Of Bums and Babies

Growing up in NYC, I've seen homeless people my entire life. Eventually, I got to the point where I became completely desensitized to them: the signs asking for help, the cups shaking with spare change, the dishevelment, the stench of someone sleeping on the train in the dead of winter because it's too cold to be outside... I could go on and on. You find yourself at a crossroads at times - wondering if this person really needs your help. Are they really hungry or are they going to blow that $1 on booze or drugs? Or, unfortunately these days, is it just someone who is looking for quick cash or experimenting for a sociology thesis? (My friends in Catholic school told the same tales of Nuns who berated them for helping the homeless because they once gave some poor, desperate soul their spare change and moments later, saw them get into a Lexus. All with the hopes of making you save your pocket money and donate it to the Church, I'm sure.)

But I wanted to help the homeless. I dreamed of winning the lottery and walking the streets of Manhattan, placing $100 bills into those empty, blue coffee cups. Taking those who were less fortunate out for lunches and getting them cleaned up; a new set of clothes and job opportunities to get them on the right track. I remember drafting a whole plan to turn Governor's Island into a shelter for homeless people - giving them free housing so that they could have an address to put on a resume, a place to build a new life for themselves. I shared my plan with my parents and was met with laughter. They asked me why I was even bothering; homeless people put themselves into these positions - there was no Horatio Alger story to be had from these harsh, cold streets. No one was going to magically pull themselves up by their boot straps and get off crack and join the ranks of the middle class. And more then certainly not, there was no way the Government of New York City would ever provide such lush accommodations and go out of their way to help the less fortunate on such a prime piece of real estate.

Over the years, I'd traveled to many other cities and witnessed many other types of homeless people. Those outside of New York seemed to be more angry, more aggressive, more in your face. I wasn't used to be hassled in the mall by someone looking for a dollar, or being threatened and racially discriminated against simply because I wouldn't give up a quarter. For some reason, New York seemed to be a haven for the homeless. Maybe it was the millions of generous immigrants and tourists keeping them well fed (with food, booze or drugs) and satiated. Maybe it was the 24 hour transit system providing temporary homes, keeping them safe and calm, instead of those who attempted to weather the storms or fight - literally - for a space in homeless shelter once a subway closed at 1 am. Maybe in NYC, as much as people like to stereotype us for being rude and distance, the people there just cared more.

........

We've been in the middle of one of the hottest summers on record. And if you don't have a home to go to at the end of the day, the weather can be unbearable. With heat indexes of up to 115 degrees, all kind of health crises can occur: heat exhaustion, heat stroke, hyperthermia, dehydration, even death. And so, on a 91 degree day, I walked to the bus stop one afternoon and saw a dishelved, homeless man, lying down on the sidewalk. The scene was nothing new to me, I'd seen it a million times before. And so, I just stood back and waited for my bus. Everyone else passed by and went about their business as well: reading books, talking to friends, checking their watches and cell phones. No one else even gave this man a second glance. As I waited, I happened to look over at the homeless man behind my big sunglasses, wondering if it was crack or booze that had him slumped on this sweltering sidewalk. I also noticed a hospital bracelet on his wrist; he had probably been brought in for being drunk and hooked up to a banana bag to dry himself out for the night, then quickly released since he couldn't afford to pay. Just your same typical homeless sob story.

But then, something happened. A man who I frequently ride the bus with knelt down next to the homeless man. He was asking him if he was ok. And I saw the homeless man weakly reach a hand out to touch the man's knee, and he shook his head "no". The man from the bus noticed the hospital bracelet and asked when he had been released. Then, he took his cell phone from his pocket and called 911. It was only at this point that other people began to take notice. Everyone at the bus stop turned their heads to watch the scene: this generous and kind and selfless man, not caring about who this homeless man was or what he had done wrong in his life to get him to this point - only worrying that it was hot and here a man was suffering on a scalding sidewalk. A man who was just like us: a human being.

