Life Lesson #3 - All major life decisions should be made by the Magic 8 ball

Have you ever found yourself faced with a challenging dilemma? Life can be so dag gone difficult sometimes. Personally, I am faced with big decisions all the time. Typcially, I tend to make the WRONG decision approximately 7 out of 10 times. That gives my decision making skills a 30% success rate. When I make a bad decision I just feel plain bad about myself. Well, that was until I decided to leave all decisions up to the Magic 8 Ball, the best fortune-telling device ever created. Did you know it was invented in 1946? The Magic 8 Ball is 64 years old. An old and wise enigma. I trust it.

Tonight, I am faced with a major life decision. My dilemma is: do I get dinner from Arby's or make a nice healthy salad at home? You see, if I left this decision up to my own devices, there is a 70% that I will make the WRONG decision. Therefore, I am choosing to let the old and wise Magic 8 Ball decide for me. Let's ask the Magic 8 Ball my question together...

Dear Magic 8 Ball, should I eat at Arby's or make a healthy salad?

....

Magic 8 Ball says...
"Reply hazy, ask again later"

Dangit! Let's try this again. (shakes Magic 8 Ball)

Magic 8 Ball says...
"Cannot predict now"

Argh. Okaaaaaay. Try again. (shakes Magic 8 Ball)

Magic 8 Ball says...
"Concentrate and ask again"

Are you serious?!?! Ugh. Sooo annoying! (shakes Magic 8 Ball)

Magic 8 Ball says...
"Better not tell you now"

MOTHER EFFER!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU BETTER NOT TELL ME NOW?? U EFFING 8 BALL, YOU BETTER TELL ME NOW! I AM STARVING AND I WANT TO KNOW WHAT TO DO FOR DINNER. TELL ME WHAT THE EFF TO DO BEFORE I TOSS YOUR ASS OFF THE BALCONY. GIVE ME AN EFFING ANSWER OR ELSE! (shakes Magic 8 Ball...vigorously)

Magic 8 Ball says...
"As I see it YES"

Woohoo! Now if you will excuse me, I need to go to Arby's.

LIfe Lesson #2 - Most interpersonal conflicts can be resolved via a friendly game of Rock-Paper-Scissors

Conflict is a part of every relationship. Psychologists suggest that how one manages said conflict will determine the fate of the relationship. Dr. JLo says the best way to manage conflict is to leave resolution up to fate. She believes that the quickest way to find fate is via ROCK-PAPER-SCISSORS! Let's take a look at how this concept can be applied in the following vignettes.

*ONE...TWO...THREE...SHOOT!*

SCENARIO A:
Boy: "Hey babe, where do you want to go for dinner tonight?"
Girl: "I was thinking I wanted to try that new sushi place off Broward and US 1."
Boy: "Hellls no! You know I hate sushi. I can't stand the texture of raw fish. I want to go to Noodles Panini on Las Olas".
Girl: "Ugh, I like Noodles Panini, but we ALWAYS go there. We always have to do what you want to do."
Boy: "Hey, I went with you to the mall allll day today while you tried on shoe after effing shoe. I do what you want too."
Girl: "You said you didn't mind going shopping with me and that I was CUTE!"
Boy: "Well, I LIED! Okay? I hate the effing mall and I hate you!"
Girl: "If you hate me and the things I enjoy, maybe we should just break up!"
Boy: "Fine with me. Go on, get outta here, SCRAM!"
Girl: "I am soooo outta here, LOSER!"

*Mutual exchanges of fingers of fury, couple departs ways.*
SCENARIO B:
Boy: "Hey babe, where do you want to go for dinner tonight?"
Girl: "I was thinking I wanted to try that new sushi place off Broward and US 1."
Boy: "Hellls no! You know I hate sushi. I can't stand the texture of raw fish. I want to go to Noodles Panini on Las Olas".
Girl: "Ugh, I like Noodles Panini, but we ALWAYS go there. We always have to do what you want to do."
Boy: "I know Boo, but I really don't like sushi. Shall we resolve this with Rock-Paper-Scissors?"
Girl: *giggle* "Oh hunny bunny you are so cute. Okay."
*ONE...TWO...THREE...SHOOT!*

Girl holds her hand out flat, indicating paper. Boy has hand balled into fist, indicating rock.

Girl: "Paper covers Rock! Yeah, I win! We get to go to the sushi place!"
Boy: "Okay, sweetie. Anything for my boo. God, I just love you so much!"

*Couple holds hands and skips away.*

As you can see, Scenario B is by far the superior conflict resolution option.
Thank you for reading.
Good day.

Life Lesson #4 - Adult problems are more bearable when acting like a child

Life is beautiful (for the most part). However, sometimes life can open up a can of whoop ass on us. My personal journey of overcoming hardship has been interesting. I've done the adult things to cope such as talking about it, journaling, positive self talk, getting support from family and friends, etc. Don't get me wrong, adult coping skills ARE important. However...

I prolly shouldn't tell you this, but my favorite coping skill is acting like a child. There, I said it. I'm a psychologist but I think the best way to overcome life's challenges is by getting in touch with your inner 5, 10, 16, and/or 21 year-old. I find acting childish completely liberating.

I have some cronies who agree with this philosophy and practice childish/free-spirited behaviors just like me. For example, my dear friend (and life coach) adds a lil' unconventional spice to her exercise routine. Whilst running down the hill in her neighborhood she throws her hands up in the air as her hair billows behind her in the warm breeze. She might even let out a little yell, I'm not 100%.

I also know a few peeps who disagree with my philosophy and get on my ass about it. Between you and me, I think they are fools who don't know how to let go of their rigid, crap-face, type A baggage. I believe one's best friends in life will never begin their sentences with:
"You should..."
"Don't do..."
"Gosh, how do you have time for..."
"Don't you think you are too old for..."
"When are you gonna..."

To quote Ke$ha, "Blah, blah, blah."

So get out your crayons and color till your fingers bleed. Dance your ass off like no one is watching. Climb a tree. Do somersaults on your living floor. Jump up and down on your bed. Make paper fortune tellers. Piss on a hummer tire. Party like you did in college. These things might just make you more creative, happier and stronger. They sure as hell have for me. If anyone gives you shit for acting like a child, tell them you are just doing what the doctor told you.

