, i like you, and i want to continue dancing to your music.
however, i will dance to it without paying for it. and i will never think of you as shrewd again.
i am a mother of a little girl, who will someday meet a boy and think she's in love with him. perhaps she will be in love. perhaps he will be exciting and passionate and uber talented and popular with the ladies. he will inspire that crazy, quixotic spirit in her that will make her ignore red flags, pass of the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as something she ate and act in a way everyone who loves her will hate. we all have a love like that, it's kind of a sad rite of passage for the young.
and i hope, with all my heart and my entire being, that as her mother, i have instilled enough self confidence and self worth and self love in her that her relationship with that boy will fizzle with just a broken heart--not broken bones or swollen eyes or a bloody mouth. or worse.
too many young women are victims of abuse. the numbers are simply staggering. women 20-24 have the highest risk of being victims of intimate partner abuse, while the same age group has the highest risk of rape. 4.8 million women in the u.s. are assaulted by their partners every year. [that's more than half the population of new york city, ya'll.] and who is at the biggest risk? young african-american and latina women, who experience violence at DOUBLE the rate of white women. [sources: bureau of justice stats]
rihanna, this is the group of women that largely make up your fanbase. they look up to you for your talent, your success, your lavish lifestyle, your style and your spunk. they are the rabid girls on twitter, your #rihannanavy, who will probably send me hate mail if they read this. perhaps they also relate to you because your boyfriend beat the shit of of you. maybe--it the stats are to be believed--it's because they or their friends have been victims as well. perhaps, it's sadly, something they've come to accept. or maybe, they, like you, have gotten over their hurt and anger and are young and hopeful and idealistic that people can change.
i believe people can change. and maybe your buddy chris brown has. but girlfriend, he beat you to near unconsciousness. he threatened to kill you. yes, he served his sentence and picked up the pieces of his career. even as he's shown over and over that he has an uncontrollable temper and makes absolutely awful decisions. and i've met him. he's a young, sweet, charming, super talented guy. i liked him. but reuniting with him, making music with him, tweeting back and forth with him and possibly getting back together again is the worst kind of message you can send to your fans and all the young women and men out there.
by your actions, you aren't just forgiving him, you are rewarding him. men will see this as a sign that it's ok to hit someone, even that you somehow deserved it or liked it. women will see it as something to look over, to forget, to giggle about. it does not validate the girls who will get hit tomorrow or the next day or the next day. it brushes victims under the rug. the facts are, abusers rarely change their patterns if they continue to get away with their behavior.
you have a responsibility to the women who idolize you to set some kind of an example. you don't have to be perfect, you don't have to be boring, but you need to, to be frank--take this shit seriously. you might love chris brown, but you can't act like you love what he did. you can't try to turn this into some kind of sordid romance. you can't encourage this behavior. domestic violence hurts, scars and kills. and it's not a game.
let me first note that i am not a hater. i really like your music and i absolutely adore your style. i admire the prowess you and your management team showed after your first record--how you so gracefully transitioned from cutesy caribbean girl to chic pop star without losing that island spice. so honestly, i like you, and i want to continue dancing to your music.
however, i will dance to it without paying for it. and i will never think of you as shrewd again.
i am a mother of a little girl, who will someday meet a boy and think she's in love with him. perhaps she will be in love. perhaps he will be exciting and passionate and uber talented and popular with the ladies. he will inspire that crazy, quixotic spirit in her that will make her ignore red flags, pass of the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as something she ate and act in a way everyone who loves her will hate. we all have a love like that, it's kind of a sad rite of passage for the young.
and i hope, with all my heart and my entire being, that as her mother, i have instilled enough self confidence and self worth and self love in her that her relationship with that boy will fizzle with just a broken heart--not broken bones or swollen eyes or a bloody mouth. or worse.