You could sense now that everyone else at the bus stop had become unnerved, their self-consciousness beginning to show. (I was not immune to this feeling.) You could see the wheels spinning in their heads that maybe they could have stopped to help, should have stopped to help, could have called 911. A young girl with curly hair looked especially nervous. Another older woman made a face of shock and slightly disgusted worry while taking another look at the man lying on the ground. And as the man tried to explain on the phone where he was and what was going on, the young girl asked the homeless man if he needed water - to which he weakly nodded his head yes. Before she could produce a bottle from her bag, another young man pulled out a Gatorade bottle of water and placed it down on the ground next to him.

As my bus pulled up and I began to board, everything else in the world just seemed trivial to me. Normally, I would have complained about the bus being crowded and having to stand, but now, I realize that there are so many worse things that could happen to me. Worse positions that I could be in in my life. Standing on a bus right at that moment was almost a luxury. I felt like the biggest piece of shit on the face of the Earth for just letting a man lie there on the verge of death. And as we pulled away from the curb, the man who rides my bus had sat himself down on the ground next to the homeless man, who also had righted himself & was drinking from the gatorade bottle. He was waiting with him for the ambulance to come. He had made a sacrifice for someone else, done something that we all could do on a daily basis, if only we took the time to stop.

I hope to see him on the bus this week - and while I may not verbally thank him for what he did, I will always give a knowing nod.

Black, White, Red, Green, Yellow, Man, Woman, Gay, Straight, Transgendered - We are all human. It just takes instances like that to realize it sometimes.
.......

Speaking of human life, I have reached that age where it seems that everything has become baby-centric. Oh, don't worry, I'm not planning on getting pregnant anytime soon. (Or ever.) But recently, a friend of mine and I were at a party at which there was a newborn baby. Not being a very big fan of children, I spent the night giving this baby the side eye. Finally at one point in the night, my friend took over baby holding duty. I came slightly closer to inspect the infant with it's fuzzy head and tiny baby acne. I screwed my nose up at this tiny being, bracing myself for its inevitable wailing cries. It was being swaddled in a blanket and then, its tiny little foot poked free. Out of curiosity, I extended my index finger to poke at the bottom of its foot and then...

I caught baby fever.

The bottom of that foot was so silky smooth and soft. Like nothing I had ever felt before! I make it a point to avoid touching or holding or being around babies, so I had absolutely no idea what this baby foot was going to feel like. And then, like some kind of weird tic, I couldn't stop touching it. I was stroking the foot and holding it and then playing with both feet! What was wrong with me!? Did I know what I was doing? This was a BABY! You don't like babies, I told myself. But... but... so soft! I couldn't resist!

After I left, my baby fever wore off and I returned to normal. But I couldn't help but think about my friend holding the baby. I had never really thought of her as the mommy type; a tough girl from the Bronx with a biting tongue and a swagger like no other. Sure, we had worked at camp together with little kids when we were in college, but did I picture her with her own brood one day? I guess I had never really thought of it back then. She's been married for just over 2 years now; her husband coming from a very large family - and almost all of his siblings have already continued the blood line.

She had some problems conceiving last year, possibly the cause of bad genetics; her mother had had 3 miscarriages before my friend was born - and she was the first of 3 children. Her oldest younger brother was born with a disability. So I worried for her. Her and her husband want a big family: Would she have the same problems as her mom? Obviously, having a child with a disability wouldn't be a problem; she would be readily prepared for that and thoroughly accepting. That was one of my biggest fears about having a child. Would I be able to handle everything that goes into this process? Would I be able to handle the waiting for ovulation? Could I handle a miscarriage or a still birth? Could I handle it if my child was born handicapped? I just don't think I could be strong enough to deal with that. But my friend - well, she's the strongest person I know.

And now, she's finally pregnant. Due in February.

And I can't wait to reach my finger out to touch her baby's tiny little smooth foot for the first time and catch baby fever all over again.

Time Flies...

A lot can happen in two years. It doesn't seem like a very long time when you think about it, does it? It's only 730 days, 104 weeks, 24 months. But in that span of time, things can change drastically.

Two years ago, I was interviewing for my current job; now, I just interviewed for 2 other positions back home.

Two years ago, my hair was shorter and lighter and I was (at least) 20 lbs heavier. Now my hair is long and sleek and I am svelte and hungry.

Two years ago, Emmett and I met for the first time. We were sharing smiles and laughs and kisses and pizza. Now, we're not even speaking and I'll probably never see him again.

