Chapter 17

Habit is habit and not to be flung out of the window by any man,

but coaxed downstairs a step at a time.

~Mark Twain

Ever since my classmate told me about Vegetarian's Paradise on West 4th Street, I haven't stopped going. During my 4th attempt of vegetarianism, I tried this place out and their soy nuggets are to die for.

I haven't returned to being a vegetarian but I'm currently on Day 15 of the Simple Green Smoothies challenge. Everyday I drink some leafy green with fruit concoction so I would be able to get my servings of fruits and vegetables. It actually tastes better than what it sounds. This is something I want to carry over beyond the 30 days because I feel great. I also ran two miles before going to the hospital. The whole day I was euphoric because my energy levels were so high and my soul just felt rejuvenated.

I realized that I've always tried drastic measures to lose weight compromising the foods I love to eat and imposing strict guidelines. It shouldn't be like that. I need to learn how to take small steps in the right direction whether its in my weight loss goals, career goals, savings plan, whatever. It's just more realistic.

Lesson Learned: Slowly changing the direction of a ship over time is safer than changing its direction right before you hit an iceberg. It's better to have gradual results panned out over a long time than drastic changes in which you're susceptible to relapse.

Chapter 16

Love overcomes hate. Love has no color
Love has no orientation. All is love.
~Adam Lambert

I had a very interesting conversation with the resident I'm shadowing: our significant others. She asked "Does your family like him?".

That question often makes me cringe while I go through a number of emotions.

My response: "I guess. It's hard to tell because he's Black." She then asks "But aren't there Black people in Dominican Republic?" The million dollar question.

I come from a culture where a racist dictator brainwashed the people of the country for decades that black is ugly. However, I will not solely blame him for the ignorance because people can choose to surpass that. There's a saying that "everyone has Black behind their ears" which means essentially every Dominican has SOME Black in them. We're a country that began with indigenous natives that were colonized by Spaniards that brought in African slaves. Our people are a color spectrum, which is a beautiful thing.

I've been in my relationship for close to seven years. However, to my family the first two years never existed. Yup, I hid my relationship for two years.

I was afraid of the "consequences" of coming out. No one else in my family had dated a Black person and the Dominicans I know don't hide the fact that they don't like Black people. Forget the fact that he comes from a great family and finished grad school, his skin color was of utmost importance. So I was stuck. It wasn't fair to him that I have him hidden but I didn't want to be the "black sheep".

To me biracial couples are one of the greatest products of living in the U.S. Here you are, in a heterogenous country where you can meet the love of your life whose ancestry is halfway around the globe. You don't need to understand their culture or speak their language, all you need is love. Families should be content that you have found a person that loves you for who you are. Despite all the animosity and racist remarks (i.e. going to have little monkey children, better know how to braid hair, I was such a good daughter until this, etc) Aundrée has stuck it out with me because he believes in our love and I can never be more appreciative.

Lesson Learned: Shatter the blinds of ignorance. Don't be afraid to confront people and stand up for what you believe in. Love goes deeper than a hue.

Chapter 15

In times of great stress or adversity, it's always best to keep busy, 

to plow your anger and your energy into something positive.  

~Lee Iacocca

Something is off and I have no idea what. 

I've been in the ophthalmology clinic for two weeks and it's a pretty relaxed environment. However, I've been feeling this looming stress recently.

So I did what I usually do when I'm stressed: clean. I clean when my anxiety and stress levels are super high. My roommates pointed it out to me some time ago. I would snap at them the day before an exam because they failed to do their chores. Shortly after I take the exam, I would go back to the apartment and got my clean on.

I usually prep myself by playing some bachata and letting the Ajax sit in the bathtub. I scrub every tile and scrutinize every crevice. Once I'm done, I stand at the doorway and admire my work of art. Today, I also wanted to clean my room so I repeated the same procedure. There's something about a clean environment that just feels like a breath of fresh air. 

Speaking of fresh air, yesterday I was really unhappy with how my body felt. I told myself I would go running at 630 am. Let's just say waking up at 730 am felt amazing. However, I wanted to follow through with the promise I made myself. After cleaning my room, I went for a run by the FDR Drive just to clear my mind and get rid of this unknown source of stress.

