TO CUFF OR NOT TO CUFF? THAT IS THE QUESTION...

“A hibernation is a covert preparation for a more overt action” Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

This morning as I snuggled myself deep inside my comforter trying to squeeze out a measly 10 more minutes of shut eye, I made the grave and pressing realization about my current situation, first and foremost, I really need a warmer comforter (I mean who was I kidding). Secondly, somehow I missed cuffing preseason, AGAIN.  I mean, how can you start a season without the crucial draft?? Siggggh....

Oh good people yes, it is now October and apparently cuffing season is back upon us.  How do I know? Well the weather is brisk, not freezing cold.  It's cold enough for cover but not yet heat.  A fall jacket but not yet a wool coat.  That my dears, is the start of cuffing season.  Now, what does that mean? Well, in a nutshell it means we have less than month to get it together and get us a little cuddle buddy to keep us warm and occupied through the winter months before we have to resort to online shopping for an electric blanket. It's that simple. 

The thirst for cuffing season this year is so intense that I’m starting to panic.  And yeah I called it thirst, perhaps because I already own an electric blanket and feel some kind of way about it ooooor that my spidey-senses detect that it’s going to be a long season of hibernation and this squirrel has yet to gather her nuts. (Pun intended)

Anywho, before we delve into this topic, let’s first define “cuffing” for those who aren't as cool and hip as I am.  Just kidding I’m not so hip, but I damn sure am cool! HAHAHA! 

According to Urban Dictionary (ya, I can’t believe I quoted this as a source either) Cuffing Season is definine as:

During the fall and winter months people who would normally rather be single or promiscuous find themselves along with the rest of the world desiring to be "Cuffed" or tied down by a serious relationship. The cold weather and prolonged indoor activity causes singles to become lonely and desperate to be cuffed.

Soooooo….let me get this straight…..you want to only be serious about a relationship when it’s cold out?  But when it’s summer, we’re done?  Ummm okay I guess.  That seems pretty sus to me but I’ll go with it because I’m the first to admit, this morning I would have loooved to have snuggled with more than my fake body pillow.(Fake as in, I line the pillows up next to me like a body, not really a body pillow, but you don’t need to know all that about me)  I mean the colder it gets the more I really just want to play drinking games in the house with my booski.  Ya, let’s keep it real y’all know I’m not the type of girl to play footsies in front of a fire.  I’m more of a “let’s play Uno and take shots type of girl.”  Yo, there’s someone for everyone!.

With that said, let’s talk about what makes a good cuffing partner:

Regular Sex: Listen, you’d think this goes without saying right? But maybe it doesn't. So let me break it down to you.  What’s the point of “cuffing” if you’re not going to get sex regularly?  If that’s the case you may as well be fully single and take the risk of tossing your hat in the ring cowboy/girl style. You’d be better off, truly.  You are not cuffing if you are not getting it regularly and negotiating for it daily, plain and simple.

Fun:  Hey man, you can’t come into my cave if you’re going to be boring.  Nothing’s worse than having a long hibernation session with the person who lulls you to sleep regularly.  The point of cuffing is that I can go inside and 1) not miss the outside and 2) have a good damn time in the house and not be what? LONELY!  If you’re boring me, I’d rather risk hypothermia outside- Eff hibernation.

Commitment Free:  I mean let’s go with the definition.  Let’s be honest, cuffing season is for a finite period.  That’s not to say it can’t spur into a movement, but ladies/fellas let’s not hold our breaths.  The person, who looks to be cuffed in the winter, is looking to be free in the summer.  With that said know what you’re getting into and let it be what it is. Now, this one is tough because we all like to tell ourselves that we can hit and quit it, we’re just friends, we don’t “want” a commitment but very few of us actually mean it.  And very few of us are really in tune with our true wants and needs.  Some can pull it off, but very few can’t.  Don’t deceive yourself here; you’ll only, well, hurt yourself.

Down For Whatever:  This goes hand and hand with fun.  Don’t be a Debbie Downer or a Bob Blowme during cuffing season.  Hear me when I say, nobody, no-body wants that!  If you sign up for cuffing season, you sign up for the whole package.  Tuck your frilly, prude, pink panties in the back of the drawer and pull out the big girl/boy drawls and get down with the cause.  When you lock in you should be down to do a road trip, play Uno, watch football, Twister, cook dinner, whatever! Remember, its hibernation season and anything goes. *

*writers note: anything BUT:  meeting parents, meeting kids, family functions, weddings, funerals, reunions, friend outings. Remember its “cuffing” season, not “Boo” season.  Don’t get it twisted!

Know The Movie “Warriors” Verbatim And Can Rattle Off Episodes Of “The Cosby Show” At The Drop Of The Dime: Okay sorry, this is my personal call out. I mean I told y’all I missed pre-season! My cuff partner might be reading this right now! Call me boo! Lol. 

But really, we really need to be compatible on certain things.  One way to determine if a person will make the “cut” so to speak is to think about spending long times holed up in the house with said person.  Could y’all get through several days without going all “Shining” on each other?

For example, once I was stuck at a Hurricane party (like a real hurricane) for 5 days with 3 other people, one day in we killed our entire liquor stash.  Two days in we played every game in the house.  By the third day, we’d played every game we could make up including pennies in the dark. By the fourth day, it was go on a Walgreens run or experience a real live Hunger Game situation, the Miramar edition.  LOL. The point is, if you like “Gone with the Wind”, and I like “Boomerang”? We’re screwed one day in and I’m not talking the good kind of screw hahahaha!

~ 

All jokes aside, I’m actually on the fence on this cuffing season.  Yes, as I embark on partaking in the age old (is it really?) tradition of finding a cuff partner I have some reservations.  I mean, I am a fan of cuddling and I fully recognize my need and want to hibernate during the colder months but I actually believe that it is and can be fun to be in a full time relationship if you pick the right relationship, novel ideal, huh? Oh naïve me! But seriously listen, if you’re in a relationship and when summer comes you feel the urge to sleep with everything moving then you probably are in the wrong relationship.  Wanting to be with someone shouldn't come in seasons and if it does, you should probably decide to be single and not just the fake single that the cuffing season ideology allows you to be.  It’s what you ultimately want, so grow up and either get in a real relationship or be single and play the field, either way don’t hide under the umbrella of cuffing season.  That part of cuffing season is really, really lame.  

NOW,  if you and she or she and he, mutually agree that you’re just hooking up for “cuffing season” by all means cuff on, BUT people let’s mutually agree to it.  Don’t decide you’re embarking on cuffing season and you cuff a girl who’s in her boo season.  That’s just a recipe for heartache, pain, confusion, and disaster.  K?

