Ameripean

pictures: me (maya) & bret (new zealander), matt (hungarian), birk (german), and sophie (french)

Lately I have been told "Are you sure you are American? You seem more European to me?"
I have been told this half a dozen times since I have been living in New York, and by Europeans nonetheless.

I wasn't sure why exactly I had been told this, so I've asked a few of my European friends. Their responses were:

"You very passionate, you don't keep anything bottled up inside, that's not very American, non?"

"You love pleasure, and don't feel guilty about it, you feel you deserve it, that's very European."

While these two items are somewhat true (especially the "I don't keep anything bottled up thing"), I do love passion and pleasure, however, I do feel guilty about these things. I am American in this way. I don't think I have been someone that has avoided the puritanical vibe altogether. Sometimes when things are so beautiful around me and I find myself sliding into "Joie de vivre" I start to feel that I don't deserve it and the guilt/gloom comes back and I think "Yep, that's more of the way I am suppose to feel."

I think this is why I have confused every European man that I have dated (which has been, ehem, a lot lately: German, Swedish, Turkish, French, and Russian) They think they are getting an American women, head strong, slightly repressed, and who will be swept away by their European ways (passion, long discussions on philosophy, politics, pleasure, food, and oh, passion); but what they get instead is what I will call an "Ameripean" (aka a New Yorker) no nonsense, slightly jaded, enjoys long discussions on philosophy, politics, pleasure, food, and passion, but just don't carried away buddy or I’ll start getting annoyed.

There is something to be said about getting rid of guilt, this idea that we don’t deserve pleasure, that it should be a reward for hard work done and that there should be a limit on it once we are enjoying our self "I've being relaxing for about 30 minuets now...I'll relax for about 10 more minutes, but then I really need to get something done." It is ingrained in most of us the we must always accomplish, always achieve. I know, this has been apart of my genetic make-up since I can remember. I still have moments of feeling anxious if I am not planning, creating, doing, working out, etc.

I am working on this, but it is easier said then done. These are the things that I have done to try and push my joy forward and to remember pleasure again:

I laid down in my living room and listened to Bach (Concerto for Two Violins in D minor) and did nothing else except listen to the violins swirl above my head.

I poured my self a glass of wine and sat on my roof and watched the sunset over Chinatown reflecting off of the Manhattan Bridge Arc.

Told a man where I would like to be kissed and how (sounds demanding, but trust me he loved it!)

Spent way to much on a pedicure and manicure just to have both my hands and feet pampered (and took and hour and half lunch doing it...damn the boss).

I still have to work on this, in the next two years I want to travel, or at the vary least feel better about relaxing and being creative. I told a friend of mine yesterday that my work environment was stressful, and that my boss is toxic, that I wanted to be more creative and I am worried that this environment is hindering it- to which she said "Maybe the environment is making you more creative that you need the stress of it to me creative." Thank God I know that is not true. I feel that if I was in a better environment more of my ideas would flow. After all some of the times when I was most creative in my life was when I was in a low stress environment. I don't believe I need adversity to be creative, only a quite room, a typewriter, and perhaps a little Bach in the background, maybe that is the European part of me.

well being

I saw on myspace today that my beautiful Ama requested something to be written on the subject of well being- so this is for her and for me.

Let your love flow outward through the universe,
To its height, its depth, its broad extent,
A limitless love, without hatred or enmity.
Then as you stand or walk,
Sit or lie down,
As long as you are awake,
Strive for this with a one-pointed mind;
Your life will bring heaven to earth.
Sutta Nipata

In the past, whenever I find my strength is very low, I turn to Buddhism. I was first attracted to Buddhism when I lived in Albuquerque, NM. A good friend of mine in the 8th grade (whose name was also Maya) had parents that practiced Buddhism. She was always so annoyed with then when they did their chanting. Perhaps is it was because it was usually when Maya had friends over to watch movies, or maybe it embarrassed her. "Oh my God this is SO ANNOYING!" Maya would say while closing the doors to their meditation room.

After her parents finished chanting- they would fix dinner together, and come out and join us while we watched our movies. Her parents seemed to be so in love, peaceful, and generous. I wanted to know what that was about- what brought them that inner and outer glow. To me, it looked like Buddhism brought that element of strength in their life, and so I decided to investigate that.

