I spent the past three days in Colorado. I had purchased a discounted ticket a few months back with some coworkers with the intent of spending the weekend on the slopes showing them around my precious Rocky Mountains. As the trip approached, I had to make a decision: show my coworkers from San Francisco around the mountains, or spend time with family and friends in Denver. I opted to spend the weekend catching up with family and friends.

It was an amazing weekend. Spectacular.

I spent Friday night sitting around my Bubbie’s kitchen table reenacting plays she had written in the 70s. She hasn’t been feeling well for a while and isn’t very talkative. But to see her, smiling, laughing, singing made up songs that she wrote 40 years ago, literally brought tears to my eyes. It was in incredible experience – memories and moments that will last forever.

I spent Saturday at my best friend’s baby shower. This was super weird and incredible at the same time. First of all, I can’t believe that my best friend is having a baby. That I’m going to be “Auntie Lo.” That she is so incredibly blessed with an incredible husband and soon will be even more blessed with a beautiful baby girl. But I really can’t believe that I’m not in Colorado, with her, to go through all of this by her side. It’s heart wrenching.

My mom came to the baby shower with me - we spent a lot of time together this weekend. She just moved into a brand new apartment and I finally got to see it. In fact, it inspired me to do a little decorating myself. She works from home and on the days that I was in Colorado and had to work, we were able to work together. It’s always good to spend time with her, and we never get enough of it.

Saturday night was spent downtown Denver with 8 of my closest friends. Friends that I’ve known since I was two, and friends that I met in college, friends that I’ve grown close to over the years. It was a teary reunion, although it didn’t feel like we skipped a beat. I love that feeling – when you pick up exactly where you left off. That’s true friendship.

Sunday I spent the day with my stepmom. This time was amazing. We haven’t been able to really spend a lot of time together just the two of us. I miss the girl talks we’d always have. I’m so fortunate to have a stepmom as incredible as mine – that doesn’t happen all the time. We can talk about anything and everything, and we did.

Monday I was able to spend time with my GaGa and Pa. Although it was a short breakfast, I’m glad we were able to spend time together. My GaGa is the one who brought me to San Francisco on vacation two years ago and helped me fall in love with the city. It’s really because of that trip that I’m even here, so being able to catch up with her was amazing. My Pa just had one of his plays put on in Denver. I’m very proud of the work he’s done and what a talented writer he is (must be where I get it from:)).

My trip to Colorado outdid all my expectations. It was incredible to go back and visit everything I left behind in such a rush. The timing is very interesting as well. Just as I really settled in in San Francisco, just as I started making real, true friends, just as I continue to love my job more and more each day – I go back. I left San Francisco saying, “I’m not going home, home is in San Francisco now!” And now I’m leaving Colorado saying, “I’m homesick and I haven’t even left Colorado yet.”

I miss it. I miss the smell of my mom’s house. I miss my yellow room. I miss my Dusty. I miss cuddling with my dad before bed. I miss the adventure of living in Boulder. I miss my college roommate. I miss the girls nights – eating Ben & Jerry’s Strawberry Cheesecake Ice Cream, watching episodes of Chris Rock, on our floor. I miss my best friend. I miss getting handed a bottle of vodka while stuck in traffic on I-25 and dancing to the Casper Slide in the car on the way to the club. I miss the color-coded lists of boyfriends. I miss driving. I miss the snow (kind of). I miss the comfort of knowing that everyone I love, everyone I’m close to, is right here.

But things change. People grow. My mom sold our childhood house and moved into a swanky little apartment downtown. My best friend’s mom did the same. My dog passed away about a month ago – now my dad’s house feel empty. My best friend is married and having a baby in two months. My college roommate and I have sadly lost touch. All of this, in the last eight months that I’ve been in San Francisco. And I missed it all. While I was doing my own growing. In my new home.

So what happens when your heart is in two places you call home? What I have to remember is that it’s ok to get homesick (for whichever home that may be). It’s ok to feel nostalgic. And it’s ok to miss the ones I love. Moving to San Francisco was the best choice I’ve ever made. I made it for me. My life has been a fairy tale and I haven’t really had a chance to sit and breathe – think about the past eight months and reflect. This trip to Colorado forced me to.

I have two homes now. So what? I have a big heart. There’s plenty to go around…

As many of you know, it was my Birthday last week. It wasn’t a big Birthday or anything (although gifts are still being accepted), but, like every Birthday, I took a step back and thought about the past year. And about getting older in general. I know, I know, I’m young, I have my whole life ahead of me. But with every year that goes by, I notice all the changes.

I notice that my “little” brother is in his second semester of his Freshman year in college. I can’t believe he’s growing up so fast. He’s actually asking me for advice on apartments for next year. That makes me feel old.

I notice that my parents are getting older (however, they both act extremely young). But now they’re both at least 50-years-old. I looked at some old family photos – it’s amazing how we’ve all changed.

