WASHINGTON (CBSNewYork/AP) — Muhammad Ali’s son was stopped and questioned at an airport Friday for the second time in recent months, his attorney said. The attorney said Muhammad Ali Jr. was questioned at a Washington airport before he was allowed to board a flight home to Fort Lauderdale, after meeting with lawmakers to discuss a…
I don’t normally use this as my diary, but tonight I feel the need to because I need to get somethings off my chest. On New Year’s Eve, I made a wish. I wished to have my Zack back. I told myself that it was impossible and that it would never happen because he and I had not spoken since September when he just vanished. Apparently, the universe responded to me.
[Enter New Year’s Day, stage right]
Zack makes a comeback…
I had already decided that 2017 would be the year I learn to let him go and then there he is, blowing up the locked screen of my iPhone. I jumped so hard when I saw his text messages that I dropped that iPhone onto my grandmother’s ceramic kitchen floor. The screen of my iPhone 6 is cracked now. The thing that frustrates me is that, since he and I have reconnected, nothing about our dysfunctional relationship has changed – he is still a workaholic with no ideas how to behave in a relationship. Every morning, I wake up with a painful headache and I know it is because I spent 8 hours of sleep subconsciously hoping he would change overnight.
He is 29 years old and he just does not understand. How do I make him understand? I already gave up the love of my life once. I really do not want to do it again. As long as we continue this ghosted relationship, then I suppose I can do it at some point. Once my eyes meet his…it’s game over.
Here we are. December is finally here and everywhere I go I see Christmas. Honestly, I work so much that sometimes I cannot believe that Christmas will be here in only 15 days. Typically, this is my favorite holiday because I love hearing the music and seeing the decorations, but this year…I am struggling to keep moving. I have many decisions to make before the end of 2016 and I am having the hardest time balancing all of my responsibilities.
Every night, I come home from work – dead tired and defeated. I have not worked on my novel for four months, but luckily I was able to get the week after Christmas off from work. I anticipate many long nights of writing and re-writing.
Since my break-up with Zack, I have not been doing so well. I put on a brave face and I smile and laugh my way through the work day, but what I really want to do is just curl into a ball and cry. I have been struggling to move on from him and from the memory of our relationship, but it is hard. Letting go of someone is really hard. I wake up every morning with this hole in my chest and sometimes I feel like I cannot take a deep breath. People keep telling me to just move and forget him. “He was a loser,” some say. “He was a jerk and doesn’t deserve you anyway!” Well, the truth is I was in love with that loser – that asshole.
Let me tell you something about Zack. He may not have been the best at actually being in a relationship and managing work and making time for his girlfriend, BUT he is one of the best men to ever walk into my life and I will miss him for the rest of my adult life.
He was warm and funny; childish yet filled with wisdom. He was level-headed and impulsive. He was quiet but opinionated. He never told me that there was something I could not do. Most importantly, he never asked me to be someone I am not. He appreciated the woman I was when we were together. He always made sure we had fun and he encouraged me to follow my dreams. I will never find another Zack and to be honest, I do not want to because I will forever measure that man up to the Zack I want to be with.
It sucks that he and I are not together anymore and I feel like I am drowning in an ocean of our memories, but I guess there is nothing that can be done about this now. It just sucks that now that I can move back to New Haven, we are no longer together. If only I had been able to move back there last year. We might have gotten our Valentine’s Day dinner.
About three months ago, I made the decision to end my relationship.
It wasn’t healthy. No one was happy. And…let’s face it – it just was not working.
I spent a year and a half trying to find some way to make it work and I did all I could, but he did not want to put in the work.
He did not want to spend hours traveling to me. He did not want to take five minutes at night to call me. He did not want to use his breaks at work to text me “good morning” or ask my how my day is. He did not want to make me a part of his world.
It’s never easy, deciding to break up with someone. Every day I feel this hole, this unfillable void, in my life and I miss him.
I wake up and I miss him. I ride the train and I think about him. I walk to my office and my mind is flooded with memories of walking places with him. There is not a day I don’t hope and pray that he would just text me and want to work it all out – but he doesn’t.
He may not know this, but he saved my life. He helped me find myself and question the path I was on. He encouraged me to try new things; he always told me I could do anything I wanted.
Without him, I would probably still be working on my Senior Seminar British Literature term paper.
Thank you, Zack…thank you for keeping me awake that night, even though I kept taking mini naps and you would have to keep calling me. Thank you for making sure that at 3:45 AM, I woke up from my nap and finished page 6. Thank you for acting as my silent support system as I finished my final exam paper for my Literary Criticism class. You were watching the Kurt Cobain documentary, but having you next to me kept me focused because I knew that as long as you were there that I would get the paper done. Thank you for coming to my awards ceremony when we had only been dating one week.
