Rainy night
Cambridge Hotel room
Secret meeting
Removed clothes
Right away
The bed first
Awkward
Timid
Then
Comfortable
familiar
the bathroom counter second
Sexy
Naughty
Fun
Then
The bed again
Dirty
Hot
Sweaty
Didn’t want it to end
But it had to.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Walk off Victories are AWESOME
My brother and I have been to a lot of good games at the old Yankee Stadium. Our most recent walk off victory before last night was on May 16th 2006 when the Yankees came back to beat Texas 14-13 after being down 9-0 in the 2nd inning.
Last night's game was a pitching duel. The Orioles struck first with one run in the first and the Yankees answered with one run of their own in the second. After that there were lots of ground ball outs, double plays galore and dazzling defensive plays on both ends. Andy Pettitte made me eat my words. Good on him.
By the 8th inning I was getting a bit worried that my Yankee jeans mojo was running out. It seemed like the Yankees were never going to be able to score another run and the Orioles kept getting close. I figured they were going to strike first especially since Hughes and Mo were not available out of the bullpen. My fear was they would score and I'd have to see Brian Bruney give up 4 more runs. Thankfully that didn't happen.
When the bottom of the 9th started I had this odd feeling of calm come over me. I was in a good mood all day and I felt like I was going to be rewarded for it. And I was right. Although truthfully my feeling was that A Rod was going to the hero. I don't think I've ever seen A Rod get a walk off hit. I've seen Tony Womack of all people get a walk off hit. Come on. Anyway, back to the game. Matsui was fighting off pitches and broke his bat. And just before that last pitch I did this thing with my thumbs. I had my hands clasped together but my thumbs were side by side. Right as he released the pitch I crossed my right thumb over my left thumb...and then BOOM! Game over.
The greatest thing about it was it finally made the obnoxiously loud Orioles fans sitting across the aisle from me shut up. Jerks.
We had a great view of the trajectory of the home run from our seats in Section 410.
So I left the Stadium a happy girl, my Yankee jeans win streak was still in tact, (4-0 so far) and my boys are now in a first place tie.
Hells yeah.
Last night's game was a pitching duel. The Orioles struck first with one run in the first and the Yankees answered with one run of their own in the second. After that there were lots of ground ball outs, double plays galore and dazzling defensive plays on both ends. Andy Pettitte made me eat my words. Good on him.
By the 8th inning I was getting a bit worried that my Yankee jeans mojo was running out. It seemed like the Yankees were never going to be able to score another run and the Orioles kept getting close. I figured they were going to strike first especially since Hughes and Mo were not available out of the bullpen. My fear was they would score and I'd have to see Brian Bruney give up 4 more runs. Thankfully that didn't happen.
When the bottom of the 9th started I had this odd feeling of calm come over me. I was in a good mood all day and I felt like I was going to be rewarded for it. And I was right. Although truthfully my feeling was that A Rod was going to the hero. I don't think I've ever seen A Rod get a walk off hit. I've seen Tony Womack of all people get a walk off hit. Come on. Anyway, back to the game. Matsui was fighting off pitches and broke his bat. And just before that last pitch I did this thing with my thumbs. I had my hands clasped together but my thumbs were side by side. Right as he released the pitch I crossed my right thumb over my left thumb...and then BOOM! Game over.
The greatest thing about it was it finally made the obnoxiously loud Orioles fans sitting across the aisle from me shut up. Jerks.
We had a great view of the trajectory of the home run from our seats in Section 410.
So I left the Stadium a happy girl, my Yankee jeans win streak was still in tact, (4-0 so far) and my boys are now in a first place tie.
Hells yeah.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
I Hate You
Dear Asshole,
Any lingering feelings I may have had for you are gone. I am better off without you in my life and I am a better person than you. You are an immature jerk and you are a miserable excuse for a human being.
Have a nice life, no wait, don't.
Me
Any lingering feelings I may have had for you are gone. I am better off without you in my life and I am a better person than you. You are an immature jerk and you are a miserable excuse for a human being.
Have a nice life, no wait, don't.