And for me, well, I’m the girl that’s in limbo, kind of wedged between her boo season and her cuffing season, typical Nik right? But hey, I’ll take a cuff mate while I’m looking for my boo, please don’t get it twisted!  So if you know someone out there who likes to play drunk man’s Uno (stacking of course), can quote me a scene and a gang from the Warriors, and knows who Mrs. Griswold is?  Send him my way.  He may not be my boo, but he shol’ can be my boo for right now! Okaaaaaaay! *Hi-Five*

Stay warm my friends!

EQUILEBRIATE: SHADY WORD OF THE DAY

Drinking is an emotional thing. It joggles you out of the standardism of everyday life, out of everything being the same. It yanks you out of your body and your mind and throws you against the wall. I have the feeling that drinking is a form of suicide where you're allowed to return to life and begin all over the next day. It's like killing yourself, and then you're reborn. I guess I've lived about ten or fifteen thousand lives now.” 

― Charles Bukowski

Equilebriate:  [ee-kwuh-lee-brēˌāt]  verb

1)      The act of becoming inebriated to balance out life

Yes, I made this up.  But it is a real term in my life, in my mind, and in my heart and I’ve chosen to share with you. Awww, look at me.  *friendsies*  So, if you chose to judge me, be my guest…I don’t caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaare *starts countdown to happy hour* I don’t need you I have other friends and by friends I mean bottles and by bottles I mean wine and by wine I mean…well lots of it! *flips hair* 

Now this isn’t for everybody, even I will admit that.  But while you have your “AA sponsor, I don’t need to drink, how she dare tell me it’s okay to use drinks to equalize life” nose in the air, let me dare to explain.  Sometimes life gives you one big fat ass lemon, and the only choice you have is to bypass that mofo and head straight to the first bar (ain’t nobody got time to make their own drinks!!!) and drink until that isht normalizes.  Yes, there's therapy (some of us need that as well).  Yes, you can read.  Yes, you can meditate.  Yes, you can make plans and plot out tomorrow. Yes, Yes, Yes to all of that.  But hear me out, sometimes your day is so ridiculous, so ludicrous, so absurd  that you already know tomorrow will be better.  You just need to numb today to, you know, speed it along. There's no such thing as do overs but there is a such thing as "forget it ever happened". THAT, my friends is called equilebriating. 

Equilebriating is for days when it’s all just too much that you’re stopped in your tracks. It’s for the moments when you can be heard saying “come the eff on!!!” Days when you’ve been been had! You’ve been took! You’ve been hoodwinked! Bamboozled! Led astray! Run amok!  (Sorry, couldn’t help it)

Those moments like:

When the train was pulling into the station but somehow malfunctioned with the platform in eyesight but you’re stuck for 20 minutes?

When you accidentally kick the plug on your computer right when you were going to hit save?

That moment when you were on your way out to a party and swung by the ATM to get cash but realized your account was overdrawn so you had to head back home?

That moment when you missed an email about a new job because your email account has 60,000 emails of junk?

That moment when you spend all day talking to a super cute guy , having a super awesome time only to realize he’s married?

That time you thought the handsome guy across the room was looking at you but instead was looking at your friend?

When even your “fat” jeans, don’t fit anymore?

When you go to tie your shoe and the seam of said jeans rip?

When you have only one piece of gum left and drop it as you’re putting it in your mouth?

When the only seat left on the bus to DC is next to somebody who looks like they haven’t bathed in a month a Sundays, and 4 hours is too long of a ride to stand up?

You wear a sanitary napkin all week because you think you may start your cycle, only to NOT wear it the day you actually do start?

You search all morning to find a decent outfit to wear only to realize you wore the same outfit last week and forgot, but someone at your job did not?

You see a seat on a train and with stealth like skills you balance your purse, your groceries and your iPhone in your hand only to make it near the seat and a man scrambles past you and takes it?

The moment you run across two intersections, dodge a bus, a pedicab, and a mad Chinese takeout bike rider to hail a cab for him to tell you he’s not going uptown?

That moment you see an ex’s chick, you know the one he chose over you, and she’s…..not….cute?

That moment you find out your crush has a crush and that crush isn't you?

The time those oh so nifty wings on your pads decided to join forces against you to form the pad Voltron with your underwear and while arm wrestling with them AND your panties you rip all parties involved….yes the panties too? I mean the PANTIES TOO?????

Listen it is in these moments, there is only one thing to do. 

ONE EFFIN THING LEFT TO DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

EQUILEBRIATE!!!!!!!!!!!! DO YOU HEAR ME?? EQUI-FUCKING-LEBRIATE ….

AND TRY AGAIN TOMORROW….

Now someone inbox me a good happy hour special….

“In wine there is wisdom, in beer there is Freedom, in water there is bacteria.” 

― Benjamin Franklin

THIRTIES ARE THE NEW THIRTIES....

Age isn't how old you are but how old you feel.”  Gabriel Garcí­a Márqu

I am 37.

Thirty- Seven. 

THREE-SEVEN!

Just let that sink in a bit….

THAT’S 3 YEARS UNTIL FORTY! FORTY! FOUR-ZERO!!!!!!

So to say that I’m not taking this birthday well is an….ummm…understatement.  I’m soooo not adjusting well at all!  It’s so bad that it has taken me almost a month to write this birthday post.  Ya, it’s like that. 

It’s not that getting older bothers me.  Okay lies, the number does bother me.  I mean it just sounds old!  But it’s also how getting older feels.  And I don’t mean the aching knees and creaking bones.  I mean how it feeeeeel feels. Okay let me explain. It’s the “I’d rather stay at home and climb in the bed at 7pm” or the “I eat prunes for dessert and drink prune juice for breakfast” feeling.  It’s the “sign up for your 20 year high school anniversary” feeling.  The “you don’t look THAT old” feeling.  The “no ma’am, you can put your ID away, we’re certain you’re over 21” feeling.  The “please stop saying turn up, you sound like your mother” feeling.

