martes, 23 de febrero de 2016

Sex (or the lack of) and the City

On a cold winter night back in February 2015 and upon my return from a three-month sabbatical in Colombia I met Estela my real estate agent who amidst the very competitive housing market in New York City somehow magically pull out of her sleeve my beautiful –yet tiny- rental studio in the very chic area of Greenwich Village also known as New York’s Gold Coast at a non-obscene yet still scandalous for other parts of the globe monthly price. Am I bragging? Fuck yeah! This minuscule -and overheated- piece of floor plan smaller than some people’s closets makes me feel like a Latina version of Carrie Bradshaw and for those of us devoted Sex and the City fans this is a life time achievement, so allow me to boast like a spoiled 5th Avenue kid (Nah nah nah nah nah!)

One might think that -as the show suggested- living in the city and having an adventurous fashion sense should be enough to live a Carrie-esque love life. Unfortunately that is not the case. Even though the city is full of fantastic people, finding a fulfilling love connection can be a frustrating process. Ice breaking face to face at a bar or any other social venue has been replaced by pointless Tinder and/ or Bumble virtual chatting that usually leads to and even more senseless real life encounter with the non-photoshoped-enhanced version of the object of your temporary virtual infatuation. You are expecting Mr. Fantastic when in reality you are stuck with Mr. Disappointment.

After a handful of not-so-fulfilling first dates I decided to change my strategy completely. I was not going to look "for love". I made the decision of becoming the best person I could be for my own benefit and satisfaction. I started a passionate love relationship with myself (insert dirty thoughts here). I took myself to the fancier restaurants, the most romantic beaches, and the chicest clubs. I also bought myself flowers and treat my skin to facials and my body to massages. I became my very best friend. I even took myself to the coolest Valentine's party where I met awesome people who just like me embraced their singleness with pride!

Once I dropped the self-imposed expectations of finding a romantic partner and became my best friend, I fell in love with life. Having a loving relationship with myself has been a very fulfilling and liberating experience. The "need" of finding a boyfriend has been replaced with the joy of understanding that no one can "complete" me because I am already whole and that my lovers is the ultimate life time achievement.

Besos and shine like the stars that you are!

Gloria
Vintage dress directly imported from my aunt's closets. 
All pictures by CoCo. 
-"Is she back?" 
-"Maybe she has never left."

sábado, 30 de enero de 2016

Celebrate Everything

hap·pi·ness
ˈhapēnəs/
noun the state of being happy (also known as one's inability to grow up).

Be happy. Celebrate everything*. Celebrate your life, your home, your family, your friends, your work, your food, your pets, your beautiful body, your city, your neighbors. Celebrate your problems because without them you wouldn't grow as a person. Celebrate your broken heart because now you've developed enough compassion to realize that we are all fighting a hard battle. Celebrate that husband, boyfriend, lover that got away because love when not reciprocated will flow back and soften and purify the heart. Celebrate everything, but most importantly, celebrate YOURSELF. 
Thank you to the beautiful stranger in Washington Square Park that somehow got involved in the awkward rapidly turned awesome experience of taking pictures to a complete crazy stranger wearing a fury Michael Kors jacket and American Apparel disco pants (have you noticed how many times I have worn these pants in this blog?) 
*Thank you secret male collaborator #1 for the where-the-hell-are-you-guayaba? e-mail. Thanks to people like you I keep this crazy project called The Guayaba Project alive. 

Peace and Love to all,

Gloria

miércoles, 7 de octubre de 2015

Cashew the Mouse

In a heartfelt attempt to prove her love to me, my cat Necia honored me a few weeks ago with a very special gift. Nothing spells love like a freshly killed warm dead mouse next to your semi-naked sleepy body at 3:35 in the morning. I jumped out of bed when I realized that I was sleeping next to a dead rodent and as fast as I could I opened the entrance's door for my apartment and ran outside to the hallway. Semi-naked, shaking and petrified from what just had happened I stood still for at least thirty minutes incapable of coming back inside. Why would I? There was a monster over my 500 thread Egyptian cotton sheets!

Necia followed me to the hallway and stood next to me with a peculiar and surprised look in her face as in: "What happened mom? You didn't like the color?" I didn't want to appear like an ungrateful human so I held her in my arms and reassure her that her gift was the most thoughtful and sweet present I have ever received! Also, she was the only object at hand to cover my naked mammary glands.

After the initial shocking reaction started to faint my sleepy and sometimes juvenile brain began drawing possible scenarios on how to solve the conundrum at hand. These solutions included but were not limited to:
  1. Go downstairs half naked using Necia as a bra and ask the concierge for help: Pros: I didn't have to deal with the monster over my bed. Cons: Nudity. (I can't believe I am listing Nudity as a negative thing. What is wrong with this world!)
  2. Knock on my neighbor's door: I moved into this building in February and I still don't know who lives next door. As far as I know he can be a psychopath or my next husband. Or both. Pros: I get to know my neighbor. Extra points for being half naked ;) Cons: Possible very bad first impression.  
  3. Call my I.C.E. (in case of emergency contact): Is this really worth waking some innocent soul at four in the morning? Yes. This is what I consider an emergency! I am terrified of rodents! Pros: Some other person takes care of the 2" monster laying breathless over my bed. Cons: I would most certainly lose my I.C.E. contact, for good. 
  4. Call an ex: Pros: None. Cons: All.
  5. Get some balls and go inside and take care of the problem myself: Does this mean that I need to face my fears rather than running away from them? Do I look like a grown up?! (FYI: At this point almost two hours had gone by and I was still petrified of coming back inside). Pros: I really don't see anything positive about putting a dead mouse inside a plastic bag. Cons: A dead mouse inside a plastic bag.
As tempting as Options #1 thru #4 sounded, I chose Option #5. I "manned up" and started walking back inside to face my worst nightmare. First I strategically placed an empty plastic bag next to the poor little thing (at this point I started somehow to feel compassion for this mouse) hoping for his body to miraculously jump inside the bag. Obviously this did not happen, so I grabbed my broom and as I stood as far away as possible from the crime scene I pushed his breathless little body into the bag. Then I lifted the bag with the far end of the broom stick and I walked for what seemed like a mile to the garbage room where I threw his body down the chute. Walking back to my apartment I felt like a heroine for being able to take care of business by myself but also a little ridiculous for blowing this issue out of proportion. Is a dead mouse worth losing a good two hours of beauty sleep? Probably not.

Cashew's death (after everything this mouse and I had gone thru he deserves to have a name) taught me an important lesson in life: my "problems", my "fears", my "worst nightmares" are basically a matter of perception. If instead of looking at the "problem" from the usual point of view we chose for once to look at things from a different perspective ("Gloria, it's just a tiny little dead mouse and not a monster"), we will start to notice that reality sometimes needs to be revised because our conditioned self ("I am afraid of rodents therefore I have to run away from this beast!") is the source of it. Cashew also reminded me that one of the best decisions I have made in my life is to have adopted Necia fourteen years ago. I provide her with food and love and in exchange she vomits over my rugs and keeps uninvited guests at bay. I have never seen her as a pest control method, but God bless her and her fast feline reflexes!

Sorry Cashew, after all the stressful moments I'm sure Necia put you through you were indeed a beautiful gift. Now that I know that I can take care of any of your family members all by myself  (with Necia's help, fine!) I know I can conquer the world!