The notes of an Urban Playgrounder

Once again New York, you are here for me. 

Four and a half years ago you took me in and mended my broken heart. You knew I needed the attention, you knew I needed your gentle touch and soft, silky kisses. And I prevailed.

Then I left you, though not for long and not forever but I left you, you didn't do anything wrong, it wasn't anything you said or did or didn't do, I just needed to go away for a while.

And here I am again, walking up and down the streets I know so well, hosting yet another heartache, a different kind of heartache. Maybe an all mixed together, bunch of stuff happened kind of heartache.

I was somewhat empty when I got here, empty in ways only you could help me fill. You through sunlight on my darkness, you showed me new alleys and roads I've never taken before. You gave me the people I love, fully lit with love to spread around.

You made sure my reflection showed on every store I passed, so I could see myself, and I could see that I am here and that I am fine.

You gave me the best food and the best music, you made sure it all came together in perfect harmony like only you can.

She saw him standing there, by the window’s edge, overlooking the infinite park. His hands leaning on the window frame, reaching- almost touching the falling leaves, trying to grab the moment.  He was full of despair.

  She wanted to come closer, she wanted to reach out to him but he wouldn’t see her. He leaned his head on his arm, trying to seek comfort. It was only him and his beer and his thoughts and his fears and his anger and his broken heart. She was invisible in that room. Meaningless.

  Motionless he stood, hunched forward, his sadness emptied the room from oxygen and with every breath she took her emptiness was filled with a deep cry to be seen but he won’t turn around, he won’t look back, he won’t face his present.

  She then knew what has to do be done.

  He took a deep breath, letting the scent of her perfume fill his lungs with hope. He hoped she knew him well enough, he whispered a prayer under his lips that she will save him.

  She was gone.

  His arm dropped ”she gave up” he thinks to himself.

  She is gone.

  “Stupid” he screams, angry at his fearful heart.

  But then, when his feet gave in to his mind and his mind gave in to his heart – he was ready to chase her.

  He looked at the park one more time, one more time before he’s going to get her. And then he saw her. She was there, never left.

  She looked straight through his fears and doubts, straight into his eyes and into his soul and he knew, he was saved.

  They stood there for a short eternity. He has never felt safer and she never felt more alive.

I hope this next post doesn’t sound too whiny, also that this statement doesn’t sound apologetic, because it isn’t.

I just feel like there’s a lot in my heart and I want to let it all out.

I like this boy.

Okay, he is at the right age to  be called a man and he does manly things like go to work and grow a beard, but because I like him and I blush when I think of him - to me he is a boy.

Not that it hasn’t happened before, me liking a boy, it has. Many times.Sometimes I like a lot of boys, sometimes every boy I meet somehow seems like he has some sort of undeveloped potential that I can work with. I like him for a day or two, sometimes for a few weeks, and then I don’t like him anymore.

Sometimes I hate them all, they are stupid, they never think before they speak, they never understand what I’m thinking, or what I literally am saying.

Most times I find myself enjoying a relationship that suits me perfectly. One that happens when the other side has no idea it even exists. 

I would go about my day wondering what coffee he would drink and how he’d compliment my style and that he doesn’t mind me cursing, it’s actually cute. See, it’s really easy when I can make all the decisions myself. We have no disagreements and when I’m over him, he’s gone, in a heart beat.

Ufff. 

See I like this boy, and I’m running out of excuses. Because with everyone else there was this and that and I could tell myself that the timing is bad or we’re just in different places (which are both essentially the same) and now, I am all out.

I can’t even think of a reason why not to try, besides THE one. The one that always keeps us from trying. He could say no.

:-(

I just want to have a night off you know?! just one night that I wouldn’t have to think if I like a boy or not, or if he would like me back and if so what does it mean and if it means he really likes me then maybe we should go out and if we go out maybe he’s going to really disappoint me because who he really is isn’t what I imagined him to be and I might find myself on a date I can’t get out of because he ordered a table at a fancy restaurant and it’ll be rude to “go check on my makeup” and never come back and I would feel suffocated and wouldn’t be able to breath or finish a sentence and…. 

ughhhhhhhhh

I just want one night, in which I’ll know that I like this boy, and he likes me back, and that’s it. And it’s enough. And my heart wins. That night he wins.

xo

At the moment I believe I will not be much the company to you. My soul wandered today to a darker reality and I am trying to convince her to come back. 

I witnessed a tragedy today, though I am safe and sound I feel like something was taken from me or maybe, something dark possessed me and I am fighting to shake it out of me with these words.

At around 4 PM today I was reminded that life is a precious thing, that we should never take advantage of, that life is given to us with the hope that we will accomplish the greatness we are each meant for. 

