http://www.jennysaldana.com/img-lib/fav.png http://www.jennysaldana.com http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php A blog by actress/writer Jenny Saldana Sat, 05 May 2012 07:53:49 +0000 http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss en-us Jenny Saldana Sat, 05 May 2012 07:53:49 +0000 Like most generations X-ers I discovered the Beastie Boys when "You Gotta Fight For Your Right" was in HEAVY rotation on MTV. Yes, there was a time when MTV played music videos all day, every day. Back then I fell in love with them not just because I had a crush on the cute one (The King Ad Rock) as did Molly Ringwald but because they represented NYC a place my parents had just kidnapped me from and relocated me to Boring ass Miami as my adolescent mind saw it back then. "you see..." I could say to my friends who didn't get me cause I tawked like dis, wore Lee jeans and had the baddest, freshest fat laced Nike any fly ass girl from Washington Heights could want back in 1986. They called me a rapper or a "breaker" cause that's how people who rapped or break danced dresses in Miami, they didn't realize that that's how we all dresses in NYC. Besides the Beasties i also liked I Van Halen, Prince, Culture Club and a whole bunch of other 'non' break dance music artists as they called them. As I grew so did the Beasties and their music; yet they didn't feel the need to adapt to the growing trends in music they were always themselves and we adapted to them. I have every album, even the jazz one (bet you didn't even know about that one, it's called "in sounds from way out") and I was always amazed at how they managed to sound fresh and with the times while still sounding like the "three bad brothers [we] know so well." They didn't have to rely on auto-tune, crazy stunts or costumes for us to still love them. We just did. They broke ground with their videos and live performances. Who can forget their performance of "Sabotage" at the MTV music awards when they dressed like the Beatles and played their own instruments? I was expecting them in their costumes from the hysterically genius video. If The King Ad Rock (I still call him by his original name even though he dropped the King years ago, I'm just old school like that) was the cute one, Mike-D the funny one then MCA was the base and the bass. The gravely voice at the bottom of the rhymes that sounded like the only adult in the bunch. As I grew older and The King less cute, MCA became my favorite. I loved everything about him, from the way he held his mic to the suave swagger he had on stage while spitting fire into the speakers to the way he let his grey beard grow in turning him into the sexy intellectual Beastie. He was exactly who he said he was in "So What'cha Want": "Well I'm as cool as a cucumber in a bowl of hot sauce". A few years ago they were going to perform in a NYC summer concert, FINALLY i was going to see my favorite band live; but MCA being diagnosed with salavery gland cancer a few months before made them bow out and Jay-Z stepped in to help his friends. He later wrote about it in his book but has a misprint and said that it was Mike-D who had cancer. I kept meaning to correct him on this point, but sadly I'm sure he now knows. I never saw Michael Jackson perform live. I saw Prince last year and will see Madonna this fall. Those artists along with the Beastie Boys and a few others complete the Holy Grail that is the soundtrack of my youth, and most importantly they continue to be a part of my adult mixed tape. I'll never see the Beasties perform live now, cancer has robbed me of that, but they will forever live in my cassettes, CDs, iPods, and heart that now hurts but is soothes with balms like this: "Dear New York I hope you're doing well / I know a lot's happen and you've been through hell / So, we give thanks for providing a home / Through your gates at Ellis Island we passed in droves" RIP Adam Yauch, you will forever have a license to ill. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=61 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=61 Fri, 24 Feb 2012 08:54:22 +0000 If you don't already know, I am working on a web series called Happy Cancer Chick. It isn't about me, but inspired by me. It's a comedy about life after cancer. Right now we need your support, any donation will help us. We are currently trying to have a premier and have been relying on the kindness of strangers. Now it's time for you, the people we love to help us out. check out our website, www.happycancerchick.com and make a donation, a dedication or just look around. See you on 3/14/12 when we launch my most labored yet loved project to date! http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=60 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=60 Fri, 24 Feb 2012 08:53:51 +0000 If you don't already know, I am working on a web series called Happy Cancer Chick. It isn't about me, but inspired by me. It's a comedy about life after cancer. Right now we need your support, any donation will help us. We are currently trying to have a premier and have been relying on the kindness of strangers. Now it's time for you, the people we love to help us out. check out our website, www.happycancerchick.com and make a donation, a dedication or just look around. See you on 3/14/12 when we launch my most labored yet loved project to date! http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=59 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=59 Thu, 09 Feb 2012 21:42:04 +0000 I was blessed to see Cynthia Nixon in WIT last night courtesy of some comp tickets I was privy to. I won't name names in case the hook up wasn't legit! HA! The first line had me hooked. It was mocking how you people (that's what I call cancer civilians) talk to US (that's what I call people who have had cancer) because you don't know how to act or what to say. You people give us that sideways head and say something like "Hoooow aaaare yoooou?" or "hoooow are yooooou feeeeeeling?" You think you're doing the right thing but you're actually being condescending. After that I was really impressed and in awe of Cynthia Nixon's ability to remember all those lines and big words. Not that I doubt her acting chops but I know she's a cancer survivor herself and chemo brain has turned my brain to mush so I'm often in shock when I see a cancer survivor commit so much to memory. I actually have to dump stuff out of my brain to make room for more now. Ok not really but if you've had chemo you know what I mean. Ok enough about my plug for chemo brain studies, I want to get to the bottom of this point I'm trying to make. While I was watching the play, I was also watching the audience and seeing if they laughed when I laughed. Usually they did but at times I was the only one that had that knowing "HA!" laugh. I knew what was being said because I experienced it. Now there...we're almost at my point. I experienced it so there where moments when I said (not out loud) "nah!" "yeah right" and "really?" I feel that WIT was written EXCLUSIVELY for the enjoyment of YOU PEOPLE. The people still so afraid of the biggest boogie man know to man kind that seeing someone 'battle' it makes you, A: feel better about yourself because thanks to this play you think you'll know how to treat a cancer patient; B: make you wish you NEVER have to know that pain. and C: continue to keep the boogie man myth alive. Cancer has yet to be debunked. Granted, it's still killing thousands of people a year, yes, but that's less than 30 years ago. "You have diabetes" or "you just had a heart attack" won't reduce a grown man to tears; yet just seeing the doctor form the C in their lips will make most buckle. So WIT plays into that. The playwright knows you're scared of cancer, who isn't? I am, but cancer and I have a different relationship now. I identified with WIT, I laughed and I got scared of the thought of having to be in that hospital bed again, but when I walked out I wasn't wiping away tears like you people. I felt empowered that I HAD beat it (so far!!) and can live a normal (for me)life. It made me proud of the work I'm doing with Linda Nieves Powell on our web series, happycancerchick.com and believe it or not, it made me glad I was no longer one of YOU PEOPLE! For you see, cancer has blessed me. Hard for some of you to read but it has. And even though I don't wish it on my worst enemy, I hope that if said enemy ever met cancer they too can find the blessings, the hope and the funny. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=58 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=58 Thu, 09 Feb 2012 21:41:44 +0000 I was blessed to see Cynthia Nixon in WIT last night courtesy of some comp tickets I was privy to. I won't name names in case the hook up wasn't legit! HA! The first line had me hooked. It was mocking how you people (that's what I call cancer civilians) talk to US (that's what I call people who have had cancer) because you don't know how to act or what to say. You people give us that sideways head and say something like "Hoooow aaaare yoooou?" or "hoooow are yooooou feeeeeeling?" You think you're doing the right thing but you're actually being condescending. After that I was really impressed and in awe of Cynthia Nixon's ability to remember all those lines and big words. Not that I doubt her acting chops but I know she's a cancer survivor herself and chemo brain has turned my brain to mush so I'm often in shock when I see a cancer survivor commit so much to memory. I actually have to dump stuff out of my brain to make room for more now. Ok not really but if you've had chemo you know what I mean. Ok enough about my plug for chemo brain studies, I want to get to the bottom of this point I'm trying to make. While I was watching the play, I was also watching the audience and seeing if they laughed when I laughed. Usually they did but at times I was the only one that had that knowing "HA!" laugh. I knew what was being said because I experienced it. Now there...we're almost at my point. I experienced it so there where moments when I said (not out loud) "nah!" "yeah right" and "really?" I feel that WIT was written EXCLUSIVELY for the enjoyment of YOU PEOPLE. The people still so afraid of the biggest boogie man know to man kind that seeing someone 'battle' it makes you, A: feel better about yourself because thanks to this play you think you'll know how to treat a cancer patient; B: make you wish you NEVER have to know that pain. and C: continue to keep the boogie man myth alive. Cancer has yet to be debunked. Granted, it's still killing thousands of people a year, yes, but that's less than 30 years ago. "You have diabetes" or "you just had a heart attack" won't reduce a grown man to tears; yet just seeing the doctor form the C in their lips will make most buckle. So WIT plays into that. The playwright knows you're scared of cancer, who isn't? I am, but cancer and I have a different relationship now. I identified with WIT, I laughed and I got scared of the thought of having to be in that hospital bed again, but when I walked out I wasn't wiping away tears like you people. I felt empowered that I HAD beat it (so far!!) and can live a normal (for me)life. It made me proud of the work I'm doing with Linda Nieves Powell on our web series, happycancerchick.com and believe it or not, it made me glad I was no longer one of YOU PEOPLE! For you see, cancer has blessed me. Hard for some of you to read but it has. And even though I don't wish it on my worst enemy, I hope that if said enemy ever met cancer they too can find the blessings, the hope and the funny. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=57 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=57 Tue, 03 Jan 2012 22:01:39 +0000 6 years ago today used a doctor’s appointment as an excuse to leave work early, and headed for the Oyster Bar at Grand Central Terminal for Blue Points and Cosmos at noon. Hey it was happy hour somewhere. In the past 72 months I added medical terms to my lexicon that now roll trippingly off my tongue. In the past 313 weeks I lost an innocence and gained a pair I never knew I had. In the past 2,191 days I reinvented myself without losing who I really am. In the past 52,584 hours I rebuilt my entire bra wardrobe. In the past 3,155,040 minutes I wrote 2 plays; co-produced 3 theatre festivals; took a Mediterranean cruise; launched my website; got an agent; lost a boob and my hair; got my SAG card; inspired a web series; toured colleges; finally started to make money from my art; won and lost big in Vegas and AC; cried too many tears; laughed during many inappropriate moments; been scared out of my socks; became fearless; turned PINK; became RED and touched A LOT OF BOOBS. 189,302,400 seconds ago I heard: “You have cancer” http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=56 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=56 Mon, 02 Jan 2012 21:34:54 +0000 Ambitious, courageous, filled with passion and love Sparkling eyes, flowing hair, beauty of a white dove Her world is enigmatic, feisty is her soul Deep is her mind, heart made of gold At first she screamed in rage and wanted to blame it She then gathered herself, named it, fought it, tamed it Things are different now because she promised to change it Her spirit, drive and internal fire will always remain lit Dance Jenny...dance http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=55 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=55 Thu, 01 Dec 2011 12:04:11 +0000 These are things I know to be true, but not necessarily from personal experience!: 1. EVERYBODY looks good naked. Especially if everybody IS naked. 2. A lot of people are one paycheck away from turning a trick or committing a crime. (Yes I know that turning a trick IS a crime, but you know what I mean!) 3. Everyone has tasted a booger and know what their own ass smells like. 4. No matter what's going on in your life, you have that moment when you realize that it'll all still go on without you. 5. If you build it, they WONT come. They'll SAY they'll come, they'll LIKE it on Facebook, they'll tell everyone ELSE that they HAVE To come, BUT THEY WONT COME!! http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=54 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=54 Thu, 20 Oct 2011 13:42:42 +0000 I was just passed up for a national commercial that wanted REAL cancer survivors. I should have be a shoe-in, right? WRONG! I went into the casting looking hot, the cleavage was showing, but not too much to offend, the gams were on display, I was speaking in my non-threatening non regional accented voice (read: NOT GHETTO) the hair was great and the smile was a million watts. As I'm waiting my turn they call the older gentleman sitting next to me in for his taping, a few minutes later the casting director comes out in tears looking for a box of tissues because "all these stories are killing me, I can't stop crying!" "If you cry with me it'll be through laughter" I thought to myself. "Jenny! You're next, come on in! Tell me a little bit about yourself and when you were diagnosed..." I know the drill. I begin to talk about how I left Clairol and decided to pursue my passion of acting and comedy writing; how I now work with newly diagnosed Latinas and give back to my community; how everyone is always shocked when I tell them I've had a mastectomy: how I thought stage one was chemo and popsicles like Samantha in Sex and the City, and of course I round it out with the story of my mom saying my breast should've been reconstructed from my butt since I have so much I have left overs. I KILLED! I felt like Chris Rock after an AMAZING set. My one woman audience (looking at me through the camera) was rolling with laughter and commended me on 'being able to laugh at all of this!" After a few days the narrowed their search and told me to keep the dates open. I'VE GOT THIS was all I kept thinking. Yesterday I find out that they only picked one person from NY and it obviously wasn't me. HAPPY DOESN'T SELL COPY!!! This exactly what I said about New York magazine after they printed this picture of me in their 'Cancer-The Survivors' monologue' issue (http://nymag.com/news/features/2007/cancer/32123/index2.html ) I was furious at the picture they selected, I knew that I had taken many pictures of my smiling, laughing and looking happy aka looking like MYSELF. Instead they picked a picture that made me look not like