Love always.

Life Lesson #6 - Don't take the Metromover inner loop line with impaired judgment

As you read this blog entry, I invite you to envision the theme music from the hit TV show '24'.

(*Digital clock displays and ticks loudly with each passing second)

*Voice of Jack Bauer:

The following takes place between 9:45pm and 1:43am.

9:45:23

After a long day of drinking heavily at Ultra Music Festival in Miami, nausea and cold sweats signal me that it was time to leave. Earlier in the day, I successfully navigated myself and two others from Broward County to Miami via public transportation (i.e., tri-rail, metro-rail, metromover). I had researched the routes and very diligently printed out three maps and train schedules which included details of which stations to use, etc. Looking back, I should have brought a clipboard because I looked like some sort of camp counselor with all my paperwork.

As I reflected upon my earlier feat, I felt very proud of myself and decided that I could successfully navigate my way home in the same manner. I didn’t bother to reference the literature I brought with me because alcohol makes me feel invincible and powerful. Surely, I could get myself home solely on memory of which stations to take.

I enter the Metromover at what I believe was the Park West Station. I jump on along with interestingly clad fellow Ultra attendees. (see facebook for photos) I take the Metromover to the Government Center Station (I think) and get off in attempt to exchange to the Metro-rail. *At this point all logic becomes extinct

As I exit the Metromover and begin to walk to the Metro-rail, I become nervous that by the time I reach the Tri-rail, the train will have ceased service for the evening thus not getting me back the rest of my journey. I panic.

“Crap. I should just head back to Ultra and try to get a cab home,” I think to myself.

I exit the Government Center Station on NW 3^rd ST (I think) and begin to walk back to Bicentennial Park where Ultra is being held. So I thought. You see, Bicentennial Park is EAST of the train station. I walked WEST.

10:04:57

Facebook status reads: I'm wandering the streets of miami (insert philadelphia)....

After walking several blocks, it should have dawned on me that I was headed in the wrong direction. However, as you read earlier, I was void of all logic and reason.

I continue to walk West on 3^rd St. approximately seven blocks until reach some sort of waterway. “Hm? This can’t be right,” I said to myself.

The street was completely deserted and not a creature was stirring. I make a right and continue to walk. Approximately one block ahead of me is a group of young men. Some were African American, some were of Latin heritage. “Crap, crap, crap…I’m gonna get raped and beaten,” I thought to myself.

10:43:17

Facebook status reads: I am seriously lost in downtown miami. Some african american dudes told me I'm "effed"

I chose to abandon the stereotype I held about the group of young men that I was quickly approaching and decided to be friendly and see if they could help me. That was a more pleasant thought I decided.

“Hey guys, what’s happenin’?”

“Aw, shit…wat u doin’ white girrrrl?”

“Oh nothing much, I went to Ultra and am just trying to find my way back home.”

The group of men laugh. I laugh with them, nervously.

“Girrrrl, Ultra be all the way down tha.” A black man extends his arm and points in a Northeastern direction.

“Am, I in the ghetto?”

The group of men laugh hysterically at this point.

“Hell ya girl, you be in the ghetto. You fu*&ed!”

The black man suggests that I keep walking North.

All in all, they weren’t so bad. They let me take pictures of them and pointed me in a safe direction. My stereotype of these types of people has been erased. I love homies.

11:02:56

Facebook status reads: I'm so effed. I was just told that I'm in the miami ghetto and then they laughed in white girls face. Aye que lindo...lo siento..I'm dead

I walked North as the gang suggested and find a friendlier looking section of town. Latin music was playing and people were smiling. Good sign.

11:16:41

Facebook status reads: I've lost everyone and I've sought solace with some Cubans. All I can say is "ay que lindo". They like that and r feeding me Cuban snadwiches. I have no idea how I'm getting back to FTL.

I approached some sort of street vendor/mini Cuban restaurant. All this walking sure made me hungry. I sat down on a bar stool. Everyone around me was speaking Spanish, I had no idea what was going on. But I felt pretty safe. A friendly looking lady approached me and asked me what I would like. I told her to get me whatever she recommends. She yelled something in Spanish to the cook and approximately four minutes later a lovely Cuban sandwich and a can that read ‘Materva’ arrived in front of me. I think it is some sort of soda. It was CRAZY SWEET. What’s up with Cuban peeps and really sweet stuff?

11:24:26

Facebook uploads two photos. One of half eaten Cuban sandwich.

11:48:32

Facebook status reads: Why in the world did I study French for 10 years?? I would do anything to speak even a piqueto of Spanish. I'm lost in lil havana. There is no saving this gringa. I got off the wrong metro-rail stop. Pls remember me. Adios.

After I finished my sandwich I walked across the street to another restaurant where there was a valet driver.

“Hey, I’m really lost and I am trying to get back to Ft. Lauderdale, can you help me?”

A very friendly, Cuban valet person who barely spoke English tried to tell me where to go so I could catch a cab. He gave me some tips, I thanked him and took off walking again. I must have walked closer to Ultra at this point because the streets were much more crowded and there were some taxis. However, every freaking taxi that went by had someone in it. I tried to hail a taxi for approximately 35 minutes. I failed.

With my head low and my heart defeated, I aimlessly walked around. My feet and legs ached from hours of dancing and all the walking. I contemplated sitting on a stoop and camping out for the night.

Honk! Honk!

I looked up and there is the smiling face of the Cuban valet driver. He pulled up beside me and rolled his window down. With a heavy accent he told me, “Go back to the restaurant.” Then he speed away.

With a smidgen of renewed hope, I walked back to the restaurant where he worked. By the time I got back to the restaurant, I saw him standing at his valet stand. He smiled and waved to me.

“I get off work in 30 minutes, I will take you home.”

Joy filled my heart!

“Really?!, you would do that for me?”

“Si, no problemo.”

So I sat on the side of the road and waited for him to get off work so he could drive me home.

1:05:54

Ride back to Laudi began.

