#On911

#On911 I was 13 and confused. Our teachers were told to turn off their televisions, keep us away from the computers and go about the day as if nothing had happened. But something had happened. Something big. Something called a terrorist attack.

I didn't know what that meant. To me monsters and bad guys wore capes and battled Spiderman and Batman. They weren't REAL people. They were cartoons, movie characters, and fictional reads. Maybe I was naive, or maybe it was the first time I realized that the Joker could actually exist, that the Green Goblin was out there--that it didn't take super powers, that it just took a dark heart.

Today marks the 10th anniversary of the attacks on our country. That means today marks the day when my blog matches nearly every other Americans blog in telling the story of 9/11, in unmasking the villain of Osama Bin Laden, in laying out feelings and memories of that day.

It's exactly ten years later and I don't understand it much more than I did when I was 13. To me, it's still a graphic novel: Good vs evil, evil hurts good, good seeks revenge, good kills evil, evil somehow still exists.

What I do know, believe, and understand is that the lives of too many were lost that day--too many people just going to work, too many who had just said goodbye to their husbands and wives and kissed their kids on the forehead, too many who were just making a subway transfer, too many who were just sticking to routine--too many who had just boarded a plane for a get-a-way, too many who were silent heros, too many who were innocent. #TooMany.

Today we remember those people. We remember the tragedy. And we remember our pride. May those memories and this feeling of pride continue on September 12, on September 13, and every day there after. Togetherness is something I do understand.

Mi Amore

Translated to English, this means my love. But most people probably know that. Love has this way of being a universal language. So when I say "love" or "amore" I know a lot of people are tuning in. I try to avoid writing about love--I often think I am too young to know what it really is, and that I am too far past my angsty years to write a post that stares it in the face and analyzes it.

.Love is a difficult thing. Even LIKE is a difficult thing.

A friend of mine and I recently tried to analyze our future by the first letters of names of boys we have dated. We laughed trying to figure out which letters would eventually form the U and I in our lives.

But what I am starting to see, learn, and understand about love is that it's not as predictable as the alphabet is--that it's not as easy as A-B-C-D. Love is not the D after C. It is not the Z after Y. It's the confusion of the "next time won't you play with me."

Love is like trying to figure out which way is north, south, east, and west, when you walk out into a dark night with no stars in sight.

Love is an expression--a feeling--a deeper part of us. It is what we say we feel for our family, our friends, and what we search for in a soul mate. It is what we believe the sole purpose of existence has come to be: "To find love--and to be loved in return," (Moulin Rouge). It's not in people, it's in passion. It's in all.

It doesn't have to be romantic, it just has to be sincere.

Sometimes we just need to believe that love is out there. Sometimes we just have to believe that love will find us--all the while we find it. We have to believe that love is out there--that it can be easy--and less difficult--that it can be worth all the waiting. Sometimes we just all need a little love.

And sometimes we will find love...in the crooks, crannies, and nooks of our city streets, boulevards, and subway trains. In the crevice of a booth at our favorite cafe, or in the bottom of a grocery cart we've chosen to use today. Sometimes we need to just have love find us.

I believe in love. With every part of my heart. Do you?

P.S. Check out www.moreloveletters.com if you are in the need for some serious love right now or want to send love to someone. It's kind of like Post Secret--only...Better.

New York State Invests Stock in Love: Richest State in the Country

.Fourth grade history books lie.

At least mine did to me. No, not the teachers. The books. The chapters. The sentences. The words. They all lied. My fourth grade books told me that the Civil War was all about black vs white (nothing else) and that at the end of that war, several assassinations later, and one huge dream, we were starting a new fad called: Anti-Discrimination. The books tell us that people began to learn how to treat one another--how to live in a better world...a better country, where each man and woman could live equally. The books lied.

