Destiny is for Fairy Tales.

"We can spend our lives letting the world tell us who we are. Sane or insane. Saints or sex addicts. Heroes or victims. Letting history tell us how good or bad we are. Letting our past decide our future. Or we can decide for ourselves. And maybe it's our job to invent something better."
-c.p.

We have all heard it before, "everything happens for a reason".  I alone have heard it more times than I would have liked, and, sadly, I've been the one to say it as well. I-am-only-human.  Yet, even when the words came rushing, pouring, slithering out of my mouth I knew it wasn't true.  It felt like a way to avoid saying, sharing, discussing what really was going on.  The truth.  We run away from it whenever we feel like it may disrupt our "perfect" life.  Yet, life and perfect don't even deserve to be in the same sentence.  This is not to say that it isn't worthwhile, it is, it's just that life, well, it's complicated.  We may complicate it more than necessary, yet, none-the-less it is still complicated.  Chaotic.  Beautiful.  You see, that's the thing.  As individuals we find it difficult to comprehend that amidst chaos there is peace.  It is just the way in which we choose to go about this chaos.  Our reaction to the beautiful disaster around us.  So, as it is when things become too messy, too complicated, too much, we say and we hope that "everything happens for a reason".  I for one just cannot accept that.  I can accept that life isn't always pleasant and that it may not always turn out exactly the way I would like it to.  But, I simply cannot live in denial.  And, neither should you.  Destiny? Your life is written in the stars?  Seriously.  I make my own path.  I choose my own journey.  I make my own decisions.  Where I am now, where I was yesterday, where I will be tomorrow is solely in MY power.  It's that little thing called free will, ya know?  That thing that allows us to decide which path to choose?  If everything happened for a reason, it would imply that our choices have already been made for us, no matter what we did, it would always end in a pre-fabricated way.  Completely and utterly ridiculous.  Fear is what holds us back from facing reality.  We want to concoct some fantasy that somehow every-little-single-thing that happens has to have some valid reason behind it.  It doesn't.  Not always.  At times not ever.  Some things just happen, because, well, they happen (coincidence, wrong place wrong time).  Other times it's purely because there are consequences.  Consequences to our decisions.  Did you miss that day in chemistry?  Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.  Does it ring a bell?  So, forget that silly "everything happens for a reason" and just live your life (no one else will live it for you).  Wake up, get out of your bed, get off the couch and do what it is that YOU want to do.  Because, really, if my life were already decided for me, why in the world would I be trying so desperately to make it better.  Shouldn't I(we) simply stand outside and wait for our dreams to fall from the skies? No.  Not today.  Not ever.  The only thing destined in this life is that it is ours for the taking.  Make it fabulous.  And, as Robert Frost said:
"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference"
xoxo

Talk less, chew more.

"I'm sorry, what was the question? I was distracted by the half-masticated cow rolling around in your wide-open trap."
-Miss Congeniality

If you chew with your mouth open you cannot sit at my table.  No, I am not kidding.  Honestly, ask my friend, I dumped someone after we ate lunch together.  Granted, I was in 9th grade and it wasn't as though I were in love.  However, for high school standards this crush was pretty big.  Then one very unfortunate afternoon he decided he wanted to join me for lunch. WORST DECISION EVER!  I should have said no, it was just too soon.  Ugh.  The memory is as vivid today as the hour after it happened.  There are certain experiences that no matter how hard you try to suppress they keep coming back (I have never looked at french fries the same way again).  So, cute guy sits down across from me and places his paper tray loaded with fries in front of him.  At that point I recall crossing my fingers.  One can hope, right?  Wrong.  He grabbed about five fries and stuffed them into his mouth, ugh.  Then, he began the process of chewing those fries (mouth wide open as he held a conversation, one I did NOT want to have).  And, that was it for me.  You know that moment where vomit rises to your throat? Yeah, I kinda puked in my mouth a little. Those 5 minutes of watching him eat were perhaps one of the most torturous scenes I've had to withstand.  The decision was clear, I couldn't kiss him, ever.  And, so, it was over before it even began.  My friend and I exchanged glances and nothing more had to be said.  We laughed about it for a good two days.  So, moral of the story. Chewing with your mouth open is simply not acceptable.  It never was, it never will be.  Unless of course you live on a farm and your table guest is your cow named Betsey.  The caveman thing is so 20,000 years ago.
xoxo

The Lucky Five.

