Category Archives: Good Days

Good Luck Parachutes

Wordless Wednesday: Chinatown, NYC on January 29, 2012.

Finding Serenity in Snow

Rough, rectangular bricks made an uneven pattern in the small enclosure, edges sticking up and others cracked in half, but the groundwork lay beneath the powdery cold, partly covered. The blanket rested undisturbed, pristine and layered. Rarely anyone or anything ventured into this abandoned space. The children grew up and left, returning sporadically, but still ignoring the basketball net replaced several years back to entice its use.

The chain link fence bowed in areas from remaining upright for so long, bullied by the heavy, insistent snow. Deep gouges edged into a tree trunk like chapped lips, a lost limb appearing cauterised from its side. Young girls swung hula hoops around the branch in earlier years, and a brass bird-cage before they were born. The garage door also reflected age and wear, cracked in places once painted annually in shady spring afternoons.

The woman walked on the brick, boots sinking into the ice and frost. She paused and looked, really saw. She breathed in the memories slowly, closing her eyes, then opening them to attune herself to the moment and empty her mind.

She considered her hesitation in visiting this sacred space at first, afraid to notice any oddities or differences from the carefree days of her childhood. Yet, she did not dare to walk over the forward steps and continued despite her fears.

Nothing stirred except the winds blowing through the frozen pine needles; a torn rag somehow caught in the tree branches above and waved at her to move ahead. Her methodical procession led her to circle the yard with care. She thought about Lao Tsu and wondered if she was a closet Taoist; the internal chatter ceased and she felt purified, whole, and at one with her surroundings. She felt the air alive with God and hope, pushing away the darkness from the past few months.

There were strange things present; things she did not understand or want to know. Some changes amused her.

Other alterations suggested loneliness, death, and lost companionship. She remembered hearing her grandmother’s laughter, the squeaking line of laundry hung to dry in the summer heat and playing in a turtle shaped sandbox. She felt warm, despite the outward chill and knew to leave when her cheeks hurt from the cold and happiness.

She saw herself as a six-year-old, picking fennel from the garden, washing the bitter leaves with a hose and eating it to appease her proud grandfather. She recounted good memories- hopscotch games with friends, feeding her dog saltine crackers so he would lick her face and make her laugh, and building an island for a Lord of the Flies project as a middle schooler.

I will return after  the winter gives way to weeds and wildflowers, she vowed, turning back down the alleyway, but only after buying a basketball.

Bragging Rights, Fuzz Monsters, and Gratitude

The week started very low. Numerous family emergencies came up, the most notable being my sister’s frightening car accident. Another driver decided to swerve from the slow lane into the fast, hit another car, which then pinballed into hers and caused her to go spinning. Scary. My sister was stuck in a totaled car for awhile, but left in perfect health (minus a persistent migraine she’s getting checked out). It was a close call, but we are grateful for her well-being.

Thank you to my wonderful friends and Twitter followers who kept me in high spirits when I was still waiting for news. Your well wishes and sincere words helped me more than you know.

On a less important, but still exciting note, my favorite NFL team, the NY Giants are going to the Super Bowl- to beat the New England Patriots like they did in ’08. I look forward to taking to the streets with the rest of this marvelous city in rowdy celebration again.

Lastly, I met my new nephew!

Here are pictures of my best friend’s new husky puppy (see related post here) from this past weekend:

He’s very fuzzy, sociable, and bright, if not exactly potty trained yet. He’ll get there, though!

A Story behind the Stamps

She stands a little over five feet tall, but her personality makes her seem like a giant. The 80-year-old walks swiftly if slightly bent to the mahogany bookcase. Her fingers rifle through several hardcovers, pulling out slips of paper as she searches. She stops after several moments and smiles at her grandson, handing them over. His curious gaze softens as he examines the yellowed stamp sheets.

“Will these be enough?” she asks him, smoothing her long pleated skirt absently with her empty hands.

“Yes, I believe so, Gram,” he replies, counting the cents diligently, “but don’t you want to save these? They could be worth something.”

“They probably are, dear,” she smiles, “however I have no use for them and I do not wish to sell them to someone who would keep them imprisoned in another book for fifty more years. These deserve to get mailed, see the world a bit, and carry out their original purpose.”