Humbati…you oaf. xo
Euphoria. Heartache. Fun.
Twelve hours later and there was never a dull moment in the lives of the citizens of Stars Hollow. Everyone was just as we had left them – Bootsy still ran the newspaper and magazine stand; Taylor still has his soda shoppe and the market; Gypsy is still keeping that old Jeep Wrangler running; Patty still teaches dance…everything is as it was in 2007.
It’s like we never left. Home is still where the heart is and my heart still beats strongly inside the gazebo of Stars Hollow. Watching Amy Sherman-Palladino and Daniel Palladino’s dream come true – hearing those four final words spoken was as much a miracle to me as it was to them.
When you watch Gilmore Girls, you ultimately end up contemplating your own life journey. It is a very natural occurrence. Tonight, as my sister and I finished watching Summer and Fall, I could not help but think “god, I wish Aunt Jeanine were here to watch this with us.” My aunt loved this show and I know that she would have been waiting up till three o’clock in the morning to begin the binge, just as my sister and I had.
In 2007, when I lost the Gilmores…I also lost my aunt. She was young; I was young. One was a living, breathing woman and the other was my fictional family in television land – characters designed on a page of printer paper. In a way, I do not think I quite understood the grief that I felt after losing her. Watching this revival and dealing with the death of Edward Hermann/Richard Gilmore, has helped me a little more with her death because with this show…it is as if no time has passed, and I lost them both simultaneously.
I felt my eyes getting heavier as tears filled their corners each time the front doors to the Gilmore home opened up.
Although the revival used every second to tug at the heartstrings of viewers, it never forgot its roots – humor. This family has lost one of its pillars and, in a way, they lost themselves. The collective existential crisis ended up bringing all of the characters together in such a touching way. It brings me comfort to know that my beloved, fictional family is only human after all.
NEW YORK (CBSNewYork) — There was important news Thursday, for couples wanting to avoid pregnancy as a new study suggested that there could be a male version of the birth control pill. As CBS2’s Dr. Max Gomez explained, it’s not exactly the same as the pill, and there are drawbacks. Women have asked for decades,…
I do not post often, but my readers know that when I do post something, it is a power piece. I am going to be brutally honest.
This election is insane.
America has deteriorated right in front of my eyes, and for the last year and a half, I have been asking myself – how did we get here? I try to rack my brain for the answers, but nothing comes to mind.
We are where we are right now because so many American people believe in an over-tanned, over-privileged, racist bigot. Not to mention a rapist. They believe that HE can lead what is supposed to be the greatest nation in the world, but lately…I do not feel so great.
Of course, I know, no one is perfect. But, it seems to me that any country full of people that believe the overgrown Oompa Loompa who tells the world that detailing a sexual assault is “Locker-Room talk”…well, quite frankly…the country has lost its god damned mind. This is exactly the problem with the culture of sexual assault. It has been watered down and labeled as the norm, but it is not the norm and it should not be the norm.
I do not want children, especially young boys, growing up thinking that it is the norm to grab women by the pussy. It does not matter how much money you have or how many beautiful women you have been with. Women are not sexual objects. We are not here solely for the entertainment and ogling of men. We are human beings and should be treated as such.
Of course, the gaggle of old, white, male Republicans is insulted and disgusted by these comments because they have sisters, mothers, and daughters…as do most Americans. No great shocker there. This is not why they should be outraged. They should be outraged because the sentiments expressed by Mr. Trump are not things that people say about women.
No one actually talks like this. I am so sure that no one actually talks like this in any locker room anywhere that I am willing to bet Brock Turner‘s prison sentence on it. Here is another classic case of the privileged white male using his sexual status to take advantage of and sexually assault a woman. Brock Turner’s father is quoted saying that it was “20 minutes of action” that have ruined his son’s life when really it is more like 20,000 years of infinite suffering for the poor girl he raped behind a dumpster, while she was unconscious. But hey, it isn’t his fault he is a good swimmer.
“20 minutes of action” becomes “locker room talk” later in life.
Same over-privileged white men. Same sexual predators.
According to RAINN‘s statistics “Every two minutes, an American is sexually assaulted” and “1 in 6 women has been the victim of a completed or attempted sexual attack.”
We need to put a stop to them now before it becomes open season on the vagina.
If you are a victim of unwanted sexual contact, sexual assault, or know someone who has been, follow this link to get help: RAINN: Get Help Now