Category Archives: That’s Life

The Weddings

By nopasanada | Published: April 12, 2011

“After all there is something about a wedding-gown prettier than in any other gown in the world.” ~Douglas William Jerrold

It’s probably rude of me to just come back into the blogging fold without telling you of my whereabouts. But if you follow me on Twitter then you already know where I’ve been: moving, reacquainting myself with the I-95 corridor and wandering around Dupont Circle in search of my wallet and my ID and oh yes, frequent trips to Bank of America begging them to let me have my motherfucking money because I am ME, dammit! That sums it up quite well and I have spared you the whining and lashing of the tongue as I try to navigate this world without credit, debit or ID. It requires a lot a bit of klonopin and an affinity for list making. It was difficult but clearly I have survived the ordeal. Now onto the show:

I have two weddings in the next two weeks and when I tell family and friends of these blessed events they give me this look. A look of ‘AWWWWW’ combined with a wink and a half-smile and a bit of twinkle in their eye. They then physically restrain themselves from reaching out to hug me while cooing, “You’re at that aaaaaaage” in a sing-song voice. What age? I want to reply. But I know what they speak of; the age where friends, family and foe suddenly decide to jump over the broom and get themselves hitched. A bride-to-be might take this next sentence the wrong way but I look at weddings as a pragmatically as possible. I think of time and money obligations. To be specific my time and money obligations. Recently my oldest friend of almost 23 years got engaged and I cried, I told her I loved her and then told her that I really didn’t have time to be in her wedding party. Lo, she understood. Not because I am a mean person but because you are a dear friend and I want for you to have the best day possible without worrying about one of your bridesmaids being trapped on a tarmac 500 miles away. That’s why. Selfish? Perhaps but as I said, I’m realistic.

I never realized how strongly I felt about weddings until they all came rolling in at once and despite my rhetoric on whether or not I could avail myself of the occasion the truth is that if you you invite me to your wedding, I would be honored to attend. A wedding only really needs two people; the bride and the groom. Anyone else is rather superfluous and is only there because the bride and/or groom would like for that individual to partake in their special day. They are inviting you into one of the most important days of their coupledom as a guest because they want for you to share in their love. That is how I have been and will continue to view weddings or when I speak to a stressed out bride in the days before, one complaining about the dress or the caterers or their family, I always want to point out that that day is only for you and your significant other. This is not bridal speak but it is life when I say that the others can just fuck off.

I’m traveling thousands of miles in a matter of two weeks and I’m glad I’ve been invited and I can be there to toast, party and give some love. To me, being there to give latter is what matters most.

Also posted in That's Life | 5 Comments

Coming Attractions

By nopasanada | Published: March 10, 2011

“More than anything else the sensation is one of perfect peace mingled with an excitement that strains every nerve to the utmost, if you can conceive of such a combination.” ~Wilbur Wright

There’s nothing and I mean NOTHING like leaving a town covered in ice, which, I should say, makes things to magical yet mysterious post storm and yet when it’s covered upon your car and leaves all four doors frozen and you chipping away at bits and pieces until your ulna and/or radius breaks in half and…wait, where was I? Oh yes. There is nothing like leaving all of that behind to head for anything above 40 degrees farenheit. I landed in Austin last night and was all puppy happy, panting away, butt-wagging the second I stepped outside. I ran around the airport and peed on a fire hydrant. Then a TSA agent.

So, last we spoke, I was planning on moving to DC. Still doing that but in between trekking down the North East corridor there will be blood and trips. I just got back from Brooklyn where I attended the launch of Eden and Alice’s book and the next day came to Austin. When I get back to Albany, I have meetings and then a series of events in Western New York which, let’s face it, I might as well head to Ohio for the week. And then I get back from way out west and then I go to DC to at least introduce myself and then I go to Long Island for my aunt’s 40th birthday and then I go back to DC.

Sometime around March 22nd, I’m totally going to sleep my face off.

Right now everything is in size venti and my apartment looks like something out of Hoarders. But here I sit at my best friend’s table sipping coffee listening to “The Extent of Radicalization of American Muslims”. Or as I like to call it “McCarthyism 2.0″. I have an excessive amount of “work work” and “writing work” to do and at some point I need to write about finding a balance between the two because I try not to be that asshole who refers to one job as my “real” job and the other as if it’s not real work because that is just an insult to those who do write (then again, I only write-ish) for a living.

