Little Letters

Dear doctor,

Listen, I don’t know if you’re aware, but this man you’re going to operate on tomorrow is the coolest dude you’ll ever meet. You have no idea. He’s like the god of cool, that’s how cool he is! So, no, tomorrow will not be just another day in the OR. Tomorrow will be a special day. Everything must go as we have discussed and better.

Let me tell you a story:

Once upon a time, there was a man who owned a horse. And this man asked his daughter to go on a trip to town with him on the horse. Once they arrived, they began climbing off the horse, but while they were trying to climb off, the saddle got untied and made them fall on the ground. They both landed on their backs which made them burst with laughter. So much that their stomachs hurt. It was silly and a very special memory.

The End!

Please make my dad better again so that we may continue sharing memories.

Dear Papa,

Stop trying to steal the urinals. I’m sure they’re super convenient but I can only fit so many in my purse. Ok? So you know that thing grew back, right? It sucks and I cannot lie, I’m very scared. A different scare this time. I know you’re very strong and the doctors around here believe that you’re in good shape to go through this again. I mean, you’re already ready for tomorrow. I tell you, that if I were you I would be curled like a bean with the covers over my head. But you’re so strong and willing; I’m so proud of you. I really wish that I could be as positive as you are. I wasn’t sure if deciding to go through with the surgery was the right thing to do, but you assure me that you want everything possible to be done to help you get better and that’s what I will continue to do for you. The doctor told me that we shouldn’t give up just yet and so I’m hoping so so much that everything goes as best possible. I would never give up on you! I told the doctor that I trusted him. He’s under a lot of pressure. I mean, he has no idea what you’re capable of doing with a broomstick. So, he knows better of what is expected.

This year hasn’t been easy for us. It’s been tough. You’ve never had any health issues so dealing with this situation was completely new for me. I’m just here taking it day by day. I try to see you as much as possible, but I’m weak when it comes to you. I don’t know how to handle seeing you like this. You have always been the strong one in the family and I have always been a river of tears. I’m the Niagara Falls of tears. I’m a mess most of the time. I just want you well.

I love you so much!

Dear Jesus,

Dude, what’s up? Please don’t be mad at me. Are you mad at me? I haven’t forgotten you and you know that! And please do forgive me if you’ve seen me upset at you, but you have to understand, right? It just doesn’t fit precisely. My dad is on the same level as Mother Theresa, even Pope John Paul II, heck, even St. Francis of Assisi. He is, actually, even saying that he’s waiting for the doctor to give him the green light so that he can go back to cleaning the churches. He loves those places, more than you’ll know. Do you remember the time when he was chosen for the greatest and kindest parishioner award? And the Diocese of Brooklyn was so kind to give him a medal at a special mass in another pretty church? Ok, not really the greatest kindest parishioner award (I’m not sure if that actually exists) but it was something pretty close to it. It was a very cool recognition. Anyway, isn’t that something? Something that gives him a million points towards a wonderful life ever after bank account. We need a withdrawal please.

The world needs this man. Have you not ever seeing him saying good morning to strangers, because he does. And when children are crying in church he walks over to them, makes a silly face, and like magic, there we have happy children in the church. And these children love him after. A saint I tell you. But really, I know that I don’t pray or talk to you. I know that most of the time I’m confused. I have no explanations yet since I’m on a constant journey of self-discovery, but I believe in You. I believe in great things from “something/one” greater than us, than this. I know that there’s an energy that surrounds us that can make miracles happen. So you know, I need you to hook me up. Please.

Tumor,

Fuck you! I hate you cancer! You hear that? Get away!

Fighting

After my father’s brain surgery certain memories keep coming back to him. Almost as if the tumor was blocking those precious moments he held on to so dearly. Whenever we go to the house he tells us stories from his childhood, or dreams he dreamt that night—he always wants to know its meaning. He also talks to us about how proud he is to have made the decision to come to this country because he sees how well we turned out to be. This particular memory seems to be on repeat mode.

