October 14, 2014
This is how you lose her.
You lose her when you forget to remember the little things that mean the world to her: the sincerity in a stranger’s voice during a trip to the grocery, the delight of finding something lost or forgotten like a sticker from when she was five, the selflessness of a child giving a part of his meal to another, the scent of new books in the store, the surprise short but honest notes she tucks in her journal and others you could only see if you look closely.
You must remember when she forgets.
You lose her when you don’t notice that she notices everything about you: your use of the proper punctuation that tells her continuation rather than finality, your silence when you’re about to ask a question but you think anything you’re about to say to her would be silly, your mindless humming when it is too quiet, your handwriting when you sign your name in blank sheets of paper, your muted laughter when you are trying to be polite, and more and more of what you are, which you don’t even know about yourself, because she pays attention.
She remembers when you forget.
You lose her for every second you make her feel less and less of the beauty that she is. When you make her feel that she is replaceable. She wants to feel cherished. When you make her feel that you are fleeting. She wants you to stay. When you make her feel inadequate. She wants to know that she is enough and she does not need to change for you, nor for anyone else because she is she and she is beautiful, kind and good.
You must learn her.
You must know the reason why she is silent. You must trace her weakest spots. You must write to her. You must remind her that you are there. You must know how long it takes for her to give up. You must be there to hold her when she is about to.
You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept.
And, this is how you keep her
October 12, 2014
Launched in June 2013, ClassPass has become the major player on the scene over the past few months, with tons of 20-something New Yorkers signing up to take advantage of the chance to access so many high-caliber studios at an affordable price. “We started ClassPass to make fitness accessible and motivating for everyone,” says founder Payal Kadakia. Until recently, membership got you 10 classes per month, but it’s since switched to unlimited bookings.
How much it costs: $99 per month
Number of classes included: Unlimited
Restrictions: No more than three classes per month can be used at the same studio (AKA it’s not the best idea if you only love one or two workouts)
Number of participating studios: More than 250
Participating studios: AKT in Motion, Barry’s Bootcamp, Exhale, Flex Studios, Flywheel, The Monster Cycle, Tone House, Torque Cycling & Fitness, and Yoga Shanti, to name a few
Pros: There are so many studios to choose from. ClassPass is also in Boston, Los Angeles, and San Francisco, and just debuted in Chicago, which makes it the most far-reaching booking tool out there.
Cons: Classes book up quickly. Chaise Fitness and Barry’s Bootcamp, for example, either book up right away or have just a few spots available to ClassPass members. Users also complain that they’ve gotten kicked out of classes even when they’ve received a confirmation email due to over-booking. You’re also prone to get not-so-popular bikes in spin classes.
September 19, 2014
I grieve for things that are inevitably going to happen, things that are somewhat imperceptible, but are happening anyway. I am observant, I notice things and while they can be small, they can mean a lot. I know myself pretty well. I know how relationships work. How people function. How people go for what’s easy. How people love the comfort zone.
And what’s worse is I also know what it is like to leave some people behind, not because they are somehow less than you, but simply because they impede your growth. And it is always enough for you to leave those people behind. If they somehow limit your happiness in any way, they are okay to leave behind.
Here’s to just moving forward,
September 6, 2014
Oh my God, what if you wake up some day, and you’re 65, or 75, and you never got your memoir or novel written; or you didn’t go swimming in warm pools and oceans all those years because your thighs were jiggly and you had a nice big comfortable tummy; or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space like when you were a kid? It’s going to break your heart. Don’t let this happen.
September 3, 2014
Olive B. Persimmon, 28, writer/public speaker
“I’m 28 and I have a bunk bed. I’m not embarrassed about it either, it is what it is. But, I gotta tell you, there’s nothing funnier than a grown-ass man climbing your bunk ladder. There’s no cool way to do that. Tuck and roll, baby. Tuck and roll. There’s a certain rite of passage in moving to NYC. It involves owning no furniture, crying in the subway a lot, having a nonexistent social circle, and feeling really bad about yourself for six months. If you can make it through that, you’ll be just fine.”