Me and Stacy It's not often that I have the chance to take my own advice almost immediately after I give it. Yesterday, I wrote about working at relationships though they may be weakened for whatever reason - distance, disagreement, anger, or just lost touch. And today, I was able to meet up with a cousin after more than probably a decade. There was only a small window of time she was available, and we both had to give a little to make it happen. I'm so glad it worked out. Driving out of the city after our impromptu breakfast at a mid-town diner, I felt like we had reinforced a dwindling piece of thread with a thick rope. The great significance of a small effort can last for years. I hope I take my advice more often.

I remember that new car feeling. It was the summer of 2005 and I had just purchased my dream car, a Hyundai Santé Fe. The color, mocha frost. I bought it brand new with my own money and conducted all the research, bargaining, and haggling by myself. I still remember the pride I felt driving it, in its immaculate condition and new car smell. But that exhilarating feeling was crushed on that fateful day of the very first door ding. I was reminded of that feeling the other day, vacuuming around my 11-month-old May Berlin piano. I regularly polish, tune , and baby it with great care. But I’ve discovered…scuffmarks. Just a few very light ones where my music binder brushes the ledge as I open and close it in a hurry. It’s hard to accept, but I knew that day would come eventually. So what do I do now that the “newness” has worn off? I can either let it fall further into disrepair, or just work that much harder to keep it safe. I suppose it’s like any relationship. Everything evolves and c...

I know, I know! I should be practicing ballet music for Saturday's classes. Lately I've been forcing myself to practice classical music for uncharacteristically long hours in preparation for my new job at a ballet school and company. Mainly I need to learn more music for  dégagés , and some good jumping music (so if there's any suggestions out there...). Precision and repetition are the keys for me when I'm learning a piece of music like Pizzicati from the Ballet "Sylvia." It's killin me, actually. I haven't practiced this hard since college. So I took a break and fooled around with a waltz. On my first day playing for the class, the instructor asked me to play some "stretching" music, which is usually a relaxing, languid, 3/4 piece that makes your muscles want to melt into supple flexibility. I looked at him, puzzled for a moment, because I had already used most of my prepared waltzes. So instead, I thought of a nice chord progression fr...

I’ve always been a pretty easy-going person. I don’t like to make waves. I’ve always chosen to absorb the brunt of a conflict, rather than push back and make things worse. But something happened recently that made me realize somewhere along the way in my life, that attitude of peace, flexibility, and politeness, has turned into something much less desirable. Lack of self-respect. It was something as silly as getting pizza for dinner. I ordered a large pepperoni and a side of garlic bread for delivery, but the garlic bread never made it. When I called the place back and explained that the delivery man forgot the garlic bread, he responded that I never ordered any. My first impulse was, silly me, maybe I left that out. But I knew I didn’t. “No, I ordered the garlic bread. We either need a refund, or for it to be re-delivered.” I couldn’t believe it when he continued to argue with me. And that’s when every past experience of being pushed around and taken advantage of flashed before my ...

The weather has been cold and gloomy for the past few days. It’s made finding the energy to do things somewhat difficult. I’ve been forced to run in the sprinkling mist with Joy, who gets drenched and smells like wet dog for the rest of the day. I’ve had to drag myself to the grocery store and laundry mat, struggling to carry an umbrella in one hand, and awkward, heavy bags in the other. I grudgingly bundled up and drove the 45-minute drive to work with the windshield wipers going full blast. Somehow on my way home though, I found my energy boost. And of course, where else would it come from, but through my radio! All of the sudden, I had choreographed head, shoulder, and hand movements to Taylor Swift’s “ Hey Stephen ,” belted out the chorus of the Little Willie’s “ Lou Reed ,” and even air-trumpeted the horn section of Paul Simon’s “ Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes. ” I also hesitantly admit, that if there are laws against cell phones and texting while driving, there should proba...

“Now I’ve brought presents for all of you girls,” the ballet instructor announced to the jittery young dancers at the beginning of class. “It’s a decorative, small pouch that you can use to place your jewelry in while you dance.” The girls seemed pleased with the small token and flocked to the laid out selection, eager to choose a color. There was pink, purple, white, gold, and brown. The girls, though young, were as elegant as swans in their dance apparel, tall, thin, and with skin as smooth and light as cream. One girl reached the pouches last, and found that the pretty colors had already been selected. She hesitantly reached for the final one that remained, brown. There weren’t many times when she experienced this uncomfortable feeling, her skin conspicuously different from the others. But when she did, she wished she could hide for a moment until she felt the stares stop. Her head down and shoulders slumped she studied the brown pouch. “Oh my goodness!” the instructor suddenly ga...

This blog is about choosing one small, seemingly insignificant moment every day and recognizing the positive and often overlooked aspects of joy in it. This morning was a special occasion that only comes around once a year. I woke up annoyingly early and couldn’t go back to sleep. First I thought I should use the opportunity to go for a run, but when I got out of bed I completely changed my priorities. The windows had been open all night and let the new, chilly autumn air flow into our apartment. My toes froze as they touched the cold, wooden floor. I shivered as I made my way to the dark kitchen to make a cup of coffee. That’s when I realized…this is it. This is that wonderful, rare brisk morning I’ve been waiting for, when I get to dig out one of my favorite things in the world that’s been buried in the back of an unimportant drawer for the last 7 months. My big, gray sweatpants! They’re nearly a decade old. Men’s size XL. They were enormous to begin with, but now time has warped th...