“As you wish, Gram,” her grown grandson replies, his forehead creased in unspoken disapproval.

“Your grandpa would have wished it so,” she says softly, running her hand on his face in appeal.

“Yes, he would have wanted me to do whatever makes you happy,” he laughs, looking at her with adoration, “he knew better than to not listen to you, at any rate.”

“That’s my boy!” she cheers, grasping his hands with hers, “and you are welcome to keep any left over for whatever investment schemes you are mulling over in that brilliant brain.”

She moves toward a scratched oak desk, opens its top drawer, and retrieves the vintage bauble someone bought from her grandson’s eBay listing. He takes the delicate thimble and explains, “I am an old woman with many things, and I wish to share my treasures with those who will appreciate them – not store them away for the sake of my memory, dear. Thank you so much for helping me.”

He nods in silence, unable to say anything without betraying emotion in his voice and wraps the small purchase in bubble wrap, slipping it into a mailer. His grandmother and he take turns placing the stamps on the envelope. They talk and smile at one another; it becomes a treasured moment between them.

“Where is this package going, anyway?” she questions as he buttons his coat and prepares to leave, sealed envelope in hand.

“New York City,” he states, “The buyer was eager and requested expedited shipping.”

“The city that never sleeps,” she muses, a dreamy smile easing over her face, “Your grandfather and I went to New York once, before your mother was born. It was a busy, dirty place, but we had such a good time.”

“Yes, I would like to visit New York someday. We plan on settling down here in California, but I promised Leanne we would go see the Statue of Liberty.”

“You must take her there soon, then,” his grandmother advised as they hugged goodbye, “It’s best not to keep your bride waiting on those types of promises.”

There is a back story to this envelope, and this could be one of them. More possibilities to come.

Insert 2012-Related Title Here

Hello friends, family, and readers, regular and new. Happy New Year!

The universe is transformation; our life is what we make it. - Marcus Aurelius

2011 filled out into a memorable, thick chapter in my life. I wrote my first reviews and articles for other sites this past year. You – all of you – encouraged, pushed, and critiqued when needed. Editors helped me develop my craft, carve words more precisely, and find comfort in hacking hasty sentences to pieces. Community approval propelled this site forward during low, uninspired moments, like when my mother underwent serious health problems and I dragged through the last few months of graduate school halfheartedly, homesick and worried.

A note left for me from last year, December 31, 2010.

Chi Speak blossomed from your belief in it more than mine. I’m astonished by its growth over a year. “Thank you” does not sufficiently express my gratitude, but it will have to do for now.

Oh, 2012, you will not see any strict resolutions from me because I will undoubtedly slow down and let them fade away until next December. However, I vow to persevere, make improvements around here (some on purpose, some by accident), work passionately as an educator and counselor, improve as a person, jump in the melee and jump out, smile often, forgive even more, crack jokes and laugh at others’ punch lines (no matter how cheesy or flat), stay realistic, thankful, and grounded, and keep my mind open and hopeful like a thirsty sponge, blogging  along the way.

I promise you all that, New Year, at least. Let’s shake on it and get back to the party before someone asks for you. You sure are popular tonight.

Celebratory Biscuits

Traffic spiked today because Bloggers.com featured my profile (and this blog) as an Editors’ Pick of the Day.

See? Pretty cool.

Honored, humbled, and a little overwhelmed by over 60 friend requests in my e-mail inbox, I reacted in a way hopefully most bloggers would in my situation, dancing for all of five seconds in a pretty embarrassing way before writing up a few reviews (still have a few more to go before the ball drops), tweeting a bunch, and baking celebratory biscuits.

See the wax paper? I only have enough counter space for the baking sheet or work space, so I joined both into one! Voila!

These are not normal biscuits. Get ready to shudder (in glee)! They are mostly healthy and really easy to make. Also, they’re the good kind you can really dig your fingers into and break apart into layers while eating. Forget your days of struggling to peel refrigerated dough from cardboard rolls, darling. They were not worth it. I hope you will agree these are better.

Makes: 6 biscuits

Here’s What You’ll Need:

  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 cup fat-free milk
  • 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
  • 2.5 tsp baking powder
  • a pinch of salt (optional)
  • extra virgin olive oil spray or extra olive oil with a pastry brush
  • baking sheet
  • mixing bowl with a spoon
  • biscuit cutter (optional)

Here’s What You Do:

- Place the flour and baking powder in a mixing bowl, stirring with a spoon as you add the milk and olive oil. A ball of dough will form.

- Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F.

- Cover the baking sheet with aluminum foil or other baking mat. Lightly grease with olive oil. Set aside a work station with wax paper, a pastry rolling board, whatever works best for you with the space you have available.

- Coating your (washed) hands with extra flour, reach into that mixing bowl and take a small ball out, flattening it out into a quarter-inch thick circle. Shape with the biscuit cutter, if desired. Set on the baking sheet. Repeat five more times.

- Lightly spray or brush extra olive oil on the top of each formed circle. Add two more layers of circles on top of the original ones, drizzling with olive oil each time. You will make 18 circles, six biscuits total with three layers apiece.

- Bake for 10-15 minutes until risen and a light golden brown. Serve warm.

Nominate me for anything else and my loved ones’ stomachs will thank you. Also, happy early 2012 – what a fantastic way to begin the new year!

*Lastly, I realize several gluten-free proponents recently followed me on Twitter and this may not be the friendliest post for you to try on your own. Here is a gluten-free biscuit recipe. A close relative was diagnosed with autism from an early age and stuck with a low sugar and gluten-free diet throughout his early to pre-teen development years; I know how difficult it can be to follow. Please feel welcome to share your gluten-free baking tips here too – I am always eager to learn and try out new recipes!

Stars and Subways

When I moved to the city, I left many things and beloved people, but the only longing I feel now stems from my inability to regularly walk outside, turn my face up to the sky, and soak in the stars.

Shown above: Pictorial iOS app screenshot

Instead, this sprawling concrete and steel land lends countless lights, bright, blinking, burnt out, enormous, and small. Some are static and stretched across expansive billboards, while others zigzag across Midtown as cabs, double-decker tourist buses, methodical MTA beasts, and frantic, varying cars. They are beautiful, dazzling, and disorienting. One can lose themselves in pursuit or avoidance of them. Sometimes, these subtle reminders keep one grounded, level-headed.

I had a fantastic conversation with someone from a different religious perspective today. We discovered many similarities despite our theological and personal differences, and our mutual recognition and respect for one another helps ease my yearning for Orion’s Belt a little while longer. We all share the same eternal glow. I do not need to search out or keep to myself all the time. Others are there to accept and understand as long as I take the leap to reach out, listen, and share in return.

Beating Writer’s Block: Kindling, Spark, Blaze

Tonight, my best friend and I talked about many things. We spoke about topics never discussed with each other before and I enjoyed learning more about someone I thought I already knew thoroughly.

Our conversation stayed with me as I readied for sleep and covered myself with blankets. Then, the spark unexpectedly returned, sucked in a greedy breath, and began to burn. I felt the compulsion to write again. A novel.

My feet hit the floor before I registered wakefulness and hands scrambled for the nearest pen and paper. Many barren notebooks lay empty and abandoned around this place, but I found one and wrote a basic outline to flesh out later. Graduate school and work and life extinguished prior attempts, but the fire is burning hot and insistent in my being.

The last time I felt anything similar resulted in sixty pages before the embers cooled to dust. Not so now. I refuse to surrender this feeling; my lungs are drawing in their first breaths of air after almost drowning. I am filled with hope and palpable relief.

I will write the pending reviews. I will finish NaBloPoMo. I will work, hand in projects, and celebrate the holidays. And I will write. The words are crackling through me and I look forward to permitting their escape. All one can do is try.

Cursing at Crass, Crude, Coarse Language

Added this little gem to my holiday wish list.

Featured above: The Chalkboard Speech Bubble at the Photojojo Store!

“F!*king b!tch better not say-”

“We talked about how cursing affects others’ thoughts and perceptions about the person mouthing off,” I reminded the person seeking advisement from me, “and Mr. Smith (an authority figure) can hear you from here. Tone it down.”

And Mr. Smith can hear you-blah, blah, blah,” the client mocked back, “Everyone’s always trying to get me to stop using foul language. Whatever.”

Come on,” I replied off-handedly, “how is this showing you have the upper hand or proving to yourself that you’re ready to be taken seriously by anyone else?”