The Cuban valet driver happily took me to his car and we began our journey back to Fort Lauderdale. I excessively thanked him for his generosity. He was very nice and we managed to have a conversation despite our language barrier. He even taught me a few Spanish phrases. The only point that I was nervous was when he said, “I’ve never had sex with an American girl.” Crap. I laughed nervously and changed the subject. He didn’t pursue that topic any further. Thank the Lord.

1:43:27

Text message to Bekah reads: I got a strange Cuban to take me home after I lost EVERYONE. U will need to read the blog…

1:45:58

Text message from Bekah reads: U got in the car alone with a strange Cuban??? He drove u all the way to Laudi???

1:46:37

Text message to Bekah reads: Yes and yes. God bless Cubanos.

This concludes adventure #1 of a 3 part series.

Life Lesson #7 – Never underestimate possible inspiration from the homeless

We all have our opinions about homeless people. We assume a lot of things that may or may not be accurate. But until you actually spend some time with a homeless person, you are in no position to pass an uninformed generalization.

Adventure #2 of a 3 part series.

The morning of Saturday March 27, 2010 my eyes opened as I lay in my King sized bed. I reflected on the adventure I had the night before and laughed a little. The night prior, I went to the Ultra Music Festival in Miami (see blog #6). I had an amazing time.

Unfortunately, I did not purchase a ticket for Saturday’s show. I don’t have a good reason for this. Especially since my favorite DJ, Deadmau5 was the headliner for Saturday. On Friday, there were many people on the streets selling tickets. I thought of this fact and decided to join my friends for Ultra part dos…Saturday edition. I will just scalp a ticket when we get there, I thought to myself.

When we arrived in Miami Saturday afternoon, it was a very different scene as compared to Friday. I could not believe the crowd that had gathered in front of Bicentennial Park. People were frantically pacing the streets holding up their hands indicating a number. The number of fingers they held up indicated how many tickets they needed.

“Ultra is sold out for the first time in history!” I hear a crazed voice say.

What?! Ultra is sold out? This means they sold 100,000 tickets! How can this be???

When I looked around I saw everyone looking for tickets but no one selling any. My friends had wisely already purchased their tickets for Saturday. They were sympathetic to my situation but didn’t want to wait all day with me as I tried to find a ticket.

“You guys go on in. I KNOW I can get a ticket! Keep checking your phones and I will text you when I get one.”

My friends went into the festival and I began my quest. I walked up and down the streets in front of Bicentennial Park holding up my hand indicating that I needed one ticket. I did this for about a half hour. I was getting nervous. The only people selling tickets were asking $300-$500 a piece (They are actually sold for about $100).

Feeling defeated, I went to Hooter’s to grab some dinner. I cannot tell you how much it sucks to be sitting at Hooter’s when all you wanna do is be at that dag gone music festival. ARGH!

After I finished my 10 wings (hot and naked, of course), I set out on my quest again. Everyone I passed I asked if they had any tickets. The answer was always the same, either “No” or ‘Yes, for $300.” I decided to head to one of the Metromover stations so that I could get people coming off the trains. Surely someone had the ticket of a buddy who got too drunk the night before and couldn’t make it today?

In front of the station sat two homeless men. I sat down with them. I explained my situation to them and showed them the make shift sign I had made at Hooters on a cocktail napkin. It read, “NEED 1 ULTRA TICKET!”

Jorge, one of the homeless persons told me that I was going to need a much bigger sign than that. Damn, really? Nonetheless, both Jorge and Peter (the other homeless person) helped me yell at passing people asking for a ticket. I sat with them for about an hour and they told me about their lives. I was surprised to hear that they were both professionals. Jorge was once a financial analyst who lost his job as a result from the economy. Peter was once a chemist. Peter didn’t really elaborate on why he was now unemployed, he was the quieter of the two. We spoke for a while and I told them I was thinking about just heading on home. Then Jorge says to me, “If you really want something to happen for you, you have to make it happen.”

**Insert epiphany music here and a heavenly ray of light on Jorge**

Then it dawned on me. HE WAS RIGHT! I am determined to get into Ultra and I have to make it happen! I can do this!

I thanked them, said goodbye, and marched my a$$ back out to the park. The scene was still the same, tons of frantic people looking for tickets. Lurking in a corner on the street, I noticed four girls in a huddle. They were holding two tickets. I ran up to them. “Hey, do you guys wanna sell your ticket?” I asked. Each of them had really sad expressions on their faces. They explained that they had scalped the tickets earlier but needed two more in order for the entire group to go in together. “We only have two and we have been trying to get two more for a long time now,” one of the girls said. They told me they were ready to give up and were willing to sell me the ticket for what they paid for it. $250 later I was on my way to the front entrance of Ultra!

The entrance line was insane. I have never seen so many people huddled in one spot before. I arrived to the front gates and they scanned my ticket. Nothing happened, silence. The admission employee looked up at me and said, “I’m sorry, this ticket is a fake.”

“What?!?! No, no, no this cannot be!!!”
“I’m sorry ma’am, you will have to exit. You are not the first person this has happened to today.”
“No! Please, please let me in!” I begged.
“Sorry ma’am, please step aside.”

Determined, I went a few lanes down and tried again. The exact same sequence of events occurred. I went a few more lanes down and tried for a third time, and then a fourth. Each time I tried, I was told that my ticket was a fake and that I needed to exit the entrance. I saw a cop at the end of the entrance gates and pleaded my case to him. He explained that he has been hearing this story all day and that there was nothing he could do.

I wanted to cry! I felt so pumped from Jorge’s inspirational speech, surely this could not end this way!

I felt more determined than ever. I went right smack in the middle of the entrance way and handed a new attendant my ticket. He looked at me and I gave him the most pathetic puppy eyed expression I could muster. He scanned my ticket. Nothing happened. He looked back up at me and my hopeless expression. Then something miraculous happened. “Just go”, he said. “Hurry, go!” At that moment, I whisked by the merciful gate attendant and ran as fast as I could into the festival, dodging people left and right. Once I felt that I was safely in the festival, I stopped running and stood there in a moment of silence.

I looked down at my fake ticket stub that cost me $250. A huge smile crossed my face and I began to jump up and down in victory.