He looks at us with his wonderful hazel eyes, takes a deep breath and raises his fist, “I really didn’t want to move. I wanted to stay there because, really, what is an old man like me going to do in a foreign country? But, you see, my brother told me of everything my children would benefit if I moved to New York, so we made the decision. And here we are, my children never had to sleep on the floor, always had food and grew to be good people”. And then he adds, “I picked up garbage and did what I could with honor; it is not easy for an illiterate person to make it in this country.” He then, may or may not add a joke.

But, you see, my father made it! May not have been scholarly and in a big corporation, but his story is as triumphantly wonderful as that of many immigrant families. His life has been filled with energy so positive that it is impossible to not feel once he walks into a room. It might also be because he might make a grand entrance with a dance performance. His humor is a gift.

Even during the difficult days of recovery from his surgery he would welcome the nurses with huge smiles and flirtatious comments…and named each with cute names making them burst with laughter at his silliness. He wanted nothing but happiness in his hospital room. And it is possible that the only reason my dad might get upset is if his food is not ready when he’s hungry, which is something that I inherit from him. I, too, get very cranky when hungry.

Since April my dad has recovered very well. He’s strong and eats like never before, gained weight—just don’t tell him his belly is big—goes for walks to the park, and continues being a Yankee fan (if you ever see him on Sundays he’s wearing a suit with a Yankee hat. He’s very stylish).

I hope he continues recovering. I hope my dad, with his contagious smile, love of life, and his faith can beat that horrible thing that grew in his head. He recently started his treatment. Six weeks of radiation and chemo which are a bunch of pills a day. And the pills cost more than the rent of a New York City polished wooden floored studio. A MONTH! What kind of crap is that? I haven’t really given this situation that much thought because I just cannot believe the kind of health insurance this country has. And some have the nerve, yes you with the big fat bank account and business and I don’t even know what else, to kick and scream that so much is being taken out of your…what is it, taxes? I don’t know much about this, I don’t really follow it because it pisses me off, but I do know that if there’s a way to help people get health insurance, then why not? What is your problem? Have a heart! Good people need it.

Ok, I’m done scream at you.

But, at this moment it is very frustrating not knowing how one can help one’s father get better. It is heart breaking in fact.

Hard to Say

I haven’t written for a long time. First, I didn’t have much to say and then there was so much. My father had brain surgery and it has brought so much sadness that to even consider writing about it makes me feel awful. He’s OK now, however. He has recuperated so well and I’m so grateful that there were no complications during the surgery. But, I also wish that there won’t be any further suffering later on. You see, he’s eighty years old. How much can he take? Chemo and radiation, I mean. He’s appointment is on May 12th to see the doctors regarding his treatment. I don’t know if he’ll start then, but everything makes me so afraid.

I’ve never been this afraid before. Even at this age my dad is the strongest man I’ve known. Strict, strong, stubborn and just, amazing! I want him to be okay. I want him happy always. There’s that scar on his right side of his head shaped like a horse shoe that he keeps looking at with a yellow mirror he keeps by his bed. He says that he doesn’t know what is going on in there. I wonder if he feels lighter after they took that egg shape thing that kept causing him headaches. Maybe that’s why he feels weird.

How long has it been since the surgery? I don’t remember well, but maybe it has been too little time for him to be back to himself again. I want him back.

It is all too hard to think about. I’m trying to be normal. To be there as much as I can. But is it weird that I find it so difficult to see him like this? I think of this and then I think I’m a horrible daughter.

Coming of Age

Yesterday was a great day. I should have wrote yesterday when I really felt it, but I ended up catching up on all the promises I made during the weekend. Which had something to do with going to the gym and cleaning a chicken I ordered from the live poultry place.