I should have known as a chubby little fourth grader who was teased for my less-than-petite size at the age of eight that judgement and being treated differently was completely here to stay. I should have known that when one kid was made fun of for the way he dressed, another for the way she combed her hair, and another for being adopted that judgement and discrimination was still being handed down from generation to generation. I should have known that the books were full of shit and that America's hands were still dirtied of discriminatory and derogatory words, slurs, phrases, jokes, and insults--that those who aren't white still suffer--that those that didn't fit "the mold" were still being judged--I should have known and the books should have said so.

There should have been a full chapter on the still very real existence of discrimination in our country--both seen and unseen. (Ie. Think about privileges you might have that others may not have--hidden privileges- EXAMPLE: Me, as a white female, has the "hidden" privilege of not feeling threatened or targeted a terrorist on a plane. Others don't have those privileges--we call them hidden discriminations. See how many you can come up with.)

Of course over time I have discovered much of this discrimination through experience and classes. I've seen friends and acquaintances who have dated members of another culture or skin color be looked down upon or reprimanded for their "actions." I've seen people judged to be "terrorists" because of their matched culture description to those printed in the media following 9-11. And I've seen the LGBT community spit on and frowned upon through disgusting slurs and rants.

With the help of a college course, during my senior year, I continued to discover more biases (like the hidden privileges as aforementioned). I probably should have had a class similar to that one--in elementary school.

Bias. Judgement. Failure to have an open mind. Discrimination. It is all around us.

HOWEVER, this weekend, at 1am on June 25th, 2011, New York state made a jump--took a leap and showed that even if bias and discrimination are going to continue on other levels, that this state is not going to be a tag-team partner in the ring when it comes to marriage equality rights--that this state will not continue to partake in discrimination when it comes to civil rights--when it comes to something bigger than life sometimes--when it comes to a wonderful thing like love.

If you are a little lost, and I hope you aren't, New York state passed the law for legal marriage rights for the LGBT community.

(Cake is at LuLu in Manhattan on 8th between 15th and 16th)

It has been a long battle, and people all over the country have been fighting for this right in their states and other states, for a long time. As New York states takes their side, it's hopefully time for other states to follow suit--to take notice, engage in less discrimination and put a ring on the finger of same-sex marriage.

If only each person could see all the pride, just alone in the wonderful city of NYC, after this historic and triumphant moment in America, they would see that investing stock in love--for all, would yield the richest states--the richest country in the world.

Paying Tribute to Best Friend Appreciation Day

I'm not sure that Best Friend Appreciation Day actually exists, and it would only take a moment to Google it, but I declare today, April 17, to be my Best Friend Appreciation Day--the day I take the moment to recognize how a stranger--or a group of strangers became an acquaintance or a group of acquaintances--and then became a friend or a group of friends--and then my wonderful, beautiful best friend---or again--group of best friends--never to be traded, never to be altered, never to be lost.

Sometimes, as you watch someone walk away, all you can do is smile, knowing that a piece of your life has been made better by one simple second with that person, or by one simple conversation, or by one simple moment where you took the time--and that person took the time to say "Hey, let's take one time to just sit down, talk, discover, and learn from each other." Sometimes your life is simply made better by a friend that you never -- ever imagined having come into your life--that you never could have predicted would step into your world -- that you never would have guessed would go from someone you once said hello to in passing to someone you hoped you'd never have to say goodbye to.

The last time I said goodbye to my best friends, I was boarding an airplane to another country, just a few short days--and/or hours later. Their smiles were for the happiness that awaited me on the landing pad of my near future destination. Their goodbyes were filled with "You will have such a great time, you will be so happy--you will see so much." It reminds me of how we should always say goodbye to someone we love--or--see you later to someone who has entered our life for a short period of time--or long period of time, with a smile on our face even if we are sad in our hearts, because the truth is that person will be leaving for a new journey, a new future, a new world, with a smile on their face and hope in their heart.