A year after that, my mother died. My world was shattered. Mothers are our universe. My anchor was gone and all control in my life disappeared. The ground felt like is was cracking open, I felt like I was floating away, and drowning all at the same time. My mind, my heart, and my soul where all in a tremendous amount of pain.

What Buddhism brought to me was hope. It told me there was no such thing as control- so don't look for it, do not seek it. That everything was temporary. That scared me at first, but then I welcomed that idea, because that meant my pain, my suffering was also temporary, and that peace, and serenity would be mine again. Although that meant those things would also be temporary, I looked at it differently- that while pain might always come, joy, love, and peace would also always come.

Conquer the angry man by love.
Conquer the ill-natured man by goodness.
Conquer the miser with generosity.
Conquer the liar with truth.
The Dhammapada

Work has been hard for me lately.

Not my creative life, but the work that pays my bills, my day job.
I work for a very difficult man. He loses his temper sometimes on an hourly basis. He calls his associate that has worked for him for 20 years "a moron" and "a f*cking f*ggit." It's painful to me that he talks like this to someone. That it is acceptable for him to treat others with such disrespect.

I have watched him slam his phone so hard that he has broken it. I have heard stories of him choking people,I hear him yelling at the top of lungs on almost a daily basis. He makes his personal assistant do ridiculous things like order peanuts in bulk for him so he can save 10 cents a packet and to find out what type of hair dye Richard Gere uses to he can dye his hair that color.

My boss is intimidated by me, because I am an intelligent, attractive, aggressive women. It bothers him. It bothers him that I know this business better then any man that he has hired in his past 25 years, it bothers him that I stand up to him.

This past Thursday he talked to me like I was a child. Sometimes he does things like that to try and bring me down "a notch or two" as he would like me "to soften" and to me more "feminine." I walked into his office.

"Don't you ever talk to me like I am a child again." I said to him firmly.

"You need to listen to be better!" He barked at me.

"I can't but help listen to you, because you are yelling at me." I said back.

I reminded him that I am doing the job of three people, but that he was paying like one person, a very poor person.

"Maybe you need to find a job that will pay you more then Maya." He threated.

"No problem. Four weeks notice." I said with icey calmness.

This scared him. I had called his bluff and he now realized the women that has been running his contracts department and production coordination for three of his artists had just tenured her resignation.

"Come on Maya! Listen, we're both tired. We are both stressed out!! Let's just pretend this conversation never happened." He said with a smile and a nervous laugh.

I wanted to say to him, "Which part should we forget? That part where I asked for more money, or the part where I quit?" Those are the parts he wanted to forget about.

Buddhism asks that we answer the questions with positive energy. Bring calmness to calamity, bring generosity to poverty, bring love to hate. Sometimes it is hard to do those things, sometimes it feels downright impossible. With my boss I feel anger toward him, but if I wanted to be more compassionate to him I would have to really think about what is at the root of his anger. I would also have to recognize the things I dislike in him that are probably a part of who I am too.

He is controlling, so am I. He losses his temper quickly, so do I. His personality is edgy, so is mine. But he has moments of being generous, and so do I.
When I get sick, he doesn't want me to come into work, he wants me to feel better, and to take my time getting better. He loves his wife, and takes good care of her. He didn't get to pursue his original dream of becoming a musician, but he became one of the most profitable producers in the classical music industry.

One day, when he was feeling especially down and vulnerable, he said to me, "You know Maya, you and I are cut from the same cloth. We are the kind of people that make things happen in this business, but sometimes, I hate this business. It's too late for me to do anything else, but it's not to late for you."

Those words are the words of a man that never became of father, and I am a women that never had a father. Maybe that is why we are so sensitive to each other, we each have that element missing in our lives. I think my boss and I genuinely wish each other well, it's hard to admit to your weaknesses, but perhaps well being is about recognizing your strengths, which is what I wish for for all of my friends and family: strength, courage, and well being.

My So Called Life

(my beautiful friend Hauke)

Ama, Kat, Kelly, Karen and I loved the show "My So Called Life" in college.

I suppose because it held so many little warm moments that were romantic in simplistic ways. Like when Jorden held Angela's hand for the first time in the hallway, or when Angela would run and smile like she felt so free (or in love), or Brian's many awkward moments trying to express his heart to Angela and it coming out all wrong.

