Creative AHA moment (3.18.17)

Since my new DYI dinosaur-y art obsession, IKEA has become my favorite weekend destination. 

Omg. I could put a dinosaur on it! 

This thing- perfect for a dinosaur project.

Can you imagine? I could cut a dino into it! 

God bless Camilo’s patience (and wallet) for my ‘hobbies’.

So, I’m in ikea marketplace- utensils aisle- and then it hits me: my dino etsy store should be called DYNOMITE! getit getit?! 

so.good.

Aside from feeling the creativity lightening fire, I’m pretty happy with how the new apartment turned out and excited to host our first guests (who arrived yesterday). 

Everything here happens for a reason (the universe’s magical powers) 3.17.17

I was so angry with myself today. I was going to make it to the 3rd guitar class in a row. But then, I hid keys from myself and never made it. That, equates to ‘take a $60 bill and put it straight into garbage’.

So, let’s make lemonade and go the movies. 

Yesterday, we found out that a new film, Tickling Giants, about Bassem Youssef is playing in West Village.

We went. And then, this happened:

Sometimes, life gives you the most amazing lemonade, ever.

Magda imagines becoming a … banker? (2.8.17)

So today I simultaneously entertained two thoughts: becoming  a banker while helping refugees and becoming an Internet fitness sensation on Trump’s expense. To get the keep the creative juices going, no thought is an absurd thought, ladies and gents. Then, I flew back to Earth and got back to my daily quest of making people actually care about our voting.

I did see an old Governor’s Office colleague today. He’s doing a very cool thing about the refugee crisis and I’ll be glad to help.

Cami and I got some Thai food at the end of the day, which is always a delight.

3 handed humans (2.7.17)

Whenever (often) I have a coffee in my hand, I think to myself: god, you failed in the design. Case in point: I had my cup in one hand today, pear in the other and tried to put my giant headphones on with the third hand. But wait, there’s no third hand. So that means awkwardly holding my headphones with my wrists and spilling the coffee directly on top of my head in the process. Can’t make this up.

Here we go 2017 journaling. We are in business again. 

Last day in Albany (10.12.2016)

TMJ: Today is my last day in the Albany office. Feels just like another day.  I got a drink with Holly, Sarah and Anton at the end of the day and that was it. Goodbye. You’ll be missed.

WILT: hydra (n.) – originally a mythical monster (a snake with lots of heads that would regrow if you chopped them off). A hydra is a problem that’s really, really hard to solve because it’s so complicated and so persistent.

10I: List of situations that make me uncomfortable:

• No makeup in public
• On the beach when I’m not in my best shape…
• When people buy stuff for me. I immediately feel bad and want to buy stuff for them.
• On a stage
• When I’m not dressed well in a fancy place
• If someone made me do standup comedy or improvise something.  That’s like my worst nightmare.
• Speaking foreign languages when I don’t know quite what I’m doing or if I have a strong accent.
• Failing
• When someone reads my writing

Three dinner dates (10.11.2016)

TMJ: Today, I literally had three dinner dates- first with Jay (sushi, as always); second with Holly, Sarah and Noha (we had some delicious food at the steak house across from Stuyvesant Plaza).  The last date was with Kristina at her house.  I brought cheese, she had wine.

It was really good to catch up with everyone.  So many things have changed since I saw them last. Jay got into a new business endeavor and Kristina met her other Irish half.

And with that, I feel like I’m starting to slowly check off all the people I wanted to see before I leave here. It’s a bitter sweet  feeling…

WILT:

• Tax heavens have come up a few times this campaign season.  But it always makes me laugh when we talk about Cayman Islands and Bermuda tax havens. You don’t have to look that far- Delaware is a tax haven. I learned today that there are 945k registered corporations in the State of Delaware with a population of only 935k people.
• Honor your experiences. Money isn’t the currency of life. Living is the currency of life.– Altucher.  If there was one quote defining my philosophy for life, this would be it.

Last week in Albany (10.10.16)

TMJ: Today starts my last week in Albany.  Counting down days to the end of an era.

After work, I visited the SUNY Albany campus.  So many relationships, memories, foundational experiences… these walls feel so familiar. In many ways, this is my home.

