Me and my writer

It was special to talk to a dear friend about my writing tonight. About its content, its message, its potential.

The writer in me is rumbling right now, getting ready to settle in and work some magic.

It's so cool.

Tonic

I have fed two days worth of nasty headaches with Excedrin and homemade soup and fresh produce. Drugs mixed with nature's medicine.

It worked.

Treasure

Probably the most powerful memory I will carry from the "Italians in the Arts" event at Rutgers is the sound of poet Maria Mazziotti Gillan's booming voice. She writes about the experience of growing up Italian-American and her words resonate with me.

I looked in The Dream Book, a collection of writings by Italian-American women that is one of the prizes on my bookshelves, and found her there. Here's a sampling:

Public School No. 18: Paterson, New Jersey

Miss Wilson's eyes, opaque
as blue glass, fix on me:
"We must speak English.
We're in America now."
I want to say, "I am American."
but the evidence is stacked against me.

My mother scrubs my scalp raw, wraps
my shining hair in white rags
to make it curl. Miss Wilson
drags me to the window, checks my hair
for lice. My face wants to hide.

At home, my words smooth in my mouth,
I chatter and am proud. In school,
I am silent; I grope for the right English
words, fear the Italian word will sprout
from my mouth like a rose.

I fear the progression of teachers
in their sprigged dresses,
their Anglo-Saxon faces.

Without words, they tell me
to be ashamed
I am.
I deny that booted country
even from myself,
want to be still
and untouchable
as these women
who teach me to hate myself.

Years later, in a white
Kansas City house,
the psychology professor tells me
I remind him of the Mafia leader
on the cover of Time magazine.
My anger spits
venomous from my mouth.

I am proud of my mother,
dressed all in black,
proud of my father,
with his broken tongue,
proud of the laughter
and noise of our house.

Remember me, ladies,
the silent one?
I have found my voice
and my rage will blow
your house down.

One poem after the other is like this. She is stunning.

I have stumbled upon treasure.

Wash woman

Slept at my parents' house last night. Had an overnight bag with a few pairs of pants and a few tops that needed laundering. At about 7:30, after my siblings and their families had left, I announced I had a load of wash to do.

My mother, not the most spry woman on the planet. sprung off the couch with a smile on her face. "You do?" she asked, hardly containing her excitement. The next thing I knew she was filling the washing machine as I gathered the clothes. And she was already going to town pretreating a small stain on my brown turtleneck that was giving me trouble.

"OK, put them in," she said, way too excited for me.

I opened the lid and dumped the dark clothes in.

"Mother, did you put warm water in here again?" I said.

"No! It's cold."

"It's not cold."

"Feel it. Go ahead. Feel it."

"Fine. I believe you. All I know is my clothes last a long time because I wash them with cold water," I said.

"That's why you have a hard time getting stains out," she said.

It was a parting shot as she left the room.

This is our dance.

Dose of culture

Going to an 'Italians in the Arts' event at Rutgers tomorrow. Nice to be able to see my peeps in a positive, smart light.

Bring it.

Today

Today was one of those days where I just felt worn out. No particular reason. Probably had to do with my mind working overtime and being so active that I lost sleep last night.

Today everything felt like a strain. Even work I love. So intense does this time of transition feel.

Today I was acutely aware of what I must do to take several facets of my life to the next level. Practice what I preach, so to speak.

Today my mind was like a merry-go-round, but one that is rotating at warp speed.

Today will soon give way to tomorrow. I will slow down. I will.

The game

Just checking if I have this right.

A guy with family issues up the arm, one who takes cellphone calls from his wife and coos during major speeches, is going to lose votes in his bid for president because he said he would stick with the American League and back the Red Sox in the World Series.

Ah, America the beautiful.

Sugar craving

Right now I'm trying not to think about the red velvet cupcakes at Garden of Eden. Not the moist cake. Not the thick cream cheese icing. Not the party in my mouth.

Nope. Not thinking about it.

Undone

Cried my makeup off watching Oprah today. It was inspiring to hear a man in the advanced stages of pancreatic cancer disperse words of wisdom. But when they showed a photo of his three young children, I came undone.

Life, liberty and ...

Watched The Pursuit of Happyness on cable last night. Cried like a baby at the end, and actually once in the middle.

That film had several things going for it in my book. The lesson that hard work and persistence pay off. The benefits of belief in self and thinking outside the box.

I am awed by that man.

Anger as roadmap

There's some anger brewing in my professional life. The writing side.

I think it's good.

Anger motivates me like almost nothing else. Tell me I can't do it and I'll prove you wrong 10 times over. Try to keep me back and I will push right past you. It's one of my better character traits.

I feel spurred on.

Girlie drink

Proof I am a lightweight:

I had one -- count it, one -- mango berry daiquiri and I can barely keep my eyes open.

'Nuff said. My head is hitting that pillow.

Bliss

Three life coaching clients today. Three lively sessions.

Love, love, love it.

Follow your bliss and doors will open where there were no doors before.