I notice that my grandparents are getting older. They’ve always been “young at heart” and they always will be, but as the years go by, I notice the little things.

My friends are getting married/having babies. And it’s actually acceptable. We’re not “too young” anymore. That’s crazy to me.

I notice a lot of things about myself. Like how I’ve settled down a bit (except for my trip to Vegas last weekend…) and I don’t “party-hardy” as much as I probably should (and will try to do more of from here on out). I have a real job – one that I wake up and go to every day and walk home from every night. It’s not quite a “nine-to-five” but it’s close enough.

A former classmate (who is a year younger than me) told me the other day that he was going to be in San Francisco over the summer. I was, of course, excited to have someone that I know out here for a bit. He said, “So, I’m going to be in San Francisco for the summer, are you still going to be out there?” I paused, then replied, “Uh, yeah. I live here.” This isn’t a semester-long internship like I had in college. This isn’t a temporary situation. I live here. And sometimes I wake up in the morning and look around me and still can’t believe I’m here. And I’ve been here for over six months.

It’s incredible how fast the time flies. And sometimes, I like to just take a minute and stop – take a look at the life I’m living. How I got here. How to get to where I want to go.

In related news, my Birthday celebration was incredible. My dad flew out to San Francisco on my Birthday and took me and a couple girls out to dinner. He was the “pimp daddy” surrounded by four young, beautiful women. ☺ Dad stayed until Friday, then he left for Denver and I left to meet my mom in Las Vegas. Oh man. I love Vegas. In fact, I’m still recovering from sleep deprivation, intense alcoholic dehydration, and pole-dancing injuries. Don’t ask. I won’t tell. But I can tell you that I have a newfound respect for the physical strength of strippers.

All in all, Birthday success.

Vi.sualize.us Photo Credit

Every year at this time, I always take a step back from my hectic, crazy life and think about all of the things that I am thankful for. I’m sure I’m not the only one who does this, but it’s almost therapeutic for me. I get to focus on all of the positive things in my life and give them the recognition and thanks they deserve. You should try it if you haven’t already

I am thankful for my family. They have been there for me throughout all the good times and the bad. They have been my strength and encouragement through all of the big decisions I have made throughout my whole life. I don’t know where I’d be or who I’d be without you and your support.

I am thankful for my friends. My new ones and my old ones. There has been a distinct strain on the relationships I had in Colorado when I moved to San Francisco. While it has been hard maintaining some of these friendships, it makes me that much more grateful for the friendships that have outlasted and will withstand anything. I am so grateful for the new friendships that are developing (slowly but surely) here in San Francisco. I sincerely look forward to all they will bring me throughout the rest of my life.

I am thankful for my job. I’ve said it before, but I feel like the luckiest girl in the world to have landed this dream job that allowed me to move to my dream city without any real hardships. It is an amazing feeling to wake up every morning loving to go to work.

I’m thankful for my health and my happiness and all of the amazing opportunities that I have been given.

This Thanksgiving is going to be hard for me. I won’t be home for the first time, ever. I won’t spend Thanksgiving around the table with my family. I won’t be sharing stories of the past couple months and reminiscing on last year’s holiday season. I won’t sleep in my bed at home, under the roof of my family home. I won’t go shopping at 4 a.m. with my mom on Black Friday.

I am going to try my very best to create a new Thanksgiving memory for myself here in San Francisco. But being away from home during this holiday has heightened my gratefulness. Instead of just taking Thanksgiving with my family for granted, I truly appreciate and remember the times I have spent with my family and friends throughout the holidays. Now, I will start building my own traditions here. And I can’t wait for year because you bet your bottom dollar I’ll be spending it with my family.

What are you thankful for this Thanksgiving?

My guilty pleasure. No, now get your mind out of the gutter. Ok, well, not completely.

HBO has stolen my heart again – and my Thursday nights.

Hung is a riveting series on HBO that centers on a father of two teenagers who goes through a messy divorce, deals with a custody battle, and on top of it all, his house burns down. As he is a high school basketball coach and detention supervisor, his finances are slim. And, of course, he never filed for homeowners insurance. He is left trying to rebuild his house and his family, alone.

The kids

After a one-night-stand with a homely yet interesting woman, he comes across an even more interesting opportunity – the chance to be a male gigolo. Yes, you heard right. He has the opportunity to GET PAID TO HAVE SEX. So, the show takes off switching between his life as a father and teacher and his life as a male prostitute. And, let me tell you, his sexcapades are anything but boring. Draws you in, right?

No, this isn’t a plug for Hung or for HBO, but, as a true writer, this show made me think.

How far would you go to get your family back? How far would you go to restore your home? Your life? Would you have sex for money if it was enough to rebuild your burned down house? To get your kids back?