Me
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
First time
I decided to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge today. It was great. The weather was beautiful and it was such a nice walk. I highly recommend it.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
My Brown Eyes are Blue
Right now I'm listening to Crystal Gayle's "Don't It Make My Brown Eyes Blue" which was one of my favorites as a kid. I'm relating to a lot of sappy love songs. More specifically the lost love songs. Miss Whitney Houston has way too many songs that I can relate to right now. It's so sad. I used to think in 5th and 6th grade that I related to all of these songs just because my crush Joe Mackey didn't like me as much as I liked him. Young Stacey sang a lot about heartbreak but never really knew what it was like to experience it. 34 year old Stacey laughs at 11 year old Stacey. She's got nothing on me. My heart isn't broken beyond repair but man, is it bruised pretty badly. Mostly because of my own stupidity. I accept some of the blame for this. Falling for someone I have no chance in hell of ever being with is a normal Stacey activity but this time was different. He told me he loved me. He was in love with me. Then things changed. He didn't want to be with me anymore he just wanted to be friends. And no matter how many times he said it would never work out I held out hope that he would come to his senses and realize I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread. The joke was on me. I was good enough for sex. Not good enough for love. That was reserved for someone else. So she gets the prize and Stacey is left with nothing. As usual. It's the story of my life. I should be used to it. Yet, I'm not. I thought for once I'd be able to win. When will I win? When will it be my turn to take home the prize? WHEN?
Friday, July 10, 2009
Rebirth
When people are asked to name the greatest day of their lives the usual responses are events such as, “my wedding”, “the birth of my first child” or “college graduation.” Not me. If someone asks me “What was the greatest day of your life?” I answer with two days, “May 23rd and 24th 2001.” And no I didn’t get married, graduate or have my first child on either of those dates. Those dates were the beginning of my rebirth.
I was born with strabismus, in laymen’s terms I was born cross-eyed. I had two surgeries, one when I was 9 months old and another when I was 9 years old. The first one was two correct both eyes and straighten them out. The second one was to correct my left eye, which had become lazy and because it was turning outward towards my ear it was affecting my vision. I was nearly blind in that eye so for a month before my second surgery I wore a patch over my right eye. That doesn’t sound too bad, does it? Well, it was a pirate’s patch. Very embarrassing for anyone but especially for a 9-year-old girl in elementary school. I can’t tell you how many times I heard, “Ahoy matey!” Or had someone say, “Arrrrrrrr” for no reason. The sad thing was I went through all of that for nothing because within 3 years my eye was turning outward again.
My friends didn’t treat me differently because of it but I was always self-conscious and aware of being different than everyone else. I know people who didn’t know me couldn’t tell where I was looking and some people actually would let me know. One guy in particular was extremely hurtful about it. His friend even said something to me and apologized for the guy, who didn’t apologize. At that point I was 19 and figured my lazy eye was just going to always be lazy and there was nothing I could do about it.
I became very introverted and some people perceived me as a “bitchy” or not friendly. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to be friendly I just was sick and tired of feeling like I had to explain why my eye was doing what it was doing. Over the years I learned how to talk to people without making eye contact and I would also turn my head to the side so it looked like both eyes were straight.
By the time I reached my mid 20s I had gotten so used to turning my head that most people didn’t know I had a lazy eye. And I figured I could live with it for the rest of my life until my Grandmother mentioned how upset she was that I never did anything about it and how much prettier I’d be if I were to get it fixed. I was pretty down after that. Grandmothers are supposed to love you no matter what, right?
So I just swept her comment under the rug for a while until a cold, grey February morning in 2001. One of my coworkers whom I was friendly with and I were washing our hands at the sink in the ladies room and she said, “I don’t want to pry but I noticed you have a lazy eye.” I felt like someone stabbed me in my gut. I nodded my head and she looked horrified and apologized, “I didn’t mean to upset you it’s just that one of my best friends is a surgeon and she specializes in that type of surgery.” I looked at her and said, “Oh yeah?” I didn’t want to get my hopes up. In my years of working in New York City I noticed a lot of other people with lazy eyes and figured if they still had them then there was nothing that could be done. “I will email you her info. You don’t have to go but I think she can really help you.” I immediately called my best friend who threatened to never speak to me again until I made appointment. She knows how to push my buttons and that was frankly the only I was going to call the doctor. Part of me was terrified because I was convinced the doctor would see me and say, “Sorry but there’s nothing we can do.”
I couldn’t have been more wrong. My appointment wasn’t until April 12th so I had a lot of time to think of scenarios in my head. The day of my appointment I was nervous but slightly hopeful.