The universe, as the architect of our beings, sends us guidelines everyday to try and show us in the right direction. 

Not too long ago I wrote something that I called THE MAGIC HOUR, I hope you like it. I hope it helps you and that it will give you hope.

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Time, a perspective I have yet to fully comprise, almost stops for an hour, allowing us to take advantage of the magic. The swirl of the clock slows down, every second is a minute long just so we could make use of that time. 

The problem is, this hour comes at a different time every day and we often find ourselves wishing it to end. The magic hour finds us at work, on a flight, at a test or even in the middle of a boring date. Forcing us to believe it is what we are doing that makes time seem like it isn't moving, making us feel caged in a box when actually it was our window out.

A lonely bartender on a slow shift, gazing at the clock every ten minutes only to realize it has only been five since he last checked it. Causing him to miss the beautiful woman drinking for his attention at the corner of the bar. 

A hungry business man waiting for his meeting to end, not knowing that this is actually the meeting that can bring his business to where he wished it was. Only because time had stopped moving and he lost his patience.

A dancer practicing for her company auditions. Going over the same cheorography again and again, waiting for time to pass so she could leave and start fresh tomorrow, clear minded. She is so focused on making it work tomorrow, that she can't see how well she is doing now.

The magic hour, when, if making use of it, the bird could break free from its cage. 

The doctor could heal his patient

The writer could find his muse

The traveler could find his road

The lonely could find his mate

The magic hour, when, if making use of it, could lead us to the right trail. The trail where every hour is magic and we are whole. And until we make use of this hour, this magical hour, it will come. Again and again, waiting patiently for us to notice it.

Never stop believing.

love

Heartache. I am a sucker for some good old fashioned heartache. Why would I enjoy anything that makes me suffer you might ask. The answer is pretty simple. Movement.

Movement is all I need to be happy. 

I seek movement every second of every day in every scenario I find myself in. I look at the ceiling when I wake up, begging it to unravel in front of me. Praying for it to crumble into the smallest pieces. 

I'm sure this sounds horribly stupid so I will attempt to explain myself in a more literal way.

When I first moved to New York I was still collecting the pieces of my shattered heart. More often than not reality would strike me in the middle of a crowded street or a busy alley. It would strike me harder than the cold wind in the middle of a storm and I'd freeze.

It was so paralyzing that I was waiting for a kick or a push that never came, and I had to learn how to take the next step. I walked with such agony, every step wore me down, I had to rest, but the world just kept going like this pain inside of me never happened. 

And no one looked at me, no one knew me, no one cared. I pushed and shoved and carried myself out of the cold and into a safer, warmer place. 

Movement. That glimpse of a second that we carry on, we leap in full faith that there is still a chance. 

Time went by and the hard sun blessed me with her comforting strokes of joy. I was a happier person. I managed to make it through. And I was a better person for that. 

But something in me still strived for that heartache. When I talk about heartache I don't just mean the romantic kind. Heartache attacks us in all aspects of life. 

It doesn't matter what you do or who you are - heartache will make you better. Let me explain:

I, as a writer submit my material pretty often. It is rare that I get a response, being that I have no Agent or published (sold) material. I send out my material with actual hope that the person reading it will find in my words that thing that they've been looking for - which could potentially make both of our lives a lot easier. But, as it turns out, I am mostly graced with warm replies that this material is very good but just not what they were looking for.

Just like a guy or a girl turning you down - rejection is hard. Rejection crushes our spirit, it slaps us in the face and whether we admit it or not, it puts out that fire inside of us, leaving a big, empty, cold space to fill.

That reality haunts us wherever we go and forces us to prevail. The only way for us to ignite the fire in us is if we keep going. 

The world could spin, shake and break - but as long as we keep going, as long as we keep moving forward, that won't affect us.

You see, heartache could be terrible. It could bring us to our knees, BUT, that step we take right when it seems like we'll never walk again. That step is brighter than the sunshine. It thickens our skin and builds our muscle and it allows us to go through life, brighter than before, knowing that no matter what happens - WE WILL MAKE IT.

So I urge you to never stop trying and never stop moving forward. Because there is nothing better than believing in yourself.

And I believe in you too.

XO

New-York. NY. NYC. The city that never sleeps. The big freakin' apple. The place that's been my home and anchor for the last three years. 

My relationship with New York started even before she knew I existed. I was a young child, watching NY on TV and movies and fell in love. I knew she was the one for me. For years I fantasized about how I'd meet her. How she will greet me with a sunny weather and we'll take a stroll down central park. I thought I knew everything about her and I couldn't wait for her to get to know me. But I was wrong, NY was even more beautiful than I ever thought.

