I wish I’d actually take the time to write about my day, every day and at the end of the day.  Reflection can be very cathartic, therapeutic, funny, and calming.  I think my problem here is–nothing really ever happens.  And I could just write that, I suppose:

Sunday:  Nothing really happened today

Or I could break it down into time slots and amounts of coffee, food, and booze I had in one day.  Sunday: Two cups of iced coffee between 8am and 10am.  Showered with body scrub.  Made out with the man I’m seeing.  Went to see Man Of Steel–got to the theatre at 5:30 for a 6:30 showing and it was sold out.  Went to another theatre by 5:50 for a 7pm showing and got in.  Large popcorn, small drink to share with my brother and the sweetheart.  Movie ended.  Came home by 10:30 and studied for my Anatomy quiz until 12:30p.  :::::: But this is all terribly boring.  Hell, it’s boring for me to write let alone for someone to read, no imagine the experience of it all, or the lack of for that matter. heh.

So I guess I’m sort of left with “what else?”  These two words come up often when I’m on the phone with people I chat with on the phone or via video.  I don’t text that shit, that’s stupid.  By saying “what else” it helps jog my memory and relive fun stuff that I’d like to share, but have forgotten to share.  And another added bonus is I can tell the same story four times to four different people and it won’t ever be the exact same story, or tone or inflection.  But the reflection and fun-ness of said story remains structurally true, and adds to the conversation nicely.

And here’s this fun little gem:

After the movie last night my brother and I are sitting on the benches down by the train station and there are several young girls sitting next to us.  Ages maybe 4-6 in range, they are still eating popcorn.  Which is to say there are still playing with it, dropping it, throwing it at one another and on the occasion chewing and swallowing the stale snack.  These young girls are hispanic ish, and an older (think grandmother age) white woman with dyed red hair approaches the bench and starts rattling off that someone is going to have to clean up this mess, that we have a rat problem, they’re being messy disrespectful–and my personal favorite moment directed at me “What are you teaching your children??!”  She said this to me and my brother with such confusion and disdain that all sarcasm and snappy comebacks left me to fend for myself and I claimed with some volume “they’re not mine!”  To which you’d think she may have said something like “oh, sorry” but no.  No, no, no she turned and said “well who’s are they??!!!” And a young lady talking with family or friends claimed them and the old gal chewed her out.  The young woman glanced at me as if to say “do you hear this old bat?” and my response was a non-vocal “wow” in agreement.  But wait the story gets a little better when the old gal finally walks away, and the young woman says to her children to not mind her she’s an old crazy woman.  And time passes, enough time to let the entire situation die down.  That’s a feeling, when somethings finally over you can feel it.  Then low and be-fooking-hold the Old Gal walks herself back to continue educating, questioning and scolding the young woman and her family (I say family because they look like mom, aunt and daughter and children–but that’s just speculation).  As she finally begins what we hope is her final exit I look up at my friend Mr. Snow and say “There are rats?  It’s NEW YORK” and we chuckle.  I’m amazed.  He’s amazed, the girls continue their popcorn games and life as we know it continues.  Saying “we have a rat problem” in New York is like standing on a very small island and claiming you’re surrounded by water.

“WHAT ARE YOU TEACHING YOUR CHILDREN” is what I continued to say the rest of the evening.  That and “WHO’S ARE THEY??”

oh.  people.  come on, what else?

It’s been quite some time since I’ve posted anything.  I went to Florida in March, came home.

I ended things with the J-Man because his dark-past that he so often said was left in the past or “up-top” had managed to trickle it’s way back into his life and I refused to be a part of it.  Drugs? Stealing? Selling? Crack-whores? Gangs? REALLY???!!! Yah, really.  So–definitely done with that. We call him The Convict, now.

I started working at a neato and fun salon in the LES called Kropps and Bobbers

I had a birthday, and celebrated it by sleeping in and staying home doing nothing–I’ve somehow reached that age where this is truly a way to celebrate…heh.

I started Massage Therapy Education May 6 and attend classes at the Riverside Church location, and it’s beautiful there.  There are several locations to take classes, and I chose Riverside because of it’s proximity to my home and the architecture is breath taking.

I’ve gone on a few dates, but I’m not interested in pursuing anything serious, nor do I have the time for it.

I received a 90+ minute massage from the new massage therapist at Kropps and Bobbers (Stephen) and it was amazing, and well deserved if you ask me.

I quit my job at The Green Apron.  Finally. (Really REALLY BIG CELEBRATION TIME).