After talking to the doctor for ten minutes she says, “Okay so how is May 23rd for your surgery?” I looked at her, puzzled and asked, “You mean six weeks from now?” She nodded. She was so sure of herself, which eased my fears a lot. She guaranteed that not only would she straighten my eye but also that it would probably stay that way forever. “It’s a Wednesday and you’ll have to take a least a week off from work, maybe more for the recovery.” I nodded my head and was so excited I wanted to jump up and down in her office. Thankfully I restrained myself. For the first time in a long time I was happy and hopeful. When I got back to work I told my boss about the surgery and she was excited for me. I was the happiest I had been in years…or so I thought.
The morning of the surgery I was unusually calm but that was most likely because I had 3 panic attacks the previous day.
I remember waiting to go in for the surgery with other patients. I remember them all having strips of tape on their faces, above their right eye or left eye, obviously depending on which one was being operated. I remember realizing I didn’t have a piece of tape on my forehead but I hoped it was because my doctor knew and didn’t need to be reminded which eye she was working on. Although she did play a joke on me beforehand and say, “Were operating on the right eye today, right?” And then she started laughing. I guess to ease my nervousness. I’ll admit I was a tad nervous waiting especially since my surgery was delayed. I stared at the clock in the pre-op room and literally twiddled my thumbs waiting to be called. When they called my name, they walked me into the operating room. I was wheeled into the operating room for the second surgery so I found it odd that I had to walk in and climb onto the operating table. I crossed myself like any good Catholic would do before I walked into the room and climbed up onto the table. I laid back and the anesthesiologist explained that they were going to put the IV into my arm. I was hoping that they would knock me out first with gas, and then put the IV in but no such luck. She told me to tighten my fist; she wiped my arm with a swab of alcohol and stuck the needle into my arm. It was probably the worst pain I had ever felt up until that point. I could actually feel the alcohol seeping into my vein with the IV tube and thought I was going to die. Thankfully the pain only lasted ten seconds because the last thing I heard the anesthesiologist say was, “You have great veins.” Before I could say something back to her I was out cold.
The next thing I see is white light, for those first few moments I thought that maybe I didn’t make it. Then as my right eye began to focus I realized that the white light I was seeing was actually a florescent light in the recovery room and as I came to I noticed I was staring up at the white ceiling tiles next to the light. This recovery was a little more frightening then when I was nine years old. At twenty-seven I was more aware of what was going on and more aware of what should be going on with my body. It felt as if my body was waking up inch by inch; first my head, my eyes, my mouth and downward to my toes. It was as if someone was slowly passing a magic wand over my body from head to toe, causing it to wake up. I felt paralyzed; I started to panic slightly when I couldn’t move my arms or legs. I tried in vain to wiggle my fingers and after about a minute or so I was able to. When I was able to move my toes I knew that I was going to come out of it intact, well at least my body was intact. We would find out about the eye the next day.
The rest of the surgery day is a bit hazy, although I do recall my mom walking me into a set of doors, not once but twice at the hospital when we were leaving. I had one eye bandaged and something flew into my right eye and I couldn’t get it out so I was walking with both eyes closed. To this day I never let her live that down. Twice! Once into a set of doors in the hallway and then two minutes later she walked me into the elevator doors!
That night I passed out relatively early and slept through the whole night, propped up so high with pillows I was practically sitting up. Thank God for the anesthesia not wearing off right away because I am a stomach sleeper.
I had an appointment the next day to get the bandage taken off. I was extremely nervous about it. Before the surgery I was having nightmares about the bandage being taken off and my eye being off center, or completely backwards. I’d always wake up in a cold sweat. I remember sitting in the chair and taking a few deep breaths before the doctor came in. She walked in with her air of confidence and looked at me and said, “It will be fine. I know it.” She slowly and carefully removed the bandage and when I opened the eye she cried out, “Oh my God!” I became frightened and she quickly explained her reaction. “It’s beautiful!” I knew it couldn’t be that beautiful, they had gone in and detached the muscles, cut them and reattached them to my eyeball. If anything it was probably bloodshot and crusty. She held a mirror in front of me and I was right. My eye was completely bloodshot but she was also right because it was beautiful and it was perfectly straight. I started crying, my mom started crying and my doctor was pleased. She went onto explain that she thought I was going to be more swollen so when she removed the bandage and saw that I wasn’t she had that reaction.
