Monday, March 31, 2014

I Wish I was Like You, Easily Amused...

I'm listening to Country music right now, and I'm not sure of myself. Like why do I kinda like it?  Let's be real, I used to make fun of one of my friend's endlessly for listening to this crap.  Why is it not that crappy, it's definitely sappy.  

Whatever, I need to get a life before I have to put in my profile that I listen to country.  It's embarrassing.  I mean I need all the social status I can get considering that I listen to light FM while I'm working out.  

I'm not a fast  moving person, consequently I don't like really fast music.  So sue me.  I know, it's not cool to be slow.

You ever wonder if you are "cool" or not?

I don't know if I fall into the "cool" category or if I ever did.  I think somewhere in my twenties I did, I had some kind of attitude about it.  But I shed that shit. I mean where is the cool thermometer, how do you know if you are cool or not?

I live to do this, by the way, contemplate complete bullshit.  Seinfeld was a show about nothing, my dream is to blog about nothing until it bothers me.  I want to die trying, although I always come up with a point or two.  

There is a fine line between meaning and meaninglessness.  I like walking that line, it makes me feel close to infinity.  What does that mean even.  HA, or what doesn't it mean?

I don't know dude.  

I know as little as you do about infinity and such things.

You know the other day I told an Indian guy who lives in India that he was cracking me up and he didn't understand what the phrase meant.  That was interesting to me and I'm thinking of this now because it's a Saturday night and I'm watching an Indian movie with my parents.  So not cool.  I'm doing essentially nothing on a Saturday night.  

It's an older movie and the man and woman are running in the forest, they are lovers.  A beautiful song is playing.  I only understand like half the words.  

All of a sudden, for no particular reason, it occurs to me that everything is going to be OK.  I didn't know that before this very second.  I'm not even sure I know it after that second.  

Indian movies are like fairytales, there is always love.  I'm not cool enough to think this is dumb.  I kinda think it's cute.  I'm a romantic like that.  Sometimes I think life is kinda like a fairytale.  

I mean don't get me wrong there are some really bad Bollywood movies out there, but there are worse Hollywood movies.  Just like there are good people and bad people.

My friend was telling me the other day that I'm not having success Internet dating because the majority of people are "Douches" as she put it so eloquently.  (Is that how you spell that?)  I don't know if I'm that jaded yet, the human race has not lost it's splendor for me still.

But I get it, what she's saying.  

This is not a blog about nothing, is it?

I'm not successfully meaningless.  C'mon, I'm not really trying.

I'm just being random at this point.  

Are you easily amused?  I think I might be, but I like to think I have a discerning sense of humor. 

On a totally unrelated note, I'm having an epiphany and thinking of actually doing something serious about my weight.  

Let's be honest, I'm a bit of a lazy ass when it comes to the gym. Can I change that?  I mean I don't know, I'm gonna have to if I want my dreams of weight loss to come true.  I can I just don't.  I will.  

I mean going to the gym and dieting is not my idea of a party, but I want to be the life of the party again.  I mean, yes it's vanity, and health mind you.  I have some health problems because of my weight already and they are a real bitch and I'm not even forty.

I want to feel good about myself, I want to be normal and feel normal and get laid.  Let's be real.  
Maybe I want to feel cool again. 

I don't want to be the fat girl.  I just don't.  I don't know, am I crazy?

It's hard living in a world that values thinness so much.  A world that is in fact so obese.  

This is not because I don't love myself, I do.  In some ways more than when I was much thinner.  

I mean there is this whole element of wanting to feel sexy, to look sexy.  Not that overweight people cannot be sexy.  It's not exactly my style.

My look is not my style.  I've never been rail thin, but I was always a little curvy, but it went out of control.

I know it's who I am that really matters, that jovial woman who is smart and nice.  I know I'm beautiful now and always will be.  So it doesn't really matter if I do this or not.  But I'm gonna do it anyways. 

I'm cool cause I say I'm cool.  That's the law in Ninaland.  I wanted this blog to be light and fluffy after such an emotional post but it turns out I'm very serious these days.  

But you and I will always laugh together I hope, at these small moments of epiphany and cry together.  Try being easily amused, it's a good trait.    