Boyfriend Jenn registered me to run a 5K in August and a 10K in October with her–because she hates me…

And, the unfortunate part of this year is a very dear friend of mine, Rich Stone, passed away.  It was out of the blue and unexpected.  A tragedy to our Ohana in the five cities area.  My heart ached for days and I played the song that reminded me of him, on repeat.

II love sleep. I’m IN LOVE with sleep.  The couch here is fairly comfortable, I was warm in my blankets and had a sleep mask on.  I heard the house wrestle awake and was in and out of consciousness.  At some point Sammybear came over and tapped me gently to say he was going to school, that he loved me and would see me later.  I heard Jenn say she’d be back in a few.  That was around 8a.  I didn’t hear her come back with Jamey, I slowly came to and put my glasses on and saw it was 10:30, and I was very happy.  I thought about all that running around I did yesterday with Sammy bear and realized I was not only old, but if I can’t keep up with a five year old how do I expect to run a 5k or 10k this year?? More on that later. hahaha.  I recalled all the times my dadda would play with me and sister, all the days sister ben and I would play outside ALL day long on our bikes or playing tag with neighborhood kids.  I thought about playing with Riki when he was little and quietly whispered “sorry mom” and laughed.  MAN no wonder she was always so tired with all of us and our schedules and running around.  All you parents out there: You’re insane, appreciated, and deserve every beer or glass of wine you want at the end of the day.

Then, I sat up. heh.  By this point Jenn had gotten her oldest to school, her youngest was taking a nap and she had done her workout for the day.  Me?  Where was the coffee maker? What was for breakfast?  So she showed me how to use her Keurig, and I volunteered to make omelets.  Ham, red onion, and spinach, with cheddar and mozzarella cheese.  We put some of her green salsa on top and watched another episode of Once Upon a Time.

She had to teach her drama class today so I went with her.  Her students had already seen me once before, but didn’t know anything about me, hadn’t even heard me speak. Their assignment was to come up with a background story for me as a character and they also got 3 tries to guess my name.  The stories were QUITE creative.  Ranging from  being from the future and sent to assassin someone, being immortal and the actual ruler of the world, a mermaid turned human by wearing a magical pair of pants, being a spy in Romania and then marrying a broadway actor, to simplicity like being a lost princess whose identity was unknown and I was related by blood to Mrs. Moffett (that’s Jenn).  I was from Spain, from the ocean, from the future and everywhere in between.  When I spoke, I surprised everyone.  I said (with an accent…) Well! That was all VERY excitin’! I was not immortal, I was a normal girl from Texas.  My daddy was from Georgia, my momma was from Kansas but I was born and raised in texas.  I was a dental hygienist and the reason I was in Florida was because I found out Jenn was my half sister.  My name was Lurlene LuAnn Jenkins, and they could call me Lu Lu (this is an actual character I’ve made up before by the way. heh) When the questions started towards Jenn and me, I interrupted with (a british accent) Actually, that’s not my real name and  all jaws dropped.  I told them my name was actually Lydia, I was a professor of voice and speech in Ithaca in NY and I was friends with Jenn so I came to vacation and watch because I work with actors.  When questioned faces happened again, and questions about everything, I smiled and said I’m from California.  Born and raised, and I currently live in New York City.  I attended an acting conservatory in CA and am also an esthetician.  My name is Aiyani….and there was silence.  Then at the same time I started hearing “who are you?” “Wait…which one is true?” “Now, *I* don’t even know who *I* am”  I laughed, Jenn laughed.  And it finally calmed down.  I answered questions about who i really am, spoke about acting and creating characters with background stories and about auditioning for TV/Film and plays.  Spoke about the musicals I’d been in, understudied, etc.  All kinds of things.  It was the most fun I’d had with “acting” in over two years.

After school, we saddled the kids in and headed towards target.  Which was about a 45-hour drive away.  We all got a drink from Starbucks inside the Target–there is no starbucks closer than this one hahahahaha–and began walking around.  Eventually we split up and I took Sammybear over to the toys section while Jenn got things she actually needed without the five year old pointing and grabbing everything he “wanted.”  Then it was time to head home.

While Jenn fixed dinner for the boys I took Sammy outside and we played with his paper airplanes he made.  We flew them back and forth and over and through a tree, it was actually quite fun.  After the boys ate dinner, I gave them their bath while Jenn began making her delicious Shepherds Pie.  It was bedtime for the boys, and dinner time for the girls.