The whole idea of prostitution strikes me.

Word association, “PROSTITUTE.”

• Tramp
• Colfax
• Red light district
• Fishnets
• Mini-skirts
• Drugs
• No self-esteem
• Dirty
• STDs
• Illegal
• Sex. With. Strangers.

But, this guy is normal! This guy is a SCHOOLTEACHER. What would you do if you found out your professor was a

PROSTITUTE?

The gigolo

I’d freak.

Of course, those words are generalizations and stereotypes that suburban kids are taught to associate with prostitution from the day they see broad daylight. And those kind of stereotypical prostitutes exist. I’ve seem ‘em.

But this guy, this guy, is just plain intriguing. I know, I know, it’s just a TV show. But I am a firm believer that TV shows can, and often do, stem from real life experiences. It makes me wonder if there is someone, or many someones, that partake in this yet are still able to lead normal lives. They become “creatures of the night.” And it must be exhausting leading this double life.

Back to the show.

The one-night-stander becomes his “pimp.” First of all, she’s female.

Word association: “PIMP.”

• Male
• Asshole
• Heartless
• Greedy
• Disrespectful (I wish there was a stronger word)
• Dirty
• 50 cent (had to throw that one in there)

The pimpess

Even Wikipedia is gender specific when it comes to defining a pimp, “A pimp (also called fleshmonger or Pander) finds and manages women (often young girls) who are vulnerable and susceptible, for what ever reason, to extreme manipulation and engages them in prostitution (in brothels and on the streets) in order to profit from their earnings.”

So, whoa. This show is redefining stereotypes all over the place.

Anyway, the pimpess calls their “business” Happiness Consultants. Wait. Hold up. Is this suggesting that meaningless sex with strangers will make you happy? Yes. Absolutely. And that’s how she pitches her business plan to potential clients. She convinces women that if they are lonely, unhappily married or seriously mentally disturbed (you should’ve seen that episode, holy crap) that the solution is to hire the Happiness Consultants and this strapping, “well hung” man will come to your house, have sex with you for a significant amount of money and *POOF* you will be happy.

Hmmm.

This seems problematic to me on so many levels. First, happiness doesn’t stem from meaningless sex. At least for me. When it comes to sex (mom, dad, grandparents, I’m sorry if you’re reading this), true happiness comes from having sex with someone you love. It’s an entirely different feeling than when you have sex with someone you don’t. When you sleep with someone you don’t love, or at least considerably care for, more times than not, it leaves you UNhappy. Wanting more. Wanting that emotional connection with that someone that you just can’t get when it’s just about the sex. Or the money (I’d imagine).

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had sex with people I haven’t significantly cared for (mom, dad, grandparents, I’m sorry again). But, as predicted, it didn’t leave me feeling any better about myself. It didn’t make me happy. It turned into an “oh, what did I do that for” moment.

And I could never, ever, ever, ever receive PAYMENT for having sex with someone. That’s when the childhood implanted stereotypes enter.

I can see the appeal, however. No attachments or strings attached. And that can definitely be exciting. But I guess I feel that is more about the immediate satisfaction. Not long term happiness.

Back to the question, though. How far would you go for your family? If you were dirt poor and needed to provide something, anything. What would you do? If the opportunity arose, would you have sex to make ends meet?

Think about it. Afterall, we are in a recession.

I had lunch with my cousin yesterday. It was a great lunch – we went to Cantina Laredo in the 29^th Street Mall in Boulder, had margaritas and ate lots of Mexican food. Midway through the meal, our small talk and catching up turned into a very interesting conversation.

I’m Jewish. My family is Jewish. Therefore, my cousin that I was dining with yesterday is also (I bet you can guess it) Jewish. About five years ago, she married a Palestinian. Of course, this caused a major ruckus in my family – as you may or may not know; there has been a war going on between the Palestinians and the Israelis for many years.

Here’s a brief history (as I was taught):

The conflict between the Palestinians and the Israelis is about land. The State of Israel was established in 1948; however, the Arabs believe that the Israelis took over their land and they do not recognize Israel as a state. It all boils down to each state’s idea of their history. Israel thinks God gave them the land and Palestine (the Arabs) think the land is rightfully theirs. Many people believe that this war is no longer a religious one; it’s now political.

Many peace attempts have been made – mostly to cater to a two-state solution, which would mean that there would be an independent Palestinian state alongside an independent Israeli state. The Palestinian Liberation Organization  accepted a two-state solution in 1988 and the Oslo Accords  were supposed to have contributed to a peaceful resolution of the conflict. However, it didn’t work and there is still fighting today. 

My cousin’s husband is a devout Muslim and whole-heartedly supports Palestine in the war. According to my cousin, her husband did not pressure her to believe the same. He told her to go out, do some research on her own, and make her own conclusion. She came to the same conclusion as her husband – supporting Palestine in the war. 