Sunday, March 30, 2014

What Else Can I Say?

Sometimes I feel like it's odd that I bare my soul for the public to see.  Am I not even a little ashamed of my soul?  I mean we all wear protective gear, where is mine?  I mean I still believe it or not, don't tell my readers everything.  There are things that are sacred, even for me.

My family is sacred.  They may have a flaw or two and I know those flaws like the back of my hand, but I will never tell.  I will tell you though that they are rock stars.  Seriously, they took care of me, they take care of me, and I'm not like easy to take care of.  

I don't know if you know anything about Manic Depression but it is very difficult to watch someone go through it.  (Let me make one thing clear though, it was only when I was not taking medication that I was ill, there is a cure to my disease, the pills.  I now take them everyday).

When I didn't take my medication, I was mean.  There were times I was a straight up bitch.  

My family loved me through it.  

I wanted so badly to hate them, but they made it impossible with unconditional love.  I'm not just saying that because I'm related to them.  I mean my parents are Indian for god sakes, they wanted a normal daughter who would get married and be a doctor.

I'm none of those things, mainly I'm not normal.  They I'm sure did not expect to love someone like me, but that is their way.  They love their children, whatever way they turn out.  

Not to say I turned out bad.  I think in some kinda way I'm a rock star as well.  I mean I'm beating a disease and I'm trying to live out my dreams and I'm kind.  I'm not a hard person to love in general, but when I became crazy I was.  And it was a disease and it was chemical and biological.  

But it got personal.

My sister has never for one second held a single thing I said or did to her during that time against me.  My sister is a truly beautiful person.  Everyone loves the shit out of her.  

Oh she has her share of spunk and she'll tell you what's on her mind, but she is all good inside.  We are not friends, we are not enemies, we are not twins or anything.

We are the true definition of sisters.  She could not be more different than me, but we share a sacred bond.  She cares for me.  She is a nurse practitioner now and helps me with medical issues as well.  

I love her.

Look I got lucky.  I live in the lap of luxury in Troy, Michigan with want for nothing.  Yes, I'm thirty eight and live with my parents.  I need a little assistance and when I'm ready, I will move out.  

Sometimes I'm ashamed of this fact that I am allowing my family to take care of me.  Then I think, Oh my God, thank you, I have a family that can take care of me.    

Every time I have a conversation with my sister, she offers me money, and not in a derogatory fashion, but in a loving and decent way.  I told her to wait, because there may be some time when I actually need money from her, and I know that I won't even have to ask.  

My father put me through college as he went blind and still worked, my mother worked so hard all her life as a doctor to keep us in designer clothes.   

So why am I ranting all the time about this difficult life that I have?  You know human nature and all that crap.  Fuck that.  

I need to be grateful that I'm not living on the streets, where a majority of mentally ill people live.  I broke bread with homeless people in psychiatric wards.  I may have an Ivy League education, but the only thing that separates me from those that have to sell their body or drugs, is my family.  

Straight up, they are the reason I'm still alive.  

I ran away to New York when I was sick.  I could have died out there, but I didn't because they came.  

I told them not to come.  I told them I hated them.

They came anyways.  They came to Harlem, my dad with a blind man's cane, and my mother with a bad back, neck and shoulders.   

I told them not to love me.

They say love is blind, I disagree because my father is blind but he can see me, he can see what I really am and he loves me still.  Love is not blind, it can see, it is actually kind of stupid really. Love is rather misguided.     

But my family is not stupid.  And I'm not stupid.  We are smart, and we still love each other even when it makes no sense.  

Perhaps it is stupid for them to love me, but thank god for irrational, unconditional love.  

Some people say there is no god, but I don't know who else could have made these people I proudly call my family.  

Saturday, March 29, 2014

Thank You for Being a Friend...

So picture this:  Oprah and Gail mixed in with Jimmy Fallon and Justin Timberlake.  What do you get?  You get me and my BFF's sitting around philosophizing in hilarious but useful ways that could solve the world's problems with a spiritual twist.

I mean me and my friends think we need to be the new writers for Saturday Night Live and that we need our own radio show that could rival Oprah.  Of course I say radio because I've always had a face for radio.  