Speaking of turn up, why can’t I let that isht go?  I’m soooo over the phrase “Turn Up” yet, I can’t stop from saying it! I think that was the first sign that I’m aging.  Okay I lie, I lie…the first sign was my gray hair and my tricky stomach issues aka the Notorious T.U.M.M.Y but the fact that I can’t let go of the phrase “Turn up” is a damn close third.  It reminds me of when my mom got a hold of “No Diggity” and for months, years even, she would end a sentence with “No diggity, no doubt” or how my father refuses to let go of “igging me” and even uses it incorrectly.  THAT’S ME!!!! I think I’ve turned into my parents and have forgotten when to let go of slang.  I mean at some point using the latest slang, blasting Lil’ Wayne, and going out to get faded has to get old and become cliché right??? Okay, noooo scratch that last one because a drink here and there (with a buzz included) is sometimes necessary.  *flips hair and sips Rum*

Ok well, let me stay on track.  The point is…well….I’m old y’all.  I turned 37, and I wish I could say I don’t feel a day over 25.  I’d be lying and I pride myself on being very truthful on here.  The truth is I feel every bit of 37-EVERY FUCKING BIT OF IT!

And to top it off, I have to now deal with real pressing old people isht.  No longer am I able to just ignore certain realities.  They are here and knocking on my 37 year old door.  The time has come to make some real decisions and to step into middleagedom (that’s a word damn it).  For example:

To have kids or not to have kids, that is the question:

Here is the dilemma.  I think I want kids but there’s a small part of me that thinks I was programmed to want kids.  Like no one has given us women a blueprint outside of having kids.  You’re born and raised to believe you get married, you have kids and THEN life begins.  So, of course I want kids I mean life needs to begin, right? Right?  I don’t know maybe? Maybe not?  Here’s what I do know, I definitely want to get married.  I’m totally great with kids, so if he comes with one, we’re good.  But do I want to have one….sigggghhh. I guess? I guess not?  All I know is this. I’m on the fence. And I don’t have enough time to be on it!!! If I want kids I needed to have started yesterday!  This biological clock I fear has run out of snooze buttons.  It’ barbeque or mildew time! Hoe up or Blow up (okay maybe that’s not approp here, but in Pimps up, Hoes Down” the two went hand in hand)

But then I’m like what would life look like for me if I don’t pull the trigger on the baby making machine?

What does life look like post biological clock explosion?  What does post-40 look like for those of us who opt not to have kids? Or consequently miss the kid mark?  Do we write our own story?  Are we looked upon like an anomaly?  Will we be the three headed monster folks like to make us be?  I mean if I had a dollar for every person that asks me when I’m having kids I could well…afford to freeze my eggs!

Insurance is no longer an option.   Don’t. You. Judge. Me.  Yes, you with your corporate job that matches your insurance.  You, the one who can’t fathom a life without insurance and 401K and are appalled that people don’t have either.  YOU!!!  Obama didn’t come up with Obamacare for no reason!  Insurance is expensive and as a freelancer it’s totally unaffordable.   But I can no longer ignore the need of insurance.   Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of free clinics in the state of New York and programs for the uninsured.  I’ve utilized some but it’s tricky when you’re not state mandated “poor”.  I’m sure that’s not the legal term for it, but that’s what we’ll call it here.  I’m what they like to deem “working poor”, Even though I wouldn’t own that title either.  But the logic is, you make a salary too much for the free stuff and too little to pay for it yourself. 

Needless to say, once I went to a free clinic.   Yeah I said it, I went to a FREE CLINIC! And it was a traumatizing  experience and that’s not just the bourgeoisie in me speaking, it really was! Girl Scouts honor.  Issue one, the clientele (no shade) coupled with the lack of cleanliness of the waiting room, I was certain if I didn’t have tuberculosis, I would when I left.  Secondly, I had a vicious cough that produced green phlegm. Yes, all of the signs pointed to a serious chest situation.  When I walked in the door, the doctor looked at me like in my direction and prescribed cough syrup with codeine and asked me if I wanted birth control pills.  She didn’t pull out nary stethoscope, not a chest x-ray, not one examination.  Hell she didn’t even try to find out if I was already pregnant.   Just something to suppress the cough and to stop babies. I knew then, it was only a matter of time before I would have to address this insurance situation. It’s only so many times you can go through one of those clinics and come out unscathed.

The art of losing weight.  Oh yes my friends, this is now an art, perhaps even a game.  Hell, perhaps it's even giving The Hunger Games a run for its money.  Yeah I went there with it because that’s what it’s become.  What happened to working out a few days, scaling back on pop and sweets and dropping 10?  I’ve been working out for months…..MONTHS…regularly, watching everything I eat. I’ve lost 5 pounds at best and I’m not even sure that’s not water.  What the eff is that about??? Please tell me I don’t have to work out this hard and deprive myself of everything that life is made of,  for the rest of my life???  I mean come the hell on!!!! My metabolism didn’t just slow down.  This shit died a tragic and painful death.  It disappear, never to be seen again.  It, my friends is not about this life. And when I mean this life, I mean MY life.  And it certainly wasn’t about this lose weight life, effin’ quitter.  Now, here I am at 37 desperately trying to shed 20 lbs and I’ve tried everything but a magic trick.  (Which I’m not opposed to if y’all know of someone).  So now I’ve convinced myself that it’s not about the weight, it’s all about working out and eating healthy and as long as I don’t gain, I win.  Yeah, yeah, yeah the lies we tell ourselves.

When I was little I used to joke my grandmother about her many diets.  I told her she was dieting her life away and when I grow up, I would NEVER diet like that.  Now I know why she laughed so hard.  Poor thing didn’t have the heart to tell me that life will be one big low fat cheese, low sodium, turkey bacon, skinless chicken, sugar-free diet.  Deal with it!

Well friends, now you know why I cry.  One day I went to sleep as a mid-thirty-something young spry girl with nothing but time and opportunity on her hands and the next day I woke up a late thirty middle aged lady with the shot clock speeding down to zero.  This can’t be life!!!! I promise as a kid it took a life time for my birthday around as I’ve gotten older it seems like time has sped up?! How the hell does that work??

Wooosaaaaahhhhh, listen I’m done venting for now.  I just had to get that off my chest so I can move on for the year.  But listen friends, if I show up with sextuplets next year don’t blame me…blame the clock.  *Nik shrug* What’s a girl to do, it’s game time right?

Mambo Nik Out!

“If you’re not getting older, you’re dead” Tom Petty

THIRTIES ARE THE NEW THIRTIES....

Age isn't how old you are but how old you feel.”  Gabriel Garcí­a Márqu

I am 37.

Thirty- Seven. 

THREE-SEVEN!

Just let that sink in a bit….

THAT’S 3 YEARS UNTIL FORTY! FORTY! FOUR-ZERO!!!!!!

So to say that I’m not taking this birthday well is an….ummm…understatement.  I’m soooo not adjusting well at all!  It’s so bad that it has taken me almost a month to write this birthday post.  Ya, it’s like that. 

