Let go of your ego...

Let go of your ego's need to be right. When you're in the middle of an argument, ask yourself: Do I want to be right or be happy? When you choose the joyous, loving, spiritual mode, your connection to intention is strengthened. - Dr. Wayne Dyer

Friends?

How do you for sure your friends are really your friends? How do you know who you can trust? Can you ever trust anyone completely?

More and more American TV exploits friendships across the board. Late at night when I can't sleep, I watch these shows in order to understand how women get so close and then fall apart by a tiny incident.

Tonight one of these reality chicks said, I don't ever talk about my relationship with my girls, not even with my best friend. So, if you can't talk to your friends about your relationship, then are they really friends? You can discuss politics, family drama, religion, clothes, perfume, but no husband/boyfriend drama. Gave me something to think about. All women can't be jealous of you.

Some friends are just anchors dragging you down. Make sure you weed those out quick or you'll be filling your lungs with water in no time. Sometimes you want to be understanding and cool, but they think you want to do what they are doing. Someone please write a rule book already. What are the friend rules?

Growing up with boys and around men made me think differently. I see men as puzzles to be solved. Some are easy, some are hard, some are impossible because they lost some of their pieces. Every relationship leaves damage or a broken/missing part. Those guys are better left untouched.

My favorite thing to do is people watch. I love figuring them out, catch them when they are not aware. I love to listen to what men really think about the women they date. Men are sensitive creatures too. When I was in Jr. High and High School I had a lot of male friends and only a few girlfriends. Most of the girls would use me to talk to the boy they liked. Once I figured this out, I had my fun with it. It will all be in my book. Just kidding, I'm not writing a book.

Thinking a lot about friendships lately. Friends that ask how I'm doing early in the morning when I'm all alone in the office, friends that send me wonderful texts that make me feel special and thought of. I hope I'm the friend that gives them the same warm and fuzzy feeling.

xox universe. I know you are paying attention to me.

What's Real

In October 1987 I went back to Uruguay (that's where I'm from) to visit my grandparents. My grandma had just been hospitalized and my mom needed to go and take care of her a little bit. I think it was all a plot to take me back and leave me there. At 18 1/2 I was starting to rebel (yes, it took me a while). While visiting I was invited to a dance club and my mother said yes. I was so thrilled, at 18 I had never been to one so I made sure I looked my very best. Thankfully gravity was still my bff.

The place was in the middle of nowhere, but it was really nice. The weather was absolutely beautiful that night and you could stand outside and feel the breeze. The girls were showing me how "it was done". We walked around, looking forward but at nothing, pretending we were all that and then some. Suddenly, I was faced with a pair of beautiful eyes and a smile that made me stop. As I'm staring like a fool I knew that he said something, but for the life of me I could not remember what it was. I concentrated hard and said "what did you say?". He smiled again, and although my knees got weak, my mind stayed focus and he repeated his words slowly. "You...have...beautiful...eyes". I was mortified, specially because he said it slowly, I mumbled a "thank you" and just kept walking. From then on, no matter what guy asked me to dance or started talking to me, my eyes followed that boy where he went or who he danced with. I was fixated and if you know me, the worse thing that can happen is me being fixated on something.

We went home, a bunch of little pieces of papers with phone numbers on them, empty promises of "sure, I'll call you", "of course I think you are handsome, I'll call you". All the promises a lie because I didn't know how to handle these situations, I had never been in one.

The short trip with my mother turned into a three year stay. After my mother came back to the US with my brothers, I went back three more times to that club to find the boy with the eyes and smile. Finally on October 31st, 1987 I saw him at the bar. He was drinking a beer and I was wearing my shortest, I mean cutest mini skirt. When he looked up (probably because he felt my stare burning his face) I smiled and looked elegant and poised. Ok, I tripped on a step and fell gracefully. When I started to get up he was there helping me, like superman. I think he ran superspeed in my direction. He was a superhero with a great tan.

When people say, I don't know what love is, I tell them, it's because you have never been in love. For sure, that moment he touched my arm, I felt love.

Getting a Grip on Reality

When I first started this blog, the title of the blog "Getting a grip on reality" was just a title. Now, some time later, it seems to be my goal in life.

To get a grip on reality.

Do you know how hard it is? How difficult and exhausting it is to get a grip on my reality?

What's the reality? For some it's not achieving their goals, others, not finding the "right one". For me, realizing that my reality last year, is not the one that I'm faced with today.

If memory serves me correct, I was a pretty good kid. Growing up, I caused no waves, I tried to ruffle no feathers, I lived a life that can be described in the cheesiest of quotes.

Now, at (mumbling age) I dream of an elevator that is stuck, I can't get out nor does anyone hear me call to them. I see myself in the dream and get really pissed that the me in the elevator is not doing anything to help herself. I wake up upset and angry. That's no way to wake up at 6:45am. No way at all.

I know the dream is very telling. I definetly know why I'm having the dream, but my question is. When is reality going to get a grip of me? Maybe it already has.

Can the Universe throw me a crumb?