too many young women are victims of abuse. the numbers are simply staggering. women 20-24 have the highest risk of being victims of intimate partner abuse, while the same age group has the highest risk of rape. 4.8 million women in the u.s. are assaulted by their partners every year. [that's more than half the population of new york city, ya'll.] and who is at the biggest risk? young african-american and latina women, who experience violence at DOUBLE the rate of white women. [sources: bureau of justice stats]
rihanna, this is the group of women that largely make up your fanbase. they look up to you for your talent, your success, your lavish lifestyle, your style and your spunk. they are the rabid girls on twitter, your #rihannanavy, who will probably send me hate mail if they read this. perhaps they also relate to you because your boyfriend beat the shit of of you. maybe--it the stats are to be believed--it's because they or their friends have been victims as well. perhaps, it's sadly, something they've come to accept. or maybe, they, like you, have gotten over their hurt and anger and are young and hopeful and idealistic that people can change.
i believe people can change. and maybe your buddy chris brown has. but girlfriend, he beat you to near unconsciousness. he threatened to kill you. yes, he served his sentence and picked up the pieces of his career. even as he's shown over and over that he has an uncontrollable temper and makes absolutely awful decisions. and i've met him. he's a young, sweet, charming, super talented guy. i liked him. but reuniting with him, making music with him, tweeting back and forth with him and possibly getting back together again is the worst kind of message you can send to your fans and all the young women and men out there.
by your actions, you aren't just forgiving him, you are rewarding him. men will see this as a sign that it's ok to hit someone, even that you somehow deserved it or liked it. women will see it as something to look over, to forget, to giggle about. it does not validate the girls who will get hit tomorrow or the next day or the next day. it brushes victims under the rug. the facts are, abusers rarely change their patterns if they continue to get away with their behavior.
you have a responsibility to the women who idolize you to set some kind of an example. you don't have to be perfect, you don't have to be boring, but you need to, to be frank--take this shit seriously. you might love chris brown, but you can't act like you love what he did. you can't try to turn this into some kind of sordid romance. you can't encourage this behavior. domestic violence hurts, scars and kills. and it's not a game.
I'm back!
will be writing up a storm...soonish.
working on a real personal post now as well as some other ideas. so check back!
working on a real personal post now as well as some other ideas. so check back!
Thursday, September 2, 2010
week 12
so things are chugging along. i still have the ever-present fatigue, that kind of hangs around like cobwebs in my brain, but otherwise, having some days where i have the energy to shower and look and smell halfway presentable. on tuesday this week i got hit with a 24 hour wave of nausea that was pretty awful, but the last two days have been ok. i'm actually hoping to start showing soon, i'd like to be able to discuss my condition when it's more obvious to people, even though a lot of our friends know now. we are about to start week 13, which means the second trimester is on the horizon and that's very, very exciting.
gotta run, the tyke is back from the park.
gotta run, the tyke is back from the park.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Week 11
I went dark for awhile because I was just too tired and to sickly to write. This was a big week. On Monday, we had the much anticipated--and feared--CVS. And while I don't plan on having another child after this one, when I left the hospital Monday, I thought to myself: I would never do this again.
But then Tuesday night I got a call that the baby was healthy and it's such a huge relief, that maybe I would. Dunno. It is, as advertised, fairly quick. The longest part of the whole thing is the very detailed, but fascinating ultrasound, where they measure everything and check for vital organs, show you how the blood flow is going, the brain formation, etc. Really cool. The second longest part wasn't as cool, waiting for the doctor to whisk in and perform the procedure. You have to have a full bladder, and so lying there without the ultrasound to entertain you can be really uncomfortable. Especially as my husband, who is an exceptional co-pilot, had to run out and feed the meter during our wait. So I laid there, flat on my back, and tried to think of everything except that fact that I desperately had to pee.
When the team shows up, it's the ultrasound tech, her supervisor, the superstar doc and her medical intern. The doctor looked like she was about to go clubbing, she was the size and shape of Rachel Zoe, with a tight, kind of punky black shirt [the back of the arms were cut out], skinny jeans, and some kind of shoe that sounded like clogs when she walked. [I couldn't see the shoes.] She had long, layered hair and heavy black eye make-up. It was a bit unnerving until she looked at our baby in the ultrasound and smiled and said, "Cute!" I want to mention now that everyone who looked at the ultrasound said "Cute", all independent of each other. I can't, for the life of me, see how one ultrasound is cuter than another, half the time I don't even know what we're looking at. But these people must. Or maybe it's their stock ice breaker.
