Tag Archives: New York City

Hiding Out


I stayed indoors with my fears of falling again and re-injuring or injuring a new body part of mine. I stayed indoors because I live in New York City where the people are wild with busy bodies. I stayed indoors because I realized quickly that the world outside is definitely “lack of movement friendly.” I stayed indoors because it was better than dealing with the antics of and lack of wheelchair or crutch accessibility. I was much safer being in the house, safer being away from obstacles that would love nothing more but to come and test me.

During the moments of going out into the world, I watched and lingered with my eyes on people’s ability to move, walk, jog, sit, jump, ride a skateboard and dance. It looks easy – using two legs to perform. Everything is easier. I wonder, if they understand how awesome it is to be able to move so freely in the world of rapid movement.

I wonder, how many of them were grateful.  Or how many of them like me never even pregnant a thought of having their ankle mobility and such taken away for a limited of time. So, I miss being able to use my ankle in various ways in a very mobile friendly world.

Moving on – everyone has a habit of wanting to tell you what to do with your life and they even go as far as to give unsolicited advice many times because everyone whose not you has the solution to everything, including your broken/displaced ankle. Imagine when all kinds of people – relatives, registered nurses who are connected to friends and the surgeon want to chime in on my life and what decisions I should be making and why I should do this or that.

There were quite a few people who were against me and my obtaining a wheelchair. They said it will limit my body use and I’ll lose my muscles at a quicker rate, not to mention stall the healing of my ankle. I got a wheelchair anyway because this is MY life, not theirs. And if these people have never had the pleasure and interesting experience of learning how to use crutches and over long distance (or have a built-in mental fear of using crutches), well, why the FUCK would I listen to them for?

To rewind a little, from the emergency I was given lots of pain medication and they practically threw the crutches into my lap like another useless perscription of sort without instructing me on how to use my brand new legs. Did this build my confidence level with crutches? And was it supposed to? I think absolutely fucking not!

Towards the ending when I was heading out the emergency room it was time for my body to vomit it’s organs, raging anger and maniac depression out. I was outside (thankfully with a good friend) at 4am from the cab ride home to the concrete of what was going to be my new place of stay – vomiting and vomiting and vomiting and vomiting. I thought about people who used heavy drugs and why? I thought about why was I going through this and than quickly thought: Why ask why?

It took me 30 minutes to get inside the apartment, due to my drugged-ness of medication and learning how to use crutches for the very first time. The feeling of illness, nausea, pain in my foot, vomiting every few crutch-steps, along with a crackhead up my ass telling me a home remedy consisting of soaking my foot in butter and sugar – while trying to balance from the extreme dizziness I felt and eyeing the ground for immediate cracks on the floor at 4am was one of the hardest things to do in my life. I still don’t know how the fuck I made it into the elevator or into the abode.

The same week, a few days later, I felt froggy and decided on going to hang out with a friend of mine like we do every Friday. The only catch was using crutches. (I didn’t even think about getting a wheelchair yet and the thought of staying indoors seemed very depressing.) It didn’t hit me until I got to the lobby where I actually felt frightened – as frightened as the first day of kindergarten: Was I going to fall? How long will it take me to go to his car from the building (which is a 40 second walk) with these crutches? Am I sure I want to do this? I allowed myself to feel the panic. I digested it and braved on. It took roughly 10 minutes.

Mentally I was completely helpless. I felt powerless, which triggered humiliation, shame and pure embarrassment. Note: This doesn’t mean I look at people who use crutches or a wheelchair and say to myself, “They should feel humiliated.” This is what I feel personally. This is my experience. And those 10 minutes felt long. I lowered my head in defeat, and when people asked me if I needed help – I smiled half ass and unconvincingly. I was drowning, fatigued. I had to stop short every 5 crutch-step. It was enough and still is enough to use a wheelchair when necessary, especially when I’m going the distance and/or shopping.

I’m not above using a wheelchair at the moment and I don’t see why I should be. Why can’t I make things easy for me when I need it now the most? Why do I have to abuse myself physically even when I have a broken bone that needs to fuse together and heal? I physically abuse myself when I go to the gym and weightlift for hours during the week. (This doesn’t include cardio or stretching work.) I easily put in 10 hours or more at the gym a week. This doesn’t include workouts at home or how much I walk the city streets for extra mileage and to boost my metabolism whenever I can.

I also know, unlike most people I don’t have a problem with inactivity. I have the opposite problem – where I need to learn and force my hand for when my body, central nervous system or mind needs a day off from the gym. So when it’s time to bounce back, I’m going to put in 100% because I have a wonderful gym mentality and like a dear friend who reads my blog has stated to me, “You want it more than most.” And I do. And I’ve already proven this to my motherfuckin self for a decade with weightlifting.

