the secret to my success

If you’ve ever wondered what’s up with the title of my blog, “Consistently inc”- here’s the story. A few years ago, I coined myself as being the most consistently inconsistent girl I knew. I could never decide whether I wanted to hug or hurt my husband, I loved to start things I’d never finish, and though I wasn’t fully aware of it- I would self sabotage every chance that I got. And though there were things that I was consistently consistent at like being a good mother- when it came to success, I realized that I was the biggest obstacle in the way of my imaginary brownstone on the Upper East Side, my oceanfront beach house in Kailua, and a closet full of Carolina Herrera.

As the years have passed, I’ve become quite the expert on CID (consistently inconsistent disease) and am here to tell you that there may be a cure. I think they call it “focus”? I apologize, having been exposed to the illness for so long has made my memory kind of fuzzy. Oh, wait- it’s coming to me now…yeah- it’s called focus. I’ve been actively working on my recovery which has been a long process. Mainly because I didn’t realize that it wasn’t success that was eluding me but me avoiding it. At times, there’s nothing more comforting than to make excuses for what you don’t have, why you don’t have it, and what’s she got that I don’t?! Finally, I’ve run out of reasons why I’m not where I should be. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for my 9-5 job and enjoy a fairly comfortable lifestyle but recognize that the pace I’m going at now isn’t going to get me any closer to 5th avenue or Lanikai beach any time soon!

Been there- not doing that again!

On this much needed mental health day- i leave my puppy to fend for herself (i'm not good company today anyways), pack up my Mac Book and head to Town in Kaimuki for some "me time".  Alone with a great cup of coffee, i instantly find myself researching a cure for my sudden onset of the blahs. In times like these, logging on to TMZ or Perez Hilton typically does the trick. The constant oogling over such insignificant things like Michael Jackson's burial site, Lindsay Lohan losing her hair, and Jon Gosselin's newest flavor of the week pull me further from my own reality and have me obsessing about someone else's problems rather than my own. After 20 minutes, I had enough. Right now didn't seem like the time to be concerned about somebody else anyway, especially someone i didn't even know or care for. Hey, I've got my own ailments to worry about. 

So, in an effort to self medicate i switch from sleazy to self-help and check in with what Martha Beck might have to say about my symptoms.  She always seems to have a way of writing that gets through to me with her barrage of straight shooting reality checks and eye opening revelations. After 4 cups of Illy coffee, reading through 6 months worth of MB blogs, and a brief journal entry...i thanked God for whomever created mental health days to begin with. Then, an epiphany- if i took 20 minutes out of every day to worry about what celebutants and the NYC Prep retards were doing- then that meant i was depriving myself of 140 minutes to focus on myself.  In that time i could be reading (real books, that is), writing, working out, or hatching ways to improve my life. Perhaps this week, i paid way too much attention to office gossip and immersed  myself in volleyball politics. I allowed my mind to veer off course because the reality is, isn't it more fun to dissect someone else's problems rather than your own? Isn't reveling in someone else's failure easier than rectifying yours? And why do we spend so little time making things better only to look for more ways to make it worse? 

Been there, currently doing that, and now i'm DONE! Now i get it... 20 minutes, lots of writing, and 5 cups of coffee. That's my home remedy for combating the blahs...what's yours? 

Walking on sunshine...

My recent FB tirade with postal undertones got the attention of a lot of family and friends inquiring about the state of my mental health, who the culprits were, and whether yoga really is a viable method for tranquility. After a few days of cooling down and letting go, i found that being pissed off at the world just aint what it used to be. Once upon a time, i was a struggling single teen-age mother trying to raise a daughter and finish my education. I was the product of a broken home with limited guidance and rules that were subject to my own interpretation. I was passionate about NOT becoming a statistic and became staunchly protective over my family and most especially, my reputation. I had fought vehemently to overcome circumstances that most normal 19 year olds could never understand. But, that was a long time ago and the battle is over. I won that fight with determination and faith and have prospered ever since. 

So the question is...when all your battles have been won, what's left to fight about? Surprisingly, my life has unfolded to be as imperfectly perfect as i am. I've grown to accept my many failures and successes and with the love of family and friends, a roof over my head, dreams yet to be fulfilled, and a bucket list of things to do...who has time to be pissed off anymore? With the threat of the unknown just a heartbeat away or the reality that time stops for no one, i've made the conscious effort to no longer commiserate with misery or insist that the glass is half freaking empty. The truth is, the real tug of war is between living a life of genuine happiness or one filled with despair. Which side are you on? 

with love, this is dedicated to my old friend, LD and his eternal smile. God bless.

And another one gone...and another one gone- another year bites the dust!

I wish there were something comical or witty to say about my birthday but all that comes to mind are sarcastic quips about getting old, sagging body parts, and the loss of my 20/20 vision. So today, i won't even go there. Instead, i'll make this entry brief. 