Sometimes, it’s necessary to engage one in fruitless battle or temporarily retreat. Not in defeat, but realizing the other person is not ready or willing to work on goals, to feel vulnerable enough to grow and change. Most people understandably stick with what they know. We learn acceptable ways to communicate from what surrounds us in our homes, community, and social norms prominently displayed through pop culture with television, hit songs, and frequently used slang. This is a heavy foundation to turn over.

I realize people use curse words without much or any negative outcome. I’m not excluding myself from this group either. However, the stubborn habit (used in this case to feel in control to cover up vulnerability, uncertainty, and anxiety) will create future complications if exercised restraint is not learned. Unfortunate words often tumble out impulsively and that knee-jerk reaction will mean the difference between getting hired, retaining employment, or making a relationship last one day. I feel cursing is fine, but only when carefully used in proper settings.

Therapeutic goals often focus on strengthening executive functioning in those with developing or impaired frontal lobes. Freud may have recognized this area of the brain as the Superego, though his insistence on the unconscious skews this possibility a bit. The frontal lobe is a brain cortex responsible for many functions, including impulse control and higher thinking. Yet, clinicians still need a willing audience to craft and install a verbal filter in someone. I’m willing to take the time to build one from scratch, but only if met halfway.

I restored my waning patience by recalling ridiculous online lingo and thinking of a related book review I wrote a few months back. I thought about the English language and how society ended up hacking away letters in favor of shortening time needed for communication, a new shorthand system. I tried cursing in my head, then internally smirked at the thought of cursing because someone cursed. I wondered how our society may differ if only we paused before reacting with equally harsh words. I felt frustrated with this task and the individual’s resistance, but not discouraged. All of this happened in the minutes between my question and waiting for a response.

Consistency is key. Waiting for the person to respond is important. Gears turn at different speeds. I let the person think my question over. The best work occurs in moments of silence. They only responded as our time ran out and they turned to leave with an accepting nod, broad smile, and two words:

“Thank you.”

I exhaled and felt encouraged. There is hope for insight. Always.

Liebster Blog Award

BlogHer and National Blog Posting Month accomplishes more than challenging participating writers. I’m meeting insightful, inspiring bloggers, like Angelia at Living, Laughing, Loving.

Liebster is German and translates to the English word "dearest". It’s meant for up-and-coming blogs with less than 200 followers."

She honored me with a nomination for the Liebster Blog Award in a recent post titled ‘Ceremony Treasure’. Thank you, Angelia! I’m very surprised and grateful. This award holds greater meaning because her thoughts on receiving it mirrors Chi Speak’s mission in a beautifully articulate nutshell.

Angelia stated:

And really? It’s not even about me. It’s about life. About finding those things that keep you going, and engaged. It’s about sharing life, and loving life, and being able to be thankful for the good stuff, and forget about the bad.

I write it in many ways (and often!), but it’s worth repeating. We’re all here to share, whether we’re reading, writing, or accidentally passing through. Blogging allows us to interact on a level impossible before the Internet. Our thoughts, experiences, struggles, and successes are laid out for others to ignore or connect with on a global scale.

Here are the award rules:

  1. Show your thanks to the blogger who gave you the award by linking back to them.
  2. Reveal your top five picks for the award and let them know by leaving a comment on their blog.
  3. Post the award on your blog.
  4. Bask in the love from the most supportive people on the blogosphere – other bloggers.
  5. And, best of all – have fun and spread the karma.

Here are my five awardees:

  • K, Damaged Calm - She left blogging and recently returned. I found her blog today and want to welcome her back to the blogosphere.
  • KarenLynn, Blooming Boomer- Her writing is very honest and detailed. She shares her life as though her readers are close friends and family. Also, her grandchildren are adorable.
  • Flameheart, The Fire in My Eyes - One of my first Facebook followers. She is a creative writer, poet, and art student. Very talented and upbeat.
  • Gayle, Lula Harp - A very pure, energetic blogger. She writes about “cooking, crafting, and self discovery.”
  • SpinsterJane – A relatively new blogger. Dancer/writer/poet. East Coaster, like me. Admirably determined to reclaim the word ‘spinster’ for single women.

This post also coincides with this week’s Celebration theme at The Writers’ Post.