Love and War

Love is turmoil. She knows this. Her heart breaks like shards of a mirror. The distorted reflection stares back at her. Broken. She cries. And cries and cries. She yells. But all she feels is tired. Tired of the tears. Tired of the fighting. Arguments that never end, 360 degrees of insanity. Dirty words launched like nuclear missiles. When is enough enough, she asks herself. Will love conquer war? It never does. But she holds out hope. Hope is her currency. She sees the best in him. She loves him. But sometimes, his love is so painful it makes her want to crawl into a corner to die. End it all. "It's too much." She says. "I will never measure up. Never." She thinks. "I would love you better." Others tell her. But she doesn't want them. She wants him. Him only. She wants to look into his eyes and know that no one in the world will hurt her. He will protect her always. But instead he is the enforcer of her torture. He protects her from everyone but himself. He wields the knife that cuts her 100 different ways. But she believes in him. So she wraps her wounds up in gauze, wipes away her tears and holds her head high. She will live on faith. On Hope.....

Waiting for the shoe to drop.....

Good things don't happen to me. I don't say this as a pessimist or a cynic. It is just the reality I have come to know, and frankly accept. Expect little in the way of happiness and you won't get disappointed, this has become my mantra. I'm the girl that gets caught in a thunderstorm with no umbrella, gets splashed standing in the path of the car speeding through the puddle, whose heel breaks off during a wedding reception, whose bags will tear and explode walking home from the grocery store. I am the girl who by twenty-one had 3 operations on my uterus and by twenty-four had a stroke. I am the girl whose radar nearly always hones in on the biggest scumbag within 10 miles and believes that with me he is different, love will conquer all, even if I am the only one doing the loving.
So this is the thing, when life is ok.... or even good, I wait for the other shoe to drop. Because it inevitably will, right? And right now, with one glaring exception, my life is good. Happy even. For the first time in a long time, things are feeling comfortable. My relationship has grown through adversity and is now blossoming. We are in love, for once I feel safe, I feel real. I've stopped being what I think I should be, and have just decided to be me. The good and the bad. And someone loves me, truly, madly, deeply, all of the bad parts too. My future brother-in- law has moved here to Florida, marrying a wonderful girl he met while visiting us last year. We finally have family here and family I crave, intensely. Things are feeling stable, hopeful, peaceful. While I am still obsessively tweaking the Book, soon it should be out, and we may be able to buy our first home. I've lost the weight I put on, and with hard work maybe a little more. I feel pretty. Most of the time:) My dad, though suffering, is fighting, with all he's got. The weather outside is beautiful, not a hurricane in sight. Could I be feeling optimistic? I'm unsure. I used to see the world through rose colored glasses, but then life happened to me and the glasses cracked. I realized that what suddenly looked distorted through the lens was more real than anything before. Better adjust to it before it adjusts you. And so that optimisim became realism, pragmatism. But I miss it, the sometimes naive optimism, when I saw the best in everyone come my way, believed in basic goodness. Maybe I can get a little of that back now. Maybe, the shoe won't drop, maybe this is just how life can be. Mostly wonderful, with some awful mixed in to keep us grateful. Things will never be perfect, but maybe I don't have to live in fear anymore. Maybe the storm has almost passed. For many years I had a premonition I wouldn't live to see my twenty-fifth birthday. I nearly didn't. But I survived, and while the past few years have been spent living one day at a time, fearful of becoming greedy with this gift called life, I see something unexpected now. I see the future... and maybe, possibly, it can be fantastic.

Life in Action

I don't want to cry. Well, I always want to cry. It is my nature. Emotional. Sensitive. My mother once said during a New York drought, that they could single handedly solve the drought crisis by filling the reservoir with my tears. As my dear friend Sari would say, I'm an Over-Feeler. But today I will not cry. I can not cry. I've got to hold things together. My dad will be ok. He is going to survive this barbaric torture he is forced to suffer. Chemo, surgery, blood transfusions, infections, vomit, desperate fatigue. He was rushed to the emergency room today. He's suffering and I'm powerless to make it all better. I send presents, Cozy chamois cotton pajama's, endless hours of TV disk sets to pass the time stuck in bed, Love, Hugs and Kisses. But it's not enough. I want, No .... I need to take it all away. Enough already. How many times did he take my pain, my hurt, my sick and put the weight of that world on his shoulders, to carry it for me. How do you stand by and watch you're Hero fall? The tears are lingering, but I push them away, press them back, tears will solve nothing..... This isn't a drought, it's life in action, cruel and beautiful all at once.

Guess who's Bizzack:

Yes, I've been missing in action for nearly a month. Where do I begin. Do I need a doctors note? I thought I could hang with the Big GIRLS and ended up taking a few trips to the emergency room. This, and a million other things have had me M.I.A. ..