a cancer survivors who is thriving and happy and excelling but as a cancer VICTIM. I wrote them a letter telling them this and they published it in the following issue they also sent me a framed copy of one of the 'happy' shots they had taken of me. THANKS! Why wasn't that picture good enough for your story? Because happy doesn't sell copy. I am convinced that society doesn't want to see or hear a story about cancer that's funny AND uplifting. They want to see that you survived but they'll feel better if you still looked a little bit pityful. Unless you're famous. If a famous person gets cancer they are FORCED to act like it's all good and never show fear, or dispair. Like when they shove the camera in their faces after someone ELSE wins the OSCAR. Just smile and pretend you're happy for the other guy. They're super humans and they'll beat this so why shouldn't they be smiling and telling Matt Lauer that they feel GREAT even when the dark circles under their eyes tell us different. Last year I was invited to the NY Jets game with a bunch of happy beautiful survivors, only lucky survivor was going to get picked to go on the field and do the coin toss. Who do you think they picked? The BALD survivor! Guess she looked more cancer-y. I wasn't mad I didn't get picked because my friend and I got to sneak into the VIP lounge that was ON THE FIELD and had open bar! But I would've killed to pat Mark Sanchez on the bum and wish him a good game. Sometimes I think I'm doing the cause a disservice by being happy and funny. People look at me as their breast cancer point of reference. Yes, if God forbit they end up with breast cancer they hope they end up like me. But since they can't even think about that possibility they just think that it can't be that bad if I'm this happy and look normal. Why should they give money, time or a shit about a disease that can still allow Jenny to wear a low cut dress? I hate that I'm their only point of reference. I wish they could see the women I see every day struggling to stay alive. Waiting for their hair to grow, hoping this new chemo will work, knowing that that chemo was their last chance. Looking at their children wondering who's going to care for them when... I once had an audience memeber come up to my after seeing my play, PINK: The Chronicles of BC Jenny and she said "I loved your story, but I didn't laugh at you like they did." She actually thought the audience was laughing AT me and she was making sure I knew she wasn't like them. Cancer is so scary that she refused to laugh at a hysterical play (if I do say so myself!). When it comes to cancer the media wants to tug at your heart not tickle your funny bone, which I think is a sad thing. Again, unless you're a celebrity, then you're supposed to look even hotter than you did before cancer, and they never get chemo or have mastectomies. THANK YOU WANDA SYKES and MELISSA ETHRIDGE!!! Don't take my laughter for dismissal or denial of what happened to me. Cancer is the WORST thing that has ever happened to me and I don't wish it on my worst enemy (Sherri Sheapard). There is plenty of sadness in my cancer journey. The saddest being that I had a cancer journey. I went bankcrupt because of cancer. I still have some physical limitations that keep me from doing certain things (mostly pole dancing, but STILL!). I still cry. I still mourn and long for my God given right breast. Every day I live with the fear that it's cancer has the home field advantage in my body. It can come back without warning and rape me all over again. Cancer of any kind is rape, it is a violation of our bodies and there's always that little part of us that tries to figure out what we did wrong to let it happen to us. Even though I can't prove it, I'm pretty sure the survivors they picked for this commercial will have 'heartfelt' stories that will make you cry like a Hallmark commerical for mothers' day cards. My wonderful literary agent, Rene is having a hard time selling my book. Someone told him it doesn't have heart. BULL. It doesn't have society's 'safe' version of a survivor which is just happy to be alive but looking like crap! Inspiring and so deep! Boy did she suffer! WELL I DID suffer! The book does have heart! If I was already well known (read: FAMOUS) my book would be considered 'hillarious,' 'different,' 'brave' and 'will changed people's attitude towards cancer. Since I'm not famous yet, I guess I'll have to change people's attitude towards cancer one joke at a time. I want all my cancer DIVAS (Eileen, Luana, Camille, Julia, Jenny (not me), fabulous WARRIOR sisters to stand up, look hot and show the world how it's really done! http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=53 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=53 Wed, 29 Jun 2011 14:06:27 +0000 I'm a hater. I know I am. Here is a list of some of my HATES. I hate that #SherriShepherd is on THE VIEW when that's CLEARLY my seat. I hate it when people call OBVIOUSLY ugly women beautiful just because they're famous. I hate it when a man doesn't let me off the elevator first, please don't give me the whole feminist rant, just because I'm a feminist doesn't mean I don't appreciate manners. All my butch lesbians friends (helloooo ladies!) let me out first and open car door for me so why can't men? I hate the fact that I think #SarahPalin is smoking hot. If I went that way I would totally let her cougar me. I hate that my book hasn't sold yet. But I know it will. I hate that I always have a good time in LA, because as a true New Yorker I actually HATE LA. I hate that we've become a country of such politically correct cry babies that if someone would try to remake #Maude or #AllInTheFamily no network would touch them with a ten foot pole for fear of offending someone. I hate that we stop teaching our kids that "sticks and stones may break my bones but WORDS CAN NEVER HURT ME!" Please don't lecture me about bullying. If you do, I'll beat you up. I HATE CANCER (you know that was coming!) I hate both of my 4th toes, my hands, my thunder thighs and my handwriting. I hate that I've become that person that rather text than talk, especially since everyone knows I can't shut up. I hate that more people DONT READ MY BLOG!!!!! http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=52 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=52 Tue, 21 Jun 2011 13:11:12 +0000 Last week I wrote about how now, 5 years later after hearing 'you have cancer' I look back at the big C less. This week I had a cancer scare that had me not only looking back but running from it. I had to have a bone scan because I have had a 'mystery' pain in hip for a while now. The oncologist said that a bone scan would let us know if the cancer decided to pop up there, this was on a Thursday, I couldn't have the scan until Monday. Alone and scared I chose to only tell my other siblings in cancer. I didn't want to alarm anyone else. My cancer family would understand and they did. I told two cancer civilians, because they could tell there was something wrong with me when we spoke. For those of us who know the C monster, we understand that every ache every rash every twitch makes us think it came back, we don't like to admit that, but it's true. I walked into the nuclear medicine department of NY Presbyterian and had an immediate flashback to the last time I had been in that department; day before my mastectomy. That day, I was with my father. This day I was all alone. It reminded me of that line in Dr. Seuss' Oh The Places You'll Go: "Sometime alone is something you'll be quite a lot, whether you like it or not." As I laid on that gurney waiting to get my bones scanned, I cried. I didn't cry for myself. I knew the routine and if I had to do it again I was ready for chemo and whatever else they wanted to shoot into or cut outta me. I cried for my family, for my boyfriend for my friends. How could I drag them into this again? How awful for them. If this thing had come back I would've failed them, you my readers and anyone else who every thought I was a role model. It was at that moment that no matter how far removed you are from your diagnosis, you never really beat this monster. I joke in my play, PINK: The Chronicles