So then, after deciding they are going to go in through the abdomen, they swab me down with rubbing alcohol, then betadine solution. Then, she gave me a shot of local anasthesia, which hurt pretty bad and stung for a few seconds, but I never felt the second, really long needle go in. Well, not until it got down to the placenta. It's weird, because you can watch everything on the monitor, and while it's reassuring to see that the needle is quite far away from the baby, but that the baby seems relatively unfazed. But at the same time, it is very close and I kept having this feeling that I was disturbing the baby's natural environment. And then the doc is like, ok, you're going to feel a sharp cramp, and I did, and that's what was the most uncomfortable. After the needle gets where it needs to be, she "aspirates' the tissue, which is the longest 20 seconds I've gone through. Basically, the needle is stirred all around and that just feels icky and invasive and filled me with more regret.
But then it was all over. Everyone wished us well and left. And, like I mentioned earlier, they called us just a little over 24 hours later to tell us everything was fine.
I was starving afterwards, but very crampy, which they said would happen. Jeff treated me to a burger at Shake Shack and then we drove home and I laid down. I felt tired, but it was hard to sleep because of the cramping and the soreness. In addition to the cramps, I also felt like I had done about 1000 sit ups. Four days later, I'm still feeling a little sore, even though the cramps subsided the following day.
I've been extra conservative this week as far as lifting, straining, etc. And things seem good. No spotting, bleeding or anything scary. Just tired, which is nothing new so far this trimester. Today I feel the most normal as far as "normal" is these days. Still have serious heartburn and reflux, nausea and fatigue. But, I'm hoping that in a few weeks some of this will ease and I can get out and about more. Feel like I've spent most of this summer in bed.
But then Tuesday night I got a call that the baby was healthy and it's such a huge relief, that maybe I would. Dunno. It is, as advertised, fairly quick. The longest part of the whole thing is the very detailed, but fascinating ultrasound, where they measure everything and check for vital organs, show you how the blood flow is going, the brain formation, etc. Really cool. The second longest part wasn't as cool, waiting for the doctor to whisk in and perform the procedure. You have to have a full bladder, and so lying there without the ultrasound to entertain you can be really uncomfortable. Especially as my husband, who is an exceptional co-pilot, had to run out and feed the meter during our wait. So I laid there, flat on my back, and tried to think of everything except that fact that I desperately had to pee.
When the team shows up, it's the ultrasound tech, her supervisor, the superstar doc and her medical intern. The doctor looked like she was about to go clubbing, she was the size and shape of Rachel Zoe, with a tight, kind of punky black shirt [the back of the arms were cut out], skinny jeans, and some kind of shoe that sounded like clogs when she walked. [I couldn't see the shoes.] She had long, layered hair and heavy black eye make-up. It was a bit unnerving until she looked at our baby in the ultrasound and smiled and said, "Cute!" I want to mention now that everyone who looked at the ultrasound said "Cute", all independent of each other. I can't, for the life of me, see how one ultrasound is cuter than another, half the time I don't even know what we're looking at. But these people must. Or maybe it's their stock ice breaker.
So then, after deciding they are going to go in through the abdomen, they swab me down with rubbing alcohol, then betadine solution. Then, she gave me a shot of local anasthesia, which hurt pretty bad and stung for a few seconds, but I never felt the second, really long needle go in. Well, not until it got down to the placenta. It's weird, because you can watch everything on the monitor, and while it's reassuring to see that the needle is quite far away from the baby, but that the baby seems relatively unfazed. But at the same time, it is very close and I kept having this feeling that I was disturbing the baby's natural environment. And then the doc is like, ok, you're going to feel a sharp cramp, and I did, and that's what was the most uncomfortable. After the needle gets where it needs to be, she "aspirates' the tissue, which is the longest 20 seconds I've gone through. Basically, the needle is stirred all around and that just feels icky and invasive and filled me with more regret.
But then it was all over. Everyone wished us well and left. And, like I mentioned earlier, they called us just a little over 24 hours later to tell us everything was fine.
I was starving afterwards, but very crampy, which they said would happen. Jeff treated me to a burger at Shake Shack and then we drove home and I laid down. I felt tired, but it was hard to sleep because of the cramping and the soreness. In addition to the cramps, I also felt like I had done about 1000 sit ups. Four days later, I'm still feeling a little sore, even though the cramps subsided the following day.