So, excuse me if I want a fucking wheelchair. Excuse me, if for the moment that I believe it’s necessary to take a moment out, to relax, to say, “Hey, it’s alright to take it easy because it’s important right now.” I’ve given myself permission and fuck what anyone else thinks. Who likes hopping or swinging on one leg? This is my life. Fuck everybody else!

I write this, just in case someone else is questioning whether they should use a wheelchair at any point in time for their fibula fracture when they need it because people couldn’t mind their fucking business and you may doubt yourself. Just because you’re young and not obese doesn’t mean you don’t have a right to use a wheelchair. It’s your life, your business, your prerogative. Fuck everybody else and their shameless opinions. They don’t know you or what you’re going through. They get NO say! You have my permission. 🙂

Pretty soon I’ll be hopeful in not needing to spend money on cabs like I’m made out of trees or hold my heavy leg up during the cab ride because New York City and their infamous potholes hurt! I’ll be hopeful to not have to base a decision at the whim of a day or night – trying to figure out if I can be fundamentally happy where I nap and put the world and my ankle to sleep, so I don’t wallow in pain or depression. I’ll be hopeful about the near future where I don’t have to pick something off the floor in trembling balance and any sign of dog toys or sneakers on the floor won’t instill fear in me.



The Universe, Sexual Thoughts, Rower and Motivation

Motivation comes in various forms. 

I’m going to share one of mine with you’s that happens during my free-for-all ovulation mode, which captures my salacious thoughts and uncanny desires. 

Before I go on I want to mention, you must at least be eighteen years of age or at the very least be of a responsible mind for the explicit material (if you consider them to be) you’re about to read.  Many who follow and read my blog already know I write exactly what’s on my mind or what life experience has brought to my attention and this is based on my biased perception of the world.  Without further ado, either click away or enjoy please. 

It was a semi-cloudy day off in the busy streets with the New York City breeze sliding its carefree attitude into my straight hair. I strolled to the gym visualizing exactly which two Cardio machines I’m going to split my time on although deep down inside I was low on Cardio inspiration.  Fast forward my barcode gets scanned and I thought to look pass the male receptionist where I saw the hunk of a Personal Trainer Rock who I’ve always had a mammoth crush on. 

Quickly he jumped out his seat both gentlemanly and nervous walking up to me tripping over his tongue with a heavy Spanish accent, “Hi, how are you doing?”  And in between his glowing pecan-rican complexion and sensational authentic smile the universe turned on the engine in the middle of my sex chakra.  

I thought almost out loud and caught myself with the words, he needs to stop teasing me with his flirtatiousness as I’m going to drop my clothes and have sex with him in front of all the gym members so they can take a lesson or two in sex fitness.

All of a sudden the motivation I was lacking was found.  The sexual charge became the intense fuel I needed for the Rower and Stationary Bike.  But mind you, I never made it to the Bike.  I happily stood on the Rower machine for over forty minutes with heart-pounding cardio sex electrifying my head.  

I closed my eyes and rolled them back slowly and listened to the sensuality of SadeShow me how deep love can be.  The instruments within the song seeped into my aspiring soul and I clenched onto the plastic bar pulling towards the bottom of my bulging breasts as I deeply fantasized on exerting force to match his muscular hard pecs. 

We’d embrace like titanic lovers and swallow the glands of one another.  Our skin would vomit sweat and we’d slip and slide in multiple active positions.  The grinding would complete mine into synergy.  During this time I called out to the universe and all its frequencies for Personal Trainer Rock to sense the lovemaking creation I was embarking. 

I tensed my entire body in a collective kegel and chanted:  I want him to feel me.  I want him to feel me. I want him to feel me buck from incomprehensible pleasure.  I want him to feel me right on his cock, exploding, shivering, and full of moisture, rhythm and reason. I want him to fuck out all the cum I have in this body of mine, in which he would ask me if this was indeed the kind of training I needed.    

Time was up said all the energy I gave to the Rower. The back of my neck was slapped with an ounce of rower sex sweat and my calluses formed into blood moon pearls of irritation, perspiring like bubbling fire and like cold sores no matter what season of the year.  I shook off my lustful anger with the inhalations and exhalations of cardio sex I entertained and when I turned around, guess who has been watching me sitting out and chilling on the massage table smiling? 


The universe is good and motivation comes in different forms.  Get some! 😉


Mental Hurdle

Once again the mind of a brute struck me!

The exasperating feeling of my body becoming lighter.  The likelihood of my footsteps landing softer on pavement. The ailing reflection of an aura becoming comforted by much refinement in femininity.

I don’t question the bully who mocks my pacing of an indecisive vista of a prize to be earned.  I plunge uncertain in the continuous reel of a rampant stomach bloated like a tub full of fat-bellied quadruplets with my menstrual cycle stringing my hormones in high streaks similar to the musical score of The Shining.