of BC Jenny that the only way we beat cancer is if something else kills us. This is so true. When do we beat cancer? Even if it never comes back you keep worrying that it MIGHT. My scan was clean and I thank God for that. I feel like I got a brand new lease on life, like I was spared from the chair...like a SURVIVOR!!! http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=51 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=51 Wed, 15 Jun 2011 13:53:04 +0000 I've never been bullied. Yes, I know that makes me very blessed but honestly I never have been. With all the bullying in the news lately I've been thinking about that a lot. If I wasn't bullied, is there a possibility that I WAS the bully? How is that possible? -I never beat anyone up, I fight like a girl who can't fight. -I've never teased anyone about their looks, I figured ugly people have it bad enough as it is. -I never took anyone's lunch money, but I did strongly suggest that they buy ME lunch with it. It's not my fault they actually did it. I can't fight remember. -There was that time I outed my friend in front of the Chest King at International Mall in Miami.... -Or the time I made everyone leave my house because I wanted to watch Grease instead of Dirty Dancing.... -Or the time I made a woman give me the key chain sized Etch a Sketch cause I wanted one. I didn't tell her to give me her's I just said "where did you get that, I want it." She gave it up. I still don't think those things make me a bully. I think I just look menacing! http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=50 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=50 Wed, 15 Jun 2011 12:40:20 +0000 On January 4th 2011, I turned 5 years old. Not in age, even though I can vividly remember what I wore on at my 5th birthday party. I always remember events by what I wore, which makes it easy to know if I'm wearing something too much. No, On 1/4/11 I became 5 years cancer free! WOW! I never thought I'd get here when I can still hear Dr. Joseph's voice over the phone when she said "this is a cancer" like it was yesterday. A lot has happened in those five years: -We have a new president -We killed Bin Laden (allegedly, haha) -Facebook was born -Myspace died -I had a mastectomy, reconstruction and chemo -I now have SOME gray -I know things I don't wish on my worst enemy -I quit the corporate world -I'm working on a book (allegedly!) -I wrote 2 plays and produced/directed 6 -I'm the poorest I've ever been, but probably the happiest -I went from a size 6 to 8 to 10 to 4 One of the things that hasn't changed is my hate and fear of cancer. It'll always be just a few steps behind me and I'll always wonder if it'll ever catch up to me again. The only thing the 5 years has done for me is make me not think about it as much. Yes, it's a few steps behind me, but now, I don't look back as much. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=49 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=49 Wed, 15 Jun 2011 12:01:32 +0000 I've never lied about my age, never had to. I always found it downright silly when women didn't tell their age or were coy about it. It just made me feel that they were actually a LOT older than I had imagined. So I never thought that turning 40 would affect me like it did. It actually started at 39. Knowing that I was no longer going to be in my 30's was sad. I hadn't done a lot of the things I thought I'd accomplish by then, including but not limited to: 1. Owning a Chanel bag 2. Meeting Bill Clinton 3. Finishing and publishing my book 4. Being married or at least engaged 5. Having abs of steel It wasn't that now all of a sudden I couldn't accomplish these things, it's just that it wouldn't be in my young ingenue 30's. Ok I was far from an ingenue in my 30's but STILL! When my boyfriend and best president on my lifetime, Bill Clinton turned 60, he said that I was used to always being the youngest in the room, and now he wasn't and he didn't like it. That's exactly how I felt when the big 4-0 hit. I no longer wanted to state my age, because I don't look forty but once I put it out there I will be treated like I'm forty. I'll get ma'am-ed! How could you ma'am me? I go to Jay-Z concerts....WAIT he's almost 42! Well you can't ma'am someone who knows all the words to the Beastie Boys' Paul Revere (maybe Sarah Palin should've been getting her Paul Revere history lesson from that song!)...ok that album's almost 30 years old. Well you definitely can't ma'am someone buys her clothes at the holy trinity of The Gap/Old Navy and Banana Republic, can you? 40 hit me hard, but I've eased into it now. I feel wise, sophisticated, and smoking HOT! 40's not so bad after you get used to it, and I'm loving being a MILF: Ma'am I'd Like to F**k http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=48 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=48 Tue, 17 Nov 2009 16:45:03 +0000 New guidelines came out today that state women shouldn't get mammograms until they turn 50. I realize that this is for women who DO NOT have a family history or are at high risk, but it still doesn't make me feel better. I'm angry about this. This is only going to allow the insurance companies to deny more mammograms and other breast screenings. What’s wrong insurance companies? Are too many women surviving? The argument is that 50% of the women who got mammograms didn’t need them and a lot had unnecessary biopsies. I’ve been biopsied and it’s not fun, but guess what; I would’ve loved for my biopsy to have been a false alarm. I felt something, and it grew and grew yet I was still told I was TOO YOUNG to get checked. I was dismissed as just a paranoid young woman; they implied that I was taking up resources NEEDED by women older than me. This is often the case with young women because we're not SUPPOSE to get breast cancer, right? I was the first person I ever met with breast cancer and I was WAY UNDER 40. So were Julia, Camille, Eileen, Jenna, Jennifer, and so many other women I have had the pleasure of meeting through this sorority we were all forced to join. Yes, younger breasts have denser tissue and can cause false positive mammos (in my case it gave false negative results). This is not reason enough not to find the adequate screening tools. There is no official method of screening for women under 40 and this too, is sad. It leads to women being treated like I was for over a year before someone was finally concerned with the mass that had turned my breast rock hard and the discharged that stained numerous bras. It is a FACT that younger women diagnosed with breast cancer have lower survival rate because early detection is not available to us and therefore by the time the cancer is diagnosed it can be in advanced stages. Since breast cancer is the second leading cancer death after lung cancer for women, shouldn't screening be available to ALL women? Don't get me started on the whole "self breast exams are not necessary” IF I hadn't felt my lump I wouldn't be here to write this. “KNOW YOUR BODIES!!” is all I have to say. Know what’s normal for you, and if something feels out of the ordinary YELL! Yell until someone listens. Once again I feel defeated as a cancer patient. Just when I think we're making progress, something like this happens and I feel I did that day when I heard the words that have changed my life: YOU HAVE CANCER. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=47 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=47 Sat, 03 Oct 2009 10:27:16 +0000 Just because I think I'm THAT interesting I will tell you something new about my self every week (or until I get bored) Here's this week's entry: I've googled myself and I liked it. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=46 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=46 Sat, 03 Oct 2009 10:27:00 +0000 Just because I think I'm THAT interesting I will tell you something new about my self every week (or until I get bored) Here's this week's entry: I've googled myself and I liked it. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=45 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=45 Tue, 22 Sep 2009 18:50:07 +0000 I HAVE to unclutter my life! Starting with my apartment. I used to like to believe that I was so creative because I was so messy, my left brain just didn't have time for organizing. But now I feel the walls closing in on me and I need to do something QUICK! Now that I will be making most of my money from freelance work and a steady paycheck is no longer a luxury I need to keep track of all of my crap. I bet I have a ton of Ebay money just on my bookshelves alone but I just dont know how to do that or where to start. How much money should I ask for a paperback copy of THE GOD FATHER? http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=44 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=44 Tue, 15 Sep 2009 21:41:38 +0000 Even though I knew Patrick Swayze had one of the most deadliest cancers known to mankind I wasn't read for him to go. Farah prepared us with her documentary, as terrible as it may sound I was waiting for the awful news that she would pass. Patrick's passing comes just days after my close friend lost her mother to cancer and I begin my college tour of my breast cancer play. In my favorite play, "A Streetcar Named Desire" Blanche yells at Stella, "funerals are pretty compared to deaths." After having gone to visit my friend's mother while she was in hospice waiting to pass on I saw how true those words are. I think that seeing Patrick survive so long with this type of cancer gave me some kind of false hope and that he'd be a miracle, you see, in the cancer world we HAVE to believe in miracles not only because we feel that we're living, breathing, walking miracles but because we have to believe that the next guy will be too. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=43 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=43 Mon, 08 Jun 2009 09:58:59 +0000 As I get older I realize that my circle of friends is getting smaller. I see people fall off the carousel that is my life and me falling off of theirs. The funny thing is that I think I'm hurt about the loss until I realize that if they really mattered they wouldn't be on the fringe of my circle. Sometimes we have to accept that some friendships have an expiration date. They served their purpose in your life, they pushed your story forward and you theirs and now it's time to reflect and realize that you've out grown each other. There are those friends that I try to reach out to, that I make the effort to stay connected and it is them who do not return the effort, this is more obvious now that I'm doing a lot more stuff that requires support from my friends. Facebook gives people the chance to make empty promises, you click on the "attending" button to an event not relaizing that someone on the other end REALLY wants you to be there. That they invited you for a reason and that if you can't attend saying so doesn't make you a bad friend, infact I rather you say you can't (no explainaiton needed) than not respond to the event at all. I'm rambling, I know but this came to mind now that I'm in the middle of the Ultimate Latina Theatre Festival. There were so many people I WANTED to see at my show. I wrote the show for them, to entertain them and they didn't give me the courtesy of even saying "No". We are still promoting the festival and there are PLENTY of shows to see, "Especially Sex Lies and Adam &Eve" many have been invited but few have responded. We hope to see you there, if not we hope to see you soon. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=42 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=42 Sat, 16 May 2009 09:04:58 +0000 I’m watching Farrah’s Story. Farrah, the beautiful poster girl of what I thought ‘Americana’ was when I first came to this country. Farrah was the one Angel we all wanted to be. Who wanted to be the other two? Not me, I wanted to be Farrah she had the biggest hair and I have always been a big hair girl. Texas Pageant hair I call it, and I love it. Farrah is battling the fight of her life and documenting every step of the way. I have been pretty clam during most of this, sharing knowing smiles with Farrah as she talked through the TV to me and wiping a few rogue tears that escaped me. At about the hour and thirty minute mark, Farrah goes back to the doctor to find out that the cancer has come back. She was celebrating being tumor free, went to Mexico partied with her girlfriends and was now slapped with the reality that she was still fighting. I’ll never forget the moment I thought cancer had come back into my life. I had a pain I was ignoring under my new breast. It was hard to inhale at times because of this pain but I ignored it. Finally, I complained to a co-worker and they told me to call my oncologist. I called and instead of saying, come see me in a few days. She said, “Come now.” Come now? The George Costanza in me said: Why didn’t I get a ‘get outta here’? That’s what a doctor’s suppose to say, Cancer? Get outta here! I ran to the hospital and was told I was going to get a chest scan. I sat in the basement of the hospital, on a metal bench, surrounded by yellow tiled walls and florescent lights, alone; more alone than I had ever been in my life. I cried the sobs rocked my body in a 40 below weather. I noticed how people walked around me, in there world, not noticing the crying girl or better yet, choosing to ignore her. The world is going on around me, and I’m dying, I thought. YOU STUPID, STUPID GIRL, I yelled at myself in my head. How dare you think you could beat this? How stupid are you for celebrating small victories, for talking like you could actually make a difference. So now here it is again and it’s gonna kill me. I felt so defeated, I had lost. It really did have the home field advantage. My body was being threatened, invaded and I couldn’t do anything about it, I thought. I can only imagine that that’s how Farrah felt when she was told there was ‘new activity’. It turns out I was wearing a bra too tightly and because I have to different shaped breasts I really need customized bras with two different cup sizes, but who can afford that if insurance doesn’t cover it? I have yet to feel like that again, but I know that unfortunately someday I probably will. You see, now that cancer knows me it, it can visit whenever it wants. It won’t knock, it won’t ask permission to enter and it won’t leave quietly. But neither will Farrah and neither will I. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=41 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=41 Fri, 15 May 2009 20:05:48 +0000 We are working on a comedic theatrical project called MOMS CONFIDENTIAL and we need your help. We all know that motherhood is one of the hardest and most rewarding jobs a woman will ever have. There are dark sides to motherhood that we feel many women are afraid to reveal for fear of being considered a bad parent. We would like to hear about those sides. If you would be willing to share your very personal experiences, thoughts and insights we would like you to fill out a questionnaire. Some questions will be VERY difficult to answer so please be brutally honest and detailed in your answers. Again, the responses you provide will be confidential and anonymous so please be honest. No one story will be used instead we will create characters based on several stories. There will be absolutely no judgment since there is no right or wrong answer. We just want to hear your stories. If you are interested please email me at: jenny@jennysaldana.com http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=40 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=40 Mon, 02 Mar 2009 15:44:36 +0000 It had been a little bit over a month since I had had my surgery. I was walking upright, slowly but upright. I no longer required a 24/7 babysitter but that didn’t stop the army of people who invaded my tiny apartment. I had an appointment to meet with Dr. Oncologist to see if I’d have to do chemo. I was sure I didn’t have to since Dr. _______ said she got all the cancer out and I was ready to ‘graduate’ from cancer. To read the rest of this go to: http://miapogeo.com/main/content/view/789/1384/ http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=39 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=39 Wed, 18 Feb 2009 12:50:13 +0000 I'm sure you're all tired