Our first stop after the appointment was Grandma’s apartment. I walked in with my huge Jackie O sunglasses and took them off for her. She had tears in her eyes and said, “Oh you’re so beautiful!” And for the first time in my life, even with my bloodshot eye, I actually felt beautiful.
I was born with strabismus, in laymen’s terms I was born cross-eyed. I had two surgeries, one when I was 9 months old and another when I was 9 years old. The first one was two correct both eyes and straighten them out. The second one was to correct my left eye, which had become lazy and because it was turning outward towards my ear it was affecting my vision. I was nearly blind in that eye so for a month before my second surgery I wore a patch over my right eye. That doesn’t sound too bad, does it? Well, it was a pirate’s patch. Very embarrassing for anyone but especially for a 9-year-old girl in elementary school. I can’t tell you how many times I heard, “Ahoy matey!” Or had someone say, “Arrrrrrrr” for no reason. The sad thing was I went through all of that for nothing because within 3 years my eye was turning outward again.
My friends didn’t treat me differently because of it but I was always self-conscious and aware of being different than everyone else. I know people who didn’t know me couldn’t tell where I was looking and some people actually would let me know. One guy in particular was extremely hurtful about it. His friend even said something to me and apologized for the guy, who didn’t apologize. At that point I was 19 and figured my lazy eye was just going to always be lazy and there was nothing I could do about it.
I became very introverted and some people perceived me as a “bitchy” or not friendly. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to be friendly I just was sick and tired of feeling like I had to explain why my eye was doing what it was doing. Over the years I learned how to talk to people without making eye contact and I would also turn my head to the side so it looked like both eyes were straight.
By the time I reached my mid 20s I had gotten so used to turning my head that most people didn’t know I had a lazy eye. And I figured I could live with it for the rest of my life until my Grandmother mentioned how upset she was that I never did anything about it and how much prettier I’d be if I were to get it fixed. I was pretty down after that. Grandmothers are supposed to love you no matter what, right?
So I just swept her comment under the rug for a while until a cold, grey February morning in 2001. One of my coworkers whom I was friendly with and I were washing our hands at the sink in the ladies room and she said, “I don’t want to pry but I noticed you have a lazy eye.” I felt like someone stabbed me in my gut. I nodded my head and she looked horrified and apologized, “I didn’t mean to upset you it’s just that one of my best friends is a surgeon and she specializes in that type of surgery.” I looked at her and said, “Oh yeah?” I didn’t want to get my hopes up. In my years of working in New York City I noticed a lot of other people with lazy eyes and figured if they still had them then there was nothing that could be done. “I will email you her info. You don’t have to go but I think she can really help you.” I immediately called my best friend who threatened to never speak to me again until I made appointment. She knows how to push my buttons and that was frankly the only I was going to call the doctor. Part of me was terrified because I was convinced the doctor would see me and say, “Sorry but there’s nothing we can do.”
I couldn’t have been more wrong. My appointment wasn’t until April 12th so I had a lot of time to think of scenarios in my head. The day of my appointment I was nervous but slightly hopeful.
After talking to the doctor for ten minutes she says, “Okay so how is May 23rd for your surgery?” I looked at her, puzzled and asked, “You mean six weeks from now?” She nodded. She was so sure of herself, which eased my fears a lot. She guaranteed that not only would she straighten my eye but also that it would probably stay that way forever. “It’s a Wednesday and you’ll have to take a least a week off from work, maybe more for the recovery.” I nodded my head and was so excited I wanted to jump up and down in her office. Thankfully I restrained myself. For the first time in a long time I was happy and hopeful. When I got back to work I told my boss about the surgery and she was excited for me. I was the happiest I had been in years…or so I thought.
The morning of the surgery I was unusually calm but that was most likely because I had 3 panic attacks the previous day.