We settled in by about 8:30p on the couch with our bowls of Shepherds Pie and watched the last episode of Once Upon a Time, to bring us up to date, then after that we started watching Diners, Drive-Thru’s and Dives and wanted EVERYTHING WE SAW. Since we couldn’t have the Bruiser Burger, the Cheeseburger Soup (yes), or the Beer and Potato and cheese soup–we had more pie.  This time a slice of key lime pie for each of us, and a slice of chocolate pie for each of us.  By 11pm, we were full of pie, dreaming of food, and heading to dreamtown via nodville.

I dreamt my friend Kitten got married and didn’t invite me, that her kid whom I call Peanut, also forgot about me, and we drifted apart.  Sad face.  I also dreamt of burgers the size of my thigh with an appetite to match.

Sammybear was tapping me gently on the arm saying “Auntie Yani?…Auntie Yani?” and I was a bit disoriented.  Then was asleep again.  Then I heard “Yani?…we’re leaving in about a half hour, okay?”  I mumbled and slowly opened my eyes and realized I was on the couch in the livingroom with my sleep mask on.  I slowly sat up, it was my turn in the shower and it felt just marvelous.  Bit of a massaging shower head and the water beat on the back of my neck.

Jenn had her Women’s group and I would be attending.  The boys were dropped off in daycare and we went into a room with chairs and tables scooted together.  We got there in time for muffins, and melons (easy guys, this is a spiritual atmosphere) and I filled my coffee cup.  They were reading and discussing a book called The Story.  Which apparently is the bible, in story form.

There is something uncomfortable to me about being in a room outnumbered by people who not only believe firmly in god and the whole jesus died for your sins thing, but they they have all these books and stories to back up their beliefs.  I did not, and I do not judge them, but the god-thing hasn’t really worked out for me very well.  There is this thing that goes hand in hand with beliefs like this.  It’s called Faith.  And I lost mine, a long time ago.  Faith in god, in people, in myself.  And that’s not a poor pitiful me thing, it’s just “a” thing.  I overanalyze everything now, which sometimes is excellent and logical and helpful, and other times detrimental to my mental and emotional health.  Alas, I can only take one day at a time, and to bring it back around, on this particular day, these women were going around the table discussing prayer requests and feelings on the book.  I did ask a question or two, I didn’t feel too uncomfortable or embarrassed to do so, but when you have to know when you’re with god-fearin’ women, they take no question lightly.  Answers were full of experiences, sometimes tears, and scripture passages.  I nodded.

Once home it was lunch time and Jenn made a great salad with lettuce, spinach, carrots, radishes, red onions, avocado, and some chicken and blue cheese.  We used bleu cheese dressing with a balsamic vinegaret and it was ridiculously yummy.  After my salad, Sammybear asked me to play in the yard with him.  This took energy I for sure did not have.  And it took energy for a length of time I was unaware of . heh.  We played baseball.  I was the pitcher, and every time he hit the ball (which was pretty often) I had to run and get it and try to tag him out.  That kid is fast.  I thought we were done after that.  Nope.  Time to play catch with two different footballs.  Then keep-away and Jenn joined in and we played and ran and played.  Finally he was a little tired and sitting on the grass.  I sat next to him and started pulling blades of grass out of the ground and putting it between my thumbs and blowing on it until it squeaked.  My mother taught me how, and he sat with me and I tried to teach him how.  He got frustrated, but eventually he could blow into my hands and make the sound, and then he could do it on his own.  He was amazed.  I was exhausted.  heh.  Then it was time for his actual T-Ball practice.  Here, I thought I’d have the moment to sit and watch.  Nope, wrong again.  We got there and he wanted me to be his warm up partner.  So I pitched to him more, he hit more, I ran after the ball…more, I threw him ground balls for him to catch, he threw the ball to me, sometimes way far away to my left or right, sometimes over my head.  And during those times I just looked at him before running after the ball and said “hey…what was that? I’m over here!” Then it was just him and his teammates, and I stood by with Jenn and Jameybear.

I was definitely tired by now.  Jenn has a busy life and a day in her life is crazy–and it wasn’t over yet. hahahah

We went back to the school she teaches at because the Senior Boys had their annual “Sir Warrior” program.  Like a pageant.  They had introductions, casual wear, talent, formal wear and the Q&A portion.  We got dinner there as well, it was included, we had baked ziti, salad with italian dressing, and bread with butter.  During the judges final decision makings, we had cupcakes.  We were home by 9p and the boys were just as tired as we were, if not more so.  hahaha

Jenn and I settled in on the couch to relax and watched a couple episodes of Once Upon a Time to get caught up and prepare for this sunday.  When I looked at her at random and said “Happy Pi Day” she stood up to go and buy pie.  Unfortunately the store closed, but fortune would have it so we still had leftover pizza and we ate a slice of our pizza pie! By Midnight we were ready for nodtown.