Speaking of which, excuse me for a second, but I do need to say that while I was cleaning said chicken and singing along with whatever song the radio was playing I saw a couple of chopped up feathers still attached. Feathers. Broken feathers. And so it reminded me that this particular chicken was alive not that long ago and that when I placed the order someone removed it from the cage it must have been in for weeks (or maybe months?). I stopped and looked at it. Poor chicken, I said in my head. Even the leg still had a tag with a number tied around its ankles. But I continued the cleaning process. Cleaning all the fat and weird looking things and all because I wanted a fresh chicken for today. TODAY, I will be eating that chicken I feel sorry for and I might die. I feel sorry for animals, but not enough to make me stop eating them. I know, total moral wickedness. If only tofu tasted like something.

So before the chicken issue, I was exploding with happiness. Uncontrollable body tingling happiness that rises from the core of your being. I was even happier for just feeling the magnitude of this emotion. I want it back. Though it is not all completely gone today. I’m just less hyper but the feeling is still bouncing in my chest.

All this got me thinking of everything that one must go through to discover what’s across the swamp. The beginnings, the endings, the darkness, the hating, the confusions, etc.  And then I turned 25. Or is this a continous cycle until I’m thirty? I like it just the way it has happened. The phases of adulthood unfolding as I pull my hair from side to side in confusion. And then it just unfolds portraying that because one has been so hopeful and so patient (kind of) you get a gift! You get to be happy with someone who makes you even more happy. One finds out (after $30,000 of school loans for a Psychology degree) what one’s purpose is, and it is, in my case, what I once did not intended it to be. This one in particular, is crucial for a life filled with uncontrollable moments of astronomical emotions of joy as I have encountered. Not knowing what one’s place is, as an individual–not as a partner or daugther or what have you–can be so tormenting that can lead to being disatisfied in other departments of one’s life. Oh you knew that? I just discovered that thank you very much. But this is exactly what I’m referring to, the part when coming of age is so liberating. Life just starts to make sense, who knew.

UPDATE: The chicken was…was…delicious! But I won’t sleep tonight.

I’m Here Watching the Biggest Loser

I asked Ariel to take some photos of me on Sunday. I wanted to try an image that I saw in my head. I wanted to be seated sort of staring up at something magical in the middle of an enchanted forest. Basically, I wanted to look like I was a fairy. Except that when I sat in front of my computer and opened photoshop to create this image it looked more like I took scissors to cut out my form and taped my silhoutte on a picture of a backyard.

I took a photoshop class a few years ago when I was smart and cool and was taking college courses while in high school. I get dissapointed at myself whenever I cant figure these type of things. I’m so cruel to my own self. Is not like I was born with photoshop CS3 knowledge. I have to practice. It is the same way whenever I hear someone tell me that I have to direct more when I photograph. I know that well, though. I have to keep on practicing. Practice! Practice!

The good news, for me at least! Obviously, why would it be good news to you? You don’t know me–is that I’m going to take a few classes to improve my skills maneuvering the camera manually. Dude, I can’t wait. Hopefully, now I can lose my stage fright too.

I don’t know, how you ever felt a little weird taking photos of something that you find interesting but are afraid that the people watching are wondering why a trash can might be appealing? I do, it makes me feel funny. So that’s something else I have to work on.

The classes start the 14th of next month until March. I’m really looking forward to this experience. Take that automatic!

An Inevitable Sense of Hope

I do not know about you and how you ever felt about politics, but for me, anything that had this particular subject was just providing a huge dosage of nap time. There was just so much that I would have been able to take before I grew irritant of the topic. For one thing, eight years ago  I was not a US citizen and could not vote. That has changed thankfully. Also, I was a minor which if I remember correctly, at seventeen, I did not care about it very much. I was just not that into it.

Within these last eight years, with everything that has happened, it just seemed that politics took such a negative turn. It was all Bush this, Bush that, Bush sucks, etc., etc.

But did you see that view today? Did you see the endless sea of humanity in Washington? Did you feel the goosebumps? Did you get all choked up at any of Obama’s speeches throughout his campaign because, gosh, that man gets to me. I cannot help but to feel something throughout me whenever he speaks.