I MADE IT! I EFFING MADE IT!

Jorge, if you have internet access one day again and read this…Thanks buddy. You were right. If we want something to happen we have to MAKE it happen!

Life Lesson #8 – Don’t put Deadmau5 on a pedestal

For those of you who do not know, Ultra Music Festival (UMF) was in town this past weekend. The festival is a collection of the world’s most prominent electronic musicians and DJs.

I had the luxury of attending said festival and was surrounded by these various talented people who create sounds and music. For me, I can’t get enough of this stuff. When I hear this music I feel a punch of electricity into my heart. My eyes close and my body feels like it has been touched in an exciting way. I feel overcome with bursting energy and cannot help but dance. So that’s what I did, dance my ass off that is. All weekend long.

On Friday, I looked forward to seeing David Guetta and Tiesto. The anthems that David Guetta busted out, the bass and his light show were beyond amazing. I was completely impressed. His stage presence was animated and engaging. He was by far my favorite part of UMF, I give him four fist pumps. Friday night wasn’t very crowded and I could comfortably dance in my little zone to Guetta. I danced the entire time he was on the main stage which is probably why I overheated, got nauseous and left early (See blog # 6 to find out where I went). I never did see Tiesto. Dag.

Saturday was quite an adventure (see blog #7). I got to UMF in time to hear some of Faithless Sound System and Armin Van Burren. I enjoyed both, but nothing really noteworthy to write about here. Swedish House Mafia was the last set to go on before Deadmau5. Despite my ever increasing urge to urinate, I stayed put at the main stage amidst the steadily enlarging crowd of people.

People seem to go nuts over Swedish House Mafia. I gotta tell you, I don’t get it. I mean their remixes are okay and all, but in the end it is just three strange looking dudes jumping up and down pushing buttons. As I watched them, I was reminded of the Saturday Night Live skit “Night at the Roxbury.” There seemed to be no method behind their music, just random remixes that never really flowed together. I was glad when their set ended. Then it was time for Deadmau5, the headliner of UMF on Saturday night.

For the past several months I have been a huge fan of Deadmau5. Well, really I am just completely in love with his hit Ghosts N Stuff. I have heard this song over 100 times and I never get sick of it. The song moves me. So, the idea of seeing Deadmau5 (aka Joel Zimmerman) perform Ghosts N Stuff live was completely thrilling to me.

More and more people flooded the main stage making space especially cramped. I could barely breath, creepy dudes were trying to feel up on me, and I had to pee oh so badly. But I was NOT about to lose my spot at the main stage. Deadmau5 is the entire reason I was there at the UMF to begin with.

Let me just go ahead and get this over with, Deadmau5 sucked. Joel Zimmerman has one amazing hit but that’s it. His performance is drastically below average. He sorta had a cool light show intro; however, that was quickly followed by technical difficulties and large lapses of time with no music. I never notice when DJs mess up, but when Deadmau5 screwed up, it was completely obvious. It probably didn’t help that he was so visibly agitated on the big screen that it drew extra attention to the fact that he was having technical difficulties. Nonetheless, the crowd was forgiving and they kept cheering him on. I was sort of getting annoyed, I mean I really had to pee at this point.

Eventually he got his act together and the music started. He was wearing his usual garb of a deceased rodent head along with a leather jacket. I wondered to myself how he was going to do an entire set while wearing such an extremely stuffy outfit. Within 10 minutes the mau5 head was off along with his leather jacket. I now know why he wears a mouse mask. He is the most unremarkable and unanimated DJ I saw all weekend. In fact, he looked plain annoyed that he was there. Where else did he want to be? Wouldn’t Ultra be his Mecca?

I will give Deadmau5 one prop though. If there is such a thing as musical fore-play, he’s the Don Juan of it. He teased the crowd for a solid 20 minutes with hints of what we were all waiting for, Ghosts N Stuff. And then….it happened. He played Ghosts N Stuff and my heart nearly stopped. The crowd went absolutely crazy. I have never seen so many elated people in one setting before. Suddenly, everyone was besties and we were jumping up and down in uniform. I thought to myself that if I suddenly were to have a heart attack, fall to the ground and be trampled, I would be okay with that. The culmination of my existence has led me to the live performance of this song. I could not have been happier in that moment.

Interestingly, he played Ghosts N Stuff in the middle of his set. I was expecting that to be the last song he played. I’m not sure what to make of such a choice to play his hit song so early. Does he think that people love his music so much that they want to hear all his other songs equally as much as they do Ghosts N Stuff? That’s pretty cocky. And I have to tell you, myself along with 100s of other people booked it straight out of there after he played Ghosts N Stuff. Maybe they all had to pee as equally as bad as I did, or maybe we all know that the rest of his stuff just aint worth hearing. His set went on for at least another hour. I left to use the bathroom and went to check out Ghostland Observatory at the Bayfront stage. When I peeked over my shoulder as I was exiting the main stage, I noticed his audience had significantly reduced in size.

Finally I was in an open space and I could breathe again. I was away from creepy dudes and on my way to a tree that I could secretly urinate behind. As I crouched down to relieve my bladder I looked slightly to my right. What is that?? Is that? Is that a pile of human feces? Dag! It totally is a pile of human feces and a little is on the bottom of my dress. Son of a biotch! The mass of feces that touched my garment reminded me of Deadmau5. Both were just plain and simple piles of shit.

Life Lesson # 10 – They call it a ball and chain for a reason

At 6:30am this morning, my alarm sounded to alert me of a new day. I opened my eyes and realized that today is D-day. JLo’s emancipation, my independence day if you will.

The lawyer (and my friend) who helped me with my divorce case recently had a baby so she was not available to take me to the courthouse today. Instead, I went with one of her colleagues, a lawyer I had not met before. I met her at the law office and we walked over to the courthouse together. As we awaited our turn to meet with the judge she asked, “I don’t mean to pry, but why are you getting divorced?”