I’m rambling. My apologies. Needless to say, I’m busy and attempting to cope with the excitement. Let’s just say that for someone prone to hypo-manic states right now I’m fucking flying. I’m going to attempt to enjoy the ride.

Hope you’re doing well.

Delta delta delta

By nopasanada | Published: February 28, 2011

“Continuity gives us roots; change gives us branches, letting us stretch and grow and reach new heights.” ~Pauline R. Kezer

When I was 15 I knew – KNEW – that I would grow up to be an Economic Historian. I would major in Industrial and Labor Relations and Economics at Cornell and I would do my doctoral thesis (oh yes, I was going to be a PhmotherfuckingD) on something to do with how economic conditions in the late 20th centure impacted labor unions. I wanted to be a tenured professor and I longed for people to refer to me as Dr.

At 21, three months shy of my 22nd birthday, I started an Internet Web Log called No Pasa Nada after reading an article in the New York Times about Stephanie Klein. I started this blog thing under a cloud of secrecy hoping that no one would ever find out. Ever. And if anyone dared to mention said site I would shrug and say that I had no idea what they were speaking of and then I’d erase their memory just like in Men in Black. This just in: Clearly, I have yet to achieve PhD status as noted by threatening to go all alien catcher on someones ass. I mean really. But dude you can totally erase someones memory, I saw it once. Let me show you.

I started No Pasa Nada because at 21 I was fucking miserable. I mean everyday I would wake up and curse life and adulthood and why I had to age. I had a bad case of Peter Pan complex if I’ve ever seen one. I made no money and I spent evenings drinking the worst wine known to man and when I look at my W-9 from 2005 vs. 2010 I’m like HOW ON EARTH DID I EAT? I think the Men in Black mind eraser erased that part where I started prostituting for grocery money.

This site was to be a chronicle of my foray into adulthood; a precarious and emotional time that most everyone goes through but no one ever acknowledges. There are millions of How To books on parenting, marriage, finances but none that teaches you how to live without that protective cover of parents or a college. Nothing that teaches how to do something on your own. It makes sense though, when you think about it; there cannot be a book that teaches you how to live and how to make mistakes and how to recover from said mistakes, these are things that one must learn on their own. So the blog was here for me to chronicle the whole sordid affair from every hangover to every moment where I felt worthwhile at my work. My site was my safety net as I navigated the shark infested waters of early adulthood and it was nice to have people out there who shouted ‘Amen’.

I’m currently 27. Being clueless is no longer charming and adorable but a nuisance. And this isn’t about how much wiser and/or more brilliant and/or more able to keep my mouth shut every once in awhile but to say that I am a person and as a person I evolve and change and what once was is no longer. It’s one of the beautiful things about life that with each year we have the ability to grow and flourish. I no longer feel the need to write about my every displeasure or about the harshness of being an adult. Why? Because I am an adult but there is no longer that merciless tugging of my heart strings or panic each time something goes wrong. Or perhaps when those things do happen I deal accordingly in real life and not on the page. I have learned that a career path can be forged just by asking and wanting and that bills need to be paid but shoes can also be bought. I’ve learned those little things that keep me from going into hysterics if my car doesn’t turnover (P.S. my car won’t turnover, I called AAA, it’s not the battery but the starter. Riveting). I’ve become more willing to accept things and if they can be changed, then God-willing, I will make every attempt for change.

This site won’t be what it was before and for that I am grateful. I am interested in different things – redesigning my apartment, doing projects for Poliogue, finishing my book proposal, taking more photos, showing you what I wore – and that is ok. And it is that way because I have long come to peace with the person I am now versus the person I was in late 2005. Clearly I’m still loquacious or else this could have ended long ago but I will tell you what brought me to writing about this point in my life. 1) My personal life is too complicated and intertwined with the personal lives of others. I feel like I need to be more respectful of the lives of my friends rather than page views. 2) This article on Heather Armstrong in the New York Times Magazine, more specifically the comments. Ooooh, boy, the comments. People are livid that Heather and Jon have the audacity to change and thrive as people, a business, a family and a couple. God forbid Heather not share things the way she used to. Brief digression to say that I am totally enamored by her design posts and I keep asking her to come to Albany and do my GD apartment because OMFucking ugly. Never mind that there are new people in her life that she must think about before putting words upon a page. It made me angry on her behalf that people could be so callous and forget that these are people with lives of their own.

