Any time you sincerely want to make a change, the first thing you must do is raise your standards. - Anthony Robbins

The greatest and worst relationship a girl could have is the one she has with her father. There are great, socially accepted, perfect fathers. The kind that during the week put on their work clothes and become the breadwinners for their families, but when the weekend rolls around they throw on their dockers and tread on the green grass with their children, living in the moment and realizing the memories they are making as the sun illuminates their child's smile. Then there are the fathers who are shunned and not accepted, the ones that never really wanted to be a father in the first place; the ones who run away from their families and obligations, leaving a child wondering what they could have possibly done wrong to make them leave in the first place.

However, the worst feeling in the world is missing someone who is present in your life every day. Sometimes a bodily presence really isn't enough, and at times a person could feel unwanted and taken for granted. This is where I stand now, feeling completely alone as I watch the shell of my father walk out of the house in the morning for work, and walk out of the house at night to live his own life. There is no other way to describe a feeling that eats away at me every day other than by using the word horrid.

My father could be described as a potential candidate for a saint by the people outside of his family. He stood by my mother as she became sick and ultimately passed, he worked hard at his business to put his children through school, and his sensitivity made him easy to talk to about problems. As his daughter I do give him a lot of credit for being the person he is, being the one that works hard to financially care for his three daughters, the one who never let his children go hungry or naked. But, as times have changed, the values I had have changed also.

Every relationship has their flaws, their downfalls, and their struggles. I would give anything to have to decipher what to do to get passed a flaw or downfall in a relationship with my father. But as I have grown up I have realized that any emotional connection, any connection at all, is not present between my father and myself. Now maybe this sounds harsh, he of course is my biological father; his blood runs through my veins, he gave me his facial structure, his sensitivity, and his pride. But in reality, money and looks is all my father has ever given to me.

As the youngest child of a widowed father, people would think I am spoiled and bratty. But on the other hand, I have realized that the excuse my father has used to get away with not having a relationship with his daughter was money. At first I was blinded, thinking the best thing in the world was to wake up in the morning to find a twenty dollar bill slipped underneath my door, or to simply swipe my plastic card and not have to worry about who was paying for my gas or my small shopping sprees, or driving around all day and not having to think about who was paying for insurance on my car. Now, the material things don't mean as much to me as the feeling I'm missing.

I'm missing being worthy of someone such as my father wanting to spend time with me. I'm missing hugging my father and actually feeling a pull in my heart. I'm missing having someone to talk to on long summer nights, or someone to joke with. Sure, I am going through the motions now, the quick dinners that usually end in silence, the hugs that he asks for that make me feel like some sort of porcelain doll, the talks about everything meaningless because we're avoiding our feelings. It's not enough.

I want to feel wanted by the only parent I have. I want to tell stories to my friends about what my father and I did this weekend in our time off. I want to smile and laugh with him without putting on a facade which says "everything is fine, I'm not hurt". I want to hug him and hear his heart pounding in my ear and know that it's pounding with love for his child. I want to know that on a timely and loving basis, nothing else compares to being with me. I want to know that even when we live our separate lives day in and day out, we are still somehow connected.

These are my standards, my values that have been eating away at me because as much as I need them, nothing ever measures up enough to receive them. I sincerely want to make a change for the benefit of my relationship with my father. But as of right now, any change I have thought to make has pushed him farther and farther away.

Consequently, I can't help but wonder, will I ever really have a father?

Time Heals All Wounds

There is a saying that 'time heals all wounds'; as my life has progressed in certain moments I do feel as if time has healed me. It could be in the way the clouds are shaped on a nice sunny day, or the refreshing mist of the rain during spring; in these moments I feel new and happy. But there are times, mostly in the hours when the sun is not up, when I know that the facade of happiness will be only what it is, a facade. I do not believe that time heals all wounds, I believe it puts a dressing on cuts to create scabs that can be peeled off at any moment.

Yes this seems depressing, and I must say pessimistic, but I know for certain that this wound I have will always be open and present. I'll feel it when I'm ecstatic about something; I'll feel it when I walk down the isle on my wedding day, or I look into my child's eyes. I'll feel it when I'm upset; I'll feel it when I attend a funeral, or when I can relate to the pain someone else feels. This wound is something that will be forever present. And the wound's name is Diane.

Diane was my mother. She died five years, four months, and thirteen days ago. I've come a long way since that moment, but I know I will forever be wounded and that this scar will never be healed. Time is just a clock, a gauge to tell us all when our 'ticking' has come to a stop. The clock can be as harsh or as silent as we make of it, but I know that in the moments when I don't feel comforted, the tick tock is just as loud as the sound of a gong.