New-York is the one and only love that will never disappoint me.I don't know what is it about this city but I feel like spending every spare moment I have with it. So I call the wondering ones, the ones who aren't really sure, I'm writing this to you.

Know that feeling of walking down the street and suddenly noticing something. It could be a tree, a building, a car, a food cart, it could be a bird or a mother and child crossing the street. It could be a store, an angry cabbie, it could be the scent or the smell. It is definitely the beauty of the subway station talents who remind you talent isn't measured by success, and that achievements are what you should aim for in the first place. it is also the leaves that fall from the tree, every year, at the same time, and grow at the same time, without fail. 

At that moment, no matter what you were doing or where you were going, a big smile spreads on your face, because you realize where you are. You realize that you are walking casually, from work to your house or to a bar to meet a friend or maybe just to buy milk at the store, but you are walking down the streets of New York. New York! The same city you always dreamt of living in, the city even the wondering soul, the lost spirit, the confused and the sad, the not-so-talented, even they can find a home. Even they can find their place. 

And you smile. You smile because you know you're lucky. You smile because you know that just like you will never be able to count the number of subway stations or the number of buildings in the city, just in the same way- you will never run out of opportunities here.

You take the second to acknowledge what NY is giving you - endless doors to open and endless roads to travel. And you go on smiling.

To the wondering ones, 

I wish you to always smile.

xo

Today I wish to discuss a very important matter. A matter I deal with for a few years now. Single mature life.

Single. Meaning one. Meaning it's just you. Yes you have friends, yes you go out, yes you have the occasional date or occasionally dating someone, yes. But you are still single. You think like a single person, you act like a single person, you even walk like a single person. Sounds like a load of crap, I know, but every bit of it is true.

As a long time single woman I can attest to the matter. I have a skill set that is familiar only to the ones who share it. If you are in a long-term relationship or just came out of one, you will not understand the following.

Know the feeling of leaving your bed unwillingly? No, you don't want to go to work. You don't want to talk to anyone. You don't even open your whatsapp messages. But you have to get up, life is closing in on you and you deal with it in the most immature way. You avoid it. 

If you were in a relationship, that thing that gets you through this occasional crisis is your partner, your better half. That's the person who will make it all okay after a shitty day. Hell, he might even be the reason you would leave your bed in the first place.

And here's my point. When you're single and having a bad day, nothing, not even the best of friends can save you from that endless feeling of loneliness. 

As a single woman, your day will go like this:

You wake up, get out of bed and go to work, even though you really don't want to. That day every single person is going to act weird, people will give you strange looks or they will just act so insanely happy you feel like someone sent them there just to annoy the hell out of you.

You barely make it through the morning with two double espressos and a very short temper. You try to avoid any big decisions because you know that you'll regret them later. 

Your afternoon is just a tiny bit better, just because you know this day is almost over. And you walk down the street and long for a look, a smile, the whisk of an unbrushed blond hair. You just wish for a total surprise. A guy to cross your way through the avenue in that busy afternoon, who will look up right when you do the same. Who will look at you and give you a big smile just as he brushes his thick blond hair. And suddenly it's all good. It's all good.

You just earned your evening with a tiny glimpse of hope that one day this guy, or a guy just like him, will smile at you every day.

If you're single. You relate.

If you're in a relationship... Whatever...

xo

Sitting in front of my computer and trying to find what to write about is a weird feeling. I am the person who always has something to say about everything, all the time. Lately It seems like everyone I know and dislike has a blog about something so irrelevant and idiotic that I must read. And I torture myself through reading the blog and filling my brain with information so unnecessary that I am obliged to consume more of.

The feeling of reading about this springs fashion from someone that lacks any style or receiving relationship advice from another who hasn't had a relationship in the last decade, made me realize that I too must have my own blog. i find myself going through the day full of irrelevant issues that concern no one but me, myself and my alter-ego, who, by chance, is a skinnier version of me. And I ask myself - Why should I suffer my own life alone?

I believe it is my right as a female writer to put my thoughts on paper. And I believe it is my duty to share my unfortunate mishaps, my miserable experiences and my poor luck.

I won't be a victim of badly-written, structure-lacking, themeless blogs anymore - for I will become a blogger myself.

Fight fire with fire!

But I will promise you this, I will make it worthwhile. If you decide to read my blog, I will make you laugh. I will make an effort not to make you cry, but if I do, I hope you understand. 

2013 marks my fourth year in New York City, the urban playground. 

And this year I intend to get on all the rides and tell you all about them. Because I am woman, and when I think - I must speak.

See you soon,