"Follow your inner moonlight; don't hide the madness"
-a.g.

Consider today a "bare it all" (in a small way) kind of day.  I've decided that every so often I will make a small compilation of the different aspects of what makes me, well, me.  I think I am best described as a complex contradiction.  Yet, to know me, is to love me, truly. So, today, I give you a glimpse into my being.  You know, my likes and dislikes, that sorta thing.

1.) Peanut Butter

What is there to say about this heavenly creation.  I-simply-adore-peanut-butter.  In every context.  Even if the cold stone's creamery attendant gives me weird looks about wanting spoonfuls of peanut butter in my coffee ice cream.
 I-Do-Not-Care.
So, yes, peanut butter, it decorates my palate in such a delicious manner. 

2.) Nail Art

Consider this a major dislike.  Unless you are between the ages of 5-10 this should not be remotely close to what YOUR nails should look like.  To me, less is more.  Ladies, please, STOP IT, enough.  I cringe when I see women walking around with owls, bears, hearts, anchors (the list goes on) painted on their nails.  Oh, and one more thing, long nails does not equate long hair status.  Short, clean and simple. Oh, and if you partake in the whole "one nail a different color" than the rest, well, stop that too, immediately.

3.) Books and Libraries

If given the chance I would live in a library.  There is something about words that is absolutely beautiful.  Written words are greater than spoken words.  And, as I have mentioned once before I will forego anything for the opportunity to leisurely read.  Sleep being at the top of the list.  I prefer zombie-like mornings than going to bed without finishing a chapter.  It breaks my heart when a book comes to an end.  My attachment to characters is almost impossible to comprehend. Don't even try to analyze or over think it. It just is.  Books>Television. True story.

4.) Johnny Depp

Goodness, where shall I begin.  Infatuation.  I remember watching "Edward Scissor Hands" as a little girl and thinking, "Oh, my, my".  Yes, I fell for Johnny even when he didn't look like Johnny.  And, I don't care how he looks or even how he dresses (earrings, rings, long hair, short hair, whatever).  Lucky, Winona, Vanessa, Kate.  I've never been one to obsess. I didn't have boy band posters on my walls, in my binders, or, in my locker.  However, Mr.Depp, is an entirely different story.  Maybe in a different life, Johnny.

5.) Emmy Rossum

After watching the show "Shamless" on showtime, something about Miss.Rossum just sparked my attention.  If you haven't seen it, consider it a definite "to do".  I mean, despite being utterly gorgeous, she exudes this simple form of brilliance.  I love her.  Oh, and it doesn't hurt that she is a brunette.  I for one think that brunettes are way betterthan blondes.

xoxo

The NOT so domestic life.

"I'll just die if I don't get this recipe. I'll just die if I don't get this recipe. I'll just die if I don't get this recipe."