It's funny that living in a city like New York, you would think that those romantic simplistic moments wouldn't exsist here because everything is so fast paced, crowded, and overwhelming.

Like auditioning for a part in a play, people audition each other for relationships here in NYC. If you aren't quite what the other person had in mind you generally get a, "don't call us we'll call you" look. Dating for some can be brutal here.

Even with all that, I have found those simplistic romantic moments happen to me more then I ever would have thought possible.

I have these moments where I jump on the subway with a smile that spreads over my face so large that I can tell the other passengers want to know what special secret I am holding. Some of them smile back. Believe it or not, other New Yorkers rejoice in seeing others so happy.

Virgine (my landlord, roommate, friend) believes I should keep those special moments to myself otherwise it takes the power of that moment away from yourself. In a way- I agree with her. But sometimes, there are times I want all my friends to have a peep in what's going on behind the curtain of my life in New York.

I want you to know about me sharing ice cream on the couch with someone special at 2am; or walking around Chelesa at 3am hand and hand with someone; or visting a friend you haven't seen in a while- feeling the intensity of his stare asking, "How have you been? I have missed you."

As adults, I thought those moments of innocence would be gone, left only to my childhood. I was wrong about that. There are many moments of the unexpected: a soft voice saying your name back to you, a hand that reaches out to you unexpectedly, or looking at an old friend with new eyes.

Tagged (part deux)

I was tagged by Kat to write 8 random things about myself and to repost the rules...so here goes.

Rules:
1. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged write their own blog post about their eight things and include these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged and that they should read your blog.


1. Misspelled the word "hammer" in the 3rd grade spelling bee (I spelled it "h-a-m-e-r" it has haunted me ever since).

2. My first kiss was in the eighth grade by a guy by the name of Greg Cooper. It was AWKWARD...I just remember turning my head toward him and then teeth bumping into each other...ouch. I also had the world's longest crushes. I had a crush on Caleb Wheeler from the 4th grade to the 9th grade; and a crush on Dave Snyder from 9th grade until...um...until he got married two years ago- and then it was inappropriate!

3. If I am depressed I can actually (very easily) be distracted into the warm fuzzies by the following: watching either "Harry Met Sally", "Moonstruck", "Cooking with Nigella", or "Absolutely Fabulous" while eating popcorn. Reading any fashion or gossip magazine while eating Twizzlers; or talking to one of my lovely girlfriends on the phone...

4. I have never liked the way my legs looks. I don't own one pair of shorts...until this year. This is the first year where I have actually been very proud of my stems...:) the gym can actually work miracles.

5. I like to cuss...I really like the way those words feel. I think I was a truck driver in my former life. But now that my brothers are having kids I am trying to mend my ways. I have replaced most cuss words with "Dang" and "Shoot." It's Southern and it makes me more fucking lady like.

6. I like the funny...I am a Comedian junky. I think Comedians are genius. "Flight of the Concords" enough said...I would marry either one of them. Brilliant.


7. I want to take a family portrait of my family this year. We lost so much...and now my family is growing so quickly...I couldn't be prouder.


8. I'm a Hustler: I have skills to pay the bills. I can produce, act, write, drum, cook, dance, book shows, draw up contracts, and I make up my own rules...(I guess that's why I moved to NYC).

I would tag 8 other people, but Kat already tagged all the people I would have tagged!!!

xox-M

p.s. the reason I haven't been updating this blog as much, it that I am now writing for PM Buzz about my nightlife in NYC. If you would like to check it out- the link is below!
My Nightlife Blog for PM BUZZ.com

My Love, New York (for the Art Salon part deux)

photos by Koury Angelo

Last week I was standing on the corner of 47th and Broadway in Time Square with a man I had just gone on a first date with. As I turned to say something to him, he put his hands on my face and kissed me. It was a movie like moment until a few minuets later when he said, "I hate Time Square, I just don't get New York."

I knew then, it would never work out with him.

Perhaps I am guilty of romanticising New York more then Woody Allen, or maybe it's because I am a romantic person, but everyday, I fall deeper in love with this city. A city that I have begun to grow roots in.

I have never grown roots- anywhere, before here.

I was born in the mountains of Boulder, Colorado, moved to desert of Albuquerque, New Mexico, grew up by the ocean in Sarasota, Florida, received my college degree in Tallahassee, Florida got my heart broken in Atlanta, Georgia, licked my wounds in Gainesville, Florida, and now I have found myself here in the bright lights of New York City.