Two years ago, I was a lot happier. As miserable as it was living at home and working a dead end job, life wasn't going quite so bad for me at all this time two years ago. And from that point until now, I have had nothing but a rollercoaster of high highs and low lows.

......


"New York is not just a tan that you'll never lose... The tan of New York never goes away." - Lady Gaga


I watched this interview with Lady Gaga recently and she is just so passionate about her love for New York in exactly the same way that I am; it was so refreshing. I was home this weekend and there was just something so fitting, so easy about walking the streets and driving the roads. I stood on a corner outside of Grand Central station and watched at least two dozen tourists take pictures of the Chrysler Building. I stood in line for street meat and had a guy tell me he just moved from Oklahoma and was about to eat his first New York hot dog - and I had another person ask me what a knish is. New York, that's what makes me happy.

There is just something magical about that city that draws people there from all over the world: tourists, wanderers, vagrants, people looking to start over, to be someone new. As big and scary as New York looms to be to those who are freshly here, it soon takes you in with open arms and wraps you up inside itself. Even those who proclaim to hate New York, deep down secretly suppress their love for that great city. 

So why did I think that I could do that in Philadelphia? This is just not the kind of place you move to start over and be someone new. It doesn't have that vibe, that sparkle, that same welcoming appeal. I have been cursed at and called names by homeless people, had racial and sexist slurs slung in my direction, battled countless bugs, awful weather patterns (extreme snow and relentless heat), atrocious drivers, ear-wrenching accents, horrendous traffic, ridiculous liquor laws, overly confident sports fans and of course, had lovely interactions with my oh-so-considerate neighbors. 

........

I'm trying to move back home, trying to get a new job and hopefully trying to regain the happiness that I lost when I moved to Philadelphia. I am trying to separate myself from Emmett, separate these feelings for him that have been consuming me for the past two years. They have weighed heavy on me, weighed me down, held me back at times. Our whole relationship (or whatever it was) was the worst roller coaster of all, and has taken an extreme toll on me emotionally. I hate that I have grown to resent him and obsess over him because we have grown so distant in the past six months. I feel like these feelings have made us turn on each other. For as loving as we once were, I feel like we are back to back with our guns at the ready, ready to just expel the other from our lives once and for all. And in spite of everything that made us great together, maybe he's been my Philadelphia. Maybe I thought he could be the person to help me start over and it turns out that after all this time, he's not....

But I'm really hoping that in the end, he turns out to be my New York. 

I do.

I have always been proud to be a New Yorker, but I have never been prouder to declare it then today.

I have always been Bisexual, but I have never been prouder to declare it then today.

Today is a historic day. New York State passed a bill 33-29 that legalized gay marriage.

Upon hearing that the vote was pending last week, I spent this entire week on edge; constantly checking news media for updates on whether or not the Senate had yet reached a decision. And of course, tonight, while I am napping, I wake up to find that the amazing news I have been waiting for has finally arrived. I literally jumped out of bed, started crying, began jumping up and down in my room shouting HOORAY! and clapping. Shaking. Overwhelmed with emotion. Grateful that this day had finally come for members of the Gay and Lesbian community who fought so long and hard for this right.

This is not just a step towards equality for all, this is a GIANT. FUCKING. LEAP.

To all the Homophobes and the haters and the Religious zealots and the doubters:

FUCK YOU - We're here, we're Queer, get fucking used to it already! We're not going away. We are not going to stop our fights. This achievement is only going to make us fight harder, push stronger and make it known that we will not let anything stand in our way. We will not stop trying to make sure that Gays & Lesbians everywhere get the rights that they deserve. To ensure that the Gay youth have a future that they can look forward to without hiding in the closet, without having to hide who they are, without worrying about being bullied or denied a job based on who they choose to love or being denied basic domestic benefits because they just happen to be in a same sex relationship. We are all human; we should all be treated the same.

Hopefully one day soon, we can all emerge from our naps and jump up and down with excitement as we celebrate the victory for the legalization of Gay Marriage in other states, the entire United States of America, and all over the world.

Love is Love. Equality for All. I can't wait to see the pictures from Pride this weekend in NYC. It won't just be a celebration, it will be a god damned victory march!