The three things that me and my buddies love to do are:

A) Psycho-analyze the living shit out of each other

B) Solve the world's problems

C) Allow hilarity and wit to ensue

Let me tackle A first, we like to sit around being each other's therapists, talking about our fears and emotions and relationships until we are blue in the face.  I'm speaking of me and my women friends of course, this is what girls like to do best and we are proud of our psycho-anlalytical abilities.  Dr. Phil could take advice from a group of serious women breakin' it down.  

B, we sit around and find simple ways that world peace could actually occur...this one's a little more difficult to explain but all I can say we are all one and love is all you need.  We are hippies at heart and want peace on earth.  You may say we are dreamers, but we are not the only ones.  

C, now this is where it gets fun.  Hilarity can ensue during A or B or both, and hilarity can just ensue on it's own.  I have laughed so hard with my besties that I have literally stopped breathing and thought I was having a heart attack.  I mean this shit is for real.  It is off the hook...I think I'm funny I think my friends are funnier.  

Let's face it the all of the above mentioned is what friends are for.

Some of the most important relationships in my life have been my friendships.  Very recently, a couple of my closest friends had an intervention with me.  They sat me down, looked me in the face and told me what was up.  They were straight with me, they love me, they told me to get it together.  I was kinda losing my shit so to speak and sinking into a depression. 

They were not nice and they were not mean, they were real.  

One of my friends was a friend of mine from a hundred years ago and another is a friend I recently reconnected with a year ago.  The friend from a hundred years ago knows all my parts, my insecurities and my failings.  She also knows my strengths and qualities as well.  Surprisingly my new friend knows different aspects of all those things.  

Surprisingly as well the true love of friends can transform you, as these two did, in one sitting.  They scared the shit out of me, they hugged me while I cried.  

See friends are just like family, just as important as significant others.  And your real friends will tell it to you like it is. 

A true friend does not worry about you liking them, they know you love them, but they know you need to hear the truth.

They told me the truth:  That I'm worth their love.  That I'm worth my own love.  That I am loved.

See I got sick some years ago and lost some friends because I lost my sense of reality, I had a manic episode and hurt some people very badly. When you lose a good friend, you understand more how important friendship really is.  

I still feel guilty to this day that I lost my mind and a friend, both at the same time.  But I truly believe certain people come into our lives for a certain amount of time so we can experience something with them and then sometimes you have to go your separate ways.  But it's hard.

But I still got my girls...      

I mean picture it:  2044---I'm sitting on the dock of the bay, by the fire, with my third cat and three best buddies.  There are three friends of mine that I went to high school with that I always picture I will become the Golden Girls with one day.  I imagine we will live in the same house and drive each other nuts.  Hilarity will ensue.  And the theme song from Golden Girls will instantaneously play in the background whenever we start laughing so hard our guts hurts. 

The song goes something like this:  "Thank you for being a friend."     

Friday, March 28, 2014

So I go innocently my way on because I am truly an  innocent citizen of the world.  However, I agree to go on a date with a guy and then change my mind, and in order to appease him I lie and say I'm going back to my ex.  

He is soooo nice about it, he's like, "Maybe you need space and blah blah blah," then all of a sudden out of nowhere he goes, "That was so deep, thanks bitch, later cunt," and hangs up the phone.  

He used the C-word on me.  No one has ever called me the C-word.  I don't know that I've heard that word from a man's mouth before.  

I'm sorry no one calls me cunt.

What am I gonna do about it you ask?  

That's a good question, but I repeat no one calls me a cunt.  It's the dirtiest word in our language.  

Anyways, then ten minutes later he sends me an email, "you are liar and a fake desist from contacting me or receive a restraining order you are a pervert stalker and I will report you to the police"

He is accusing me of being a stalker for no apparent reason.  I repeat I did not contact him again in any way.

I know, I know, I found him on the Internet.  But he is also a citizen of the world, people act like people you meet on the Internet are not human.  He is most likely human.  

What is happening to humans?  I almost went out on a date with this guy.  Truthfully, I didn't go out with him because I thought he was stupid.  As in not smart enough for me.  

Well my instincts were right about that.  He is stupid.  And I'm getting tired of meeting stupid men.  Where are the smart ones with good hearts?  

