Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Happy Leap Day!!

In honor of the one day that comes every four years--happy birthday to everyone who is born on February 29--I have decided that everyone should take one huge leap forward today. A huge leap could be changing career paths, telling someone who have a crush on that you love them or finally forgiving the one person you never thought you'd ever forgive. It could also be as easy as having a cupcake without guilt or talking to a stranger on the train. The thing is, I have no idea what your leap should be but you do. Just think about the one thing you always wanted to do but never had the courage or strength to do and there you go. My huge leap is starting a 40 Day Fear Cleanse to take the time to confront my fear of not being in control. This fear keeps me from fully trusting others and creates negativity in all of my relationships, my career and pretty much every aspect of my life. It used to manifest itself in restrictive eating patterns--aka an easting disorder--and panic attacks, now it shows up on flights, job interviews and even in dealing with my ex-boyfriend. Since I am sick and tired of living in fear, I've decided to stop that -ish and clear the fear in my life. I'll keep you all updated on how the fear clearing is going if you promise me to keep you posted on what your big leap moment is. Even if you don't, I still will.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

You Say You Want A Revolution?

The sexual revolution was well under way before I was born 

This week's question is all about what kind of revolution you want. I'm right with Danielle when she says that there are tons of societal revolutions that she's down for, but can't quite be the fearless leader of because she lacks the whatever it is that is needed to run that show.

I would love to be a healthcare revolutionary, God knows I curse and spit about the lack of affordable, quality healthcare that focuses on prevention and treating the disease not the symptom, but Anastasia MD or politician or aid worker catching malaria or dysentery like it's a badge of honor ain't me. I would love to revolutionize education but my mom and everyone else in my family who work in inner city schools trying to ensure that no child truly gets left behind have that covered. I would love to revolutionize the lives of women across the globe, since many of us at home and abroad are still treated like second class citizens although every man had the luxury of being born through one of us. I want to revolutionize how we eat, but I kinda eat fast food more than I'd care to admit so I need to start revolutionizing my plate first. Actually, the only thing I really have the competencies and motivation to revolutionize right now is my life. You know the saying "healer heal thyself?" Well that's where I'm at. I know that my life is going to have a HUGE (Julia Robert's in Pretty Woman yelling at the shop girls who treated her like a poor hooker voice) impact on this tiny speck of rock floating in the cosmos that we call Earth, I just know that it won't happen until I heal me first. I mean how insane would it be for me to go around revolutionizing the world and I don't even have a semblance of having my shit together? I barley have my closet sorted let alone my career, relationships, spirituality, diet and all that other stuff straight. Not that I think that I have to have it all figured at once, Rome wasn't built in a day nor did it fall overnight, but I think getting closer to a general idea of things is necessary.

So the only thing I can/want to revolutionize right now, February 28,2012 at 3:10 pm Eastern tim, is me and bringing my life, my life, my life, my life into the sunshine.

Monday, February 27, 2012


It takes a village to raise a child and when that child becomes an adult, it takes a village to keep them sane.
-little ole moi

Friday, February 24, 2012


I'm beautiful in my way, 'cause God makes no mistakes. I'm on the right track baby I was born this way. Don't hide yourself in regret, just love yourself and you're set.
 -Stefani  Joanne Angelina Germonatta aka Lady Gaga

Somebody Save Me


The week may be pretty much over but since I've spent the past few days on an extended job interview in NYC with little to no time to blog, I'm answering this week's question today. Honestly, the experiences I had this week were absolutely necessary to me answering this question in a truthful, honest manner proving once again that I have no idea what's best but someone else does. So here's my answer to this week's Burning Question, What's one dumb thing that you used to believe in? (Be warned, this may get long.)

Growing up all kids have superheros that they look up to and secretly wish would swoop down and save them from having to do their chores. They learn that when things get tough it takes super human strength to stop a speeding train from derailing, to rescue an old lady from a burning building or to save the world from an evil genius. As they grow up their heros become a little less kryptonite resistant and a little more real. They learn that Superman, like Santa and the Easter Bunny, is just a story and that the real heros are the people who stand up for what they believe in and go against what is popular to do what is right. Their heros go from She-Ra, Batman (my fave superhero because his super power is being super rich), Wonder Woman and the like to Martin Luther King Jr, Ghandi, Barack Obama and perhaps their parents. While it's great to look up to people and have archetypes to relate to, our society's hero worship has one major flaw--perhaps more than one but I only care about one--and it is that salvation comes from someone outside of you.

 Batman has a bank account and a butler with nary a superpower.