Ten years, Teen years.

In exactly one month from now, I will have graduated from High School exactly ten years ago. A milestone like that can certainly make someone feel old. As I ride the bus to work in the mornings and see local teenagers getting off to go to school, it makes me feel even older. All the weird clothes and cell phones and strange music, vibrant hair colors - things that were blatantly taboo while I was growing up have all become common place. Kids used to defy their parents by getting a random piercing on their face; Today, parents are willingly taking or allowing their kids to get these metallic deformations. (like those 'snake-bite' double lip piercings. Really? You're letting your 14 year old walk around looking like they just got snagged by a fishing hook?) I remember my mom freaking out because I put red streaks in my hair. A teenage girl I ride the bus with has bright purple layering underneath her jet black dyed locks. As her and her friends hop off the bus, they're quickly lighting up cigarettes and texting their friends before walking to homeroom. Oh, sure, there was smoking and other debauchery that went on amongst my peers back then, usually under wraps and out of the unseen eyes of adults - but today, it seems to have become so commonplace.The times, they are a changin'!

When I was 14, I started my freshman year of high school. I had short, pixie/boy cut hair. I wore vintage t-shirts and pants with legs so wide you could practically fit another human being in them. I had a backpack covered in ska & punk band patches. I wore a ball chain necklace and rubber bracelets and a chain attached to my wallet. Sometimes, I was even known to wear a studded choker or a white leather cat collar with a bow, encrusted with blue rhinestones. I would wear a vinyl skirt with a button down shirt, tie and wingtips - occasionally I added a tiara to the mix. I spiked my hair with pomade and carried an old metal lunchbox as a purse. I wore a dark blue hoodie every day with holes cut out in the arm bands for my thumbs. I put red streaks in my hair. I wore oversized "metal" band (Korn, System of a Down, Kittie, Stain'd, etc of the day) t-shirts. I wore out several pair of red & gray contrasting Vans skateboard sneakers - even though I'd never skateboarded a day in my life. I was a band geek - I played the flute in the marching and symphonic bands. My best friend & I started and were the only 2 members on the marching flag squad - for all of one parade. I was part of the TV station. I played JV lacrosse for their start-up season. I went to prom my junior and senior year and wore candy colored dresses to both of them.

By senior year I had toned down my look, grown out my hair, started wearing more sensible clothes and was preparing to head off to college in Boston. I wore a pink flowered dress with white sandals to my graduation under my white graduation gown. I got my diploma and tossed my hat in the air - no more teachers, no more books! I worked at a camp with my friends all summer and partied on the weekends at clubs and raves and had a relationship with a boy while cheating on my shut-in RPG playing boyfriend. Little did I know that in three months, my life would be changing forever. And not just because I was going to college, but because that year, ten years ago, September 11th happened - exactly 5 days before I was due to move into my college dorm for Freshman orientation. (My college was on the trimester system, so we had a late start.)  

Now, 10 years later - here I am. Living on my own in Philadelphia with my Master's degree. My hair is all one color, my jeans are normal and I wear plain t-shirts. The road has been rocky, but I'm still standing. And as I speak, construction crews are working on rebuilding the Twin Towers so that they too can stand strong again one day.

10 years may seem like a long time, but we're just getting started.

Living Like a Pop Star

Have you ever wanted to make highly ridiculous demands of other people just because you can? Well, if you're a famous pop star like Katy Perry, you can do just that! (The Smoking Gun just posted excerpts from a FOURTY FIVE PAGE tour ride for her summer tour.) Honestly, I don't think she's really a big enough or legitimate enough diva to be asking for all this nonsense since people will be turning their heads and going "Katy who?" three years from now. But in the meantime, it got me thinking: If I were a famous pop star touring the country all summer, what kind of crazy shit would I ask people to jump through hoops and bend over backwards (no lube) to get me to satisfy my diva-rage?

Below you will find my totally fictitious, over the top, life rider in which I ask for shit to be available "above and beyond my expectations" simply because I make more money than you and in this world, that means you have to kiss the ground I walk on and do as I say.

Dressing Room:  
For Artist and Artist alone, unless otherwise invited inside. SERIOUSLY, don't even try to come inside the dressing room without knocking first and being given formal notice that you're allowed to set foot inside.