This is interesting to me because she’s Jewish and still identifies as a Jew. We talked about this for a while at lunch. She said that Jews grow up supporting Israel. Even at Sunday school, the teachers pass around a little piggy bank and kids get money from their parents to donate to planting trees in Israel. From day one, Jews are raised to support Israel. She claims she went out and did her own research in order to come to her conclusion. Do I agree with everything she said yesterday blaming Israel? Absolutely not. Is she entitled to her opinion? Yes. More importantly, is she a part of my family regardless of who she marries and what she believes? Of course.

The media play a role in what people see and hear about the war in Israel. Because the America supports Israel, we only hear about the Israeli death toll or the bombs thrown into Israel. Sometimes, in order to develop a well-rounded opinion, we need to venture out of the immediate media and do some research on our own. 

As my cousin pointed out, there are two sides to every story. While the Israelis and Jews feel only their side of the argument is correct, so do the Palestinians. Um, that’s sort of what war is, right? Fighting for your “rights”? 

We are privileged to live in America where many different ethnicities, religions and races are able to coexist without bombs going off. 

I am Jewish. I was raised Jewish. I consider Israel my homeland and I plan on going on Birthright when I can in order to visit the land my ancestors lived on. I support Israel in the warHowever, and that’s a big however, what I support more is peace. While I do think Israel is “right” in claiming the land as its own, I do not believe in violence as a solution. I do not believe Palestinians should be forcing Israelis out of their homes or their land or vice versa. I do believe that Israelis and Palestinians should work harder to live together (I know, I know. In a perfect world, right?). 

My little brother graduated from Cherry Creek High School

My brother graduated from high school this week. I can’t believe it.

First, he graduated from the same high school that I attended four years ago. Four years ago, I sat in the same chairs on the Stutler Bowl stadium. I wore the same robe, the same tassel. I walked the same walk to get my high school diploma from Cherry Creek High School.

Now, it’s my little brother’s turn.

We used to hate each other. I know, I know, all brothers and sisters go through a fighting phase. But this was different. We were at each other’s throat. Every second we spent in the same room was kicking, screaming, fighting, yelling, biting, scratching or pulling each other’s hair. There was actually a time when it got so bad, I considered switching nights with my divorced parents so we would never see each other.

When I moved out to Boulder to go to CU, everything changed. Now, my brother is one of my best friends. We have gotten closer over the past four years; especially this past year as we were both seniors.

I have watched my brother grow from an obnoxious little kid to a compassionate young man. (Ok, so he’s still a bit obnoxious). He makes smart decisions, he thinks of the consequences of his actions, he sets his priorities (for the most part), he considers how his decisions affect other people and he’s genuinely fun to be around.

My brother is following in my footsteps and attending the University of Colorado in the fall. He got right into the business school as a Freshman, which is an admirable feat. I am convinced he will succeed and continue accomplishing great things.

It just feels weird. There’s no other word that explains how it feels other than: weird. It was weird going to Creek and watching my little brother switch his tassel from the right to the left signifying the completion of high school. It’s weird to think about how he is living in the same dorm I lived in when I was a freshman at CU. It’s weird realizing that he’s going to be in college – he’s going to be a college guy. He’s going to be faced with so many decisions and hardships and exciting new experiences. It’s weird that he’s attending my alma mater. And I won’t be there. Boulder has been “my town” for the past four years, and now it’s his.

It’s just weird.

But, I am so proud.

I am so proud of the person he has become. I truly can’t wait to stay in college vicariously through him.

I cherish how close we’ve gotten, and I know we will get even closer as we both grow. 

It’s always bittersweet returning home from a trip.  Especially a great one.

My trip last week to San Francisco was incredible. It was different than a usual spring break vacation. I went to California with my roommate – we stayed with my cousin who lives in a fantastic apartment four blocks from Union Square. We didn’t ride the ferry to Sausalito, see Alcatraz or take a bus tour. No, my roommate and I met with various business people around the city. We had appointments every day – as if we lived there. This is what we hope to do after we graduate. 

The city is amazing.

All of the crazy things people tell you about San Francisco are real. I love the reality of the big city. I love walking everywhere, everything being within walking distance. I love how you can be in over seven different countries within ten blocks of San Francisco – from India to Little Italy to Russian Hill to Chinatown all the way to Pakistan and Korea. The food is fantastic. The little mom-and-pop restaurants are to die for. I even loved the homeless man who skipped across the street in a pink leotard, tutu and army boots. I love the feeling of the city – being surrounded by strangers, the hustle and bustle of life.

I love it all.

Am I scared? Hell yes. Not only does the job market SUCK right now, almost all of my entire family is in Colorado. I am extremely close with my family and it is terrifying to not be a 45 minute drive away.

But I have to do this. I have to spread my wings.

And hope I can fly.