It’s not that getting older bothers me.  Okay lies, the number does bother me.  I mean it just sounds old!  But it’s also how getting older feels.  And I don’t mean the aching knees and creaking bones.  I mean how it feeeeeel feels. Okay let me explain. It’s the “I’d rather stay at home and climb in the bed at 7pm” or the “I eat prunes for dessert and drink prune juice for breakfast” feeling.  It’s the “sign up for your 20 year high school anniversary” feeling.  The “you don’t look THAT old” feeling.  The “no ma’am, you can put your ID away, we’re certain you’re over 21” feeling.  The “please stop saying turn up, you sound like your mother” feeling.

Speaking of turn up, why can’t I let that isht go?  I’m soooo over the phrase “Turn Up” yet, I can’t stop from saying it! I think that was the first sign that I’m aging.  Okay I lie, I lie…the first sign was my gray hair and my tricky stomach issues aka the Notorious T.U.M.M.Y but the fact that I can’t let go of the phrase “Turn up” is a damn close third.  It reminds me of when my mom got a hold of “No Diggity” and for months, years even, she would end a sentence with “No diggity, no doubt” or how my father refuses to let go of “igging me” and even uses it incorrectly.  THAT’S ME!!!! I think I’ve turned into my parents and have forgotten when to let go of slang.  I mean at some point using the latest slang, blasting Lil’ Wayne, and going out to get faded has to get old and become cliché right??? Okay, noooo scratch that last one because a drink here and there (with a buzz included) is sometimes necessary.  *flips hair and sips Rum*

Ok well, let me stay on track.  The point is…well….I’m old y’all.  I turned 37, and I wish I could say I don’t feel a day over 25.  I’d be lying and I pride myself on being very truthful on here.  The truth is I feel every bit of 37-EVERY FUCKING BIT OF IT!

And to top it off, I have to now deal with real pressing old people isht.  No longer am I able to just ignore certain realities.  They are here and knocking on my 37 year old door.  The time has come to make some real decisions and to step into middleagedom (that’s a word damn it).  For example:

To have kids or not to have kids, that is the question:

Here is the dilemma.  I think I want kids but there’s a small part of me that thinks I was programmed to want kids.  Like no one has given us women a blueprint outside of having kids.  You’re born and raised to believe you get married, you have kids and THEN life begins.  So, of course I want kids I mean life needs to begin, right? Right?  I don’t know maybe? Maybe not?  Here’s what I do know, I definitely want to get married.  I’m totally great with kids, so if he comes with one, we’re good.  But do I want to have one….sigggghhh. I guess? I guess not?  All I know is this. I’m on the fence. And I don’t have enough time to be on it!!! If I want kids I needed to have started yesterday!  This biological clock I fear has run out of snooze buttons.  It’ barbeque or mildew time! Hoe up or Blow up (okay maybe that’s not approp here, but in Pimps up, Hoes Down” the two went hand in hand)

But then I’m like what would life look like for me if I don’t pull the trigger on the baby making machine?

What does life look like post biological clock explosion?  What does post-40 look like for those of us who opt not to have kids? Or consequently miss the kid mark?  Do we write our own story?  Are we looked upon like an anomaly?  Will we be the three headed monster folks like to make us be?  I mean if I had a dollar for every person that asks me when I’m having kids I could well…afford to freeze my eggs!

Insurance is no longer an option.   Don’t. You. Judge. Me.  Yes, you with your corporate job that matches your insurance.  You, the one who can’t fathom a life without insurance and 401K and are appalled that people don’t have either.  YOU!!!  Obama didn’t come up with Obamacare for no reason!  Insurance is expensive and as a freelancer it’s totally unaffordable.   But I can no longer ignore the need of insurance.   Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of free clinics in the state of New York and programs for the uninsured.  I’ve utilized some but it’s tricky when you’re not state mandated “poor”.  I’m sure that’s not the legal term for it, but that’s what we’ll call it here.  I’m what they like to deem “working poor”, Even though I wouldn’t own that title either.  But the logic is, you make a salary too much for the free stuff and too little to pay for it yourself. 

Needless to say, once I went to a free clinic.   Yeah I said it, I went to a FREE CLINIC! And it was a traumatizing  experience and that’s not just the bourgeoisie in me speaking, it really was! Girl Scouts honor.  Issue one, the clientele (no shade) coupled with the lack of cleanliness of the waiting room, I was certain if I didn’t have tuberculosis, I would when I left.  Secondly, I had a vicious cough that produced green phlegm. Yes, all of the signs pointed to a serious chest situation.  When I walked in the door, the doctor looked at me like in my direction and prescribed cough syrup with codeine and asked me if I wanted birth control pills.  She didn’t pull out nary stethoscope, not a chest x-ray, not one examination.  Hell she didn’t even try to find out if I was already pregnant.   Just something to suppress the cough and to stop babies. I knew then, it was only a matter of time before I would have to address this insurance situation. It’s only so many times you can go through one of those clinics and come out unscathed.

The art of losing weight.  Oh yes my friends, this is now an art, perhaps even a game.  Hell, perhaps it's even giving The Hunger Games a run for its money.  Yeah I went there with it because that’s what it’s become.  What happened to working out a few days, scaling back on pop and sweets and dropping 10?  I’ve been working out for months…..MONTHS…regularly, watching everything I eat. I’ve lost 5 pounds at best and I’m not even sure that’s not water.  What the eff is that about??? Please tell me I don’t have to work out this hard and deprive myself of everything that life is made of,  for the rest of my life???  I mean come the hell on!!!! My metabolism didn’t just slow down.  This shit died a tragic and painful death.  It disappear, never to be seen again.  It, my friends is not about this life. And when I mean this life, I mean MY life.  And it certainly wasn’t about this lose weight life, effin’ quitter.  Now, here I am at 37 desperately trying to shed 20 lbs and I’ve tried everything but a magic trick.  (Which I’m not opposed to if y’all know of someone).  So now I’ve convinced myself that it’s not about the weight, it’s all about working out and eating healthy and as long as I don’t gain, I win.  Yeah, yeah, yeah the lies we tell ourselves.

When I was little I used to joke my grandmother about her many diets.  I told her she was dieting her life away and when I grow up, I would NEVER diet like that.  Now I know why she laughed so hard.  Poor thing didn’t have the heart to tell me that life will be one big low fat cheese, low sodium, turkey bacon, skinless chicken, sugar-free diet.  Deal with it!

Well friends, now you know why I cry.  One day I went to sleep as a mid-thirty-something young spry girl with nothing but time and opportunity on her hands and the next day I woke up a late thirty middle aged lady with the shot clock speeding down to zero.  This can’t be life!!!! I promise as a kid it took a life time for my birthday around as I’ve gotten older it seems like time has sped up?! How the hell does that work??