I’ve never seen so many people with the same feelings that I’m feeling, I’m sure, when they hear our new president speak. What is it about this man that evokes this spirit of goodness? He feels real, like one of us, like a next door neighbor. Not robotic and emotionless. I don’t know but I love, love! Barack Obama and I’m so happy and honored to have voted for this man who ignites hope in so so so many people and I think that’s great. I applaud that! It is this hope that makes me want to be better. And, you know, there’s something about his physical appearance too that makes you want to meet him and say hey you’re so cool playing basketball and all, give me a high five.  

And I just really want say to you Obama, my very cool president, so listen closely! You have no idea how many people support you. There are a lot of us, here, cheering for you because we like your smile and you have such adorable little girls and charming wife. We believe in your promises, we believe when you say that we can all make differences as a nation. So take your time, take a deep breath and ponder on the fact that this job is going to be tough. I mean you know that, right? Anyway, I’m sure that when you have a few minutes to yourself  tonight after you get home from the 10 balls you’re attending and decide to randomly google blogs and come across mine after the 15, 345 search result you’ll smile and think to yourself yes Julia, don’t worry I won’t let you down.

So yeah, back to you. Wow, what a day for our nation! Let’s keep the high spirits going.

What a Year!

Don’t  you think? I thought it was an extraordinary year. As I sit here eating pita chips with hummus and drinking wine from a regular cup I realized that this year came and went in a blink of an eye. Where did the time go. I didn’t even get a chance to apply to grad school!

I wish I had the energy to write  a time line of my favorite and most meaningful events. Like when I moved out of my parents exactly a year ago until the time I moved in with my boyfriend a month ago. But, you see, Phoebe is scratching the door to the kitchen closet which is her way of letting me know that I’ve forgotten to feed her. So on I go.

May you all have a wonderful New Year’s Celebration and that it brings everything you ever asked for.

To all of you…

Apple Pie

It is excruciatingly cold today. I wrapped myself up like a burrito and still felt like my knees were very close to freezing point. I didn’t leave the office afraid of that first cold slap when you walk outside, but somehow I still enjoy this season. I love the hot chocolate, tea and comfort of the many many foods I love. I love going home and Phoebe jumps so happy to see me.

(When I think of Phoebe, I immediately think of Bianca because I feel as if Bianca can sense that there’s another fur kid in my life which makes me feel bad.)

I printed a recipe for an Apple pie. And hope that by tomorrow I can enjoy it while lazily sitting watching a show or something.

Twilight Time

Hi, this is one more blog in the world of bloggers writing about the Twilight series. Sorry, I know you’re probably not interested in hearing about this book because  you might be one who wrote a especially long review expressing your hatred towards this particular story. You probably hate how is written and you most certainly dislike poor Bella and her obsession for Edward and how this book needed an editor with magical powers to make it somewhat better. So, you see, I won’t keep you any longer and just let you know that I’m one of the people who is loving the book. I know, such a silly girl.

But I absolutely love the book.  I do, what can I say. And do you know what is even more hilarious is that I actually like Bella. I do! Yes, her dreams and goals are not mentioned…ever, except for that one goal to be with Edward. Ah, teenage love. She reminds me of my teen years (I probably shouldn’t have said that), not the part where she cooks for her dad, or her clumsiness, though. But definitely her way of always daydreaming about Edward and wanting nothing but to be with him despite everything that could go wrong. Also, the fact that her world becomes this guy and nothing else and that he is absolutely gorgeous by monumental proportions is exactly the way I used to feel about boys when I was fourteen. Simply, obsession. So is cute to me reading this kind of story. It makes me smile and daydream after reading something unrealistic and pathetic and totally romantic.

I’m not done with the book…almost finished however. I also saw the movie which gave me the character’s face and (ha!) I’m in love with Edward Cullen, he’s the guy I picture while I’m reading and I’m so glad for the obvious reasons.

and…close your eyes! I’m planning on reading the rest of the books.