In matters of my heart- there's nothing witty or comical to say about all the people who've made these past 36 years the absolute best life a girl can have! I used to think my birthday was all about me until i realized that i would be nowhere or no one without the people who have been there and done that with me. So to you...yes, and i mean YOU...thank you. Thank you for sharing in my adventures, for encouraging me to go the distance, and for wishing me yet another year of blessings. I am eternally grateful and humbled by the life that i have and for having you in it. My birthday wish for all of us can be summed up in the line below from one of my favorite songs. 

"there's no intentions worthy of mention- if we never try. So hang your hopes on rusted out hinges and take 'em for a ride." 29 by the Gin Blossoms

Happy Birthday, everyone!!! 

The good fight

Always a city girl at heart, my move to the islands proved to be more challenging than I expected. Gone is the lightening speed in which the northeast moves with an abrupt switch in gear to what can only be described as a geriatric gallop. No rush, no fuss, and certainly no expletives or inappropriate gestures while driving- i found myself completely unfamiliar and uncomfortable with my new surroundings. For the first 2 years of living on Oahu, I often asked myself what the hell was i thinking? The environment in which i left to the one i now call home are extreme polar opposites. And instead of warming up to my sunny digs, i adamantly refused to buy into the peace that a tranquil existence affords.  Filled with impatience, potty mouth, and Jersey pride...i was NOT going to change. 

Fast forward to 3 years later and the battle still rages on. However, with less fuel in the tank the fight has proved to be exhausting. Instead of continuing to stave off the inevitable, i decided to investigate what the big freaking deal was about positive thinking, yoga, and meditation. So far, here's the scoop: chronicling my adventures via this blog has been more therapeutic than a trip to the therapist. I've found that it's much harder to turn off and tune out the world if you don't quiet your thoughts; that being genuinely happy is a choice that requires effort and patience; and that growth does happen when you stop fighting it. 

So, is this city chic ready to tap out? Hell no!! Despite a new found love for yoga, i can't help but to detest the middle aged yogite wanna be's whose incessant chatter messes with my namaste. Please..don't make me hurt you, bitches!  

3 years or 30,000 miles

Much to my surprise, at 8pm this evening i decided to hit the gym to top off the last day in June. For many of you gym buffs who think nothing of late night workouts, please bear in mind there are those who suffer from gym phobia...myself being the president of that club. Despite my angst, tonight i tackled the elliptical with the intention of 30 minutes straight with no chumping out...i WILL do the arm movements with resistance and an above average heart rate. Minute 1- and i'm pumped! Minute 3- hmmm, getting a little winded. By minute 5- i tell myself instead of 30 minutes- i'm only doing 20!! Sans an ipod and planted in front of a muted Anderson Cooper, i literally had 47 internal battles to keep myself on that god forsaken contraption. Through shear will- i did it...all 30 minutes and not 1 second over!

Due to recent epiphanies and with another birthday looming, its occurred to me that ignoring the signs of aging is a BAD idea. While the wit and charm will never dwindle, one must be concerned that outer beauty can fade without proper maintenance. Hence, a mandatory gym schedule has been implemented. But, what about the other signs of aging like pessimism, fear, and isolation. What defense do we have to combat the things that only make you seem older- not wiser? What routine checkup can be performed to assess for spirit and vibrancy? What was the point to Benjamin Button? So many questions with so few answers.

My only snippet of hope is this...cherish your youth, embrace your mishaps, and regret nothing. I know i sleep better at night with the skeletons in my closet. And you? What's your anti-aging solution?

The man in the mirror

Stunned and saddened by the news of the untimely passing of some of pop cultures most notable icons last week had me thinking about the importance of leaving behind a legacy. Michael Jackson IS and will always be the King of Pop, Farrah Fawcett had the hair, and Billy Mays...well, wasn't he the Oxyclean guy? Whether their claim to fame is their music, their look, or their persona- the indisputable fact is years from now when my 3 year old god-daughter, Ava rocks out at her senior prom and the beat to Billie Jean starts playing- moonwalking will still be relevant. Hey, I proudly admit to busting out some Thriller moves when the mood strikes! (or if i've had 1 too many mojitos)

All this leaves me wondering about my own legacy. Inherently a perfect mother and wife...there's really not much room for improvement there. But, in the bigger scheme of things- what will the world remember me for? After watching hours of rockumentaries and E! true Hollywood stories, i've come to the conclusion that leaving a legacy whether it affects few or many; and whether it's a positive or negative, often takes a true commitment and devotion to one's vision. The effort is tireless and the work ethic is fierce. The truth is that success doesn't happen overnight. DAMN! 

And to that sentiment...i commit to working everyday on my legacy. Perhaps we'll all find out at the same time once i've figured it out!! And you? What shall i remember you for? Do tell...