I remember waiting to go in for the surgery with other patients. I remember them all having strips of tape on their faces, above their right eye or left eye, obviously depending on which one was being operated. I remember realizing I didn’t have a piece of tape on my forehead but I hoped it was because my doctor knew and didn’t need to be reminded which eye she was working on. Although she did play a joke on me beforehand and say, “Were operating on the right eye today, right?” And then she started laughing. I guess to ease my nervousness. I’ll admit I was a tad nervous waiting especially since my surgery was delayed. I stared at the clock in the pre-op room and literally twiddled my thumbs waiting to be called. When they called my name, they walked me into the operating room. I was wheeled into the operating room for the second surgery so I found it odd that I had to walk in and climb onto the operating table. I crossed myself like any good Catholic would do before I walked into the room and climbed up onto the table. I laid back and the anesthesiologist explained that they were going to put the IV into my arm. I was hoping that they would knock me out first with gas, and then put the IV in but no such luck. She told me to tighten my fist; she wiped my arm with a swab of alcohol and stuck the needle into my arm. It was probably the worst pain I had ever felt up until that point. I could actually feel the alcohol seeping into my vein with the IV tube and thought I was going to die. Thankfully the pain only lasted ten seconds because the last thing I heard the anesthesiologist say was, “You have great veins.” Before I could say something back to her I was out cold.
The next thing I see is white light, for those first few moments I thought that maybe I didn’t make it. Then as my right eye began to focus I realized that the white light I was seeing was actually a florescent light in the recovery room and as I came to I noticed I was staring up at the white ceiling tiles next to the light. This recovery was a little more frightening then when I was nine years old. At twenty-seven I was more aware of what was going on and more aware of what should be going on with my body. It felt as if my body was waking up inch by inch; first my head, my eyes, my mouth and downward to my toes. It was as if someone was slowly passing a magic wand over my body from head to toe, causing it to wake up. I felt paralyzed; I started to panic slightly when I couldn’t move my arms or legs. I tried in vain to wiggle my fingers and after about a minute or so I was able to. When I was able to move my toes I knew that I was going to come out of it intact, well at least my body was intact. We would find out about the eye the next day.
The rest of the surgery day is a bit hazy, although I do recall my mom walking me into a set of doors, not once but twice at the hospital when we were leaving. I had one eye bandaged and something flew into my right eye and I couldn’t get it out so I was walking with both eyes closed. To this day I never let her live that down. Twice! Once into a set of doors in the hallway and then two minutes later she walked me into the elevator doors!
That night I passed out relatively early and slept through the whole night, propped up so high with pillows I was practically sitting up. Thank God for the anesthesia not wearing off right away because I am a stomach sleeper.
I had an appointment the next day to get the bandage taken off. I was extremely nervous about it. Before the surgery I was having nightmares about the bandage being taken off and my eye being off center, or completely backwards. I’d always wake up in a cold sweat. I remember sitting in the chair and taking a few deep breaths before the doctor came in. She walked in with her air of confidence and looked at me and said, “It will be fine. I know it.” She slowly and carefully removed the bandage and when I opened the eye she cried out, “Oh my God!” I became frightened and she quickly explained her reaction. “It’s beautiful!” I knew it couldn’t be that beautiful, they had gone in and detached the muscles, cut them and reattached them to my eyeball. If anything it was probably bloodshot and crusty. She held a mirror in front of me and I was right. My eye was completely bloodshot but she was also right because it was beautiful and it was perfectly straight. I started crying, my mom started crying and my doctor was pleased. She went onto explain that she thought I was going to be more swollen so when she removed the bandage and saw that I wasn’t she had that reaction.
Our first stop after the appointment was Grandma’s apartment. I walked in with my huge Jackie O sunglasses and took them off for her. She had tears in her eyes and said, “Oh you’re so beautiful!” And for the first time in my life, even with my bloodshot eye, I actually felt beautiful.
I wrote this in 2003
Who knew it'd apply to right now...
Memory
There are things I should forget
Especially now
Because
according to him
They meant nothing
Why can't I forget anything?
It was cute when I was younger
Now it's a nuisance
Every detail
Every moment
Is etched in my mind
Forever
Even the ones that meant nothing
To him
Meant something to me
Some moments make me laugh
Most make me cry
Yet almost every single one
Makes me wish it never happened
Memory
There are things I should forget
Especially now
Because
according to him
They meant nothing
Why can't I forget anything?
It was cute when I was younger
Now it's a nuisance
Every detail
Every moment
Is etched in my mind
Forever
Even the ones that meant nothing
To him
Meant something to me
Some moments make me laugh
Most make me cry
Yet almost every single one
Makes me wish it never happened
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