I don’t mind when people ask me this question and I am happy to share the story. I divulged the 10 minute version as she stared at me with her mouth open in total shock. I told her that I was writing a book about what happened and how I dug myself out of emotional hell. “Please let me know when you finish your book, I want to read it.” I promised her that I would let the firm know when I finish it. Turns out my substitute lawyer got involved in family law as a result from her own experience with a failed marriage. She shared a little of her story with me.

After 30 minutes of waiting in the courthouse hallway on the 10^th floor, we were called into the court room. I entered alongside my lawyer and sat on the left side of the table labeled “Petitioner.” Across the table, no one sat at the side of the table labeled “Respondent.” Hm, the irony in this scene cracks me up.

The judge: “Please hold up your right hand.”

I raise my right hand.

The judge: “Do you swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth?”

Me: “Yes, I do.”

The judge turned to my lawyer and signaled for her to go ahead.

Lawyer: “Please state your name.”

Me: “Jamie Long”

Lawyer: “Who are you currently married to?”

Me: *insert douchebag’s name here*

Lawyer: “When were you married?”

Me: “August 15^th, 2008.”

Lawyer: “Did you willingly enter into the Marital Settlement Agreement dated March 10, 2010?”

Me: “Yes.”

Lawyer: “Is this your and your husband’s signature here?”

Me: “Yes.”

Lawyer: “Do you swear that your marriage is irreparably broken?”

Me: “Yes.”

The lawyer turns to the judge and says, “that is all.”

The judge: “So you are a psychologist?” (I assume he read my file prior to me entering the courtroom, otherwise I do not know how he knew that about me). I was a bit surprised to be making small talk with the judge, but I didn’t mind. “Yes, I am a psychologist,” I answer.

He asks me about my line of work and encourages me to become involved in forensic psychology. “I hear they do well financially,” he remarks. I promise him that I will keep that in mind for my future professional endeavors. He smiles at me and says, “I hope things get better for you.” I warmly smile back towards the friendly circuit judge and say, “your honor, they already have. They most certainly already have.”

In the background I hear the sound of a large thud. It was the sound of the presiding circuit judge stamp hitting the stack of papers of my divorce case. His secretary hands me a “true copy” of case NO. blah blah blah. I look down at the stamped paperwork and realize that at this exact moment, I became officially divorced.

As my lawyer walked me to the elevator where she would leave me to go on to her next case, she said goodbye. “I usually don’t say congratulations after these sorts of things, but to you I will say it.” I laughed and agreed with her that congratulations are definitely in order.

I was prepared to feel a multitude of feelings today. I wasn’t sure if I would feel sad or what. Turns out, I feel completely elated. I am so proud of myself and what I have overcome. I feel like I won something. Perhaps, in a way, I sort of did.

As fate would have it, one of my “baller anthems” was playing on BPM as I drove away from the courthouse. On a perfect South Florida morning, with my top down and my hair blowing in the wind, I fist pumped all the way down Andrews Avenue. Fittingly, I leave you with the lyrics of the song that was playing, Medina “You and I.” Enjoy.

Nothing left for me to say
There's no more wicked games to play
It's time for me to walk away
I am all right

I feel like I'm on a high
A new beginning that is my life
I'm turning to the rhythm of the night
I am all right

The music is making me grow
The only thing that keeps me awake is me knowing
There's no one here to break me or bring me down
And no one here to hurt me or fool around

I have no more time for you to hurt my feelings
Done enough to prove I'm all that I believe in
We are at the end no more stupid lies
I'm better off without you here by my side

So no there is no longer you and I - you and I
You and I - you and I
You and I - you and I
You and I
There is no longer you and I - you and I
You and I - you and I
You and I - you and I
You and I

Don't care what other people say
I know you fool around all day
Now it doesn't hurt me anyway
I am all right

And when the day turns into night
I'm in a club forgetting you and I
And when I think of how you treated me
You proved me right

So no there is no longer you and I - you and I

Life Lesson #11 - Dr. William Thomas Angove was a genius

Wine in a box. Is there anything more flippin' genius than that? Dr. William Thomas Angove was probably pretty proud of himself when he invented the resealable plastic bag in a cardboard box. It wasn't a simple creation, in fact, it took approximately two years to develop. Unfotunately, Dr. Angove passed away on March 31, 2010 92 years-young.

To honor this great man and his innovative creation, Fort Lauderdale had a Boxed Wine Bike Rally (BWBR). The Rally has occurred on two other occasions in the past, I wasn't invited to those. Perhaps, this BWBR had a very significant and special meaning in our hearts due to Dr. Angove's passing.

The memorial began in the afternoon hours under the South Florida sun on a white sandy beach beside the emerald green ocean. Before I left my home, I packed by backpack with some essentials for the day: sunscreen, a sheet, a camera, homemade memorial ribbons to wear, and of course the bladder from my boxed wine.

I hoped on Betty the Beach Cruiser and hit the road to the beach. That was the third time I have ridden my bicycle. You see, I am pretty uncoordinated on the bike (and uncoordinated generally speaking) and I get nervous about riding. As I approached my phobia (the Las Olas Bridge), my heart began to accelerate and I was plagued with self deprecating thoughts about my ability to conqor the bridge. I tried to practice cognitive restructuring to combat my negative thinking with thoughts such as "I can do this, you practiced biking all day yesterday." I dropped Betty's gear to the easy one, stood up and began to vigorously peddle up the bridge. After a few seconds I found myself saying, "Eff this!" I got off the bike and walked her up the rest of the way. Oh well.

The first few hours of the BWBR was spent at the beach doing the usual things, sexy time balloon relay races, popping a squat on a sheet, and updating your facebook status obnoxiously often.

After we achieved an alarming level of intoxication, we jumped on our bikes to begin rallying. Stop one, the brand spanking new upstairs bar at McSorely's. It was suhweet. I think I saw a monkey swinging from the trees next to the bar. Stop two was Primanti Brothers for some grub. Yummo. Stop three was the Kava bar where I am pretty sure we almost got kicked out. I think the Kava people didn't appreciate our rowdiness in their peaceful zen sanctuary. However, to our advantage the Kava bartender took a liking to one of us and we were allowed to stay. Stop four was Kim's Alley Bar where we ruled the juke box and played erotic photo hunt. The final stop of the Rally was downtown Ft. Lauderdale to catch death metal band, MURDEROUS RAMPAGE! (I have an innapropriate crush on the bass guitarist) and to continue drinking from the bladder of wine. I climbed a tree and wasn't allowed to ride my bike anymore.