I qualm in a horrid practice of running around every inch of the apartment as if my ass caught fire and all the imaginative ants dropped onto the floor burnt over self-indulgent panic attacks and suddenly I’m at square one bemused due to the fear and speculation of losing weight.


Why am I dieting better?

All day and night I’ve dressed in layers of overbearing shapeless clothing in attempts to hide any inch that might have been vanished from sight.  I’m utterly exhausted in this heat and humidity of both my bloody rotation and the gloom of New York City weather copying the cat of Seattle.

I dislike the idea, the thought and the response of being remotely skinny.

Shrinking down into the thought of centimeters torments my fragile ego.  I feel like at any moment I’ll drown and disappear resembling the Wicked Witch of the West in the Wizard of Oz except water wouldn’t be the offender in this self-made barrier.

Is physical existence vastly different from my mass taking up space on Earth?
(I’m unfamiliar about Science.)

Stupidly and viciously I jumble the idea of ‘size and weight’ as if they equal to muscle defeat when they don’t.  But in this fictitious brain of mine I cannot get over this cemented design as of yet.  Sooner or later I must breakthrough one of my mental hurdles.

Like my Partner in Crime has stated, ‘You shouldn’t be resistant to the idea of losing weight as long as it’s the right kind.’  But many concepts are easier declared than done.


Nothing As It Seems

Right now I feel sick.

I have dizzy spells.  Hallucinating out of the corner of my eye.  Colors blend together without an explanation as to what shape has just disappeared.  I walk up a flight of short stairs, and instantly my muscles are achy and tender.  Not to mention I so happen to be short of breath.  I’m fatigued.  I feel nauseous.  I’m antsy like a pansy, full of jumpy nerves as I try to entertain the world and myself with jokes, laughter and puzzling thoughts.  Or my favorite pulling the kind of energy only a full raging yellow cheese bus with school children can.  Except I do it out my ass ever so dearly.  If, a person didn’t know any better they would presume I’m fucking pregnant.  And I can assure you I’m not.

But what the fuck is going on?  There are times when my appetite suffers.  There are even more times when it sky rockets.  My good old bastard friend who nobody desires like Cortisol..the Ghrelin Monster appears.  My body craves for sugar in the way a man fancies to release the tension coming from his snug testicles.  The inside of my mouth becomes dry like a woman who hasn’t received enough foreplay.  I’m lightheaded as a case of fasting (or depending on one’s perspective) intentionally starving oneself.  And I wish this would all go away.

I don’t know what it is about sleep I don’t like beforehand.  I like dreams.  Both Lucid or Wet.   They symbolize something deeper than what my conscious can ever imagine.  Yet there are a few things I know about sleep that makes it gloriously friendly such as:  Sleep being beneficial like breakfast or an Unlimited Metrocard in New York City.  Sleep helps the body fight, recover (muscles) and heal illnesses.  Sleep keeps your body’s metabolism working correctly.  Sleep is the real milk where it does the body good.  The True Lifesaver; the one thing that probably could never ever do your body harm.  For Christ Sake you can die heavenly right in peace with sleep.  I believe not a thing in the world can beat that.  Or could it?  Sweet natural death.

So, why do I have problems getting to bed?  Even when I fantasize about my plush toys, one too many fluffy/rigid pillows, fan blowing my hair like a supermodel at a significant shoot and the protection between the four walls of my room with a comfy mattress that has lovingly accepted every fluctuation of my chameleon body shape.  Why is it so hard for me to creep into bed and just FUCKING sleep?  Is it due to the noise in my head?  How gifted the commotion comes to life like Killer Clowns from Outer Space?  I’m not sure.  But one thing is certain with me.  Once I close my eyes and try to breath all the troubles into the seams of my blankets I’ll remain greedily asleep as long as my body needs. 


Film: Something Borrowed

My thumb is down for this movie.

Maybe I had a little bit of higher expectations? Maybe since I thought it was originally created from a novel it would be good? Maybe I thought this film would be funnier throughout the slow gears it seem to move by? Maybe it felt flat to me (although Ginnifer Goodwin brought out emotions within). Maybe I thought since there’s seemingly a good cast this film would be decent at it’s best? So why did I leave feeling blah?

May I just say that I didn’t even realize how ugly Kate Hudson is IN real life and up on the big screen? God she’s hideous! How could A-Rod hit that and not overlook this blonde butterface monster? Pretty fucking gross if you ask me! *pukes* Moving along, why did I go see this flick (since I don’t normally watch  romantic comedies)? I’m a sucker for romantic triangles. I find it more fascinating and two times more complicated than just observing one couple winging shit.