I dreamt of two shorter-than-me-men fighting over me to date them, running from both of them in a mall, then ending up in a Crunch gym that had a dentist and hair salon in it.  Some random armenian guy tried to stick his tongue in my mouth, then the J-Man came to my rescue.

Tuesday March 12th I got up around 9am and went to work.  I stayed until about 6pm, then made it home to have dinner with my boyfriend.  Then he got called into work, and I didn’t see him.  I took this time to pack and relax and clean up my room a bit.  After I ate some macaroni and cheese concoction that my brother made, I also ate a sando, then packed my suitcase, showered and continued watching “Prison Break” on Netflix.  By 11pm, I still wasn’t tired, so I settled in to just watch TV and maybe fall asleep, and set my alarm for 3:15pm.  By 2:30am I knew sleep wasn’t going to happen.  By 3am I was finally tired and got up to get ready to go to the train.  By 3:45am I was on the A train, running local stops.  It ran the length of Manhattan, through Brooklyn, then out to JFK airport, in Queens.  I was off the train by 5am, checked in by 5:30a, through security by 6:15a, and boarding by 6:45am.  A woman held up the line on the plane while looking for her magazine in her bag.  She looked long enough for it to become awkward that no one was moving anymore and leaning to the side to see what the problem was.  I said “Really? Did you find it yet?” and she looked at me and snapped “excuse me, I’m looking for my magazine” and I immediately snapped back “excuse ME, this is not your private jet, and you’re holding up the line”  She hurried and got her magazine and sat down.  I popped half a dramamine, since the flight was only to be about three hours in length and I settled in with “New Moon (The Meadow” for my sleepy soundtrack and attempted to dose off.  In my strong attempt to sleep–the extremely loud snoring from the very old man, accompanied with the two young girl siblings under the age of 7 arguing about I don’t know what, and the two toddlers within one foot of each other screaming and crying their eyes out–kept me from doing so.  Plane landed a little after ten, and as usual everyone rushed to release their seatbelts and grab their carry-ons from the overhead compartments, just to stand still in the aisle while the 80 people in front of them filed out slowly.  This didn’t bother me until a woman just missed my face with her bag and her ass landed just inches from my face.  “Hi, Can your ass NOT occupy the space my face has paid for, thanks” I’m sure that was rude–I’m even more sure that I didn’t and still don’t care.  That she was careless and it was unnecessary for her and everyone else to crowd the walkway.  At any rate i was collected by Boyfriend Jenn with little Jameybear by 10:45ish and we headed to the condo.

The afternoon we headed over to where Jenn teaches, and Sammy attends pre-school.  Let her teach, and watched the students wonder who the hell I was.  Sammy bear was brought in afterschool and didn’t notice me right away, and it was super adorable when he finally saw me and questioned his eyes by checking with his mom then looking at me, then back and forth again, then he ran and jumped on me to hug me.  ADORABLE. He’s so big, and talking SO well.  I died a little bit more when he hugged me with all his might and said “Auntie Yani! I missed you very, very, very, VERY MUCH!”

Then we headed home for a little rest, and dinner was at Angelo’s Ristorante, where we had delicious garlic knots, a glass of pinot noir, and boyfriendjenn and I shared a ginormous “single serving” calzone stuffed with sausage, mushrooms, spinach and cheese, that we dipped in red sauce.  So.  freaking.  Yummy.  Although our waitress thought we were on a mommy-date with our children, I didn’t pass for the role of smart-parent when I handed Jamey the blue marker to color with…His hands and mouth and face were covered in less than one minute and Jenn quickly replaced it with the yellow marker.  Heh.  Sammybear scored a slice of apple pie for free, and Jenn brought home a piece of Belgian Chocolate Cheesecake for us for dessert later after we’d digested dinner.

The boys were bathed and we all gathered in their room for story time, where Sammybear helped read the book.  Not just say the story from memory, he was …reading it.  He’s so smart and he’s only 5!! Then they went to sleep, and Jenn and I had dessert and watched TV.  That’s a lie–we totally watched a “highlights” video from when her students did Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Bedtime finally came and I was asleep by 11:30p.  Jamey came out of the boys room around 3am and was talking to himself on the small couch, until he passed out on the couch.  He woke up again around 6:30 and his mom took him back to his room and I slept again until 8:30a.