Wooosaaaaahhhhh, listen I’m done venting for now.  I just had to get that off my chest so I can move on for the year.  But listen friends, if I show up with sextuplets next year don’t blame me…blame the clock.  *Nik shrug* What’s a girl to do, it’s game time right?

Mambo Nik Out!

“If you’re not getting older, you’re dead” Tom Petty

THE IRREFUTABLE TRUTH

"Underneath my outside face,

There’s a face that none can see.

A little less smiley,

A little less sure,

But a whole lot more like me” Shel Silverstein

Hi,

My name is Nika, no, that’s not my government name, but it is a nickname I've gone as my entire life.  I’m 5’6 and ½.  Yes, the ½ counts.  I have dark curly hair.  I’m a dark skin, African-American girl from the Midwest.  At times, I’m a true Midwest girl, and at times I’m a flat out New Yorker. The physical traits about me that stand out the most would be my smile and my laugh.  If you've experienced both you should know why.  I looooove to have fun at all times-ALL TIMES.  I love to read, cook, and hang with friends.   I value my friendships and hold them near and dear to my heart.  I think I’m the coolest person I know and that’s not being arrogant.  I also think I’m the most conflicted person I know and that's not being negative.  I live in my head.  I over analyze everything.  I take a lot of things personal, even when I know they’re not personal.  I contradict myself from thought to thought, action to action, and day to day.  I hate conflicts, they give me heart palpitations. If I had to pick two things about me that I love, it would be my truthfulness and my big heart.  If I had to pick two things about me that I hate, it would be my truthfulness and my big heart.  

I hated make up, then I turned 36 and I liked it a little more.  I used to think I was tough as nails, I am not. I, also, have a sexy side too or at least that's what I tell myself.  I’m a big drinker, not so much a big party-er, there’s a difference and no it’s not alcoholism. I lay out full blown stories in my head with conversations; this is how you get most of the stories on this here blog.  I hate being ignored.  I HATE BEING IGNORED.  That’s a Leo trait.  I’m a Leo through and through and I used to hate when people classified me as that (in a condescending way), now I know they’re just jealous.  Yes, I meant that. Yes, I know that’s a Leo trait, too. LOL. 

But here’s the biggie big big, I’m a big emotional baby.  My emotions rage with a personality of their own. They’re unpredictable. They’re uncontrollable. They’re immense. They’re all encompassing.   To know me is to know my emotions. And in 36 years, I've not been able to do anything about them but let them be.

There are many pros to me as a person:  I’m a giver. I’m a sharer. I’m loyal. I’m present as a friend. I’m passionate. I’m optimistic. I’m a hard-worker. I’m a cheerleader and advocate for my friends and family and more.

There are many cons to me as a person:  I’m indecisive.  I share TOO much (the irony of this blog isn’t missed). I can be pushy.  I talk too much. I vent too much. I cry too much and more.

Now, why do I share this with you? Well, it’s been a while since we've tango-ed my loves and I want to reacquaint you with me to jump start our love affair before you abruptly leave me.  Naaaaah, just kidding, y’all love me and you’re not going anywhere! This type of sick love is codependent on each other like an addiction.  And despite what your therapist says or *whispers* your AA sponsor some addictions are necessary and welcomed.  Yep, I said it and what?!

No seriously, I share this with you because I, Nika, am struggling.  Lately I’m starting to think just being me isn't good enough.  Can I be all the way transparent and vulnerable?  My “me” just doesn't seem to cut it these days.  And I’m starting to think my “me” may need some self adjustment.

**I try my best not to use this blog as a journal but more as a storytelling avenue. However today I will make the exception. **

Today I lost a friend.  A good friend that decided they can no longer be friends with me.  I don’t take my friendships lightly so this hurts a great deal.  It has left me feeling panicked, empty, sad, angry and an whole slew of emotions.  But mostly I feel like I failed.  I failed as a friend.  

Because of this, I needed to really self analyze myself and my personal qualities  in an attempt to try to figure out how did this get so bad.   Because let’s just call it for what it is, there’s nothing more humbling when someone doesn't want to be around or deal with you anymore because your “you” has become too much for them.

And what do you do when that happens?  I know you’re not supposed to change for people but you’d have to be a robot if you didn't stop to pause and check your core.  Sure, I think I’m great but what does that say if others don’t? 

No, this wasn't my only friend and no, this won’t be my last friend.  But this friend meant a lot to me and these decisions don’t come easy.  I've been up all night picking myself apart wondering how could I let this happen.  This is the first friend that has told me they can’t be friends with me anymore and I don’t know how to digest that.  Now given, there are many layers to this friendship that I won’t air out in this blog, but today what I realized is not everyone is going to like you or your “you” and well…that shit just sucks.

“To lose a friend is the greatest of all losses” Unknown

FOR COLORED GIRLS WHO HAVE CONSIDERED A HYSTERECTOMY WHEN THE MIDOL WASN’T ENUF

"Whoever came up with the term, 'Have a happy period,' needs to be taken outside, force fed Midol, and shot with tampons.” ~Anon

Dear…..

Male Gynecologist,

When I came to you in tears regarding my excruciating cramps and you looked at me and said “unfortunately, that’s one of the symptoms that come with your periods”, did you think my 30 plus year old ass didn't know the symptoms of a cycle I've had every month for the last 20 plus years?  -_-

CVS worker,

When I buy my supplies and I ask you to double bag my pads and tampons, please do not look at me as if you are unaware I’m buying SANITARY PRODUCTS! No, I am not ashamed that I’m on my period, I do not want the entire office to KNOW I’m on my period.

Always,

I have never had 1) A happy period 2) worn white on my period…..PERIOD!

Tylenol,

Why don’t you come out and tell us? We actually already know, you’re placebo pills right?

Co-worker,

When you see me walking with a pencil case like pouch into the restroom, don’t ask me what’s in it unless you’re prepared for the answer.  I mean it could be makeup, it could be pencils -_- or it could be….. you've been warned.

Innocent Bystander,

Sometimes tampons come out the package, and sometimes they really do feel like pens.  Don’t be startled if I go for a pen and pull out a tampon.  Thanks.

Pharmaceutical companies,

For fucks sake…is there nothing stronger on the market?  I mean COME ON!

Cube mate,

I know I was just laughing about that YouTube video, now I’m crying. No I don’t know why. I just am.