The plot of the movie: Ginnifer is a single, sort of unhappy attorney who one night has much to drink and wakes up the next morning with Kate (best friend) Hudson’s fiance in bed. (But don’t worry I promise you that Ginnifer knew Colin first. And this is what you, the audience have to figure out. Is she in the right? Or in the wrong? Will she be with Colin and in the process remain best friend’s with Kate? Or will her and Colin part ways and keep everything a secret? What?)

My first problem with this movie is: I found this movie was geared towards a specific type of Caucasians. They made tons of references I couldn’t get and it had me wondering in a pack theater: “How middle or upper class does one have to be in order to understand these jokes?”  This wasn’t funny and I wasn’t prepared for this type of humor as typically nowadays films are evenly suited for a myriad of generation, ages, race and humor. This movie failed me in this respect.

The other thing I disliked about the story itself was how the main character Colin was simply a man (still) being brainwashed by his family. Therefore he’s immature in this sense and allows discouragement to settle and take over at any cost. Not to mention he’s a complete child when it comes to making his own decisions about Life. (I dated a guy once who was just like this. Lived by every single word his family and his culture rose him upon. Quite horrible! Please ladies don’t ever waste your time.) As far as Kate is concern, it’s Kate playing Kate. So, what else is new? She looks awfully ugly, drunk, fat, lazy and tired throughout the entire movie.

The upside to this movie was: The previews beforehand. 😉 No, uh Ginnifer, Steve Howey and John Krasinski were the only ones who stole the scenes in this film.  Ginnifer did her charming, good gal, tail between her legs thing well. Steve did his outrageous brute and over-the-top antics that would have any asshole, jerk or person with a soulful sense of humor laugh out loud. And John is John, charm face, sarcastic genuine mellow guy that he is. (Yeah, who doesn’t like John? Only the bitches who like assholes and evidently who are Size Queens to boot!)

Last and least: The many times the scenes were in New York City and in the Hampton were comforting. And I don’t know if this was done intentionally (I’m sure it was!) throughout the film – it seemed Ginnifer and John ate here everyday – but they indeed kept advertising one of my favorite places to eat (especially during a cheat meal fest): Shake Shack. What was the deal there?

Rating: RENTER at best.


Green Card: An Attempt Of A Movie Review

The rundown of the movie can be found -> Green Card!

I’m still not sure why I love this lovely film so much!  The first time I ever saw it, I only saw parts of the film.  But that first time I simply fell in hell over heels in love with it.  I’m convinced I have a habit of falling in love with things  spot on like how I do with (either) listening to a song or seeing a good film the first time around.  This is evidently how this movie went.  So watching it tonight for the second real time.. and, well, I’m still in love with it.  😉 Now to try and explain the reasons why I fancy it much.  Warming:  There may be some spoilers.

I think what I love the most about this movie is the casting. Well, the casting of the two main characters:  Andie and Gerard.  I love the chemistry between the two.  Either they’re good actors.  Or someone thought this actor and actress would both convey what the director wanted on screen.  I believe these two actors had great genuine features, great instincts and elements to bring on in.  I could be looking too much into it?  Could just be me?

What attracts me to this film is like what attracts most people’s curiosity about life and human behavior, which is:  How opposites attract.  Two people who put themselves in a circumstance both for their own conveniences of life must find a way to co-exist through flailing tempers of dreadful differences.  I like tension.  It’s brilliant.  And I also like when destruction just so happens to be better once it rebuilds again.

Other things I like about the movie:
The beginning, the opening scene of a young teenager who’s playing a plastic drum on the Subway.  He kills it with his talent!  I love looking at how they captured New York City in the more olden days (80’s-90’s).  How Gerard plays the piano for an upscale dinner party with Andie.  What’s lovely about it was how he recited a poem, to which Andie’s mother’s best friend translated it into English and touched the hearts of everyone in the room.  In particularly, Andie.  I also like how in one instance they portrayed sexual tension between the two.  Something I don’t think many directors cannot do subtly.

A little more..

I like how Andie’s character is an environmentalist.  Her love for plants, how she “loves them more than (some) people,” as she put it.  She seems well organized, gets tiny bouts of anxiety/panic attacks, is emotional, yet has it together with a body that comes off as being fragile.  (I like relating to Andie’s character in both her passion and cynic view (sort of) when it comes to people.)  Gerard’s character I like because he’s the opposite of Andie.  He doesn’t seem to have all the answers on/to life.  Maybe no direction, even?  Yet, he’s smart, to the point, observant, charming and keen.   He comes off more as a brute.  Possible Ogre?  But there’s something about him more or less that’s golden.

Another thing I like about the film is the soundtrack.  I’m a sucker for great music:

(Oh.. and sorry I didn’t make the video.) 😉

Are there any movies you enjoy like this?
(And please no cheesy movies. )