I'm writing this blog for those of you who will read it. I'm writing to let you know that it'll always hurt when someone as dear to you as your own life passes. But I also want to ask for your help. Throughout these long, torturous days, I have found that, even though I would take away this pain in a heart beat and bring her back if I could, I would rather save someone else from the wound that will never heal.

Pancreatic cancer is the fourth deadliest cancer in the world. In the later stages, rarely any amount of chemotherapy or radiation can save a person's life. In the early stages, it is hard to detect because of the location of the organ. The survival rate is only five years from the day that it is diagnosed, for only 20% of the patients diagnosed with it. That means the other 80% fall into my mother's category; less than five years of pain, fatigue, weight loss, rounds of chemotherapy and radiation, surgeries, countless doctors appointments, and complete deterioration of the body.

So many people today are donating to breast cancer and every other cancer society as well as to the poor, the hungry. This donation helps save lives, and understandably I agree that it should be done. But, on the other foot lays the fact that not many people donate for the cure of Pancreatic cancer. I'm asking you, the reader, to help me raise money so that little girls and boys don't have to worry about watching their loved ones die in front of their eyes. I'm asking you to help me raise money in memory of my mother, to honor her name in the process of helping those who need us more than ever. One dollar from thirty people can provide supplies for doctors around the world to find a cure.

I hope my story has touched a part of your soul and you will donate in remembrance of my mother and in the hopes of finding the cure.

Please donate to The Lustgarten Foundation. All of the proceeds will be used to find the cure for the fourth deadliest cancer of the world. The Lustgarten Foundation has teamed up with Cablevision to help fight this disease, will you team up with me to find a cure?

Follow This Link to visit my personal web page and help me in my efforts to support The Lustgarten Foundation

"There's two kinds of people in this world..."

One of the greatest motivational quotes I've ever stumbled across was said by a character named Rocco in the movie The Boondock Saints. Among his funny lines and profanities, Rocco says something that actually rang true for me. He says:

"There's two kinds of people in this world when you boil it all down. You've got your 'talkers' and you've got your 'doers'. Most people are just talkers, all they got is talk. But when all is said and done, it's the doers who change this world. And when they do that, they change us. And thats why we never forget them... So which one are you? Do you just talk about it or do you stand up and do something about it? Because believe you me, all the rest of it is just coffee house bullshit."

I love this quote because it really makes me think of all the people that have not only changed my life by following through on their words and promises with actions, but those who have changed the world by being 'doers'. So many people have come before us and brought us to the world we live in today; From Christopher Columbus and Martin Luther King Jr. to Mahatma Ghandi, the people that took risks, that took chances and followed through with their actions, are the ones that have changed the world and the way we live in it.

Although the 'greater good' theory comes in to play with the revolutionaries that walked before us, sometimes the doers that matter most are the ones that are sitting right in front of you. There are those that talk about 'who they are' or 'what they want to become' or 'how they're going to make something of themselves', but in reality talking is just chains of words put together to make yourself sound better.

The doers are the ones that inspire, motivate, and encourage without ever having to say a word. The doers are the ones that change your life completely just by living their own lives. I don't know many doers to be completely honest, but I do know a handful.

I wont name them or worry about giving them credit on this blog, if they read it they'll know who they are. They are the people that I look up to the most because even when life gave them mountains to climb, they took a deep breath and pushed themselves over the top. Maybe these doers are still on their way to the finish line, maybe they have reached the goals that they wanted to reach, but their journey has changed my life forever.

This blog is not only to thank the doers of the world and of my life, but also inspire. Be inspired to not just let empty words linger in the air; be inspired to stand up for who you are, what you believe in, what you have faith in. Be inspired to act on your thoughts, not impulsively but rationally. Be inspired to one day see your name in a history book because you have made a difference in the world. Be inspired to get yourself out of that chair and change the world, one step at a time.

We come to love not by finding a perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly. -- Sam Keen

Maybe it is true that perfection is just a social contract, an ideal that high society came up with. Today, in many ways, people have what I would think to call a "perfection complex"; a checklist of what their partner should or should not be. Take for instance the 'perfect' man, for girls at least. It is a notion that is constituted mainly by 'shoulds'. Should he be tall, dark and handsome? Should he have a good career? Should he be charming and endearing? Should he be a classic fairy tale Knight on a white horse that has come to take you away from the horrid castle?

All these 'shoulds' should not be the way people think of the opposite sex. These 'perfections' simply make an imperfect person think of all the things they are and are not, and therefore there more divorces, separations, single parents, and spinsters. Perfection only exists in the mind of someone who follows the 'norms' of society; the norms which state how a man and woman should act when placed together.

Inspired by the movie "The Ugly Truth", I feel that it is true that women have a checklist. They're always looking for a 'soulmate', yet they hardly ever find one. Maybe if women wake up and truly look at themselves, they would realize that imperfection is in fact beauty. Who wants a brooding man who is afraid to say anything contradictory to your thoughts? Who wants a man who is so afraid to start a fight, or end one for that matter? Who wants a man who will be completely whipped every moment of every day?