Ladies

Today I validated my decision to live where I live and to live how I live.

I took a walk to the "other" side, a luncheon at a banquet hall in the 'burbs filled with ladies who lunch for a living. The martinis were flowing at 11:30 a.m. I was surrounded by a surreal mindset that is foreign to me.

I'll keep it that way, thanks.

Rah Rah

I'm watching The Big Idea and it's like getting a big, fat pep talk. Got an idea? Push it, shout it, pitch it, obsess over it, make other people obsess over it.

The woman who created Spanx literally called a buyer at Neimann Marcus and told her she'd fly to Dallas if she'd give her 10 minutes. She agreed. Then she took her into the bathroom (yes, she talked a buyer into the bathroom) to show her "before and after" with regular underwear vs. the undergarments she was pitching under white slacks. The business is now generating billions.

Host Donny Deutsch feeds off this stuff.

Me, too.

Another world

How is it possible for a book that I have already read to keep me so absorbed on the PATH train that I'm ticked when I get to my stop?

That is Eat, Pray, Love. That is good writing.

That is good.

Movement

Sometime in the last few months I realized that there has been a shift in my motivation for working out. It is now about how it makes me feel as opposed to how it makes me look.

Stiffness be gone. Fluidity be.

Fever

Tomorrow I will feed my CVS addiction. Use a coupon and the register spits out two more. Get $4 off your order of $20. Get $3 off your order of $15. Spend and save. Save and spend.

Scott tissue. Caress. Dentyne.

Take stock. Stock up.

Drug store. Aptly named.

Second time around

I am re-reading Eat, Pray, Love. I am going to see author Elizabeth Gilbert speak next week and thought it would be cool to refresh my memory.

I am unabashedly absorbed all over again.

The book is (almost) back

I have let my book be since returning from a writing workshop in Massachusetts last month. It felt right to do that, to let it sit, to let my mind rest.

Today, while reading another book, I had an epiphany about mine. A screaming insight.

I must add that I have had a number of these along the way. Transformative ideas and notable shifts.

This one is still in its cerebral phase. It has not yet worked its way down into my heart or my gut. But it has begun its journey to those sacred places.

Priorities

From today's New York Post accompanied by some photos of Lindsay Lohan and topped by the headline, 'You Look Rehab-ulous':

Keep It Simple -- With more important things on her mind, Lindsay kept her rehab style effortless by accessorizing a black cotton dress with gold jewelry, classic wayfarers, and a comfy pair of flats.

Cover It Up -- As Lindsay neared the completion of her rehab stint, she banished the wild-child image by featuring less skin, favoring this knit skullcap and wrap cardigan combo over jeans. No more panty-less flashing!

The Perfect Fit -- Get it together by wearing clothes that fit properly. These wide-legged three-button herringbone trousers offer a polished ladylike look, and a brilliant comeback.

Whew. And here I was worried she'd lose her fashion sense.

The deep end

Every morning I listen to classic rock on the radio as I get ready to hit the day job. And every morning there is a recorded minute by Donald Trump reflecting or commenting on some news tidbit or issue of the day.

Here's what we know. The Donald is a brilliant businessman, but a deep thinker he ain't. His words of wisdom for Britney Spears? Essentially, 'get your act together.'

Well, duh. I'm about as apathetic about celebrity lives as you can get, but to me if you have anything but compassion and hope that this young woman gets the help she needs, you're swimming in shallow waters, so to speak.

Come on in to the deep end, Donald. Emotional intelligence required.

Humor shared

I've been catching the E! network's top 101 moments of Saturday Night Live this week and laughing at the memories it evokes. While my favorites usually involve Gilda Radner, Dana Carvey, Will Ferrell or the hapless Mr. Bill, one highlight made me roar thinking about my mother. So I called her.

"Mom, they just showed a clip from Saturday Night Live that made you laugh harder than I've ever seen you laugh," I said. "Remember Andy Kaufman and the Mighty Mouse theme song?"

She laughed right there on the phone. Hard.

"See?" I said.

"Just the way he used to deadpan," she said.

I love that we shared that.

Just be

Sat on a bench at the waterfront for hours this evening, into twilight, with a friend and a Diet Coke. One of my favorite simple pleasures.

Move over

Today I made a really gutsy professional move and I am so damn proud of myself I could scream. Whichever way it goes, I know I put my best out there and fought for what I wanted.

I'm in.

So in.

Effecting change

I started some community work today. I feel so good about it.

"There's a whole world out there that needs you, down the street or across the ocean. Give."
-- Giving by Bill Clinton

Yes.

Etiquette 101

Who, pray tell, are these people who go to Starbucks and other cafes and leave their used cups and napkins on the table?

Room

I bought a new clay pot and some rich soil for my tree.

I ... er, I mean the plant ... now has lots of room to streeeeeeeeetch.

My inner Capricorn

A sweet friend gave me a figurine of a goat. It signifies upward climbing.

I'm all for ascension in my life.