-The Stepford Wives (1975)

When I was a little girl I would dream about the day that I would mop the floor, dust the mantle and wear a cute, flowery, pink apron.  Yeah, um, I don't think so.  As incredulous as this may sound I am not that girl.  You know, thatgirl that played house when she was younger all while fantasizing to grow up and become the perfect domestic being?  Yeah, so, so, not me. What can I say, it's not that I can't be domestic, it's more that I don't want to be.  There are many more things I would simply rather be doing (reading, writing, lounging).  I don't even feel guilt over it.  Is that such a heinous crime?  Clearly, this isn't the "Leave it to Beaver" era.  And, even if it were, I'd probably still wouldn't fit into the "housewife" clique (lucky for me).  Are there still those whose passion lies solely in tending to the home?  If you are out there, somewhere, anywhere, share with me your enthusiasm, your motivation?  Obviously, I am forced to be domestic.  I mean, if it were up the husband we would have one of three things for dinner.  Fried eggs, boiled eggs and scrambled eggs.  And, it's not that he doesn't try, he does (he does our laundry, attempts to fold them, and manages all of the outside work).  Yet, even when he tries to help, I find myself simply having to go back and do it all again.  ugh.  Why haven't I hired help? Oh, yeah,  because, according to my significant other, what is the need.  I mean, it's not as though we have children.  It's only just the two of us, well, three of us (Ziggy makes a mess larger than I can describe).  And, would I trust to hire someone? Probably not.  So, here enters the dilemma.  I dislike anything having to do with the domestic life, yet, can't seem to find a medium.  What shall I do? The whole "Stepford wife", out of the question.  Barefoot and pregnant? Most definitely not.  So, what is one to do? HELP!

xoxo

Let's Have Dinner.

The world is my lobster.
-henry j. tillman

Normally, I refuse to eat anything that appears to still be alive.  If it looks like it could blink at me, moo at me, or, get up and crawl from my plate, I-AM-OUTTA-THERE! Clearly, dinner Friday night was not MY idea.  What is that thing you do in a relationship? I think they call it compromise?  Compromise.  Yup, that is exactly it.  And, surprisingly it was pretty amazing, once I got past the beady little eyes staring at me.  I think I watched "The Little Mermaid" one too many times as a child.  All I could think of was Sebastian prancing around underwater singing "Under the Sea". So, so sad.  Sebastian, your death was not in vain.  There was a moment of silence before I bit into your tail.
xoxo

You are Brazilian? Fala sério!

Alessandra Ambrosio, Adriana Lima, Gisele Bundchen

Have you heard of the three gorgeous women above? Have you flipped through a Victoria's Secret Catalog, ever? Do you live under a rock? Well, if you do, and if you haven't heard, all three are Brazilian. And, guess what? They-are- white. Shocking. You know what is even more surprising? The majority of Brazilian's DO NOT live in a rainforest. The majority of Brazilian's aren't tan.  The majority of Brazilian's do not have curly black hair, and, we don't speak Spanish. Mentira? Seriously, what do you know?

No one really ever asks where I am from. They assume because I am fair-skinned that I am just from, well, here. And, unless you ask, I don't feel it's necessary to share information. However, the moment in which someone asks what my name is, well, it's an entirely different story. "What's your name?", "Really, where is that from?". And, usually I just say it's Latin.  Which it is. I explain how it means to be re-born and then that is that. Yet, when they look at me with this face, like, what kind of name is that. I feel the need to enlighten them that where I am from my name is actually pretty common. Renata, in the United States, kinda weird. Renata, in Brazil, probably the name of your cousin.

This is where the fun begins. The moment in which I say I am from Brazil a look of awe appears. Um, do I have something stuck in my teeth? Literally, I am stared at as though all of a sudden a third eye has sprouted in the middle of my forehead. Today was the perfect example, and, it's getting sorta old. I was told today by someone that I could NOT be Brazilian. I laughed and said, "Why not?". He responded by saying, "Because you are so white, I know a Brazilian and she is dark". So, you know ONE Brazilian and suddenly you figure ALL Brazilian's are tan? Wow, we have a genius over here, my friends. I sighed, and explained to said individual that in actuality the majority of Brazilian's are white. Incredible, right? It's like who would have thought that we don't hang from trees and have chimps as pets.