I've been extra conservative this week as far as lifting, straining, etc. And things seem good. No spotting, bleeding or anything scary. Just tired, which is nothing new so far this trimester. Today I feel the most normal as far as "normal" is these days. Still have serious heartburn and reflux, nausea and fatigue. But, I'm hoping that in a few weeks some of this will ease and I can get out and about more. Feel like I've spent most of this summer in bed.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
The Lonely Trimester
I don't know how it is for all women, but for me, pregnancy with the exception of the first trimester, is cool. My chronic back problems actually don't bother me, the hormones soothe my propensity for anxiety, and the best part, well, I get a kid at the end of it all.(I also get to put off that diet I was just about to start, but that's another post.)
I'm currently 8.5 weeks pregnant with my second child, and god-willing, all will go smoothly. I look forward to discussing names, decorating the room, prepping my son for big brotherdom, but for now, I'm just miserable.
People tell you abut morning sickness and how it magically goes away at 12 weeks, but no one really talks in detail about the miseries of the first trimester. Most likely, because it sucks so bad and they are probably either too tired or too sick to talk about it. I find it the loneliest, most frustrating time in the nine (10, really), months of incubation. Mostly, because you're not showing, yet you feel terrible. You can't tell anyone WHY you feel terrible, because it's before the "out of the woods" timeline where god forbid something could go wrong.
So you're stuck not only trying to keep this momentous secret--hard enough in itself, especially for someone like me who thrives on breaking news--but also trying to act perfectly normal when you feel, literally, like your body is under siege. You also have to try and not get worked up over all the statistics [women 40 years+ have a higher incidence of miscarriage, down syndrome babies, etc.]
This time around I'm not working, save for some freelance stuff (which I actually should be doing instead of this), so I don't have to present myself and my facade to anyone everyday. I have an excuse to hibernate and rest and avoid making plans. Hopefully by the time my friends and family catch on that I've been MIA, it will be time to tell them the big news and everyone will forget about the unreturned emails.
So yeah, I have the luxury of resting when I want, eating when I want, staying in PJs all day if I want to--though it's no small task to also try and keep up with my two-year-old as well. But at least I'm off the hook from any commitments that require experiencing the smells of the subway--my smell powers are so bionic that i can literally smell a hazelnut dunkin'donuts coffee on the opposite end of the train car--feeling nauseous from the motion of the train, and getting clostrophobic in a crowded situation.
And this time, I have good days, ok days and terrible days, where I feel like last time, I felt generally queasy in the morning and then got better as the day progressed, only to get slightly queasy at bedtime. This time I can go a day or so without feeling sick or faint, or too hot or too cold, and I can eat fairly normally. But then I get humdinger days where I am sick ALL day, no matter what I eat or don't eat and cannot stay awake for the life of me. Yesterday was one of those days, and I felt even worse, because I was trying to watch my son and I just couldn't. Thankfully he's a very good child and just sat next to me in bed and read books while I slept, but poor thing. Mommy is so boring.
This time also, my queasiness comes at night, and with such force that I get chills as if I'm getting hit with a flu. The only thing I can do is wrap myself up in a blanket with 7up and wait it out. It helps to read or watch TV for distraction--but not a Tv show with car chases or helicopter shots or crazy editing. Also can't watch anything gory. My husband had this great idea a few weeks ago to watch some bio on a mob hitman, where the guy bragged about all these horrible crimes he committed. not only did i feel sickened, I also had crazy nightmares.
Did I mention the crazy pregnancy dreams? Yo, they are so vivid and so real and so WEIRD. Like last night I had this dream that I lived on a farm in some crazy modern house that should have been in Architectural Digest, and I looked all bull-dyked out and seemed to live with a blonde girlfriend who was dressed in a corporate suit. I dream about food a lot, especially in the first weeks. Most likely because I was starving but too sick to eat.