I’m uncertain at the age I am if any dream of mine is worth going after.  I used to believe in god.  I used to believe in signs. I used to think I’d get married and have babies.  Then I didn’t want babies.  Then I didn’t want a marriage–but I totally wanted a wedding. So i totally had one, it was awesome, then came the marriage and that lasted for about a year. I used to believe in love and pretty things.  I believed in gentleman holding doors open, and using what I like to call “manners.”  Hell I even believed that ladies had manners.  And as I age, I realize more and more–I’m just getting old and bored, and boring.  I sing the same songs.  I carry the same weight.  I have the same opinions.  I have the same John Mayer t-shirts I bought from the first concert I saw him in–which was 10 years ago.  Oh yah, I used to think I’d marry John Mayer.  Some people still think I will, others have said not to because of the way he portrays himself now, and we’ll talk like this is an actual possibility–because it totally is–except, no…no it’s not.  

Possibility (throws head back against the recliner)

I used to dance, I used to stretch, I used to kick, I used to use weapons in karate class.  (big sigh) I used to keep popcorn and ice cream in the house no matter what.  Then I used to keep potatoes and bacon in the house, no matter what.  Now, as far as “no matter what” I sort of just aim to have a clean cup to drink my water in.  

I used to love reeses pieces butter cups.  The mini ones.  I liked to have them in the freezer and eat one right after I got home from school.  I’d suck on it to make it last longer. I used to keep werthers original butterscotch candy in my cars glove compartment.  I used to keep a plastic bag on the gear shift to use as a trash receptacle.  I used to drink 7&7’s like juice, I used to not cook.  I used to be called “the kissing bandit” I liked kissing.  I liked flirting.  I don’t really do that now.  I mean, right now someone is in my life so I’ll kiss him and be flirtatious with him, but who knows where that will go–I used to like making plans. I don’t make big plans anymore because I got tired of them getting ruined, or cancelled, or skewing away in a direction that someone else preferred.  

I used to live on ramen.  Can I get an amen?  My favorite flavor was (is?) Oriental.  Which is someone racist I’m sure, 1)because “we don’t say oriental anymore, we say asian-american”  (heh) and 2)who uses a “race” as a flavor? It’s up there with koolaid making falvors like “red” or “purple.”  Its a little scary thinking what might actually be IN the oriental season flavoring of my favorite go-to-ramen.  I also like it al dente.  And if I put an egg in it, I call it gourmet.  (Not used to, still do that one).  I used to act.  Used to like it even.  I still don’t know why I went the theatre route when I so desperately wanted to do TV/Film.  A part of me always thought entertaining was all of it, but I just never got on board with all of those musicals and playwrights. Sure, I know some musicals, some playwrights, but if you go to school for theatre, or you ever mention that you’re in it, took it, or like it, or used to do it–you better know your theatre history, and I just couldn’t be bothered.  I’m sure that came across as a bit snooty, but I don’t care.  Didn’t used to care, still don’t.  

I used to love drama.  My own drama, your drama, drama that had nothing to do with me.  Now I prefer to hear stories and guess the outcomes.  Being in the line of fire can be just as exhausting as retelling it, so I prefer to listen and give opinions.  I think my life experience has earned me some good observation skills and sometimes I can even articulate myself.  shrug.  rolls eyes. I have a bachelors degree from the College of Life.  thanks. 

I used to laugh.  A lot.  I used to get compliments on my energy and “vibe.”  

I used to cry, alone.  I don’t like it when people see me cry.  I used to think that was weakness.  I later found out its vulnerability, and THAT’s what I really didn’t like.  

As I get older, and I can recall the things I used to do, it not only reminds me of what I haven’t done or changed, but reminds me of how far I’ve come.  The unfortunate part of that is, I don’t look at it with a positive spin.  I sort of just…look at it.  I no longer think of myself as a failure, if I don’t get something.  Which is a nice sense of freedom.  

I guess, well, with age not only comes stories, and experiences, and lessons, but truths.  And based on those truths come the real choices.  Because once you know the truth, you can’t say “I didn’t know,” because–yes you did.  And with the truth, you can make the choice, or not, to create and/or follow a dream.  I know you’re not used to it

I used to be spontaneous.  

I used to make more sense

Possibilities.