Even in New York I have moved several times. Bushwick, Park Slope, West Village, Upper West Side, and now Chinatown.

When I went to meet a dear friend for brunch near Astor Place. I called him on his cell phone, I was lost. I told him, "I'm not exacty sure where the resturant is located." He said:

"Why not, you have lived in every square inch of New York."

When I wake up in the morning, and walk down to the B/D subway stop on Grand Street- I walk down the streets of Chinatown watching the men unload the produce off the trucks. The traffic is moving fast and its hectic. I walk down the subway stairs where hundreds of people are pouring on or off the subway cars. I feel the wind in the tunnels when the train is about to pull into the station, and it makes you feel powerful, to be strong in a city with so much chaos. It's almost mediation for someone like me that feels so much chaos on the inside, New York to me, is an equalizing balance.

These aren't the only reasons why I love New York.

The winters are hard here, and it makes you appreciate the Spring. Every year when I see the first buds on the tree I silently celebrate to myself- warm weather is coming back.

I have my best conversations with close friends or a lover while walking around New York's many little roads, and quiet streets, that are always waiting to be discovered by someone new. To discover them by yourself is wonderful, to discover them with someone you care about is magical.

If you are open, if you are brave, if you are willing to be on your own here, go at it alone, you will find just the opposite is true. You will find and connect with the very people your heart desires because they too took the once in a live time opportunity to live here, to struggle here, to find themselves here.

New York can be hard, because some have so much, and you can have so little, but, to be motivated, to be intelligent, to be talented here, with a little patience you can see your opportunities flower here- like you would never see in any other city. This is the gift this city gives you- it always makes you feel like no matter what your age is- you still have the opportunity to realize your dreams.

It is the city for dreamers, even more so for the doers.

Who You Are, Not Who You Were.

flyer for the art show, and Virgina and I late one night at the loft. photo by her man, Mr. St. Clair

This weekend Virgine hosted and artshow at her gallery "Chinatown in a Chinatown Gallery." I love when Virgine hosts an art show, not just because of all the fantastic people that come to her shows, but also for the fact that the party takes place next door.
All I have to do to get to it is walk up to the roof, crossover half way, and walk down the stairs to the art show below.

There is always a mixture of people from around the world, and of course there is always a heavy dose of the French language wafting through the gallery.

The conversations are always stimulating, and everybody looks great. She serves Absinthe, Chinatown pastries, and grapes and we walk around looking at the newest installations.

I went out six days out of seven this week, as well as working out at the gym every other day. I met with my trainer on Sunday.

He put me on the trade mill- and made me run...
I don't run.

"We have to get your heart rate to 168!" "Come on Maya! You can do it."

"I hate you..." I said, trying to break a smile, and trying not to fall on my face.

"If you want Hally Berry's body then you got work as hard as she does..." He said, clip board in hand.

For the first time in my life, I am not scared of working hard at working out. I go to the gym 4-5 times a week now. I watch what I eat, and I like seeing the changes on my body.

As I showered at the gym, I was thinking about tours I would like to organize, people I would like to manage, and festivals I would like to throw. I thought, "F*ck, I am a business women. When did this happen?"

I have always thought of myself as a creative person, and that business was the annoying side that I just had to deal with to pay the bills; but the ugly truth is- I like it...and sometimes, I even love it. I love producing, I love dreaming up an idea and making it come true; because to be a good or even great producer, you have to be the ultimate dreamer, you have to believe in your project and more importantly, you have to make other people believe in it. Convincing them that what you see in it- is worth it, even if they don't see it at that moment. I like that I can multi-task, take charge, and that people not only listen to me, but they also take me seriously.

As I walked home from the gym, I talked to Kev on the phone. He has become such a valuable friend, and really he feels like a colleague.

"You know Kev, I am thinking that I just have to accept that this is who I am now. You have to be who you are, and not who you were. You know what I mean?"

Kev laughed, "Yeah, I know what you mean."

I decided to go out that night by myself to write, and too outline specific projects I wanted to work on for Agent M. I went to a coffee shop, unfortunately they were closing within minutes of me getting there. So I went to my favorite bar across the street.