CSI,

Did you really have to kill that kid?  (Okay this one may seem random but actuaaaallly…did they? Listen,  the emotional effect of your cycle is real.  I really did cry while watching CSI wondering why a show about solving murder mysteries had to kill someone.  It isn't reasonable or sensible, it just is LOL)

Excuse me while I have a moment shall you?  Listen, it’s my blog and I can cry if I want to!!!

I’m soooooo over this womanly shit, I cannot even tell you emphatically enough.  I’m 36 and I first got my cycle at the young age of 12. So, that would be 24 years/288 months /(okay 287 since I missed that one month in Japan)/2,296 days of torture.   2,296 DAYS OF TORTURE!!!!  

I haven’t had a baby yet so you'd think my body would get the memo to chill the FUCK out! Yes, I said it and I meant it.  Is it not backwards that my cycle would increase and get heavier since I haven’t had a baby?  Did it miss the memo?  Hellooooooo? Hold on to those eggs and relax yourself!  No seriously? CHILL OUT!

I know this may be uncomfortable to some to read because for some reason in 2013, the conversation of menstrual cycles STILL make people uncomfortable. Ha, imagine that!  I mean, it is 2013, and we still have to tip toe around talking about periods.  It’s amazing to me.  Well, my good friends, not today and not on this blog . "No no no not today" *Dikembe Mutombo voice*.  Because 1) we women need an outlet to vent 2) you men, need to understand 3) I’m on the ledge and damn it someone will listen! 

Good people, I’ll never forget when I got my cycle in the 7^th grade.  Everyone used to talk about it in the locker room and there was even a girl in my junior high that was pregnant (I hadn't even had my first kiss! But that's a whole other story! lol).  So I was eagerly looking for it, the period people…NOT the pregnancy!  This probably was the last time I would ever be excited to see it come.   No, seriously, the next month I stayed on my cycle for 15 days. I knew then this was nothing nice…nothing nice at all!  Anywho,  I remember being slightly cheerful that it came like I received an honor or a gift so to speak.  Hmmph, oh it was a gift alright much like that horse that the Greeks gifted the Trojans eh?  One big flimflam gift of immense proportions. 

Why are we women not honest with each other about this?  All we do is perpetuate the fairy tale. 

·         It stops in water

·         It usually goes on for 4 days

·         Sometimes you don’t cramp

·         It’s a gift that allows to be able to give wondrous life

·         It’s an introduction to your women hood

I CALL BULLSHIT! 

As the years have gone on, I have looked at each one of my relatives with the wicked side eye because no one pulled me aside and said to me “listen, you don’t want this,” “this isn't fun,”  “being a woman is tough” …I mean come on, give me the real deal people!  Listen, I’m going to say what no one will,  if nothing else alone makes women tougher than men; it is our monthly menstrual cycle.  THE END!

You wussies would be crying in your protein shakes if you had to endure the pain, the emotional turmoil, and the overall inconvenience we women undergo EVERY month, not every other month, not occasionally, not once a year but EVERY MONTH.  That is every 4 weeks for 7 days. 

Have you ever been in so much pain you've called out not for your mother, not for your lover but for JESUS!?!?!?  Have to spend hours sitting on the toilet because it makes your cramps “feel better”?  Been nervous to sit in a chair because even after all of this experience, as a grown woman you know accidents can and will happen?  Sleep on a towel at night? Stopped dead in your tracks on the street because of excruciating pain shooting up through your lower stomach and out your back?  Slept with a heating pad on so hot you’re certain you've cooked your bladder?  Have a cycle so heavy it resembles a crime scene? Gotten a tooth pulled and not taken all of the pain medicine just so you can have something stronger left over for that time of the month? (Okay, maybe that’s just me)

Woooosaaaaaah…

Are you there God? It’s me Nika, 

This may be risky to inquire but I’m totally shocked you haven’t phased out periods kind of like dinosaurs.They're totally antiquated and I’m sure with you being the King of all Kings, the Alpha AND the Omega,  there should be an easier way to conceive?  I mean come on…remember Mary? Hahah Noooo of course you remember Mary just a little jokey joke..... 

Okay but seriously, listen I didn't even know Eve and her evil ways but I’m certain I've repented 10 times over for this.  And so well…. I just wanted to put the thought out there you know…it’s okay…if you…take it away… like all of it away?  Give it some thought, K?

Sincerely …in your name…forever and ever more…..

*pops Midol and fades to black* There's gotta be a better way.......

THE FACTS OF LIFE….

Good Times.
Any time you meet a payment.
Good Times.
Any time you need a friend.
Good Times.
Any time you're out from under.

Not getting hassled, not getting hustled.
Keepin' your head above water,
Making a wave when you can.

Temporary layoffs.
Good Times.
Easy credit rip offs.
Good Times.
Scratchin' and surviving.
Good Times.
Hangin in a chow line
Good Times.
Ain't we lucky we got 'em
Good Times.

When I was in college, my roommate always felt like she had everything together and it often times left me a tad bit jelly.  Not that I didn’t have it together, because I guess I did, but I just felt like her "together" was more generational.  I was envious because her parents had given her the tools for success simply by example.  It was an innate sort of thing, and I knew that her “together” was effortless, meanwhile I was desperately working on being and staying “together”.  And for a while it left me a little peeved at my own, “fly by the seat of their pants” parents. 

For example, her parents taught her all about the importance of good credit, paying her bills in a timely fashion, and financially responsibility.  She grew up with both of her parents together and in love so she knew what a “healthy” relationship looked like.  Furthermore, she knew what to look for in a loving partner, and she knew and understood the sanctity of marriage.  It was something that I had never encountered and was eagerly trying to learn and figure out.  I felt at a disadvantaged and over time it led to very bad feelings about my childhood and what I had decided at the time was lack of proper parenting.  Now, obvs I think my parents were not THAT bad.  But I was young, and figuring out life and it just seemed like an unfair advantage at the time.

But, actually, as of late I'm learning that although my parents did not teach me things about credit scores or credit cards, nor did I have a clue of what a healthy marriage and household looked like, I realized as a proper adult my parents DID teach me certain invaluable skills that gave me an advantage in life:  Survival skills.  Yup, you've got it! My parents were the King and Queen of surviving!  You have no idea!!!!!  And it wasn't until I started my second career as a freelance producer that I realized this was a better skill-set than I gave it credit.  I think when the recession hit, and I watched friends who have been on top all of their lives struggle with basic things like paying their bills, is when I decided to give my parents their just due.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not always on the struggle side of things, but as a freelancer for the last 8 years these skill has come in veeeerrry handy. 