You know, or maybe you don't, that I was in desperate need of some female companionship, Estrogen, giggles and talk about all things fabulously important like M.A.C. makeup and brazilians. So my girls DaBxSuperstar and the Blackanese Princess came down to Miami and we had a blast. Fabulous dinners on Lincoln Road, hours spent trying NOT to spend a million dollars in So Good Jewelry, my new most favorite store. Miss Superstar took her little sister on a bonding mission to Miami Ink to get matching tattoos. I wanted to see Ami, the Isreali badass that owns the shop, but they were actually closing for the night when we got there.

Our first night we ventured over to Prive, better known as part of Opium Garden, where it was "Lapdance Tuesdays", and for some reason it didn't dawn on me that there would actually be strippers there, Giving Lapdances. Call me crazy, I like to believe that if I haven't actively decided to venture into a strip club, it's not going to venture to me. I forgot this is Miami, where anything goes, even in your local hotspot. So, as we settled into VIP, I was quickly greeted by a lovely girl in a floss sized G-String and little itty bitty bikini top, rubbing her ass allllllll ova my head. I was sitting on the bench and she was dancing above me. Then the guy sitting next to me asked for a "private" dance, and BAM, breastesses everwhere. Seriously, I just wanted to listen to some "I'm Bossy", without all the booty. And EVERYONE was smoking, I mean EVERYONE. The freakin BUSSBOYS were smoking. And then the G-String diva started hitting on me, WHILE smoking in my face. This would be the beginning of my demise. I mean, what civilized state even allows this anymore!!! New York... NO. Los Angeles, NO. BUT Miami, let the debauchery continue! Lets Poison everyone!!!

I'm sorry to all you smokers out there, I mean no offense, but truly, if you think your second hand smoke isn't harmful, you're just wrong. For ANYONE with a breathing issue, smoke is like Kryptonite.

So we left the strippers, Football players and other assorted Miami Butterflies and Bees to bounce for the night. After spending the following day paralyzed in my bed, I decided to once again venture down to South Beach. This night we were invited to a spot I had never heard of- SNATCH. Now all anyone needs to know about this spot is as we are walking up to the entrance, BEAU from Big Brother 6 is outside, talking to the owner. So, I'm DONE. HEAVEN. And while I really was irritated with him and his participation in the Nerd Herds activities last summer on my favorite reality show(besides the Amazing Race), He has come from the dark side and is now friends with My future "if I was a lesbian" wife, Janelle, and thus gets a cool kid club card. So once again, we settled into VIP, this night sans strippers and the first thing I see directly across from me is Mickey Rourke in all of his at least 50 if not 60 year old, Nip'd and Tuck'd glory, practically having sex with a blond younger than me. It was like watching a train wreck it was so bad, and yet I honestly couldn't tear my eyes away from that. Until of course Paris Hilton walked by to sit with the 2006 "Brat Pack." Paris, her sister, Kim Kardashian and Brandon "Greasy" Davis who infamously went on a "Firecrotch" rant insulting Lindsey Lohan, as Paris sat next to him giggling and sidekick messaging away. The dude is a slimeball...and in person, the slim was just drip, drip, dripping off of him. I could not believe this guy is worth Billions. Where is the justice??? Miss Kardashian, who is quite possibly the BADDEST chick I've seen, in well, forever, was "Canoodling", as Page Six would say, with Scott Storch. Kim, is nearly flawless. Granted, she bought her figure from the Best of Doctor 90210's, but damn.....flawless I tell you. I was shocked she was all over Scott Storch, I mean.... idck. No offense Scott.

BB6 Beau came over to me and told me "You're a Hot Bitch". I wanted to scream at him that I was a HUYGE fan, and put on the full stalker thing, but just couldn't bring myself to it. I just blushed and said, "Aww thank you!" Dumbass... It's the New Yorker in me, to good to act like a fan. Pshhhhh. BB6 Ivette came and I nearly lost it again. I HATED this girl most of last summer. She was Janelle's arch nemesis, but then at the end, when it was Ivette and Maggie in the Big Brother finals, I was pulling for Ivette. She's a hot tempered latina lesbian that was just misguided hating on my Janie. So I sat back and watched Gay Beau and Gay Ivette dance across from me, withouth ever uttering a "I know everything about you because Im a crazy Big Brother fan" word. *Sigh*.

The night at SNATCH was filled with celebs and Miami socialistas, faces many of which I knew but couldn't place, probably models and the like. If you're ever in the M.I.A. stop by. The spot itself is cozy and comfortable, the waitresses are all HOT, they don't overcrowd the place, and on any given night you can spot Mathew McConaughey and Lance Armstrong or Jay and Beyonce, and hundreds of other randomly beautiful people, all of whom just want to chill and listen to good music. If they banned smoking it would be perfect. Unfortunately they don't, which is why the following morning I woke up deathly ill with absolutely no voice. The first sign I've been poisoned by smoke is my voice goes, then my lungs. And then it's just a viscious cycle of events that inevitably lead to an emergency room Doctor looking at me with that Maternal or Paternal look of astonishment and dissapointment, saying "What were you thinking going out!"

Too be continued....have to pee:)