I'm gonna be straight up honest, the last guy I met online was great but he was too ugly for me.  Maybe this guy is right, I'm not a good person.  Yeah right.

I'm no frickin goddess or something, but I expect some bare minimum traits.  And at the least, don't be a psycho and accuse me of being a psycho. 

Well thankfully this guy doesn't know who I am, but his Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde routine scares me.  The Internet scares me and men scare me a bit.

So what to do?  OMG I just checked my match email and he wrote me again and he changed his profile to say the following: she wouldnt be a dumb ho thats fo sho, maybe she likes making her man some money, if that bitch aint to cheap to support her own habit. you know what, aint no worth a ring, if she wants to stink up the air with her taco shell than i might grab me a plate, but it better not smell like beef!


He sent me another scary message accusing me of stalking him on match.



P.S. I have not contacted him or in any way harassed him.

I want to laugh, I want to cry, I want to say "WHY?" 

I don't care enough though, I mean I care and then I don't care.

I mean my real question is, how did the world, or people get like this? I mean it takes a village people.  

We as a society have created these monsters and now we have to deal with them. 

You know sometimes I think I'm crazy because I have a diagnosis as Bipolar. But this guy is the real crazy person, bad people are the real crazy people. Everyone is crazy, it those that don't know it that we need to worry about.

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Nina in Ninaland

So the thing is, I've been in Ninaland for a little while.  (For those of you who have never been there, it's an OK place.  I mean I wouldn't raise my kids there, but you know).  What does that mean?  I don't know, I was in my own head, didn't feel like writing.  Just didn't feel it, but now that the monster of a winter is almost over, I'm ready to re-engage.  I think.

I sort of hibernated this winter, but didn't miss the big events like the Olympics.  My grandfather also passed away this winter, so it made it harder to interpret life from my smart ass point of view.  I'm not that smart.  I have a Masters in writing from Columbia but my grandfather had a better grasp of the English language than I do.  Really, he spoke and wrote better English than me.  

But he lived to be ninety and as a tribute to him I would say I should be joyous.  I should smile more.  A lot of people think life is short, but I actually think life is long.  I want to die in like my mid-eighties.  I don't really want to live longer than that.  Did I ever mention that I think it should be legal to do Crack when you are eighty?  I mean what's the risk?  OK, maybe not Crack because I hear it's not that long lasting.

So if I'm gonna live to be like eighty, middle age is like forty.  Oh my I'm almost middle aged.  I always assumed middle aged people were very boring and very desperate.  You know, the crises.  I wonder what I'll do for my midlife crises, I should plan it out.  My theme song will be the theme song from "The Breakfast Club," "Don't you Forget about Me..."

Or maybe that should be my funeral theme planning has never been my strong suit.

In many ways this has been the winter of my discontent.  I felt a little blah, blah.  I've many times felt as if I live in the wrong town, that I'm misunderstood and that I'm not sure if I fit in...anywhere...don't worry this is not a woe is me type of dialogue.  I've always just felt slightly different than most people. 

And although my moods can sometimes fluctuate, I generally have a positive attitude about life.  Well something happened to me in the past few months...I temporarily lost that...optimism.  And I'm trying to gain it back.  I stepped away from life in some ways this winter, and I looked at it, closely.

What did I see, when my head wasn't wondering in Ninaland?  I saw myself disappearing.  I saw myself dying.  We are all in fact dying, some faster than others.  In some ways I played dead, and in fact it is experiences like this that make living so brilliant.  Because you can't really see life for what it is until you see that it could disappear unto death.   

Don't misinterpret this, I can just see someone thinking that I am suicidal.  I am not, nor was I this winter.  What I experienced was different, I just went into a cave and hid there for a while.  Those that love me wondered what was going on, they worried, they created interventions.  Those that spoke Nina finally got through to me and I am waking up from my sad little dream. 

To put it simply I was a bit depressed.  I was at first not going to use that word, because I was ashamed.  Ashamed of what?  Of being sad? This is part of my dimension.  And as all good things come to an end, so do all bad things.  

Writing about it is part of my healing.  And if you judge me for being sad, I judge you for being mad.  Mad as in crazy.  The real crazy people are not those that can admit that life sucks sometimes, but those that can't admit that they are human.