Invaluable Childhood lessons (accidentally taught to me):

1.      Disappearing act:

We had very specific rules in my house regarding bill collectors.  If you answered the phone, because this was before caller ID,  my mother was NEVER home.  I don’t care if the bill collector took you through the wringer. And trust me, if you think they’re rude now there were no rules to the game back in the 80’s.  They would tell us our parents were everything BUT a children of God.  My mother didn’t care, either get the balls to hang up on an adult, or sit on the phone and stick it out, but no matter what you decided, no matter how hard you cried, no matter how harsh their words were… SHE WAS NOT AT HOME.  It was much like the Jehovah’s Witness rule: if caught you’re on your own.  Hey, Hey, Hey don’t act like y’all don’t know that rule! I’m just a messenger.  Anywho, same rule applied to bill collectors, good luck and god speed.  It was a tough road because trust and believe there was many a phone call in our day, but it prepared me for the Sallie Mae onslaught as an adult. Listen, you can sit and judge me all you want, but sometimes you just don’t have it and if you let every time they call get you in your feelings, you will be crying in your corn flakes every morning.  The power of evasion is a motherfucker.

2.      Robbing Peter, to pay Paul:

Yeah I know. I was a business major.  This isn’t the smartest move….on books.   But life, sometimes, is about survival AND this is rule #1 on how to survive.  Know which bills to pay, and which bills to not pay, which bills to float and which bills can’t float, who you can take from today and pay back tomorrow.  It’s a tough balance act. But if done properly, you can keep your lights, your cable, and your roof over your head. 

Remember this, and remember it well.  Not all bills are considered equal.  This was rule numero uno in the Roberts household.  Some bills are non-negotiable for example you need to make sure you secure the roof over your head, the food in your fridge, lights and heat (in the winter).  But anything else outside of that realm is up for grabs and at any given moment, one of those jammies can fall to the waste side. Believe it! 

3.     Take one to the chin like a champ:

No one can handle disappointments and still keep it moving like my parents.  Don’t get me wrong they have had some great things happen in their lives.  But I’ve seen the bottom fall out and my mom not even stutter step.  I remember one time I was having a moment (yes, I know I have moments often) and I was in a full blown cry. This lady just watched me.  After I was done, she handed me a tissue and said “let that be your last cry.”  At the time I remember being like, “damn…but I wasn’t done”. (hahahah I soooo wasn’t) But her logic was, you can’t think when you cry and by the time you’re done the world will have had its way with you.  She’s the one that’s given me my mantra of “24 hours only”.  I allow myself to wallow for 24 hours, and then I have to shake it off and push through it.  It’s a tough lesson to learn and even a tougher one to execute, but life can be a doozy and you can live life let it control you, or you can take control over it yourself.  I have my parents to thank for showing me that.

4.      Fake it ‘til you make it:

Sometimes you just have to act like you know until you know.  And if you don’t know then you need to find out, BUT no one needs to know, you don’t know….you know?  

5.     Learn how to treat yourself, no matter what:

I’m torn with this lesson.  There’s a part of me that thinks this lesson is mad irresponsible, the other part of me says, what’s the point of working hard if you never treat yourself.  With that said, no matter how hard things were in our house, no matter how many bills we were juggling, no matter how many bill collectors called, every pay day we went out to dinner.   I mean it wasn’t every day, but you can best believe every two weeks on a Friday, we were putting on our “good clothes” and heading to Red Lobster.  Don’t you look at the screen like that! At one point in our adult lives (if you’re older than 30) Red Lobster was NOT always the place where hood boogers went on dates, it was a respectable establishment that you got dressed up to go, okay!  So yes, we went twice a month. Now the other 28 days, you can trust and believe those were then never-ending days of left overs.

6.     Know your stretchable meals and execute them when needed:

No body-No One- Not a soul, I know, can stretch a meal the way my mother could.  She is the sole reason why I JUST started fooling with meatloaf like only a year ago.  Hell, my sister won’t even dare make it.  Why?  A pack of ground chuck is like a couple bucks?  Everyone has crackers in their cabinet then add ketchup, onions, and eggs?  You have one hella cheap meal for like 3 days. And we ate this EVERY week!!!!!!!  Oh lord and then when she stared “frying” cabbage? And don’t get me started on chili.  Whew…..no …I’m having the shakes just thinking about it  But I digress, the point is when my calculations are off, and I’ve cut that paycheck a tad bit close or in these days between shows (y’all know that freelancer’s life), I know how to make a meal for a week with 5 bucks. Trust!

Oh I can go on for days, there are soooo much more, but I deleted them as I wasn’t sure what the statute of limitations on some were….hehe…just kidding!  There is however,  one more and this may be the most important lesson my parents taught me.

*** Address life head on and make no apologies for it. ***

When I was in high school our struggle was real.  I went to a school where 70% of the people weren’t familiar with my type of struggle.  Not to say they didn’t experience struggle, it just wasn’t apparent that they were the type of problems I had.  We went through a financial struggle that eventually was no longer contained in the confines of our home i.e. our car got repo’d when I was in the 9^th grade, our phone would randomly get disconnected basically just random stuff that kids didn't understand and after a while everyone was inquiring in a not-so-sensitive kid way.  My first instinct was to be embarrassed and to hide it. There were jokes about the car we drove; our house was sandblasted and never painted etc.  Then one day we were all going out and were trying to coordinate and my phone was disconnected, again, my friend said in front of everyone “Your phone is alwaaaays off, why?”, I responded as direct as one could “Because we couldn't pay the bill.  Just wait for me to call you from my neighbor’s house and we’ll leave then.”  And I walked away. Let me tell you,  I had never felt freer than I did in that moment. 

Now given I wasn't that open about everything going on, but that day was the first time I decide to be direct and I've never turned back.  Life has its ups and downs and maybe some folks haven’t experienced that or maybe they have and are scared to show it.  But that day, that year, that moment in my life I decided to stop making excuses and being embarrassed about life.  It is what it is.  And you know what? The jokes ended and people were still on board.

***********************************

Although I joke about these lessons learned, but they are and were tried and true lessons.  And no, I’m not dodging the bill collectors these days (sans that trick Sallie…and I don’t really dodge her per se…we have a game we play much like hide-n-seek), and maybe this doesn't apply to you, or maybe it does.  Perhaps you possess all the tools you need to live AND survive.  But if you're struggling in the surviving department, I can and will still make a monster turkey meatloaf so holla at your girl if you need the recipe.  And then perhaps you can share your secrets of "togetherness" with me....

Tradesies??? 

THE QUEST FOR HAPPINESS…

"The little blue engine looked up at the hill.
His light was weak, his whistle was shrill.
He was tired and small, and the hill was tall,
And his face blushed red as he softly said,
“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.”