Don't get me wrong, men have their own checklists too. Should she be skinny with long legs? Should she be able to stand on her own two feet, or should I support her? Should she be domesticated and proper every moment of every day? Should she always be a damsel in distress? Should she love sports as much as I do? Should she change her entire being to fit my needs?

I blame all of these 'perfection' notions on a few things. First and foremost the class structure that the world has come to. The highest will always be on top, and therefore closer to perfect than any other class. My other theory is that too many movies, tv shows, and books depict men and women to have their own places in life that should not be altered; such as the man should provide for the woman, the woman should be domesticated, the man should be buff and strong, the woman weak and delicate.

My final theory is history repeats itself. You are what you know, and where you live is what you know. If, for instance, you have watched your parents have a wonderful marriage, if you're a girl you'll want to marry daddy, and if you're a boy you'll want to wed mommy. On the other hand, if you've watched your parents' marriage dwindle down the drain and out into the Hudson for the last nineteen years, you'll be afraid to find anything to commit to. In this case, one instance is the sheer example of 'perfection' and the other is the experience that has made it possible to think that 'perfection' doesn't exist and therefore there will never be anyone right for you.

My theory is, imperfection truly is beauty. When you can fight with someone, when you can hold your self back from the urge to rip their throats out, and when you can still say at the end of the day that no matter what that person does you still want them in your life, that is when imperfection makes love possible. 'Perfection' is being completely who you are, flaws, faults and all, and knowing that someone out there is just as imperfect as you. That imperfect person should be the one on your checklist, that imperfect person should be the one you are trying to find. Because once you've found them, you'll love them more and more because of how completely flawed they are. And those flaws will make you never want to let go.

Divine Secrets

My last post made me realize that I've made it easy for myself to bash relationships and friendships simply because they never worked out the way that I wanted them to, and that I should instead look to the friendships that touch my heart and keep me, for the most part, sane. So I'm going to dedicate this post to Gwen.

My favorite book happens to be Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Corny, I know. But the reason I love this book, aside from the mother-daughter-feud dynamic, is the fact that friendships can last throughout the years. Friends can stay friends, even if at some point or another they end up threatening each other's lives. It is possible to have a friend to go through life's stages with, and still be able to sit down one day when we're old and gray over a cup of tea (most likely laced with rum) and talk about how our years progressed and how we changed so much.

The person I see sitting across the table from me when I'm old and gray would be Gwen. Sure, there are other people I want sitting at that table with us, but for the most part Gwen is the clearest image I can see so far.

Gwen has seen me through my worst; death of a loved one, broken heart, betrayal, you name it, she's been there. She's been one of the most sincere friends. She can tell me when I'm absolutely right, or when I'm absolutely wrong. She knows my mannerisms, she knows my personality in and out, she knows who I am and she still choses to stick around. That in my book, is dedication.

On the flip side, I know Gwen. I know when she's being way too quiet (usually means something is up), or when she's trying to hide something. I know when she's about to cry, I know when her laugh is sincere. I understand the pain she goes through, in one way or another, because her pain is my pain. I find that I want the best for her, even if it means that some day she might not be as easily accessible as she is now.

I guess when it comes down to it, we both have a love and respect for each other. I cant wait to see the old us, sitting around in a kitchen filled with pictures of children and grandchildren, talking about how we were and how we are. I cant wait to know that every part of my life that I have been through, I have shared it with someone who understood me so completely without having to explain anything at all. I cant wait to be an old bum with my best friend Gwen.

She is . . . My Sister

Upon searching through a very commonly used website, I found a quote that really stuck out today. It stated "She is my rock, my inspiration. Though impossible to define in just one word, she is my sister". This quote seems to be the only thing that I can possibly relate to lately. Every relationship I have been in has had it's ups and downs, it's faults and it's breaking points. But the relationships that truly stand out, the ones that will stick with me for the rest of my life, are the ones that I like to categorize as my sisterhood. I'm proud to say I have three sisters.

I was born one of three daughters, the youngest unfortunately. Not only did my birth order usually cause trouble in my household, but also the circumstances that brought me to today have effected the relationships I have with my sisters. We fight, like many women do, and up until recently I would have to be honest in saying there were times when we had to be ripped away from each other for the fear that one of us would kill the other. But we also laugh. Laughter is the one thing that I know I can count on to fill the halls of this house that up until recently were very silent.

Through the hard times the three of us have faced, we have all dealt with life in a different way. But when push comes to shove and all the superficial bullshit is pushed aside, the only place we want to be is sitting in a car, drinking some coffee, and talking about our problems.

You're probably wondering why I said I have three sisters, being that I am one of three daughters.