Today I used what energy I have to wax the sudden, dark, hair growth that has appeared on my face since the pregnancy started. I tried some new euro stuff and the first strip worked while the rest did not. This tired me out where I had to lie down. I have to lie down after I eat, after I walk any amount of distance, sometimes I get up from lying down only to lie down again. Tomato sauce smells hideous and makes me want to throw up. I feel like I'm choking if someone is smoking a cigarette 20 feet away. My boobs hurt so much it's like a little imaginary elf is squeezing them. I'm so bloated already that most of my clothes feel uncomfortable.
So bitch, moan, gripe. I say this all to you, blogosphere. Since I can't tell anyone else.
I'm currently 8.5 weeks pregnant with my second child, and god-willing, all will go smoothly. I look forward to discussing names, decorating the room, prepping my son for big brotherdom, but for now, I'm just miserable.
People tell you abut morning sickness and how it magically goes away at 12 weeks, but no one really talks in detail about the miseries of the first trimester. Most likely, because it sucks so bad and they are probably either too tired or too sick to talk about it. I find it the loneliest, most frustrating time in the nine (10, really), months of incubation. Mostly, because you're not showing, yet you feel terrible. You can't tell anyone WHY you feel terrible, because it's before the "out of the woods" timeline where god forbid something could go wrong.
So you're stuck not only trying to keep this momentous secret--hard enough in itself, especially for someone like me who thrives on breaking news--but also trying to act perfectly normal when you feel, literally, like your body is under siege. You also have to try and not get worked up over all the statistics [women 40 years+ have a higher incidence of miscarriage, down syndrome babies, etc.]
This time around I'm not working, save for some freelance stuff (which I actually should be doing instead of this), so I don't have to present myself and my facade to anyone everyday. I have an excuse to hibernate and rest and avoid making plans. Hopefully by the time my friends and family catch on that I've been MIA, it will be time to tell them the big news and everyone will forget about the unreturned emails.
So yeah, I have the luxury of resting when I want, eating when I want, staying in PJs all day if I want to--though it's no small task to also try and keep up with my two-year-old as well. But at least I'm off the hook from any commitments that require experiencing the smells of the subway--my smell powers are so bionic that i can literally smell a hazelnut dunkin'donuts coffee on the opposite end of the train car--feeling nauseous from the motion of the train, and getting clostrophobic in a crowded situation.
And this time, I have good days, ok days and terrible days, where I feel like last time, I felt generally queasy in the morning and then got better as the day progressed, only to get slightly queasy at bedtime. This time I can go a day or so without feeling sick or faint, or too hot or too cold, and I can eat fairly normally. But then I get humdinger days where I am sick ALL day, no matter what I eat or don't eat and cannot stay awake for the life of me. Yesterday was one of those days, and I felt even worse, because I was trying to watch my son and I just couldn't. Thankfully he's a very good child and just sat next to me in bed and read books while I slept, but poor thing. Mommy is so boring.
This time also, my queasiness comes at night, and with such force that I get chills as if I'm getting hit with a flu. The only thing I can do is wrap myself up in a blanket with 7up and wait it out. It helps to read or watch TV for distraction--but not a Tv show with car chases or helicopter shots or crazy editing. Also can't watch anything gory. My husband had this great idea a few weeks ago to watch some bio on a mob hitman, where the guy bragged about all these horrible crimes he committed. not only did i feel sickened, I also had crazy nightmares.
Did I mention the crazy pregnancy dreams? Yo, they are so vivid and so real and so WEIRD. Like last night I had this dream that I lived on a farm in some crazy modern house that should have been in Architectural Digest, and I looked all bull-dyked out and seemed to live with a blonde girlfriend who was dressed in a corporate suit. I dream about food a lot, especially in the first weeks. Most likely because I was starving but too sick to eat.
Today I used what energy I have to wax the sudden, dark, hair growth that has appeared on my face since the pregnancy started. I tried some new euro stuff and the first strip worked while the rest did not. This tired me out where I had to lie down. I have to lie down after I eat, after I walk any amount of distance, sometimes I get up from lying down only to lie down again. Tomato sauce smells hideous and makes me want to throw up. I feel like I'm choking if someone is smoking a cigarette 20 feet away. My boobs hurt so much it's like a little imaginary elf is squeezing them. I'm so bloated already that most of my clothes feel uncomfortable.