According to my Nike Run app, today was my longest and farthest run. I also realized I pushed myself to stop as little as possible. Those 2.6 miles went by like nothing and I feel really good (well not entirely because my knees are aching).

Lesson Learned: Often times we carry this unforeseen load of stress that can be triggered by so many different aspects of our lives. As long as we are be able unload the stress and channel that energy into something productive there's nothing wrong with a little bit of "healthy" stress.

Chapter 14

I like to keep my feet on the sidewalk.

~Joshua Homme

I've been living in the Upper East Side for a mere two weeks and I'm already fed up.

This is presumed to be the neighborhood of the wealthy, educated, well-to-doers and their respective pups.

Well let me tell you something, not even a medical degree can cover the amount of dog poop on the sidewalks. (I'm not sure if that made any sense).

I have the worst luck when it comes to poop. I can date back as far as seventh grade all the terrible accidents I've had stepping on dog poop and having a trailing scent for the rest of the day. What do you do when you're far from home, don't have a hose to apply water pressure to remove the poop or let alone napkins to somehow remove it from the intricate lines on the bottom of your sneaker? Do you go on your merry way and pretend it wasn't you? 

On my walk to work, I enjoy observing my surroundings. However, my observations have been truncated by constantly having to look down on the sidewalk to avoid poop. Literally every 6 inches there's some dog's intestinal residuals. On one of my walks, someone made the poop amusing by putting a little "waving" flag on top of it.

To add more insult to the injury, some blocks smell like dog urine. Not only do I have to focus on the sidewalk but I must also hold my breath because the scent is extremely potent and nauseating.

There are traffic police officers all over the neighborhood giving parking tickets left and right. I'm pretty sure they can multitask and give the dog walkers a summons for not picking up after their pets. I'm not going to lie, I am guilty of leaving my dog's feces on my neighbor's lawn but at least its a lawn and not all over the sidewalk. (That doesn't justify it.) This is not only a visual sore but it's not sanitary issue with plenty of ramifications. I'm sure if the dog crapped on your living room floor you would pick it up. Then why not do the same on the streets? The street cleaning vehicles don't clean the sidewalks so who's expected to clean the crap? The bottom of some innocent person's foot?

Lesson Learned: Wealth doesn't buy you hygiene, cleanliness, or class. The Upper East Side needs to get their shit together. 

Chapter 13

Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional.

~Chili Davis

Today we celebrated my cousin's 27th birthday.

It was a bunch of women sitting at a table talking about: babies....for about 5 hours.

Just a year ago we were all sitting at the same table talking about our significant others, plans for the future, and just gossiping.

In just a matter of a year, four babies later, and four more due to arrive, we have all grown up. Our priorities have shifted, our outings are limited and so are our cocktails.

Three (including me) of eight are not pregnant or have children.

Which is a new experience for me.

I don't have much biological family in USA so I never got to meet many of my "blood" cousins's offsprings and now suddenly all these babies creeped up on me. It's seeing beauty in a new light: cuteness in a 1 month old farting, a 1.5 year old always telling me no, or a 2 year old who kindly gives you an item placed on a chair so she can have a seat.

We've grown up.

Which is not a bad thing, I guess but at times I get nostalgic of the good times when time used to go by slower, money was never a problem and laughter was in abundance.

The three of us guesstimated that in next 5-8 years perhaps we'll contemplate having a child. Which then got me thinking, much of our generation obsesses with planning.

We plan trips, education, children, our whole freaking life but sometimes we need to add some spontaneity and break free from the rigidity. Its good to be prepared but not overly prepared. If things always go as planned, we won't know how to respond when they don't go in accordance to our timeline. We're at a stage where even the most natural gift women possess, childbirth, is now planned.

Much of my life has been planned and I must admit it's quite lackluster. The unknown frightens me. Not being able to control an aspect of my life just makes me nervous. If it wasn't for the unforeseen failures or life's pleasant (and not so pleasant) surprises, I wouldn't be able to say with confidence that I can react decently when a curveball gets thrown at me. Although I believe my whole world is crashing when I get thrown off course, I convince myself some good will come out of it.