I am so lucky to have had the best friends in the entire world to know how to say goodbye the right way, to know how to love people and their decisions, to know how to understand different worlds are for different people, to know that saying goodbye to people is seriously just "Be happy, and enjoy it...we'll still be here--forever, and always." The best friends that you make always will be the best teachers that you have.

My best friends have taught me a lot of things like how to:

Enjoy the moment--See the world--Follow my dreams--Live passionately--Understand others--Find happiness--Be independent--Live on the edge--Follow through with promises--Listen well--Speak well--Take time to relax--Take time to have fun--Make the best out of a bad situation--and how to Love.

When I was a freshman in college, I sent my best friends hand made Valentine's Day cards that stated what a best friend was--to me. Before I left for Italy, just under six months ago, one of my best friends sent that back to me. She wouldn't know it, maybe not 'til now at least, but it meant the world. In Moulin Rouge, they state that the greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return. I have come to a firm standing that one of the other most greatest things in the world to learn--and discover, is how to be a best friend--and how to have a best friend--how to love that best friend--and how to be loved by that best friend. One of the most wonderful feelings in the world is knowing that the people you care most about--also care most about you. And those people won't ever change, even if miles change, even if locations change, even if lifestyles change.

My childhood best friend, and I still speak, still laugh, and still love each other. I will never stop loving her the way I loved her when we had our sleepovers, built forts in the woods, or made up really bad dances to the Spice Girls or 'N Sync. If she was the best at one time--she will always be one of the best to me, now and in the future--no matter the circumstance.

A lot of people may say you can only have one best friend. I don't think that's true. Many people are lucky to come across a handful of people that they can call a friend. I consider myself lucky to have come across what I consider to be handfulS (note the S) of best friends--people that I will always go to, that I will always trust, that I will always LOVE.

These are the people that I will always have an appreciation for--every day--even if there's never a day declared for it.

What are you doing this Valentine's day...and every day? 21 Suggestions

1. Write a letter. Handwritten. Sure it says you may not love the earth for the tree killed for that sheet of paper—but handwritten letters are the most wonderful thing to receive in the mail---ever.

2. Carve a heart into a tree and then have a picnic next to it.

3. Send a squillo—In Florence that means to dial someone’s phone and hang up after a ring or too. It really means “I am thinking of you”

4. Create a scavenger hunt with puzzle pieces…each puzzle piece the person finds along the way can be used at the end to create a personally made puzzle.

5. Make a mix-tape of all the songs that make you think of the person and give it to them…(Side note on this one—remember just because you think of the person when you hear these songs, doesn’t mean they think of you… haha just kidding J )

6. Send a shoutout over the radio by dedicating a song to the person…D-E-L-I-L-A-H

7. Send a messenger by horse—like the middle ages-- with a very important message to the doorstep of the person. It could be as simple as a sheet of paper that says “I Love You”

8. Have warm blankets and the fireplace heated up before she even arrives so that she doesn’t have to shiver an ounce

9. Shape whatever you cook for dinner in a heart shape

10. Send flowers on a day that isn’t a holiday.

11. Recreate the first night you met (if it was a good night)

12. Play card game of war but rig the game so that one of the heart cards that the person puts down says “I love you.”

13. For Valentine’s Day (If you believe in that sort of thing) Put all the hearts from several deck of cards as a path from the front door to a the rest of the cards placed strategically to say “Thinking of you,” “I Love you,” “Or Be Mine”

14. Leave a post-it note on the Mirror in the morning for your significant other that tells them how beautiful they look

15. No matter how corny it gets, or sounds, pull “A Walk to Remember” and buy your significant other a star…then go gaze at it.

16. When they wake up the morning after a long day at work, have breakfast waiting for them—eggs in a shape of a heart… maybe?

17. Save all the receipts/movie tickets/things from events you do together and create a collage of them that spell out “Love”

18. Take photos of words on billboards that make you think of the person and collage them together.

19. If they receive a newspaper every morning, write a note in chalk underneath there where they pick up the paper on the ground that says love you. (Make sure you sign it—or your girly girl might think the paper boy has a thing for her).