So he started up with a chug and a strain,
And he puffed and pulled with might and main.
And slowly he climbed, a foot at a time,
And his engine coughed as he whispered soft,
“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.”

With a squeak and a creak and a toot and a sigh,
With an extra hope and an extra try,
He would not stop — now he neared the top —
And strong and proud he cried out loud,
“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can!”

He was almost there, when — CRASH! SMASH! BASH!
He slid down and mashed into engine hash
On the rocks below... which goes to show
If the track is tough and the hill is rough,
THINKING you can just ain’t enough!" Shel Silverstein- The Little Blue Engine

I am happy. I AM happy. I am HAPPY. I AM happy. I am HAPPY.

There are moments in your life; times in your life where no matter how many times you repeat that sentence to yourself it’s still not believable.  There’s a part of you that’s convinced that if you say it, THAT sentence, the simplest of sentences, over and over again in different ways, in different cadences it will begin to sink in.  And at some point you may even turn to yourself and say, “I am happy right?” And hopefully through a bit of brain washing you will say back....riggghhhhhtttttt! But what if you don’t? What if, just in fact, you are not….happy? Is it the worst thing in the world?

It's not that being happy is hard. You've had moments and spurts of happiness. We all know what happy feels like. And when you feel it it’s amazing. So the hard part is NOT being happy, the hard part is reminding yourself during the hard times that happy actually does and can exist.  The odd thing about happiness is that happiness is strangely fleeting...on the surface of things. I believe this is because the pain of unhappy has a sting that etches its foot print in your memory way deeper than that of happiness. For example, you know not to play with fire if you've ever been burned. You know to watch your step if you've ever fallen. You know to avoid bees, if you've ever been stung. Pain can create a long lasting fear. It damn near endures forever. So the hard times are always on the forefront of your memory…

But happiness....why is happiness so hard to remember?

Once when I was in high school, I had this crush of sorts on a basketball player.  He was a senior and I dated him briefly my freshman year, but didn't connect back with him until the summer he was leaving for college.  I remember it like it was yesterday; he getting ready to leave for school and asked me to come over to hang out with him while he packed up.  A long story short, we got into a heavy kissing session.  (Don’t judge, I read kissing is good for your health! I’m healthy today because of my summer make out session! All glory!)  It just so happened this was in August, it was very hot out, and I had spent the entire day in the field practicing during band camp.  So therefore, my allergies were on 10.  Yes, if you’re smart you should know where this story is going.  In the midst of our heavy petting session, my nose started to bleed.  And when I say bleed, I don’t mean just a light summer nose bleed.  I mean, my nose bled like I was going to die- D-I-E! My nose hadn't bled like that since I was like 8 years old, and the only remedy then was to go to the hospital. 

So imagine this, I finally reconnect with the loooooooooove of my 15 year old life.  We’re making out, and it’s like heaven. And within a split second I’m bleeding out like someone should come read me my last rights.  It was so bad that he had to go get his mother.  Yes, yes, yes….his mother.  So here it is: me, his mother, and him all in the bathroom.  She’s holding my nose, I have my head back, he gets me an ice pack and I. am. dying.  And quietly, at this point I secretly was hoping I’d just bleed myself into oblivion. 

Oh but it gets worse.  I wasn't supposed to be there. Yup, you've got it. I was supposed to be at the movies with my sister and cousin (who dropped me off at his house on the way to their boyfriend’s house).  And this was 1991, so there was no cell phone number to call and have my sister come get me.  I stayed at his house for 3 hours in that very position.  Oh yes, my loves, my nose bled for 3 hours.  THREE HOURS! *weeps in my tea* I still feel the pain and agony as I type this-wooosssaaaaah.

But I digress, the point is, despite this being the happiest moment in my 15 year old life, it was overshadowed by also being the most embarrassing moment of my 15 year old life.  And when I reflect on that day, I don’t remember anything BUT that: me, him, and his mother.  Damn, anything that happened prior to that catastrophic, heart wrenching, ego crushing moment. (hmmm I wonder if he reads this blog)

So, where am I going with this, aside from divulging that I’m a chronic nose bleeder, is that happy is fleeting, but pain endureth forever. (Hahahaha) Okaaaaaay, that’s not how the saying goes, and that’s not what I truly mean, fine! What I’m trying to say, my loves is sometimes happiness gets over-shadowed by pain and sadness, and it’s a lot more work than people are willing to admit to make it the dominating force that people claim it to be.

Being happy, yes, is a choice.  But once you make the choice it’s not like magic, and appears suddenly.  It is in fact comprised of many layers. And for me, under each layer of happiness exposes a layer of sadness. The more I peel back, the more I expose. There’s no black and white, finite, space of “happiness”.  I guess this is what I truly mean by a shady haze of grey. Believe you me, I wish my life was as black and white as people make theirs appear.  But it isn't, and I’m not one to pretend that it is.  I spend most of my life in the grey area and in this area, lives turmoil and joy, happiness and sadness, confusion and clarity, conflict and resolution and much, much more.

This my loves is why it’s taking me so long to write the first post of the year.  I wanted to give you all a happy go lucky, happy New Year post. But I couldn't.  I couldn't even find the words to write it or any other post I've conjured up.  I've started and stopped 15 or more posts but yet couldn't find the words to finish them.  I believe it’s because I wasn't being honest and true to my spirit.  The truth is, 2012 was a struggle and 2013 isn't as smooth as I want it to be.  And although I’m blessed to be here, and in good health, there are some moments when I’m hanging on to it all by the hair of my chinny chin chin. 

But I believe that’s what makes this blog work, yes?  Its real life stories, about a very real person, living in a very real city of which I believe you all can relate.  And it doesn't work if I’m not being all the way honest and open.  And honest Nik is trying to tell you that she is somewhere cross-legged in her closet practicing her nam-myoho-renge-kyo’s.   Okay, maybe not that far but you can find me in deep meditation over a glass of Melbec.  No judging! Wine is of the heavens and this is a tried and true fact!

So hopefully as I get over this hump, I can still give you the stories I've been dying to tell you:  like how someone almost shot a snot rocket on me the other day, the death that’s rotting in my apartment building, about when my grandmother tried to choke me out in the grocery store, and how I’m horribly failing at online dating, about my recent heartache, my fears of homeless people, and my quest to lose weight.  I have a lot in store for you all this year! Aren't you just excited? 

And while we’re at it, I mean, we may as well explore this happiness phenomenon, yes?

I mean happy is as happy does right? ;-)

HAPPY, HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!  HERE’S TO 2013!