So bitch, moan, gripe. I say this all to you, blogosphere. Since I can't tell anyone else.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
first time's a charm
I am pregnant, according to a home test I took last night and this morning. I am stunned, shocked, cautiously optimistic and basically in kind of a fog. Each day it seems I feel a new emotion.
The whole story of how I became in the "family way" is really quite ironic. The hubs and I, began having "date night" the weekend of June 19. I decided that every Sunday night, we should watch a movie and go to bed early and focus on kickstarting our love life that had been getting nearly non-existent since our son was born 2 years ago. I figured Sunday night is good because it starts the week off, well, with a bang. :)
Anyhoo, when you've been always struggled with infertility and you're out of practice, uh, you tend to forget things. Like, birth control. So we have date night and the following week our son was sick and the following week I was so tired and lightheaded I went to bed early. I started feeling more and more lightheaded, my appetite disappeared completely, and the things I like best--like my mom's chocolate chip cookies--I had no desire to eat. The familiar mild nausea set in. And a few days of this, combined with the fact that my period hadn't shown up made me realize that the ONE time that we got intimate, actually could have knocked me up.According to the calendar I'm 5 weeks along.
To be honest, my first reaction wasn't elation or excitement. i was actually like, "i don't want this! I have no job, my husband barely has a job! my 2 year old wears me out! How can I be sleep deprived again?" I remembered the hassle of breastfeeding, cringed at how small the house is, worried how I could possibly handle it all.
Then, I started to accept it, feel fortunate, think abut redecorating, about how great a big brother my son will be, and if our son is any indication, that our second child will be beautiful and smart and sweet and anther truly lovable being. I've started pulling out my pregnancy books. I made my first dr's visit.
And just as I've started to feel happy, I also feel scared. Every little thing is making me nervous--like the fact that I haven't been nauseous at all today and that I have a slight backache and some cramps. I've nearly convinced myself that I'm going to miscarry. That because I'm older there could be problems. I'm irritable and ridiculously sensitive and want to cry if someone looks at me wrong. I just want to get thru to the dr's appt on july 20, make sure everything is ok and get thru the scary part f the first semester without a hitch and then i will shout from the rooftops. But for now, i hope and pray and walk on eggshells.
The whole story of how I became in the "family way" is really quite ironic. The hubs and I, began having "date night" the weekend of June 19. I decided that every Sunday night, we should watch a movie and go to bed early and focus on kickstarting our love life that had been getting nearly non-existent since our son was born 2 years ago. I figured Sunday night is good because it starts the week off, well, with a bang. :)
Anyhoo, when you've been always struggled with infertility and you're out of practice, uh, you tend to forget things. Like, birth control. So we have date night and the following week our son was sick and the following week I was so tired and lightheaded I went to bed early. I started feeling more and more lightheaded, my appetite disappeared completely, and the things I like best--like my mom's chocolate chip cookies--I had no desire to eat. The familiar mild nausea set in. And a few days of this, combined with the fact that my period hadn't shown up made me realize that the ONE time that we got intimate, actually could have knocked me up.According to the calendar I'm 5 weeks along.
To be honest, my first reaction wasn't elation or excitement. i was actually like, "i don't want this! I have no job, my husband barely has a job! my 2 year old wears me out! How can I be sleep deprived again?" I remembered the hassle of breastfeeding, cringed at how small the house is, worried how I could possibly handle it all.
Then, I started to accept it, feel fortunate, think abut redecorating, about how great a big brother my son will be, and if our son is any indication, that our second child will be beautiful and smart and sweet and anther truly lovable being. I've started pulling out my pregnancy books. I made my first dr's visit.
And just as I've started to feel happy, I also feel scared. Every little thing is making me nervous--like the fact that I haven't been nauseous at all today and that I have a slight backache and some cramps. I've nearly convinced myself that I'm going to miscarry. That because I'm older there could be problems. I'm irritable and ridiculously sensitive and want to cry if someone looks at me wrong. I just want to get thru to the dr's appt on july 20, make sure everything is ok and get thru the scary part f the first semester without a hitch and then i will shout from the rooftops. But for now, i hope and pray and walk on eggshells.
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