20. Take pictures of the most stunning things in the world---most beautiful things—or cut them out of magazines---and put them into a book. On the first page write: These are the most beautiful things in the world. And On the last page, write: But none of them compares to you.

21. Hold their hand and simply say.: I . Love . You

Libs and emotions sitting in a tree -- M-I-S-S-I-N-G

"If you ever said you missed me, then don't say you never lied."--Brand New

There are certain words, that when placed together, take on an incredible strength in meaning--and incredible strength in disappointment if said at false moments. "I love you" can often be thrown around, said too early in a relationship, or not said enough. It can turn a beginning relationship into a real relationship. It can be the last words someone says to a loved one before they pass. And it can be the final words someone says to someone before they let them go from their life due to personal decisions. Everyone analyzes these three words "I Love You." But there is one word that you can replace "love" with to create a phrase that becomes just as or even more strong than the first combination of eight letters.

"Miss."

I miss you.

I am not sure I knew the meaning of missing something or someone until only recently. I realized this week that "I miss you" is painfully thrown around similar to the way "I love you" can often times be thrown around.

A night before I left for Italy, a good friend of mine told me that she wouldn't miss me two weeks into my voyage to Italy. She said she probably wouldn't miss me one month into my trip either. I didn't understand, and I was actually extremely saddened by her remarks. That was until Christmas day, when I realized what she meant. Missing someone is a physical feeling--almost like an illness--something that eats at your stomach and your heart and your mind. It is not solely a mental condition--no missing someone is a real emotion, driven by moments that cause us to remember some time, with some person (or on our own) that we really wish we could have at a certain and specific time.

I painfully missed having my family for Christmas. Some days, as of recently, I painfully miss having my friends from New York City and from Pennsylvania to just call on a bad day or sit with and enjoy the silence. When I miss something, as I have learned, I PAINFULLY miss it. It's really simple to get in touch with someone and say "I miss you," because it feels like the right thing to say, but it not always is. "I miss you," like "I love you" could move mountains. It means things are difficult without you here...It means there is a void that I wish you could fill back up.

Missing people is a feeling that you have when there is something you want to share with

someone, so badly, but who most likely is still asleep due to a time difference. Missing someone is wishing they were online to drop a quickly hello to. Missing someone is in the moments that you are walking around and you just wish you could sit down with that person and share a cup of coffee, a window to people watch through, and a fantastically epic long conversation. Missing someone is in moments that you truly feel an emptiness within you. Missing someone or something can actually be debilitating.

To say "I miss you" could have such a strong meaning that it could very well combust the world. When said without truly meaning it, it could actually become more painful to a person than the actual feeling of missing something. To say "I miss you" is to let someone know there is an empty void without that person--that a part of you is incomplete, a part of you is actually...missing.

Why we keep in touch--Happy Holidays

A week ago, walking around Rome, I said to myself, “Thank goodness I have kept in touch with so many people in my life…For if it wasn’t for that, I wouldn’t have had a place to live in Rome for the month of December, I wouldn’t have made the connections here that I have made, and I wouldn’t have followed through with making a leap to another country.”

And then last night I received the two most wonderful Christmas gifts that were wrapped up in words as a Facebook notification. “Sam Ojih tagged you in a video” “Hannah Brencher posted a video on your wall.” Sam and Hannah are friends that I have made only recently—and when I say recently, I mean not within a year, but within the last six months. They are two people that I have shared passions and hopes and dreams with. They are people who aspired to go to New York City. They are people who I have come to love dearly, and they are the two people who have made my Christmas away from home even extra special this year…they are the two people who this week have made me realize why keeping in touch is so important, even if you haven’t known people for all that long.