I've believed most of my life, and kinda still do a little bit, that someone else has to save me. Whether that meant Jesus, Batman, Han Solo, a hot guy in a black Audi, my mom, my dad or Oprah, I have always believed that I was a frail, damsel in distress that needs someone stronger to make everything ok. I don't, and neither do you. While it took years for my mind to accept that my salvation was totally relient on the kindness of strangers, it only took a few short flights for me to recognize my problem and a few even shorter minutes for me to allow the solution to be revealed.

I hate flying, probably because I don't fly too much. When I say I hate flying, I mean I break into a sweat when the plane hits a bump and have had panic attacks on three flights in three years. My wonderful ex boyfriend used to hold my hand and soothe me on flights, giving me the confidence and support I needed to not freak out everyone on the plane. This past week flying without my training wheels had me a little antsy, and when I say a little I mean doing rounds of EFT in the airport to clear my fear of every part of flying. I found myself reaching out to hold the hands of strangers and calling for a flight attendant when things felt less than safe. I eventually landed at Newark with a new friend, happy to be on solid ground, and still oblivious to the fact that I am unable to self soothe and constantly seeking salvation on the outside instead of on the inside. It wasn't until my return flight when some guy who was trying to pick me up no doubt--FYI I am not the kind of girl that meets men on planes especially when the live in a different part of the country and have a touch of the chauvinist in them--sat next to me after out flight into Baltimore explaining how he wanted to have 4-5 kids. Not only was that insane, I've known you for all of an hour and you're telling me about kids, but it was a huge wake up call. Had I not been seeking someone to hold my hand and tell me that everything is going to be all right, I woud not have ended up on a "date" at the airport with a man who clearly believed that a woman was only good for making babies! (Wrong country, wrong decade.) Now I didn't have this revelation in the Baltimore/DC airport, I actually had it on my second flight while alternating between bothering the woman sitting next to me, reading A Course in Miracles and meditating. Between all of that, and praying that the plane wouldn't crash, a ton of bricks fell into my lap and said "You think you need someone else to save you from everything, loneliness, fear, this plane crashing, deciding on what to do on a Saturday night. What you don't know is you have to save you." I instantly relaxed in my seat, stopped bothering my people around me and finished reading my book. While the plane shook here and there I remembered that I do not need anyone to save me, even the pilot although I do need him to fly the plane because that is outside of my area of expertise.

Buffy Summers is still my hero.

Is my fear of flying completely done, I won't know that until I get on my next flight but I do know that my addiction to finding salvation outside of me is done. I am not some princess in tower waiting on a prince to rescue me from the clutches of a wicked witch, or some old maid waiting on a man to save me from the misery of being single. I got this! More importantly, when I feel like I don't I know that there is a higher power inside of me who has this.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Old Maid My ASS!

A few weeks ago I was on the phone with a good friend in the middle of the night trying to comfort her and give my best "advice" on her relationship woes when she dropped this bomb, "Most people our age are married or in committed relationships." First of all, not only did I find that to be a gross overstatement of a fact--I know a ton of girls all over America who are my age and are happily single, statistics prove it--but I also found it to be a highly insensitive thing to say to someone who is going through a breakup. (Remember before you speak wait and say Why Am I Saying This, I guarantee it'll save you many an embarrassing, foot in mouth moment.)  This sentiment expressed by my friend--and secretly held in the heart of many a single or relationshipped girl that I know--that everyone our age is married or on the way to being married got mt to thinking some pretty deep thoughts. After a few days of thinking and talking to another friend with some equally skewed views on why we go down the aisle I came to the only sane conclusion, we have all been brainwashed! I mean, who says you have to be married by a certain age anyway?

Does no one else think June was a bit ridiculous wearing pearls 24/7? 

When I was 21, anything over 25 seemed old. Now that I'm two years away from 30, give or take a few months, I don't think 25 is old at all. I mean 25 is older than 21 but it isn't as old as 40, and everyone I know over 32 thinks I have all the time in the world to get messy, make mistakes and find a husband. The only people who think I should be looking for a mate are some of my friends and me--about 80% of the time. Actually most of the women I know who are in the older, wiser age range, aka my mom's age, have repeatedly told me that getting married before turning 30 usually ends in divorce because most 20 something girls have no clue who they are which incidentally is supported by science with tons of research saying that the part of the brain that governs complex cognitive behaviors, personality expression and decision making are not developed until about 25 give or take a few years. Most older, wiser women also agree that most of us 20s girls get married for the WRONG reasons.