On one occasion there was an individual that actually argued with me. She was so adamant that I was not, could not, did not look like I was from Brazil. Yes, lady, you are right, I am wrong. I just like to pretend to be from Brazil, because it sounds Oh, so cool. Really? Let's set the record straight. I was in fact born in Brazil.  Sao Paulo, to be exact.  My mother, Brazilian.  My father, well, he is also Brazilian.  And, even more exciting, so are both my maternal and paternal grandparents. If that does not make me Brazilian, you tell me, what does? And, who are you?The ethnicity police? If you knew anything about Brazil, you'd know that much like the United States, it is a melting pot. A MELTING POT.

So, I laugh.  At you.  At them.  I'll be sure to carry around my birth certificate. And, next time, I'll try to look a little more Brazilian, just for you!
xoxo

Image courtesy of www.favim.com

Peace, Serenity and Sun.

Morikami Garden

Morikami Garden

After much begging and pleading the husband FINALLY agreed to go to the Morikami Museum and Japanese Garden with me (even despite the hot, hot, Florida summer day). And, considering his aversion to the heat, well, this was a feat in-and-of-itself. If you have ever been to Florida in the summer or if you are a native Floridian, you can sympathize with his feelings. The Morikami Museum and Japanese Garden is located in Delray Beach, FL. Despite having lived in Florida for well, the past twenty-something years, this was my very first visit. I admit, I was expecting a tad more splendor. However, despite my slight disappointment it was nice to sit around and enjoy the scenery. After the husband's third, "Wow, it's hot", comment, I made the decision that one more word and I would tune him out. Thankfully, he halted his complaints and enjoyed the spread of nature with me. Perhaps, if this were October or November, the experience would have been more pleasurable. However, it is July. July in Florida. Another twenty minutes and the husband may have claimed he were suffering from a heat stroke (dramatic much? yes). So, we spent some time walking around, chatting, laughing and coming up with numerous ways of how much more fun the garden would be if it were night and we were alone (not a word more will be said). We worked up an appetite and drove straight to downtown Delray Beach for a burger at burger-fi (no judgements, thank you). There isn't a picture, because, truthfully, I was occupied stuffing my face (and who needs a permanent memory of that? Not I).  Happy Sunday!
xoxo

She's a Reader.

“Reading is the sole means by which we slip, involuntarily, often helplessly, into another's skin, another's voice, another's soul.” 

-Joyce Carol Oates

For the past couple of weeks I have spent my time reading. I've had a couple of friends ask me, "WHERE DO YOU FIND THE TIME?". My answer, well, I don't care too much for television. During my spare time (which isn't much, considering) I have immersed myself in books (ok, e-books, whatever!). At first, I was truly against purchasing an electronic book. I mean, how could I abandon that book smell. The feeling of my fingers flipping through the pages. I felt like a traitor. I still do. Yet, the instant gratification I receive when I buy a book can't be taken away. It is exhilarating. Scintillating. Why didn't I do this sooner?   I may not have that fabulous scent of books filling my house any longer. But, my book fix is met at ANY time, during ANY day (I think that may be what addicts feel when they take a hit, maybe, just maybe). Perfection, seriously. There is absolutely nothing better (well, maybe a few things) than a good book. Lately, my taste has veered into torturous love stories (who would have thought?). I become so emotionally involved that when the end is near I feel like a tragic loss is upon me. I grieve. I mourn. It's a sad time. Which is why immediately after one book is finished I dive into another. It is never enough. The more I read the more I want. I've even foregone the normal eight hours of sleep a night (and trust me, I love me some sleep).  Sacrifices have to be made, no biggie. Even though I may have to dab a little concealer here and there, put some extra moisturizer on my puffy eyes and drink more coffee than I would like to admit, it's a small price to pay. Now, allow me to excuse myself.  There is a certain little e-reader awaiting my return. If you are looking for something to fill in those spare hours in a busy day look up "Beautiful Creatures" by Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl. I loved them and am eagerly awaiting the fourth and final installment in October. Get them, you won't be disappointed!
xoxo