They both left me words of encouragement, words of thankfulness, words of love for the holidays, words of memories, words of what I can only call gratefulness and wonderfulness. They left me messages that I will carry with me this holiday season and that I will be able to go back to endlessly. Their words won’t be taped up to the wall above my pillow—but rather taped to the wall of my Facebook for me to return to again and again. Their gifts are timeless.

And I think that’s what the holiday season is about—giving people something timeless, something they can go back to, something they can read or watch or see over and over again that will make them smile—or cry (tears of joy in this case). The holiday season may be built up in every place in the world around the chaos of Christmas festivals and gift exchanges, but I think it is about much more than that—much more than bows and ribbons—much more than candy canes and Old St. Nick—much more than the physical things that we can hold in our hands. It’s about what we can hold in our hearts and what we can put in the hearts of others. It’s about reaching out to someone whose hand we may not physically be able to curl our fingers between but who we can touch in some other way.

Maybe we haven’t spoken to a good friend in a year…two years…or five years. Maybe a sibling has gone astray—or we have lost the ability to get along with our parents, our exes, or our childhood enemies. But I can assure you that keeping in touch—or—getting back in touch—could be one of the best gifts you wrap up with your heart this year…It could get someone through a holiday…It could get someone through it all.

Rubber Ducky--You're the One

“You were tiny! Very cute w/long hair. Very opinionated, even then! You liked playing with small toys--legos, Fisher price Little people, Barbies--you built villages. You liked to sing in the tub--to your amazing collection of bath toys--I called your songs your operas. You liked to go outside, no matter the season. You were fearless.” -My mom on me.

Waving around a Christmas ornament that I have just purchased him, a young boy has a big smile on his face. The ornament, which has a bell inside of it has become less of an ornament, and more of a toy. Suddenly the string comes loose from his hand, the ornament crashes to the ground, and the decoration becomes one less accessory to the tree, and one more worry for the broom. Tears from the boy start to shed, and sorry’s start wailing out of his mouth. “It’s okay,” I say, not angry, “It happens…don’t cry, it will be okay.” He runs to the other room and watches television with sadness in his eyes. One day he’ll remember this and think “My gosh, it was just a bell.” But for now—it’s the only thing he can find real sadness for in his life. And I envy that.

Only recently, maybe two years ago, have I started to truly love children—and I don’t mean in that creepy SVU kind of way. I mean I really love children. I love that they have this 6^th sense for the world, that they seem to know everything that is happening, and that they seem to know how to get what they want. They have magical powers (maybe it’s their ability to be adorable), but they really do. They have an ability to know when we are having a bad day and when we need a hand to hold. They have the ability to draw a picture that looks nothing like us but makes us feel wonderful just the same. And of course they have the ability to make us remember that life can be as simple as bruises on our knees, cuts on our elbows, and shattered bells on the kitchen floor.

They don’t cry about money, the economic crisis, or the rumors of the end of the world in 2012. They don’t question how green the population of the world is or how terrible the government is. They just live.

During my babysitting escapades, here in Italy, I have gotten to know two adorable children very quickly. As I learn about them, I also have been learning from them. Not only is their English better than mine was when I was 4 and 5, but their knack of knowing things about the world is simply superb. Full of energy, they are completely aware of their surroundings, how to get their way, and how to push the right buttons. They are fearless in speaking to me, asking me questions, and waiting for my response—even if half the time I can’t give them one (as I can’t understand too much of their Italian). The little girl and I even have a routine set in stone… “Question in Italian…” ‘Blank Stare from me.’ “Question again in Italian.” ‘Blank stare again…’ “Libby!” “Non lo so (I don’t know)” “Question again in Italian…” “No capisco. Parlo Inglese! (I don’t understand, I speak English)” “Ugh. No capisco”—Little Girl. Sometimes it works the other way around. “What did you eat today?”-Me “Yes.” But somehow it doesn’t matter, we get eachother---and we laugh and we play and we forget these moments have even happened. And then, not long later, we play the same Italian-English game again with the same questions and answers. Sometimes, I can ask the boy for help—and sometimes it’s just easier to let it go—something kids are lucky to have the ability to do.