• Room must have a private bathroom with full bath, preferably a tub with those little clawed feet, and separate shower room with marbled walls and dual shower heads. 
• Room should also have a separate toilet room as the Artist does not want to take a shit and then smell it while bathing! (Bathroom is for Artist's use ONLY. If you are invited inside and need to use the lavatory, please excuse yourself to find one inside the venue or use bathroom at the gas station down the street.) Toilet should be a Toto (Japanese brand) with warming seat, bidet features (front and back), as well as musical "hide my fart noise" function.
• Room must have a vanity area with those round bulb lights (with dimmer dial setting) all the way around the mirror, dual hand sinks with faucet heads (brushed chrome) that rise up from the counter top with single-handled hot/cold function on both. A 10X magnifier mirror must also be available (wall-mounted). 
• Six (6) plush hand towels and Eight (8) plush bath towels that do not leave fibers on your hands after you dry them, that are all pre-washed in lavender scented detergent and warm when Artist has arrived. 
• Three (3) bottles of scented anti-bacterial hand soap with lotion from Bath & Body Works. (Sweet Pea, Japanese Cherry Blossom and Coconut-Lime Verbena preferred. If unavailable, please choose a fresh or floral scent. No Sun Ripened Raspberry or Mango.)
• Room must have wireless internet, 42" LCD (not plasma; SONY preferred) screen TV (mounted mid-way up the wall) with 1080pi capabilities. There should be a complete sound system and DVR in room, pre-recorded with latest episodes of all network and high-end cable TV episodes, as well as a Nintendo Wii system (already hooked up to the internet) with selection of 8-10 multi-player games and four (4) Wii-motes with joystick attachments and four (4) regular style controllers. A Wii-fit device should also be available in room.
• Room must have plush gray (not shag or berber) carpeting, with walls draped in shades of pink. (This means magenta, fuschia, salmon, pink, carnation, shell pink, baby pink, and other toned variations.)
• Two (2) comfortable soft leather (no pleather!) chairs in light grey matching the carpets. These chairs must have a recliner option with the push button, not the handle. 
• One (1) matching soft leather couch, with attached chaise lounger.
• One (1) coffee table placed exactly 30" from the end of the couch. The Artist carries her own yard stick and will make sure this is an exact measurement. Coffee table must have a glass top and wooden legs, not metal. A stack of six (6) coasters should also be available for use on the coffee table.
• Room should have one dozen (12) fluffy throw pillows (synthetic stuffing, no feathers) in shades of pink and grey.
• Room should have one dozen (12) fluffy kittens. (Tabbies and Ragdolls preferred. declawed)
•  Two (2) tall floor lamps in the shape of flamingos. (where in that the head of the flamingo is what is holding the light bulb.) If these lamps cannot be found, please contact a local electrician and welder who can possibly construct these pieces for you. These lamps should not have pull chains, but three way dimmer switches (installed in a panel under each wing) and should be on at mid-dim when Artist arrives in room.
• One (1) wall length mirror, a la dance studio style. Aka - one wall of the dressing room should be entirely mirrored. 
• One (1) six (6) foot (ft or ') banquet table, which should obviously not be set against the same wall that is the mirrored wall. 
• One (1) large trash bin with foot pedal operated lid for main dressing room and one (1) small wastebasket for vanity room.
• One (1) refrigerator (brushed chrome) with dual doors that open outward and have freezer pull out shelf on the bottom. Freezer should contain a series of fun shaped ice trays (tiny bottles, teeth, animals, letters, etc), pre-filled with bottled water only and available for Artist's use on arrival.
•  One (1) Edible Arrangement featuring Pineapple and chocolate dipped (milk-chocolate only) Strawberries. Absolutely no melon or honeydew!
• Twelve (12) average sized, ripened organic bananas without bruising; still bunched.
• One (1) pound of McIntosh apples only, pre-washed with peeler and corer available. Four of these apples must be pre sliced on a plate with one (1) jar of Skippy brand reduced fat peanut butter available for dipping.
• One (1) loaf of soft whole wheat, whole grain bread
• Plate of fresh vegetables: both cherry and grape tomatoes, baby carrots, baby broccoli, cucumber slices with minimal peel on edges and a bowl of ranch dip.
• One (1) tray of assorted fresh sushi: Tuna, Salmon, Yellowtail, as well as assorted sushi rolls containing Avocado. This should arrive chilled and have been prepared by a trained Japanese Sushi Chef. Small container of soy sauce for dipping, as well as fresh wasabi and ginger should also be provided.
• One (1) water dispenser cooler with 5 gallon water tank filled with spring water. (Poland Spring preferred.) Absolutely NO PURIFIED WATER! (Everyone knows they just run that shit through a Brita, bottle it, and sell it with 150% markup.)
• Two (2) bags of Trader Joe's brand Baked Blue Corn Tortilla chips and two (2) containers of Trader Joe's brand roasted corn and black bean salsa, pre-opened and poured into matching clear bowls. (If a Trader Joe's is not located in your region, try your best to substitute - and by substitute I mean, call a Trader Joe's in a neighboring state and have it Fed-Ex'd overnight.)
• Two (2) bottles of Woodbridge Pinot Grigio, chilled and uncorked immediately before Artist arrives. (Artist has trouble operating corkscrews.) There should also be four (4) stemless white wine glasses available, cooled. 
• One (1) six-pack of Coke Zero, cans, chilled and one (1) bottle of Coke Zero, warm. Artist likes to pour the warm, bottled soda over a heaping glass of ice for extra refreshment. 
• Cooler with cubed, not crushed, ice and clean scoop. 
• One (1) DeLonghi Espresso machine (industrial quality) and three (3) bags of Starbucks Espresso roast (ground). 
• One (1) gallon of organic, free range non-fat milk. (should be in fridge upon arrival)
• One (1) Starbucks Barista (female and attractive, preferably an adorable and funny lesbian) should be on hand at all times to freshly prepare any hand crafted coffee beverages the Artist may desire at all times. 
• Other:  
• Chinaware (black; both entree and snack size) and silverware (brushed chrome), Two (2) dozen wooden chopsticks, One (1) pair of plastic chopsticks, ceramic mugs (also black) and drinking glasses (clear, preferably with a pink/grey design on the outside), plastic drinking straws, Chinet napkins.
• Box of Kleenex tissues with Aloe (2 ply)
• Sandwich cutters in the shapes of dinosaurs and hearts so Artist may cut off her crusts and eat sandwiches in a delightfully adorable fashion.