I cannot sufficiently describe what I felt the next day. I woke up with feet as black as night, serious head pain, and freakish nausea. I tried to keep my sh*t together, but failed. Unfortunately, I vomited four times (once in the kitchen sink). Man, that was rough. I'm okay now though (in case you were wondering).

I learned a few things from the BWBR. (1) Boxed wine is AHMAZING, I will definitely be purchasing it more often (2) My biking confidence is positively correlated with my intoxication level (3) Just because I don't get sick at night doesn't mean I won't get sick the next day

All in all, BWBR will be mentally noted as highly pleasurable event. I think it made me a better person. I am getting closer to self actualization. Fist pump.



*Photo courtesy of Miguel Triple Threat Bravo

Life Lesson #12 – When life hands you lemons, go on a jamiemoon.

In 14 days, I will get on an airplane to embark on a 14 hour journey to Maui, Hawaii. If I went as previously scheduled, I would be on a plane with my husband going on our honeymoon. Well, life doesn’t always work out as planned. And I am thankful for that.

Here I am, at the ripe age of 31, going on my first vacation by myself. Yep, I’m nervous. But I also feel excited and empowered. I held on to this ticket to Maui for almost 8 months before I decided to use it. Maybe one day I will also gain the motivation to get rid of my wedding dress and wedding ring. I’m not even sure why I still own these things. I mean, the wedding dress is a total pain when I want to get into my closet. Anyone out there want it? It might make for a cool Halloween costume or something.

When I first decided to use my flight voucher to go on a “jamiemoon”, I spoke to my father about where to go. I told my dad that I wanted to do something bold and courageous. He once lived in Thailand for a few years and I asked him if I could go there. He said “hell no.” Oh all right, I will go to friendly Maui then.

So I leave on May 21st and I plan to push myself out of my comfort zone by doing some non Jamie-esque things including (but not limited to):

• Sleeping in a bunk bed in a dirty dormitory with interesting backpackers
• Throwing my body off a 40 foot cliff into the ocean (I'm deathly afraid of heights)
• Hiking 12 miles into the world’s largest dormant volcano
• Going to a clothing optional beach (my clothes will stay on)

Wish me luck on my journey! I will be sure to blog about my adventures. If I don’t make it back alive, please get my book published. It can be found on my laptop.

Life Lesson #13 - Hiking is difficult if you are out of shape

Haleakala - "House of the Sun", is the world's largest dormant volcano located in Maui, Hawaii. According to legend, the demi-god, Maui captured the sun atop the volcano. He would release the sun only if it agreed to give the island more sunlight during the day. The sun obliged and to this day, the summit of Haleakala receives approximately 15 more minutes of sunlight than the rest of the island.

Twelve hours after my arrival (which was a 20+ hour journey) to Maui, my hostel offered a free tour to the volcano. The excursion would be a 12+ mile hike taking us through 11 ecosystems.

Let me put out this very important fact - I don't exercise. In fact, I try to move as little as possible. I am extremely lazy and feel my best when sitting. I don't understand what it means to hike and I certainly do not comprehend what 12 miles means.

The night before the hike, I asked fellow travelers about the trip to Haleakala. I received mixed messages about the tour. Some said, "it's not bad, the average person can do it." Others said, "it's really intense." The word intense should have registered something with me. However, I was determined to do the tour and I rationalized that it would be good for me.

I awoke at 6am and began to get ready for the big hike. I put on my New Balance sneakers and gym clothes (from when I used to exercise back in 2001). I was pumped. The hike began at the top of the mountain at 9,000 feet. It was flippin' freezing up there. We began or descent through the sandy terrain. One mile in, I was feeling pretty confident. "Look! I'm doing it!" I proudly said to myself (we were freaking going downhill, I'm such an idiot).

One hour into the hike we reached a different world, I am guessing Mars. I saw plants and animals that were not of our planet. We were walking on rocks with each step and I nearly sprained my ankle 100s of times. I was starting to hurt, badly. "Okay, only 5 more hours to go, I can do this. Concentrate." However we were still going downhill so realistically it wasn't so bad.

Five miles in we arrived to our first ascent, which the guide lovingly called "Bitch Mountain." He said that he called it that because this is the point where hikers really began to bitch. I was determined not to complain and began to climb the steep hill. Fellow travelers began to stare at me and ask if I was okay. I wonder what I looked like. Man, that mountain was a bitch. But I made it. Someone took a picture of me at the top with my arms raised above me in a victory pose. I thought that was going to be the most difficult part of the hike, I'm such an idiot.

After bitch mountain we arrived to something called the "Bottomless Pit." Our guide explained that no one really knows how deep the chasm is and that traditional Hawaiians come to the pit to discard their baby's placentas as a blessing. "That's weird," I thought. Twenty minutes later he told us that he was just messing with us about the placenta thing and that the bottomless pit was actually only 65 feet deep. I felt deceived. The guide then says, "Okay, save your energy for the most rigorous part of the hike." WHAT?!

At this point we where seven miles in and I was experiencing some sort of "runner's high." I do not know what a runner's high is because I do not run, but I assume it was something similar to what I was feeling. Despite the shooting pains through my feet and legs, I felt incredible energy and that I could possibly sprint the rest of the way whilst carrying everyone's backpacks. I felt invincible.

My runner's high came to a screeching halt as I stared 8,000 feet (above the cloud line) up to the summit of the mountain we were about to climb. I began to panic. I was in so much physical pain and I had no idea if I could make such an ascent. No one else seemed to be anxious, so I hid my true feelings and began to hike up the extremely rocky and steep terrain.

Shortly after the ascent began, I felt absolutely horrible. My feet felt as if they had been cut by daggers 1000 times over and I thought my legs were going to separate from my body. I was incredibly nauseous and my head felt heavier than the rest of my body. I think I was hallucinating because I felt I was climbing the mountain upside down. Fellow hikers began to pass me with very concerned expressions asking me if I was okay. I couldn't speak. All I could do was give them a thumbs up sign.