Before I delve into the wrong reason pile, let's do a brief super short history of marriage in the 20th Century as illustrated by our grandmothers and mothers. Our grandmothers who were in their 20s during the '40s, '50s and early '60s existed in a strange Stepford like time when they were expected to marry largely because they didn't have many career prospects and pre-women's lib societal norms held over from previous ages when women had no voice in politics and weren't expected to be educated told them that their place was at home. Thankfully society also knew that no man wanted a dumb wife who couldn't manage the household budget, make dinner from scratch, wrangle the kids and look like June Cleaver or Lena Horne while doing it, so off to college to earn their MRS our grandmothers went. Along the way they became secretaries, teachers and nurses but if they weren't married with a baby by 25 their lives were incomplete. Fast forward to our moms who thanks to changing societal norms were able to take control of their reproductive systems thanks to birth control and Roe v Wade, could earn a living wage thanks to their educations in something other than how to be a great woman behind the throne and were not doomed to stay in loveless marriages where they were abused, mistreated or just unhappy thanks to divorce become more normalized. As a result our parents who got married when "society" told them to, between the ages of 19 and 24, found themselves divorced by 35 (hint, hint). Due to the pioneering efforts of our foremothers, many of the gals of today are as well educated and finically  (in)secure as their male counterparts making the need to get married before your prefrontal cortex has fully developed a thing of the past. Unless you live in the South like me where girls are expected to get married fresh out of college like it's 1955.

All single, all over 30, all fly as all out doors!

The point of our little history lesson is that the reason for marrying young that held up in the past have been obliterated thanks in large part to the feminist movement--which actually asserts that woman have the right to be who they want to be whether that mean's a housewife or the next President not that we have to stop shaving our armpits unless we like that sort of thing. You don't have to get married because society thinks you're deficient if you aren't married by 35, or because your eggs are going to go bad, or because your knocked up, or at all if you don't want to. There is no need to find a man for security, hell in this economy there is no such thing as finical security at any age let alone in your 20s when most of us are underemployed or getting so many degrees it's crazy in an effort to wait out the seemingly dismal job market's eventual uptick. Oh and as for having kids, I checked that one out and your eggs do go bad but not as quickly as I thought, making it perfectly OK,  to have kids in your 30s. I mean, my mom had my brother at 30 and he didn't turn out THAT bad.

Another group of fab single ladies that didn't get married until they were in their LATE 30s

So the next time someone asks you when are you getting married or asserts that there is something wrong with you because you'd rather be single than stay with your jerk ex-boyfriend who stole from you, hit on your friend in front of you in a bar, forgot your birthday and every holiday and was an all around ass (FYI this is not about my ex, he was and still is a great guy just not with me right now), tell them piss off. Would you rather be happy or following whatever "rules" society has set up for you? BTW society is pretty effed up in case you haven't noticed, so I don't think I would take life advice from whoever this society person is. And if you think I'm going to be an Old Maid or whacky Spinster aunt living in a house in Miami with my mom, a retired whorey debutante and some chick from Minnesota, not only do you not know the definition of old but you have no idea how awesome the Golden Girls were. I have at least another 30 years before I'm considered an Old Maid and that is more years than I've been alive, so odds are it's not going to happen.

The point is, it's perfectly normal to want to get married and have a family but it is perfectly insane to put a sell by date on it.


I stumbled upon this quote at the perfect time. I was just thinking today about an amazing opportunity I was afforded--and the possible job that is attached--and thought that had I still been in a relationship with the person I love deeply but was afraid to let go of, ever, I would be filled with fear at this prospect instead of embracing it. I instantly felt strange about that, I mean my ex is an amazing man and never did anything to hold me back, then I saw this quote:

When they are older and telling their own children about their grandmother, they will be able to say that she stood in the storm, and when the wind did not blow her way -- and it surely has not -- she adjusted her sails.
-Elizabeth Anania  Edwards

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Get Over The Humph Day Blues....

You can't be sad when you know cuteness like this exists in the world. BTW, I love that Rosie is finally growing into her personality. This is why I roll with Ellen.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

This Week's Burning Question

Hey! Hey! This week's burning question is all about money, money, money honey boo, boo child! So many people see the word money and think either it's the root of all good or the root of all evil when in truth money isn't the root of anything. Money allows you to pay your bills and live whatever your definition of a comfortable life is, but on it's own money has no energy attached to it that you do not give it. And if you think money is the root of all evil, you'll never have any. Conversely, if you think money can buy you everything, you'll never have anything worthwhile that money cannot buy you, ie love, peace and happiness since those things aren't for sale. Meaning it is perfectly amazing, and even spiritually aligned, to want $1 bilion in the bank, you just have to know what you want the money for. If you think having a certain number of 0s in the bank will change your life, you're probably right, but what's so sucky about your life that you need $1 billion to change it? So before you go out and get to bringing home the bacon ask yourself, what's your purpose for money?