I have two biological sisters: Gillian and Nadine. Gillian is the eldest and I'd be lying if I said we got along great. For a while I thought I truly hated her. But I know now that I don't (even if at times I want to hurt her). The problem with our relationship is the age difference and the way it gets to both of our heads. I want to have fun and be who I want to be, she wants to be my artificial mother. Never really worked out well for us. Then there's Nadine. Nadine and I have been best friends for as long as I can remember. I look just like her, only taller, and we both have the same brain. Our tolerance for annoyance is set at -1 and we both have very strong personalities. Our fights never last more than five minutes because usually our laughter cuts through the tension.

Those are my two biological sisters, the ones that I'm obligated to, but also the ones I wouldn't trade for the world. Then comes Gwen. Gwen is not my biological sister, but a friend that evolved to so much more than a friend. Through the hard times the two of us have faced, we always turned to each other. She is the mirror to my personality, and isn't afraid to let me know when I'm stepping out of line.

Without a doubt I can say I'm closer to her than to any other person in the world, yet I know that we don't need to have expectations of each other. In some friendships, there's always the theory of the 'norm'. That these friend should be there 24/7 for you, that they should drop everything and run to do whatever you need them to do. These people should always make you laugh, and bring a you a good time every time.

But, in all honesty, the moments that transcend friends to 'sisters' would have to be the moments that you are knee deep in kleenex and your face looks like Rocky Balboa has taken you for a couple of rounds inside the ring. Those moments really show you who was there in the past, who sits beside you now, and who will always be there when you need a friend.

Life throws curveballs to see who will be there for you once you strike out; my sisters will always be there for me, and I for them. They are my rocks, my inspirations, the ones that pick me up when I'm six feet under.

When All Is Said and Done...

To me there will always be a definition of true love that I will hold dear to my heart. And it's not that whole 'cant eat, cant sleep, reach for the stars' kind of love. No, for me love is found in the little waves of emotion you feel when you're with the right person, or thinking of that person for that matter. These emotions consist of happiness, comfort, security, joy. The list could go on, and I believe that the emotions are interchangeable parts for every relationship. But, for every person, true love should be knowing the person you love inside and out, through all their imperfections, scars, and beauties, and still wanting to wake up and see their face every morning.

In looking at the relationships of my friends I have come to realize that although I might not like the person they are with, there is a subtle reason why they are still together. Of all the relationships I've witnessed throughout the years, I've always wondered how my friend Darla could be with her boyfriend. They had begun dating when she was only fifteen and she had even gone to the extreme as to cast away all of her friends to spend every waking moment with her new beau. Of course at the time I didn't agree with this decision, but when she became more clear minded (a good two years later) I began to see what was really going on in their relationship.

John was the type of boy that had high expectations and a hot temper. He needed a woman to wait on him hand and foot, yet still let him do whatever he pleases without question or comment. Darla on the other hand, was an overly envious, sensitive girl who would do anything he 'needed' but would always wonder what he was doing when she wasn't around. This caused a definite gaping chasm in their relationship, and needless to say the many fights turned into many rebellious actions against each other.

Ultimately it led to their break up, and for the first few days a wave of relief came over Darla. But then it struck her that this possessive man she had been with for several long years let her go in an instant. Something sounds fishy. Our conclusion of tonight, after snooping around, was that he had been talking to someone else for a few weeks. Now, seemingly upset, Darla began to cry and to curse him for hurting her in such a manor.

On the other side... she had been seeing someone else for months.

Do people who love each other really do this? Or is it not love and just an infatuation gone bad? Relationships are meant to have substance: trust, respect, honesty, comfort, and ultimate happiness. Yet people go around in these year long relationships, subconsciously thinking of ways to hurt each other. Maybe we have such an expectation of love, we put it so high on a pedestal, that we are blind to the relationships we are in in reality.

In consoling her, I have stated over and over again that 'everything happens for a reason' and 'true love always finds it's way'. But now I'm not so sure John is her true love. I'm not sure that if being in a relationship with someone that constitutes of: fighting in the middle of the street over a flirtatious look, or sneaking off in the middle of the night to cross bridges and sleep with a different person, should be considered 'true love'.

Shouldn't true love be, realistically, wanting the other person's happiness and sometimes even putting it before yourself? Then how can people lie and cheat and deceive?

When all is said and done, I believe that when I come home from a long day, I want to be the one to sit down to dinner and vent to the person I love. I want to talk about all the stresses of our day, let everything go. I want to make love to that person, and have them hold me in his arms. I want to fall asleep knowing that I wont ever fall, and I want to wake up to see them in the midst of a beautiful slumber. I want this every day, no matter how much I would sometimes like to bash their head against the wall. I know when all is said and done, at the end of the day, I'm looking for my true love.