Got all that??

Great! Now I'm ready to lip-synch my way around the world in completely unnecessary comfort!

Tadaima. (ただいま)

Tadaima is a Japanese phrase meaning "I'm back", "I've returned" or "I'm home". One year ago today, I found myself stepping off a plane once again at Narita Airport, ready to embark on a whirlwind, three week adventure in which I saw incredible things, met amazing people and made some of the best memories of my entire life.

I wish that reflecting on this day could be a little more upbeat. With great sadness, almost three weeks ago, the world witnessed the massive earthquake and tsunami that devastated parts of northern Japan. I had been reluctant to talk about it until now because there were just so many emotions running through me: Fear that worse disasters could occur as the instability at the Fukushima Dai-Ichi power plant held the attention of the international media outlets, keeping watchers on edge that another Chernobyl might be occurring in the wake of two natural disasters. Sadness for the Japanese people, who I had come to know the warmth and kindness of, as they watched their homes and lives become destroyed in minutes, their families and friends lost in the wreckage,  the outcome of their futures suddenly uncertain.Worry for my friends within reach of the earthquake zone and the potential field of radiation that could spread in the event of a nuclear meltdown, who still are dealing with daily aftershocks, food shortages, rolling blackouts and minimal panic. (I still am finding it hard to truly put all my thoughts and feelings on everything into words, so please forgive me.)

Many of my relatives who know how strong my love for Japan is sent me messages of concern: asking if any of my friends in Japan are ok, telling me that they are glad that I was not there this year and wondering, do I still want to go to Japan? The answer to that question is yes. In fact, I want to go to Japan more than ever before. (And furthermore, on my first visit to Japan, there was both an earthquake which I could feel small aftershocks from in Tokyo - a completely foreign experience for someone raised on the east coast - and a typhoon.) Watching the events play out and seeing the scenes of both despair and hope, tales of heroism and sadness; I just wanted to grow myself to giant size, walk across the globe, and scoop the entire island of Japan up into my arms and keep everyone safe from further harm.I wanted to instantly be there helping the victims, giving them food and water and warmth and shelter and hope, helping them rebuild their homes and villages, buildings, roads and highways, helping restore the beauty of the Japan that I have come to know and love.