For me, Anastasia Nicole Simon, on this day, February 14, 2012, money is all about comfort and self sufficiency. My purpose for money is to pay each and every bill, including those pesky student loans and grocery shopping at Whole Foods (I love eating organic but it ain't cheap), with grace and ease and have more than enough left over to save, travel and make the occasional donation to Neiman's, Saks, Bloomies, Nordstroms, and Jeffrey's. To finally decorate my apartment the way I want to, which means I can buy art, furniture, and little kick-knack type things that make a house a home. A new car!!!! Phineas is in need of an upgrade and he and I have been thinking Prius for about 8 years now. And yeah, that's about it. I just want to be able to depend on me for my money and never have to ask my parents for rent/bill/gas/food/clothes money ever again, not that I won't take it if they donate : )

Happy LOVE Day Ya'll

In the grand tradition of today's holiday I had to share this little gem by The Beatles. No matter what you do or don't get remember, love truly is all you need.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Recovering B*tch

There is no beating around the bush or tip-toeing around the obvious on this one, I used to be a not so nice girl. Actually, some would have characterized me as petty, stuck up, mean, catty and of course bitchy. My constant rebuttal was that those people didn't know the real me, the real me was like the sweet chocolately center of an M&M and the me they were seeing was the hard candy shell that melts in your mouth not in your hand. Any friend I've ever had can tell you that I'm fiercely loyal,  always there when you need me even if it's 3am and I have to be at work in three hours and there is nothing I wouldn't do for you, they could also tell you that if you don't have anything nice to say that I'm the one to come and sit next to...or I used to be.

I could tell you how in the past 10 years or so I've honed my ability to bring a woman to tears with a few words or how I learned to take pleasure in judging others and always finding them wanting, but then I would be either glorifying rude behavior or justifying my nasty ways and I'm not here to do either. Suffice it to say, I was a mean girl because in my limited experience I learned that it's better to attack them before they could attack you and we all know that eventually they will attack you. (Which by the way, does sound as insane to me as it does to you and I was the one thinking it.) I'm not saying this to make you think that all mean girls are really just scared, little girls crying out for love and attention on the inside--which is true about 95% of the time--I'm just making you aware of my thought process in regards to being a carbon copy of Regina George, Courtney Shayne and Kathryn Merteuil with a dash of Sanata Lopez thrown in for hood measure. 

To be completely honest this whole not being mean thing just came to my attention about a week or so ago. I was sitting at a table with a bunch of lady writers talking about things that lady writers talk about, Oxford commas, what magazines are hiring, boys, and I felt myself falling into my usual shit talking only for the first time ever it didn't feel so good. Actually it felt gross, like 70s porn star mustache gross, and I didn't know what to make of it. Then to make it even more eye opening, last weekend while working market in a showroom with other 20something fashion girls I felt my mind go into Snix mode and I instantly judged one of the girls for not being cute and for wearing Tory Burch flats. The second my mind did this, my big girl mind said "Who gives a shit if she isn't cute her soul is just as beautiful as yours is and those shoes don't mean anything because it's not real. So get dat ass to forgiving."(FYI my inner guide is a bad mamajama and is not to be trifled with.) Inner voice noted, I started to take notice of how I felt when I judged people for the crap they put on Facebook or carrying a fake LV bag and it didn't feel so good. I felt repulsed by what I was saying and thinking and finally got what my teacher Gabby B was saying when she spoke about change happening when you want it in her video blog. 

The only thing is, now that gossipping is as appetizing to me as a steak is to a vegan what do I talk about? (Just kidding, not knowing what to say was never a problem for me. I came into this world with my throat chakra wide open lol.)

Monday, February 6, 2012

How Does It Feel?

Or more accurately, how do you want it to feel is the question Danielle LaPorte posed to readers as the first of her Burning Question series. As a huge fan of Danielle and her ass kicking, spirit junkie ways I have decided to tackle this question and let my burning desires come up to the forefront.

I want my day to feel like a post workout high.
I want kissing to feel like drinking hot chocolate.
I want my next success to feel like Halle Berry felt when she won the Oscar. 
I want my body to feel like a bird flying south for the winter.
I want smiling to feel like sunbeams.
I want my friendships to feel like Girl Scout Cookies that you buy in bulk so that you can have all year until cookie time comes again.
I want my neighborhood to feel like Cheers, where everyone knows your name and they're oh so glad you came.
I want my integrity to feel like the pyramids at Giza.
I want my money-making to feel like a teacher does at the end of the school year when each of her students passed every standardized test with flying colors.
I want my word to feel like an unbreakable bond.
I want my laughter to feel like kids on a jungle gym...and sound that way too.
I want the end of the day to feel like a tall glass of lemonade on a hot summer day.
I want being of service to feel like a an angel getting their wings.
"I want my philanthropy to feel like a cosmic Queen on her best day." I love this so I didn't change a thing about it.
I want my challenges to feel how Rosa Parks felt when she sat down on that bus.
I want my love to feel like a secret garden that only he and I know the location to.
I want my writing to feel like JK Rowling felt penning Harry Potter. 
I want my ideas to feel like cotton candy bliss