Hannah, who I often reference in my blog, wrote a post that asked how the little girl she was in the past would feel about her now. My gosh, if only we could sit down with our little selves and have a conversation, what would that little self say.

While I can’t say how the conversation would go exactly, I think that our little selves would remain the same. They would look at us…hold our hand, tell us they drew us a picture of us together—(that of course looked nothing like either of us—ears coming out of our chins—pants with two different size legs—and a non existent nose)—and say “Smile!” They would know we were upset—but they probably wouldn’t know why we were upset so they would just smile in their adorableness, and make us want to go back.

My little self would probably build me a lego fort to sit in, and then sing to me from the bathtub. She would probably have a million bath toys surrounding her and would go on to ask me to jump right in… And I probably would… and I’d look at her and smile and I’d think to myself, “Gosh, I really always was a goof…” and then I’d probably pick up a rubber yellow ducky and sing right along—putting all my worries behind. For once, in my grown-up life time, I’d be the 4 year old who was fearless…the 4 year old who didn’t stop to wonder why the sky was blue or why the grass was green—the 4 year old who just lived with the magical power of adorableness...

okay well…I guess I still have that power.

Come Se Dice Ti Amo in Inglese?

“I love you” Three simple words in English that mean so many complex things. Eight letters that we Americans piece together.

I. Love. You.

And in America, we take those eight letters more seriously than many people have taken the many letters and words in our declarations and our commandments that represent our beliefs in our country and our religions. These eight letters can move mountains for us Americans, they can break a person’s heart, and they can be engraved on one’s soul forever. Eight letters…three words…that take on so much more meaning than the one thousand something words in the Declaration of Independence. (Man if Benjamin Franklin knew he only needed eight letters to change the world, imagine what he’d come up with…. “Peace Man.” Franklin and the delegates definitely got it wrong in the book of ways to change America).

After my second day in Florence, I got to thinking about those three small words comprised of eight letters. I had made a new friend earlier in the day who only spoke Italian. He was from Kosovo and had been living here in Italy for six years. After speaking earlier in the day at the Duomo, we made plans to meet up later for a short bit, because I wanted to learn Italian and he wanted to learn English. For a few hours, we walked, talking in broken Italian. For the most part I said, “No lo so” and he giggled at my stupidity. It reminded me of my nights in Rome trying to talk to my good friend Nino when he went off on Italian rants. It was quite amusing to hear me try to speak perfect Italian. But with my attempts to speak Italian and my new friend’s, who we will call F, attempts to learn English, (which made me hopeful as he learned quickly from my teaching) we were able to both laugh. But I definitely got the last one when he asked me one last question in Italian. “Come se dice ti amo in inglese?” I laughed and told him that “ti amo in inglese e “I love you.” He then spoke those eight letters, those three complex American words to me…”I love you.”

I always thought that the first time a guy said “I love you to me” he would understand all the complexities that came with it and the strength that those words have to take a girls heart twist it into a million un-fixable knots, but this was not the case.

Those eight letters…those three words…now took on a completely different meaning. They were not his way of expressing his deepest most sincere feelings. They were his way of expressing our new found friendship on the streets of Florence. As I tried to explain in rough Italian what I Love you meant in America, I realized that it was much more easy believing what F thought I love you meant, much less complex—so I let it go and gave him a giant Italian hug goodnight.

It was in that moment, that suddenly “I love you” went from being complicated to being completely platonically simple—From a mess of meaning to a perfect lovely moment—a lovely moment where I realized that there was love in the air in Tuscany—a whole lot of simple, delightful, wonderful love. So much that I think tomorrow I’ll spread some more...and then the next day as well, and the day after that--until Tuscany is smothered in it and covered like grafitti with those three perfectly lovely simple words… I. and Love. and You.