Promises promises … that’s not just a line from a Naked Eyes, or more recently a Take That, song. There are the promises you make for others and the ones you make for yourself. I try hard not to make promises I can’t keep, but when it comes to myself they are sadly easier to break.
My one month blog writing challenge was a success in May, an epic fail in June, and July…well, we’ll have to see how it goes.
In my mind I know that time waits for no woman to decide what do with their life, it is a constant beast, a continuously moving organism propelling in a forward direction. And dang if it’s not moving ridiculously fast, faster than I care (or anyone else, really) to acknowledge.
It’s a bittersweet passing of time because the more traveling I do (the something that I love), the quicker it goes (the catch-22).
As a member of the New York Times Film Club, I’ve pre-screened a few movies this year, some good, some predictable. Sometimes, like tonight, the screening features a Q&A afterward with the director and one of the actors.
And tonight’s movie, The Hero, featured none other than the legendary cowboy and voice of Sam Elliott. The dreamiest septuagenarian ever, and that voice!
Thursday night, wearing a power pantsuit from Lilith Paris I attended the HOW Conference produced by the Quorum Initiative.
I met some of the most amazing women during the two-day conference. Entrepreneurs to C-suite executives, and women like myself starting our own businesses. Finally, a future I can see for myself.
Strolling through my ‘hood and romance is in the air, alas not for me.
I spy a wedding at the Brooklyn Museum atrium, and then a lost slipper–a modern day Cinderella perhaps, traipsing through the tree-lined streets of Park Slope.
One of my friends is leaving New York City after 15 years and we spent the past weekend catching up with her Big Apple bucket list.
First stop, the Georgia O’Keeffe exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum:
We followed with a tour of the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, and fell in love with the rose gardens:
Tomorrow Kinga leaves for California, and a new chapter begins.
(2) new four-letter
(3) word in town,
(5) one you should be wary
(8) about adding to your daily vocabulary. you most
(13) likely use it more often than you realize, it is sneaky that way.
(21) and although it’s not as disruptive as say a like or an Uhm, it can cause irreparable damage to your life.
(34) it’s the kind of word, if not used carefully, that can wreak havoc over your existence. its overuse creates disdain in others. its utterance makes you more susceptible to bad habits and ill decisions.
(34) you may find yourself being pulled in all sorts of directions, not all of them familiar or comfortable. sometimes the path will be lonely, and you may find yourself completely unrecognizable at the end.
(21) and what of that person who emerges from the fog after a battle of sheer wits and exhaustion for leading life
(13) without regard for other people’s boundaries, for claiming time as their own?
(8) time belongs to us all, does it not?
(5) Would you consider being honest,
(3) with yourself about
(2) how busy
Note: This poem is written in a Fibonacci sequence, logical math and Nature’s numbering system.
The fog rolled in with the onset of rain, enveloping the Financial District. It felt every bit like a scene in a SyFy movie, and the Oculus’ modernistic structure made it even more so. On the way back to Grove Street, I walked through the night mist; the streets eerily quiet. I emerged from the subway at Barclay’s Center to a downpour.
The sky was gunmetal gray, the rain steady.
There was no way not to get wet, the raindrops were enormous. So I walked home in the rainstorm, the shower matching a melancholic mood. By the time I got home, I was soaked to the bone.