WILT: I was wondering today what the most depressing state to live in is.  Quick google search yielded interesting stats: In 2012, the overall age-adjusted suicide rate in the United States was 12.6 per 100,000 population. Among states, Wyoming had the highest suicide rate (29.6), followed by Alaska (23.0), Montana (22.6), New Mexico (21.3), and Utah (21.0).

Second debate (10.9.2016)

Let me use a fifth grade analogy for this presidential race.

-Hillary Clinton: student exceeding expectations. On track to enroll in Harvard by 7th grade. People don’t like her because she’s nerdy and confident and a girl that just beat everyone in the spelling bee contest.

-Donald Trump: rich brat. On track to graduate 5th (that’s if his dad gets a tutor and someone helps him cheat on the exams). Kids like him, because he’s the class clown, and a show off with no regard for authority.

Accordingly, goals for this debate were:

-Hillary: pass with flying colors. Don’t hesitate on a single answer. Don’t laugh. Don’t even cough.

-Trump: do not shit your pants.

I’m so tired of this. I can’t stand understand people who actually think Trump is presidential material. It’s embarrassing to the nation. It’s political satire, except it’s actually real life.

Half way through the debate, I ordered a Hillary backyard sign and I signed up for door knocking in PA. Enough complaining; I gotta do my part.

At some point, I also want to aggregate a list of eloquent defense arguments for everyone’s bogus Benghazi or email server talking points.

 

Mom’s heart (10.8.2016)

I saw a heart today.

That heart has been with me for the past 28 years. That rhythmic drum has gone everywhere with me. It was faster when I was angry or worried or anxious. It always calmed me down when I was upset.

I saw it today.

It was beating rhythmically, as always. Strong, regular drums.

Today, there’s nothing that makes me more grateful for life than seeing my mom’s beating heart.

Worst day of my life (10.7.2016)

I started the day in the best way imaginable. I got my facial done (straight 1.5 hours of pamper). I took out the roller skates for the first time in years and skated along the river for a bit, talking to one of my best friends from Poland who just arrived states-side.

Sipping on my $6 coffee, I enjoyed the Manhattan skyline. I thought to myself: wow. This is the life. 

I read about this cool mini museum in Chinatown.  Apparently, they have a collection of texts that people sent right before they passed away.  I wasn’t sure how I’d feel if I had a text like that.  Would I hold on to it? Would I delete it? It has to be painful to hold on to such a real record.  Gotta put this place on my list, I thought and I added it to the list.

I went home. And then the dream unraveled.

I got a call from mom. Silly, why are you calling me at this hour, you’re lucky I took a day off! Lucky?! I’m lucky. Because if it wasn’t for this call, who knows what would have happened.

I knew it right away. Her voice weak, lost, I just knew something was wrong. She mumbled: I think I’m having a heart attack.

My body and breath froze for a second.

Mamo???? MAMO!!!!! She couldn’t answer me. It was too tiring to say a word. I literally thought I lost her there.

I started breathing again and I hung up. Hold on mamisia, please, please. I was shaking uncontrollably, crying hysterically and dialing my brother’s number in panic.

Somehow, by god’s will, he heard me. He rushed to get to her and took her to the hospital. By then, she could barely breathe, her chest in pain. She was vomiting.  Meanwhile, I hit the road. Nothing mattered. The entire way I just begged god to just get there on time.

I did. The doctors gave her nitroglycerin and O2. The pain slowly went away and by the time I got there, 1.5 hours later, she was wheeled in for a CT scan.

This is the weird part: all signs of heart attack, but her blood work and scans seemed okay. We have no idea what happened, and honestly I didn’t even have the mental capacity to care. All I wanted was for mom to live, and that happened, so nothing else mattered.

There was this moment when the three of us- my mom, my brother and I were sitting in the emergency room, my mom hooked up to all kinds of machines but fully conscious.  We were recounting the events and I was holding my mom’s hand.  Somehow, on a weird and selfish level, I was happy.  There it was- just the three of us, again. My brother, my mom and I.  My (nearly) whole world in one room.  It just hit me to the core that we may not have many of these moments left.

I started secretly recording our conversations, desperately hoping to hold on to their voices, stories and laughs. At the end of the night, my dad came too. The four of us joked around in the room where my mom would spend the night.  I kept recording. I needed to keep the record. I’m not sure if I’ll hold on to it or delete it in the future. For now, I’m keeping it.

Life has its ironic ways.