You grow up...

... and it's your birthday.

And one of your dearest friends is missing.
And you find out she's sick.
And then you ask what's going on.
And someone tells you she's not well.
And you talk to your friend, the Doctor.
And he's brutally honest, but it's that's what you asked for.
And then you call her.
And you hear the words: transplant, bone marrow...
And all you can say is something stupid like: Be honest, you're getting a lipo AND boobs!
And she laughs.

And then... then what?

She starts treatment tomorrow.

Life... huh?

Apocalypse now

While getting ready for the end of the world... my friend Andy mentioned how we were supposed to prepare for thunder and kaboom and all that jazz.
But nononono... just don't. Zeus is the one with the thunder and the rays and the music.
Jesus is more into big productions, he goes BIG. He makes it rain...... FROGS!

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, frogs have been raining on my little world, an old blast from the past has been lurking around my little social media platforms.

Fun thing, I don't know how it happened but one of her associates managed to find my work e-mail and boom! she sent a message to the only electronic mailbox I manage.
Soon she'll Facebook friend request me, maybe follow me on twitter. Maybe even commenting on one of the websites I collab.

Get ready folks, the horsemen are coming!

I've been told I'm moving to a new office in a couple of months so I don't think they'll be able to find me.
I'll leave a post-it at the door, just in case.

Did you really think my baby little soul would write back?

Psychology's my jam... or not

Apparently, I look like a Psychologist... or a terrorist negotiator.

There's this boy, who's a friend (oooo0o0o0o0hhhh!!!! ---no, it's not what you think), who has a sister to went to Paris for a Master's 4 years ago. She called a couple of weeks ago, she's not coming back.
I don't understand why, but he's going crazy.

In a very strange state of mind, he called me for moral support.
He invited me to his house to talk some sense into her.
He was going to call her (or Skype her, or whatever) and I was supposed to convince her to come back home.
Problem was, at the time I agreed to do it, I didn't know the entire story.
I went to his place mostly for the booze.

Of course, before talking to the girl, I asked some background questions and well... this happened:

Me: Why are you so angry?
O: She PROMISED she was going to be back after 2 years. What is she doing there?
Don't ask me, have you asked her?
No... but really, what is she doing there?
Dude... she's living in Paris... France... Europe... 
She needs to start acting like an adult, she must take command of her life!
.... ohh... take command of HER life... and do what YOU want... right?
(shut up!)

Why doesn't she come back home? she'll have a roof over her head here!
OMG... is she homeless??
No, she has a little tiny apartment. 
But she has a place she can afford by herself, right?
Yeah, but if she were here, she'd be living with my mom, with a maid and a cook. She'll have EVERYTHING!
I see... hey... do you like this apartment?
I love it!!
How hard was it to find it... furnish it?
Oh... really hard.
How big is this place?
It's tiny... nothing big.
What would you say if your mom told you to get rid of it, live with her, with a maid and a cook. So you can have EVERYTHING!
I'd be ma---- shut. up.
Ok

She's not a little girl anymore, she's been there for 4 years. Don't you think it's about time she settles down?
How old are you?
40
This is a nice place... 
Thanks!
Are you 100% happy with your life? work? paycheck? love?
Well... no.
So, you're not done yet.
Nah.
When I met you 15 years ago you were really struggling... so in 2 years she's supposed to do what you haven't been able to do in over 16 years. Why?
(shut up!)

She says she's happy there, how can she be happy without her family?
How can se be happy with a group of people that belittles her?
She's a spoiled brat. She gets mad every time I write on her Facebook wall: "Sissy, You'll always be my baby"
And still, you DEMAND for her to act like an adult... smart move man.

She's my baby sister, she's not supposed to suffer. She's a princess. She's my little dove.
OH... C'MON!!! I'm gonna puke from all that corny!!
But it's true!
Don't you want your sister to be a strong, independent, reliable, incredibly smart woman?
My little angel.
You're an ass.
WHAT?!?!?!
Don't make the call, I'm not talking to her.
But... it's my birthday, do it as a present for me
(Oh fuck) ---- No man, not going to happen. I'll bake you a birthday cake, I'll take you out... right now, but I won't make the call.
I'll make the call.
Good! You make the call, ask her about her life. Ask her what is she doing... tell her you're PROUD of her and all she's accomplished.
I can't lie.
It's not a lie, I know deep down you're proud of her.
I won't lie
You're an ass... and I'm not going to bake you a cake or take you out.