The disaster in Japan was just as emotional for me as September 11th had been almost 10 years before. And both events have strengthened my love for both places (Japan and NYC) which I hold intimately dear in my heart. I remember on September 11th refusing to go to bed, refusing to turn the TV off until they showed footage of the first plane hitting the Twin Towers. In the same way, post-earthquake & tsunami, I clung to Twitter alerts, Huffington Post updates, CNN news (and not just because Anderson Cooper and Sanjay Gupta are so damn handsome). It's interesting to think how much technology had changed since then. Can you imagine if September 11th had occurred in the time of Facebook and Twitter and the 24 hour news medium? If someone had tweeted that a plane had struck the WTC? If people had posted status updates that they were ok and safely out of the buildings? YouTube'd videos of the buildings collapsing within minutes? Luckily with these technological advancements, when I woke up at 5 AM on the morning of Friday, March 11th and saw a Huffington Post alert on my iPhone that a 8.9 magnitude Earthquake had struck Japan, I was able to go on Facebook and see that all my friends had updated their statuses to say that they were safe & check my Twitter feed to see that there had also been a massive tsunami following the quake - with retweets from friends relaying news from various other bloggers and media.

So, today I will take this time to reflect on those great times that I had only 365 days ago and know that soon enough, I will be able to say Tadaima once again to a newly rebuilt Japan, a Japan that will only grow stronger and more beautiful from this tragedy, and make many, many more memories.And Japan will reach out to me with open arms, hold me close and say Okaeri! (お帰りなさい)

100 Recipes Every Woman Should Know

I never claim to be the greatest cook in the world. Most nights, my dinner consists of frozen burritos, bowls of cereal, scrambled eggs, peanut butter sandwiches, etc. Simple, easy stuff because I'm just too damn lazy to cook anything. I am all about finding the easiest, fastest ways to get myself fed because when you're hungry, you don't want to worry about prep time and all that nonsense. One of my best investments was a slow cooker because you can just leave that thing on while you go to work and BOOM! come home and you're ready to go! (I have successfully mastered BBQ ribs and pulled pork thanks to that thing, as well as some delicious & juicy chicken thighs.)

One day, the kitchen angels from above heard my prayers and frustrations. (Ok, actually, it was the wonderful people at GLAMOUR magazine.) They wanted me to eat something better than chocolate covered pretzels and call it a meal. They sent me this great cookbook "100 Recipes Every Woman Should Know" and ever since, my outlook on dinner time has completely changed! No longer am I afraid of my stove or of doing dishes.I am only afraid of being able to decide on which great recipe to try next!

This wonderful cookbook was spawned on a time-treasured, epic recipe that was handed down the ranks of the GLAMOUR staff simply known as "Engagement Chicken". Rumor had it that if you made this delicious, roasted chicken for your boyfriend, he would propose not long after. There's even a list in the book of at least 60 success stories in which the engagement chicken recipe led to a proposal and marriage!

But even if you're single or not interested in marriage (or dating a vegetarian - don't worry, there's a section for meat free meals too, ladies), "100 Recipes Every Woman Should Know" has plenty of other delicious recipes in this book to help your feel fabulous and boost your chef-esteem! From simple snacks like the Get Skinny Dip and hearty homemade treats like Prove to Mom You're Not Going to Starve Meat Loaf, to the full-on Easy and Elegant Dinner Party extravaganza, you'll be starring on your own Food Network show in no time! There's even a section on Cheap & Easy Meals so you don't have to break the bank or live on ramen noodles any longer. (Which means more money for shoes!)

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100 Recipes Every Woman Should Know: Engagement Chicken and 99 Other Fabulous Dishes to Get You Everything You Want in Life, by Cindi Leive and the Editors of GLAMOUR is available in stores April 5th. You can pre-order on Amazon.com through the links above.

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