Several points during the last leg of the hike I was alone. At mile marker 10, I plopped down on a rock and dizzily drank my water. I looked over the cloud line towards a beautiful rainbow. It was cold and misty, I believe I was 6-7,000 feet high at this point. The view was serene and beautiful, but I am terrified of heights which probably added to my vertigo. How I felt is indescribable. I wanted to cry. "How in the hell am I going to finish this hike?" I contemplated letting my lifeless body fall off the side of the cliff (which was inches beside me).

The last few hikers passed me by (one was 57 years-old). Again, they were concerned that I might undergo some sort of cardiac arrest thus the incessant inquiries regarding my well being. I'm okay, I'm just a little dizzy," I explained. The 57 year-old woman and a 20 year-old Canadian man were so concerned for me that they insisted on walking with me the rest of the way. They tried to keep my spirits up by singing songs. They randomly sang "Eye of the Tiger." That song just so happens to be one of my inspirational anthems. I began to walk again.

A total of six hours and 13 miles later (the hike was actually 13 miles, not 12), I saw the most heavenly vision - the summit. At the top were the remaining hikers. They began to clap and cheer as the saw me approach. They lined up to give me high fives and hugs. "You did it!" "Are you okay?" I couldn't speak. I offered my weak hand attached to my flaccid arm in attempt to high five them back. Soon thereafter, I collapsed to the ground where I remained motionless. I think we saw the sunset, I can't remember because I was cracked out of my mind.

When I get home, I am going to start exercising.

Life Lesson #14 - There is such a thing as seeing too many naked people

Day 2 in Maui

"Head straight down this path, make a right, climb the cliff, then follow the weirdo nudists," our hostel van driver instructed us. My group of fellow hostelers and I followed the instructions and began our hike to Makena's "Little Beach," a sort of Mecca for Hawaiian-hippie types. Since I am now a badass hiker, climbing cliffs and mountains are no sweat for me. I even helped my new Danish friends climb their way to the beach, our destination for the day.

When I arrived to the small but beautiful beach, I was greeted by several "free spirited" naked hippies. "Wow! How liberating," I said to my Danish friends. Our group set up camp on the beach a few yards in front of the drum circle. The Jamaican-Hawaiian drum music filled the air. A beach vendor walked around announcing that he had fresh homemade pot brownies for $5. "This is pretty cool," I thought to myself. A fellow backpacker who sat beside me put some mysterious drug into his drink. I have no clue what it was, whatever.

As I soaked up the sun's rays I tried not to ogle any naked people. You would think that a nude beach would be filled with many attractive bodies. Well, that is not really the case. All the attractive people were clothed and the older (grosser) bodies were the naked ones. Nudist men outnumbered the women 2 to 1. I guess men really love to hang out with their wangs out. Oh well, I was still having a good time.

*Fast Forward 4 hours later*

With my legs pulled into my chest, I began to rock back and forth like that scary chick in the movie, "Paranormal Activity." The hippie peeps were coming to the beach in droves. Our little beach camp was completely infiltrated with floppy shlongs and overgrown hoo-has. The incessant drumming never stopped, not even for a second. The drumming encouraged the most ridiculous dancing which involved squatting, bending, and jumping - not aesthetically appealing movements while in your birthday suit. I was going insane. I thought about listening to my iPod to drown out the drums, but I couldn't bare the thought of appearing rude.

I tried to not look at any more nude people, but they were everywhere. The penis is the most ridiculous thing - completely utilitarian. There is nothing beautiful about the male anatomy. I saw enough penises to last me a life time. The only attractive naked dude finally put his shorts back on and I thought he looked so much better. I hope I never see another penis again, they are just plain silly.

That ended up being kind of a long day.

Life Lesson #15 - It is dangerous to drive the road to Hana drunk and high

The Road to Hana is a wild highway with 54 bridges and 600 hairpin turns that runs along Maui's northeastern shore. The drive to Hana takes about 3 hours, but most people make an entire day of it.

My life lesson states that it is dangerous to drive the Hana Highway while intoxicated. I believe this to be true - but not from experience. I wasn't drunk or high, but thought the lesson would still be of value. I was, however, a bit tired. You see, I stayed up a tad too late the night before playing trivia at a local bar with my new friends (they were a group of gay men who just moved to Lahaina from Wilton Manors, FL) What are the odds! Ha.

My alarm went off at 5:30am and I began to get ready. I didn't want to be stuck in traffic with other tourists so I figured if I got up that early I would be in good shape to avoid the rental car parade. Me and lil' Kahuna (my blessed Jeep Wrangler) hit the road. It was 70 degrees out and I was the only one on the road as I passed mountains, green pastures and scenic views of the ocean. One of the things I really like about Maui is the way it smells - constant scents of honeysuckle, magnolia, and lavender. Honeysuckle reminds me of my childhood when I was convinced that I could survive from eating honeysuckle if I were to run away from home.

First stop off the highway was Twin Falls. I was excited to hike into the mountain to catch a peak of the waterfalls. As I pulled off the side of the road to park, only one other car was there. I thought this was a good sign that I was ahead of the game. Unfortch, there were three trails to choose from and my book didn't really explain which one to take. Well, I hiked all the other trails before I took the correct one. What should have taken me 30-45 minutes ended up taking 2 hours. I finally made it to the waterfall, took a picture and started to head back. I passed oodles of tourists who asked me which path to take. They were gaining on me! When I got back to the road I was shocked to see that there were about 25 cars parked. So much for my 5:30 am head start.

Personally, I think the best part of the Road to Hana is driving. I like driving and going around all these turns and seeing the sights from your car is a lot of fun. There are so many places to stop, get out of the car and explore. Along the journey I made several stops. I even got myself some pretty amazing banana bread.

When I got into Hana, I hung out at some lava cilffs, a gray sand beach (Hamoa) and a black sand beach (Wainapanapa). Hamoa was so nice. Picture a rural farmland right beside huge cliffs and beautiful blue water. Wainapanapa was surreal. I've never seen black sand before. I was the only one on this beach and I got there by accident. While driving along the highway I noticed a small road and I went down it. I was shocked to see that it took me to a beautiful black sanded beach. I didn't want to leave.