of 25 random things that you really don't actually care about. So here's one random thing about me: I've dated a Pierre, a Jean-Paul and an Olivier and not ONE of them was French! http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=38 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=38 Sun, 15 Feb 2009 08:53:22 +0000 I had my annual mammogram this past Friday. Mammograms cause me tons of anxiety. Not so much because they HURT LIKE HELL but because I had three mammograms that told me I was fine when I indeed have cancer. But as part of my cancer treatment I must have an annual mammogram. I go and sit in the waiting room and once again I'm the youngest by 20 years. I'm given a piece of paper that I must confirm is accurate it says my name, date of birth and in big bold letter: RIGHT SIDE MASTECTOMY 1/25/06. That's who I am to these people, I'm Miss. RSM. I initial the paper, sit down and even though I TRY not to, I think of the day I sat in that very waiting room back when I was just Jenny and shed a little tear that I quickly whipe away as my name is called again. This time it's to confirm my insurance information and when the nice lady behind the counter returns my card she says "go to room 1034 and change from the waist up. Good Luck honey!". GOOD LUCK? What does that mean? Good luck hope you don't have cancer or good luck with the rest of your life or what the hell? If I had good luck I wouldn't be getting premature mammograms. I'm STILL not old enough to get them. I go, change and now I'm in another waiting room watching Regis and Kelly with a bunch of women who don't speak English and are all old enough to be my mother or grandmother. They're ALL complaining about having to have the mammo, they all are sharing mis information about cancer and it's treatment. I'm reading my book and listening to my IPod trying to ignore them but I can't. I knew none of them knew I was Miss RSM they all looked at me as if wasn't supposed to be there. I'm not. I still to young to keep their company. Most importantly I knew all of them were cancer civilians. "I bet the mammogram machine is what give it to you!" "Yes, that's what I heard too and they make us come here to get squeezed probably giving it to us." "My friend says it's the deodorant" "I knew a girl who got it at 39! Can you beleive that? 39" I was losing my mind so I finally say: I got it at 34!, the machine doesn't GIVE it to you and deodorant hasn't been proven! Be glad that they're checking you and be glad that you have both of your breasts" Silence. My name is called and they wish me luck, again what the hell is that? Why am I surrounded with insensitive assholes today? These women were ignorant and it's a cultural thing so I gave them a little pass but the tech should've known better. She calls me into the room, I can see my chart on a computer screen that's mounted on the wall and I see in bold letters again: LEFT SIDE MAMMOGRAPHY. She asks 'are we only doing one side?" Yes. Did you have surgery on that side. No. I had a right side mastectomy. I show her my tummy tit and I felt less than I felt dammaged. Why did she make me show her? Why didn't this bitch just read the writting on the wall, literally. Right before she smashes my breast she wishes me luck. I'm beyond luck at this momment, I start to feel that luck's never known me. This was the most painful mammogram ever. When we're done I have to go sit with the spanish peanut gallery again, they all look up at me, and I see it: PITY. SHUT UP I wanted to yell at them even though they said nothing. My name is called again and I get a piece of paper that says 'no change since last mammogram. Follow up in one year" That translates to " you're still cancer free, for now." When I call my best friend to tell her about my day, I don't get into the details of the tech and the peanut gallery because she's a civilian and she won't get it. She did ask me a question about the actual mammo and I said, 'well you know how it is.' And she said, No I can't get them yet. Good luck! http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=37 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=37 Thu, 05 Feb 2009 19:23:01 +0000 Please go read my latest article and please leave a comment on that website: http://miapogeo.com/main/content/view/720/1310/ http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=36 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=36 Tue, 27 Jan 2009 09:37:00 +0000 Go check out my latest article: http://miapogeo.com/main/content/view/690/1280/ http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=35 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=35 Tue, 27 Jan 2009 09:30:03 +0000 I was inspired by my friend David to write these. They are NOT in order of strangeness. 1. I've dated TWO (that's 1, 2) Men named Yancey! I have yet to meet another Yancey since. 2. When I was a kid I saw Sybil on TV and wanted to have multiple personalities, so I got all dressed up in crazy clothes and kept telling my parents I was 'the other one'. I did this for days. 3. I have a crush on Rahm Emanuel, I have no idea why, I don't think he's attractive, but there's something about him..... 4. While on a cruise in Europe with my parents, I tried to order room service and have it delivered to the hallway because I knew my parents were already asleep and I was a little 'tipsy' (they didn't deliver to the hallway) 5. Cancer 6. My sister's name is Jennifer, my name is Jenny but my family calls me Jennylin, my mom's name is Jane but they call her Jenny. My dad's name is.....Karlos. (yes with a K) 7. My apartment's so small I can open the fridge from the bed. 8. My fake name when I don't want you to know my real name is Cathy, unless I'm out with Cathy, then it's Maria. 9. I cut the bridge of my nose with a toilet seat. 10. A frozen chicken broke my 4th toe on my left foot. 11. When I first moved to this country I thought JFK airport was THE national airport since I came from a small island that at the time probably only had one international airport. So I thought everyone had to drive to JFK to get to another part of the world. 12. I had a crush on Gopher. 13. College didn't teach me half of what TV did. 14. I've called my dad by his first name since I was 12. 15. I wrote a letter to the mother of my favorite Menudo professing my undying love for him. 16. I once sat outside the Krispy Kreme in Miami waiting for the "hot donut' sign to light up and then I ran in and ate hot out of the oven donuts! 17. I used to take naps under my desk at work, just like Costanza. 18. I once saw Teddy Pendergrass come out of one of those tricked out handycaped vans and I yelled "LOVE TKO!, LOVE TKO!" He ran away from me. Well, he rolled away from me. 19. I used to think TKO meant "total knock out" 20. I used to condition my hair with mayo. 21. I've never played on a slip and slide. 22. When I was a kid I used to eat Vicks Vapor Rub and I never got colds. 23. I wanted to go to Clown College. 24. I got really sick with pnumonia and was hospitalized in Miami while on vacation. When I was going back to NYC I got on the plane and asked the flight attendant to give me oxygen. I didn't know this would cause a panic, they called EMS I was sitting in the back of the plane they ran in and asked me if I was OK. I said yes, that I just got out of the hospital and thought oxygen would be a good idea but that we could just forget about it and leave. The pilot kicked me out of the plane. 25. I think I do a great impression of a drunk Jerry Hall but I probably suck. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=34 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=34 Mon, 19 Jan 2009 14:16:56 +0000 Go check out my latest article http://miapogeo.com/main/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=653&Itemid=1248&mosmsg=Thanks+for+your+vote%21 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=33 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=33 Wed, 07 Jan 2009 14:34:39 +0000 As written on miapogeo.com http://miapogeo.com/main/content/view/627/1216/ Go leave a comment on miapogeo.com I woke up on January 25th 2006 with a lot of energy. One of my best friends had spent the night and the other one was on her way to meet us. The one that spent the night had made pink tank tops for all of us that read “I love Jenny’s Boobies!” on the back and our names on the front. I threw it over a pink bra that I would never fit into after that day along with my pink PITT panther paws on the butt sweatpants, my pink cashmere zip up hoodie and my pink Nikes. My boyfriend was picking us up and taking us to the hospital. My dad who had flown in the day before from Miami was staying at my aunt’s and they and the family entourage would meet us there. The day before I went to the hospital and they shot radio-active goop into my right breast that would stick to anything that is cancerous, I was dying to walk under black light to see if I glowed in the dark. I was told to stop eating and drinking at 9pm the night before so I ordered a big meal from the Dominican restaurant, yellow rice, red beans and pepper steak, salad and homemade limeade. They also told me that I should be in surgery at 9am so I wouldn’t suffer too long without food or water. When we get to the hospital we are about 15 people deep and the surgery waiting room becomes our office. We laughed and took pictures and waited. “Jenny!” my name is called and I’m told that I have to change into my hospital clothes which consisted of two hospital gowns one with the opening in the back then the other on top of it with the opening in the front. I change and am moved to the ‘prep’ room away from my posse. “They can visit you in here, just two at a time, ok. You have too many people out there.” The first duo in: Dad and boyfriend. Hi dad, meet my boyfriend, this was the first time they met, how awkward for them. I felt terrible for the both of them I wish it had been under better conditions but they hit it off fine. Baseball is a universal language. It was noon, I was still in the prep room and I still couldn’t eat or drink and even though I was scheduled for 9am. Dr.________ comes to visit to tell me that Dr. Plastic Surgeon had an emergency surgery and we’d be starting late, we just don’t know what time that will be. Finally Dr. Plastic Surgeon comes in to mark my body, to draw the bull’s eye on the rotten breast; to outline where he will cut into my flesh; to draw lines that will guide him during the surgery. Before the bull’s eye, I had to tell everyone that was coming to check on me that it was the right breast that had to go, they confirmed it on their charts and walked away. Dr. Plastic Surgeon apologizes for the delay and tells me we’ll start in 15 minutes, at 4pm. Wait, I’m not ready! I thought I was but I’m NOT READY TO GIVE UP MY BREAST! No one heard the yeller in my head; instead someone comes to give me a happy pill to calm my nerves. At this point, as if on death row all of my friends and family are allowed to come see me, to say good bye (you know, just in case it’s the last time). I slowly walk away from them waving at them, like a beauty queen in a blue hairnet and blue tread bottomed socks. I didn’t cry, but I wanted to. The Operating room is just like we all imagine it. Bright, white, sterile and cold. I’m told to strip and lie down on the gurney. They talk all around me, about their days and what they’re gonna do tomorrow (just a day at the office for them, not the day they get amputated) and turn on the radio to keep them motivated, The Pointer Sisters start to sing “Jump for my Love” and I think, is this the last thing I’m gonna hear before I die? “Are you ready, Jenny?” NO!! Of course not! The yeller in my head says. I just nod. “Ok now I want you to count to 10….” I didn’t count, instead I said “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil…” and I drifted off to a 10 hour nap. To be continued…. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=32 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=32 Sun, 04 Jan 2009 10:04:38 +0000 Today, January 4th, 2009 I turn 3 years old. If you had asked me 3 years ago when I was diagnosed with breast cancer that I could laugh at it today, I would've thought you were crazy. I've come a long way, yet not far enough. Part of me would do ANYTHING to go back to Before Cancer Jenny and part of me can't ever immagine being anything other than the Jenny I've become. My scars have faded a little bit more but the pain has yet to subside. Every year that has passed has been a celebration and a question "will it come back this next year?" I have gotten to the point where I rock my scars with pride and self conscienceness all at once. Survivorship is harder than being a patient. I'm constantly looking back and wondering if it's really gone, am I really safe. There was so much comfort in being a patient. I was constantly being looked after, I was monitored and cared for weekly at my now beloved hosptial. So now I'm 3 years down and life to go. I thank God, my doctors and YOU the cancer civilian. I pray that you stay that way forever! http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=31 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=31 Wed, 31 Dec 2008 11:44:35 +0000 1. I mourned my grandmother, Tim Russet and Paul Newman equally. 2. I got laid off from my day job. 3. I didn't buy any designer shoes. 4. I wrote another play. 5. I only went to the movies twice (Batman and Tropic Thunder) 6. I was nominated for the NY Post Liberty Medal of Leadership...and LOST 7. I went to Alcatraz 8. I was in Times Square on November 4th. 9. I launched my website. 10. I turned 37. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=30 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=30 Tue, 23 Dec 2008 13:23:48 +0000 This trip to Miami has given me a new apreciation for this wonderful city that made me a Stingaree. Below, in no order of importance are some random things I forgot I loved about Miami. 1. The weather (I never forgot this one, I'm just loving it even more now that it's snowing in NYC right now) 2. Pollo Tropical (I love those tropic meal combos!) 3. The walk up window at cafeterias with FREE ice cold water for ALL. 4. Spanish, and how we weave it into our everyday speach. 5. Rosi, Evy, Ivette, Marty, Eddy, Johnny, Bain, Angel, Shadow, Bain, Jackie, Bert, Barrie, Chilly, and even Phillipe. 6. Malls. 7. Miami Senior High 8. Tina Turner (if you weren't there then you don't deserve to know) 9. Wal-Mart (we don't have this in NYC) 10. The Cheesecake Factory 11. the weather ( I had to say it twice) I think I love you Miami and I promise to visit more often. BESITOS!!! http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=29 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=29 Tue, 23 Dec 2008 12:17:47 +0000 Go read the latest installment of the PINK Chronicles. http://miapogeo.com/main/content/view/609/1188/ http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=28 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=28 Fri, 12 Dec 2008 13:14:01 +0000 check out my latest article at: http://miapogeo.com/main/content/view/578/1155/ http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=27 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=27 Fri, 05 Dec 2008 12:46:37 +0000 My sister in cancer, Evelyn challenged me to write about this subject. She wanted me to expose the myth and misconception you cancer civilians have about cancer survivorship and its bravery. For me bravery is associated with adrenaline, like the adrenaline rush a person must feel after running into a burning building to save a child, when a matador stares down a bull, or when Superman changed the orbit of the Earth to save Lois. Cancer has yet to have given me an adrenaline rush, yet the minute I was diagnosed all of you cancer civilians put a cape on me. I became a hero and inspiring, someone to admire and someone (even though you would never admit it) to pity. Am I brave because I was forced to face the boogieman most can’t imagine meeting? Brave because I didn’t start digging my own grave? Am I brave because I walked Times Square with a bald head where everyone just thought I was an angry lesbian? That wasn’t brave, brave would’ve been to walk around with a bald head in Peoria or Anytown USA. Am I brave because I held your hand while you cried for me? You call me brave because hearing of my diagnosis FORCES you