Lesson Learned: We'll never be ready for the next step if we keep prepping and not move forward from this grand"plan". As much as we find successes in completing tasks according to plan, we should also be willing to accept new, unpremeditated challenges as the process of growing up.

Chapter 12

Wise men don't need advice. Fools won't take it.

~Benjamin Franklin

I love shopping and I'm really observant.

Often times, I just zone out at gatherings and just watch people. There's just something so interesting about observing people in their element.

I was in the jewelry section of Loehmman's when a young girl tripped. She was running around, screaming but as a true New Yorker, I was able to ignore her shrieks. However, once she tripped I snapped out and was concerned. When a child falls, you wait for those longest seconds to see whether the child reacts with laughter or cry of death. This rugrat got up and resumed her running as if nothing happened.

She only had one shoe on and her older sister stepped on a stocking. Another bystander told the girl to be careful but this wild child wasn't having it. Once this bystander commented to the child, out comes the mom. The bystander, white perhaps American woman, was telling this mother how it's dangerous for the little girl to be running around especially in her stockings. And this is where it gets interesting.

The mother of European descent in a thick accent explains to this American woman that she cannot control her three and a half year old daughter. She states she cannot yell at her or beat her. The American woman was puzzled and replied to the lady "What?! I'm not going to get in to this but you are the parent, she has to listen to you."

This mother goes on to explain that there's nothing she can do for this child, she just allows her to do whatever she wants and if she gets hurts then she'll learn.

As all this is going on, I'm hiding behind the sunglasses eavesdropping thinking what I would've done with this kid.

Everyone has their two cents on how a child should be raised. Do I agree with this nut case of a mom? Absolutely not but I'm not going to give her a lecture on parenting in the middle of Loehmann's. The poor mother looked disheveled, exhausted and defeated. Who knows what she's going through? Do we just fault the child for being in that "difficult stage" or fault the mother for poor parenting? What do we even coin as "good parenting", a relative term?

Lesson Learned: Sometimes it's best to just ignore what's going on around you. As many good intentions you have, we have to learn when is an appropriate time to dish out advice and how receptive the audience is.

Chapter 11

I don't believe an accident of birth makes people sisters or brothers. 

It makes them siblings, gives them mutuality of parentage. 

Sisterhood and brotherhood is a condition people have to work at.

~Maya Angelou

My brother is a test question.

On every cardiac exam I've taken, my brother's heart condition doesn't fail to make an appearance.

He was diagnosed with Wolff Parkinson White at a young age. Because he was so delicate and we couldn't agitate him, he was treated differently which led to being spoiled.

My brother has a complex personality. He's a constant tug of war of opposites. He's an intelligent young adult who has this facade of a lazy thug. He's a sweetheart who pretends to be a player. He splurges on high end products when he's a product of middle class.

At one point, my brother and I couldn't stand the sight of one another. We would fight, bash each other against the wall and wish the other would just disappear. Presently, we've reached a happy medium where we enjoy each other's company, vent our emotions and have sporadic conversations about life. He encourages and pushes me to reach my goals. However, when I try to suggest weight loss or not buying Louis Vuitton, he throws the ball right back and tells me to focus on my own goals.

Not everyone understands my brother . Actually, not everyone takes the time to understand my brother. Instead they fixate on his negatives and criticize my mother's parenting skills.

As my brother picked me up today and drove my car, I was just in awe how quickly he grew up. Here I am yelling at Junior about his reckless driving and he's yelling back that I'm just like mami. With him I learned the art of compromise. I can't impose my views much less measure his success against mine. We may have been born from the same parents, grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same school but our life experiences are vastly different. I can't expect him to do things my way, my parent's way or any other person's way. I accepted his way.

Lesson Learned: Teenagers are complicated (duh!). You need to constantly play tug of war until a balance is met. As much as you only wish the best for them, they need to learn from their own mistakes. Let them have some independence but of course with firm guidance. You can only learn to ride a bicycle by taking off the training wheels and being there for them when they fall.