------

Apparently, it was a win/win/win situation.
A couple of weeks later the sister got a phone call from the brother letting her know how proud he was of her... and how much he respected her decisions; the brother got a little peace of mind, and most importantly; the terrorist negotiator got a dinner invitation... yay!

Life's a bitch

Getting home with a letter from the big big boss saying I've earned a promotion after 3 months on the job.
Reducing many many MANY letters and emails requesting permits and burocratic issues with a cell phone filled with numbers and now friendly names helping me with all the crazy bike plans I'm cooking.
Meetings, meetings, students, students, plans, plans... taking all my time.
Getting home so tired I haven't been able to stay awake and watch tv in weeks.
Leaving home so early and coming back so late the doorman actually said: "Hello miss! I thought you were out of town! I haven't seen you in a while."

Being the happiest version of me I've been in years.
Smiling so much my cheeks hurt when I think about it.

Stopping in the middle of a busy day to attend a funeral.

Life has a bitch sense of humor.

My own quantum physics

I keep all the clocks and watches around myself, even my wristwatch, 5 minutes ahead.
Of course, that makes me 5 minutes early to all my appointments, It makes me a happy camper.

All happy, all camper-y... except this week:

The lady that cleans my apartment fixed the time on all those watches, they're now ON TIME.

I've been 10 minutes LATE to every single on my appointments this week.

How does that happen? The only reasonable explanation is, there's a time vortex at my door that turns a -5 minute difference equivalent to a +15 minute result.

So, the girls met the guy and...

- Since when do you have a thing for hippies?
- Since geeks turned out to be asses.
- Good point, good point -------------- are you serious?
- Yeap.
- Don't forget to send an hippie invite for your hippie wedding.
- (y)

Lucky number five, times a hundred

I've been collecting lucky bamboos for a while now.

Well, let's not call it "collecting", taking care of and then releasing into the world, or something...

I got my first one while living in Cincinnati. It was a pretty little thing someone got as part of a minimalistic deco composition for a 2 bedroom apartment.

Then, I moved to New Jersey and I had to leave my lucky bamboo in the hands of an incredibly stupid woman, who at the time I called "friend" (but that's another story, written somewhere else).
At the time, there was this dude who offered to drive my little lucky from OH to NJ, but I didn't want to complicate something that was already looking complicated ---- which, a few years later got horribly complicated and I ended up burning bridges all around the midwest, the Dakotas and West coast, catch my complicated drift?

Anyway, anyhow, any who...

Once in NJ, I got a new lucky bamboo, very Swedish, very much from Ikea.
Unfortunately, I had to leave NJ, and lucky bamboo #2 couldn't come with me . I'm pretty sure it's dead by now. Sorry little dude, shit happens.

As I returned to Cincy, one of the few significant things I wanted to take back was lucky #1.
When I asked for it, the woman I left it to started to cry. She'd let my bamboo die... I mean.... HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KILL A BAMBOO??? how stupid are you?? that creature may have a thousand academic degrees and diplomas but... it's water once every two weeks woman. How hard is it!?!?!

Well, it hurt at the time, but when I moved to a new apartment by myself, I got a mini tiny lucky bamboo.
Lucky #3 grew to about 6-7 times his original size in a couple of months, which make my incredibly proud. My green thumb existed!!
A few weeks later, this guy I met saw my baby all alone, said they were not supposed to be by themselves and got it a brother, lucky #4.

Lucky #4 gave me enough confidence to get more brothers, sisters and cousins from all around and my little apartment became the little peace of heaven I always wanted but was not "allowed", with  flowers, plants and herbs that filled my apartment with colours and scents even during the coldest of winters.

Last year I moved again. This time I was not going to be able to take my bamboos with me... or any of my plants for that matter.
Mr. Big offered to take them, but it was going to be tooooooooo complicated. So I gave half of them to my former roommate and the other half, including my two luckies, to my amazing neighbour. I'm pretty sure he's taking great care of my babies.

*** Fast forward, 6 months ***

My aunt gave me a big, big, really big... HUGE succulents pot as a Christmas present, now sitting on the highest shelf in my office.
It came as a bunch of little babies, and now it's a pretty little jungle.

[sigh] --- Lucky #5 came two weeks ago to my apartment. He's getting used to his new place and I'm getting used to seeing something pretty, something familiar, something from another time and place.

After #5? ferns, peonies, lemongrass, mint, basil... I'm slowly getting my little jungle back.

Can't complain. Life's good.