At 21 I would have told you that I feared change (also; death and taxes). At 27 I welcome it with open arms. I want to do more and do things a little differently. At 21 I would have hoped for acceptance from anyone and anyone. At 27 I accept it which is good enough for me.

Also posted in Blogology, That's Life | 6 Comments

J’adore

By nopasanada | Published: February 14, 2011

“If you’re going through hell, keep going.” ~Winston Churchill

I think that any day that starts with my punching my bathroom wall is a day that is going to be awesome. Nay, AWESOME. So I spent most of the day looking all dour like my puppy just died or like a malcontent 20-something.

Then I thought, you know what, fuck this melancholy bullshit. I’m sorry for my language but seriously, fuck it.

My misery is for once not of my own doing and if I could splay the exact cause of my downtrodden state I would but I cannot. Then again I really needn’t another cause for puking the terribleness of my life onto the screen because if you really need more of that I’ll direct you to the archives. That said, little things helped to lift my mood: My pal allowing me to vent, a pink heart shaped cookie, a props via reply all, the soundtrack to An Education and the optimism of others. It was the little things, not some grand gesture of love that made it a good day. And now a cupcake and prosecco for dinner.

Also posted in Grace in Small Things, That's Life | 3 Comments

Who will help you move a body?

By nopasanada | Published: February 3, 2011

“A friend is a person with whom I may be sincere. Before him I may think aloud. I am arrived at last in the presence of a man so real and equal, that I may drop even those undermost garments of dissimulation, courtesy, and second thought, which men never put off, and may deal with him with the simplicity and wholeness with which one chemical atom meets another. ” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Brene Brown. I’m sorry, DOCTOR Brene Brown did the opening keynote at BlissDom. During her presentation she said something that resonated with me for the entire weekend: She asked us to tear off a piece of paper and write down the names of the people in your life who would help you move a body. The people you could go to for anything and everything. The people who instead of judgment would grab your face with both hands and say “Ok, we can do this together and you will be alright.” That friend. If you had asked me six years ago which of my friends would help me move a body, the friend who would do nothing more than want me to be ok, I would have said LB. She’s on that list still but I wouldn’t have guessed that two 40 something moms would make that list as well. I would have never imagined that the first person I would call while in tears or to discuss my sex life or would be Chris and Susan.

During my sophomore year of college I disappeared for a weekend. Not far, just to the apartment I recently rented down the street from campus. After a few days had passed I felt ok again, like I could face the world so I went back to campus and LB was so, so mad at me. She just looked at me and with utter disappointment she said, “We will talk about this later” and walked away. Later in the day we sat in the Mary Graydon Center and she said, “What’s the matter with you? You can’t just disappear like that. I worried about you. Didn’t you have friends who worried about you?” The things is that I hadn’t. I didn’t have real friends – you know the kind that actually give a shit if your crying and love you just the same. The friends that you regard as family. I didn’t have friends like that until college. Isn’t that sad? Or maybe it’s just pathetic? Or maybe I should tell you about me in middle through high school with my clarinet and high-water pants and sweater vests. Yes, the sweater vest.

The friends that you make as an adult you choose not because they’re in your homeroom but because when something happens, you know, those days when you are total flaming bitch and horrible, they will still want to make sure you’re ok. They’ll reach out to your other body moving friends just to check on you. They’ll let you sleepover and cuddle and will stay up until 2 AM with you discussing Didacticism and then three hours later will bring you to the airport with a cup of coffee to go. Those are the friends who will help you move a body. They’ll embrace you despite your flaws and that is what I keep going back to.

They love you despite your flaws. It’s those six words that make all the difference. All the difference in the world.

Also posted in On Happiness, That's Life | 5 Comments