I was only by myself for a few moments before two beautiful Latina women sat next to me. We introduced ourselves, drank margaritas, talked loudly, and laughed alot. We were there for hours, each of us gave Jonah the bartender (yay! he's back!) a kiss on lips before we left, and exchanged numbers...

This is just one of the reasons I love NY. You can't be afraid to go out there on your own (which years ago, I would have been) because you never know the amazing people you are going to meet doing so.

The Ex as the Wingman

Last night Matt wanted to meet up for a drink before he went to California for his sisters Wedding. We bellied up at the bar "Welcome to the Johnsons" which is equidistant to from both our apartments and it's like $2 bucks a drink.
As we sat at the bar we both re caped our bad dates from earlier this week.
His, a girl that basically interviewed him was on a job interview:

"Where's your family from?"

"Do you plan on being in building restoration your whole life?"

"Smoking, is this something you intend to quit soon?"

Matt had buckled under the pressure:

"Cleveland."

"Not Sure.."

"Yeah, I think so, I don't know!!!"

My date was...disappointing.
After I had met the bass player the night before at his show, things seemed promising. He was sweet, intelligent, good looking, and a great kisser (yes, yes, yes, and yeeeessss). In between kissing in the doorway, next to the bar we gave each other bits of info on each other.

"You grew up in New Mexico, that's cool...." he said, kissing me again.

"Your Italian? Oh, I can see that..." kissing his neck.


"Do you still play the drums..." His hands on my face.

"From time to time." I said before four men on the other side of the street yelled "GO FOR IT!" and "CAN WE JOIN IN!"

Kissing continued in the bar, in the cab, in the elevator, and a for a few minuets at the hotel (get your heads out of the gutter, I'm a good girl, we were only there to get his bass).

And with a kiss good night and a promise for a proper date the next day, I was...pleasantly psyched...

The next day we agreed to meet up in Brooklyn were he lives and he was going to cook me dinner. This impressed me and I looked forward to getting to know him a little bit better, and uh, not in a bar.

He meet me on the sidewalk down from the train exit. He said he was exhausted and wasn't able to cook dinner, but asked we could go to this restaurant instead.

"Of course" I said. Still looking forward to talking to him.

It was apparent during dinner that he was tired. We ended up talking business (as is the occupational hazard of a music manager going on a date with a musician) for the next 45 min and then the meal came to an end. When the check came I offered to pay for my half.

"Good! He said, "I don't get paid until next week."

Call me old fashion, but when a women that you ask to dinner, takes the train from Manhattan to Brooklyn to meet you for your date- you pay for the dinner.

We walked outside, and I fully expected to hang out a little longer, perhaps changing the conversation to more interesting matters. No such luck.

"Man, I'm realllllly tired...Let's call it a night." He said leaning in to give me a kiss and hug.

I leaned away from him. "Oh, O.K. well, good night." I said, a little stunned by the abrupt ending to the evening. I began to walk away.

"Can I at least give you a hug?" He said.

"Um, I'm o.k." As I continued to walk away, with my back toward him.

"Let me walk you to the subway..." He said, he was trying.

"You know, I've got it. Thanks, and it was nice meeting you." I walked toward the Subway, disappointed with evening.

I sat on the Q train going over the Manhattan bridge and received a call from him. He didn't understand my abrupt departure, and wondered what he had done wrong. I appreciated his call, but If he didn't have a clue now, not much hope him catching on down the road.

Matt said to me, "He didn't know what he did wrong...hilarious. Man, some guys really don't have a clue. And why did he tell you all that stuff about cheating on his girlfriend on the road...keep your mouth shut dude."

Matt and I order a second round. He saw me looking at the bartender.

"You think he's cute don't you?" Matt said.

"No, well, a little. It's no big deal, aparently I have a crush on the world these days." I said drinking my margarita.

"He probably thinks I'm your boyfriend." Matt said.

"I know! Your totally cock blocking me!!!" I said jokingly.

"Oh, my God! Cock blocking Maya is BAD! I better correct that." and with that statement, Matt stood on his bar stool and shouted, "I just want everyone to know in this bar, that Maya is NOT MY GIRLFRIEND, I repeat, NOT MY GIRLFRIEND. We are JUST FRIENDS!"

And with that, I smacked my head.

"Damn Matt, you are the worse wing man..."

Good times.