The entire trip took about 12 hours, but it could easily take more if you stopped to explore all the different stops such as Seven Sacred Pools, Kaeleku Cavern, the Lava Loop, etc. I got back to West Maui just in time to see the 7pm sunset. Oh and I ended up renting lil' Kahuna for another day, I just cant say goodbye.

Life Lesson #9 - KARMA. It just may exist.

This coming Wednesday, exactly 33 weeks will have passed since I learned that my marriage failed. My marriage ended in quite a horrific way, in a fashion that no relationship should end. The experience I have gone through is difficult to describe. Nonetheless, it was incredibly humbling and life altering. I had many dark days but I feel that I have overcome the hardship and am a better person because of it. If my book ever gets published, you can read all the dark, gory details about how it all went down (it IS, in fact, a juicy story).

According to the Holmes and Rahe Stress Scale, divorce is the second most stressful life event that the average adult can experience (second only to the death of a spouse). In other words, these two psychiatrists suggest that my divorce might just be the most stressful thing that I will experience in my life. Interesting. I guess that means that if I got through this, there is little else that I can't handle. Good news.

On Wednesday morning, I will appear before a Broward county judge (without my husband) to swear that my marriage is irreparable. The judge will then ask me four more questions in order to deem us legally divorced. I hope the judge smacks a gavel down, that would be cool.

Tonight, I saw my husband (I hate calling him that) for the last time. The only reason we met was because we had to exchange some legal documents. I haven't seen him in a really long time and tonight was the last. It was weird to see him. I hope I'm not bumming anyone out but I am blogging about this because, (1) it's therapeutic for me and (2) I think it's sort of interesting. Here's what went down:

We met in the parking lot and exchanged what we needed to exchange.

Ex: Hey. How have you been?
Me: I've been good. How about you?
Ex: Not so great. (long pause) How's your new job?
Me: Really great actually. I like it and I got promoted last month.
Ex: Oh, that's nice. I'm happy for you.
(His business went under a few months after we broke up)
Ex: I can't find a job. I am going to move to Philadelphia and stay with a friend for a while.
Me: That sucks. I'm sorry.
(long pause)
Me: Hey, what did you do with your flight voucher from our cancelled honeymoon?
Ex: I used it to go home to England. What are you going to do with yours?
Me: Oh, I decided to still go to Maui.
(His eyebrows raise in question)
Me: Yeah, I decided that I really don't want to miss out on Maui, so I am just gonna go by myself.
Ex: You are going by yourself?
Me: Yep.
(awkward pause)
Me: Well, I guess that's it. Good luck to you.
Ex: Yeah, take care. Sorry about everything.
(awkward hug)

Then POOF! Just like that he is gone. I was married for a year and separated for the past 7 1/2 months. I find it so interesting that the person I once swore to honor "until death do us part", I will actually never see again. He will move somewhere and my life will continue to go on. And quite frankly, my life is better now than it has ever been.

So does Karma exist? I suppose no one really knows for sure. However, I think it just might because since all this shit happened, my life has been tremendously blessed. His life has been filled with adversity and constant stress.

This is a weird week for me. One huge chapter of my life officially and legally ends on Wednesday. On Saturday, I turn 31 years-0ld. I have re-vamped my life and plan to never look back. Perhaps surprisingly, I am excited to become another year older. I am looking forward to ending my 30th year and beginning my 31st. I hope good things will continue to come my way. Just in case Karma does exist, I am gonna be super duper nice to all of y'all!

Life Lesson #16 - Remain tranquilo

Before I left for my trip to Maui, a friend (and seasoned traveler) told me that if I "remain tranquilo (chill), everything will be aight." Well, "Remain Tranquilo" sort of became my mantra shortly after the onset of my trip. Whenever I found myself in an anxious situation, I took a deep breath and told myself "remain tranquilo, stay tranquilo."

There were two phases to my jamiemoon. The first half I was a backpacker who stayed at a hostel. The second half, I was flashpacker staying at a B&B in a lovely town. Not surprisingly, "remain tranquilo" was used a lot more during phase 1.

Here are some of the times when I used the mantra, Remain tranquilo, to soothe myself:

• When the honeymooners sitting beside me on the airplane were all up on each other. At one point the girl even sat on the dude's lap - yes on the airplane! *Remain tranquilo*
• When I missed the free van ride to the hostel by like 40 seconds, I took a cab. The cab driver yelled at me for not going far enough (it was like 10 miles!) and told me that my hostel was in the ghetto and I was going to have a horrible experience. *Remain tranquilo*
• When I actually arrived to the hostel and saw that it was IN FACT in the ghetto. *Remain tranquilo*
• During my second night at the hostel a woman directly oustide my dorm window screeched a blood curdling scream as if she were getting attacked (I hope she's okay). *Remain tranquilo*
• When I went outside to check on the girl who screamed, I eerily saw no one around. *Remain tranquilo*
• When the hostel owner told us that last week a girl backpacker went missing and that they recently saw a dead body in Lahaina. *Remain tranquilo*
  
• When my Danish roommates joked for the 10th time that they were stalking me. Crap, are they really stalking me? *Remain tranquilo*
• When I went to get some dinner from the ghetto's gas station and a scary (Fazil-esque) Hawaiian warrior stared at me and followed me down the street. *Remain tranquilo*
• When I almost fell off the side of a mountain at 7,000 feet because I was so dizzy. *Remain tranquilo*
• When my roommates told me about the inordinate amount of shark attacks that has occurred recently in Maui. *Remain tranquilo*
  
• When I almost drove off the side of a cliff on The Road to Hana because I was trying to email the food editor from The New Times about the SnG. *Remain tranquilo*
• When I met a cute boy who I enjoyed talking to and later realized he was 17. YIKES! *Remain tranquilo*

Positive self talk really works and having a little mantra can decrease one's anxiety by at least 25%. It helped me turn somewhat uneasy events into relatively neutral ones. Thanks to remaining tranquilo, I am having an awesome time. I recommend this mantra to other travelers.