to think about your mortality. You think “wow, she’s gotta face death, that must be awful, she MUST be strong, brave, a superhero.” I didn’t choose cancer, it chose me. “You beat cancer, Jen!” Really? How did I do that? No one beats cancer, we win small battles and hope you get hit by a bus, because THEN you would’ve beaten cancer, since something else killed you. We’re told we overcome fear by facing it, yet I think I will never overcome cancer. How can I overcome something that I’m told is gone but that a ‘rouge’ cell COULD POSSIBLY be hiding somewhere in my body and come out 5, 10, 35 years from now and kill me. Cancer will forever have the home field advantage in this body and for that I HATE IT. Let’s go back to the matador metaphor. IF I had chosen cancer, said “come here cancer, come get me!” and then beat it, then I’m a superhero, then I earned my cape (now that you gave it to me I’m not giving it back so get over that thought). When asked if I’m cured, I say “I’m currently cancer free” that’s my reality. CURRENTLY cancer free, because no one has EVER been cured of cancer, the day we cure someone of cancer is the day I’ll stop being pink. Please check out the sister blog to this entry at: http://eveonmymind.blogspot.com/ http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=26 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=26 Tue, 02 Dec 2008 16:44:40 +0000 Go check out the latest installment of this series and leave a comment on that site!!! http://miapogeo.com/main/content/view/548/1123/ http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=25 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=25 Wed, 26 Nov 2008 18:22:04 +0000 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=24 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=24 Tue, 25 Nov 2008 19:20:53 +0000 http://miapogeo.com/main/content/view/536/1113/ http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=23 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=23 Tue, 25 Nov 2008 17:41:27 +0000 Yesterday I was asked to be the keynote speaker at the Cervantes Society Awards ceremony. The Cervantes Society is a non profit organization for Latino employees of the unified courts system. Once a year they honor their own, people in the community and give out a scholarship to a deserving college student. I thought I was just going to say my speech and eat their free food and be done with it, maybe get a nice photo op. To my surprise I was one of the honorees. I was giving an award for my work in the community with breast cancer. Thank you Cervantes Society! I am honored and humbled. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=22 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=22 Wed, 19 Nov 2008 19:25:58 +0000 Go check out my latest article! http://miapogeo.com/main/content/view/523/1090/ http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=21 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=21 Wed, 19 Nov 2008 14:21:41 +0000 Don't forget to come check me out tomorrow!!! The C-Word Coming Together Around Cancer November 20, 2008 6:30pm Social hour from 6:30-7 show from 7-9. At The Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual & Transgender Community Center 208 West 13th Street (Between 7th & 8th Aves.), NYC 10011 Please join the Lesbian Cancer Initiative for our fifth annual community-building and networking event, which promises to be an inspiring and informative evening about cancer, survivorship and wellness. Film Screening: A Horse Is Not A Metaphor Award-winning pioneer of queer cinema, Barbara Hammer fights ovarian cancer with visions of horseback riding and river swimming in the screening of her new experimental film, A Horse Is Not A Metaphor. Hammer says that she is a “cancer thriver as well as survivor” in this hopeful and densely layered personal work with music by composer Meredith Monk. There will be a Q&A with the filmmaker following the screening. A Talk With Oncologist Jenny Romero Jenny Romero, MD, Medical Oncologist at The Ralph Lauren Center for Cancer Care, and Clinical Affiliate at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center will offer an interactive presentation about issues and challenges that affect the LBT community in relation to cancer care, survivorship and wellness. Jenny Saldaña, breast cancer survivor, will read a selection of short stories from her cancer experience. In addition, information tables will be set up offering information about cancer and wellness resources. Food, refreshments and giveaways will be provided. FREE The C-Word is supported in part by funding from the Greater New York City Affiliate of Susan G. Komen for the Cure. For more information about the Lesbian Cancer Initiative, please visit www.gaycenter.org/lci http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=20 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=20 Thu, 13 Nov 2008 14:50:50 +0000 http://miapogeo.com/main/content/view/498/1065/ http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=19 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=19 Thu, 13 Nov 2008 14:50:43 +0000 http://miapogeo.com/main/content/view/498/1065/ http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=18 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=18 Tue, 11 Nov 2008 19:12:38 +0000 Hello everyone, We all have a good story to tell about calling a toll-free help line. I'm working on creating a play about call centers. PLEASE give me your best, funniest, scariest or weirdest call center stories. If you've worked (or are currently working) at a call center/help line of ANY kind or even a sex line I know you have plenty to share and I want to hear them. I will be taking from all of your stories, but of course no names will be used. Please send your stories to: jenny@jennysaldana.com THank you! J http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=17 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=17 Wed, 05 Nov 2008 19:23:25 +0000 November 4th 2008 wasn't just a historic day in the world, it was one of the most fun times I had in a long time. I was asked to sit in on a live Podcast recording at the HERE TV. The show is called Bent and my very good friend JC is one of the hosts and yesterday's topic was gay men and their gal pals (that's a nice way of saying Fag Hag). JC and I go way back and it was awesome to be there with him and his co-host, Paul to talk about high school and the roll of a FH. I like to think of it as the roll of the gay man in the DIVA's life but it's not my show.... Please check out BENT on ITunes and download this hilarious and FREE Podcast! Mine won't be available for a few weeks but you need to catch up and get to know my boys. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=16 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=16 Wed, 05 Nov 2008 08:23:53 +0000 'God bless America, land that I love. Stand beside her and guide her....' The alarm went off at 5:30am, but I was up 10 minutes before it. I didn't jump out of bed I just laid there thinking about what the day would be like. I finally bounced out of the bed and threw on a pair of sweats a Kangol and my down vest from the Gap. I then slipped headphones over my ears and got ready to hear the lines for the play I'm in I had recorded so I can better learn them. I knew the line wouldn't be long. Polls opened at 6am and it was 5:45am and my building was my voiting site. All I had to do was go downstairs, but I took the coat just in case the line was longer than I expected. When I got downstairs I found that my building is it's own district and therefore got it's own line. SCORE!!! I was 10th in line and I pull the lever to change history at 6:23am. I then did laundry and watched all the TV I could. The day went really slow for me at first and the knots in my gut only got tighter. I did a lot more of running around (none which included much needed cleaning around the house) and then took a long nap since I knew I'd be up all night. When I walked out onto my street around 9pm it felt like New Years eve. I live in Times Square and the weather was perfect as the crowds cheered everytime Obama got ahead. WOW! I live here! I'm living history right now and I wish I could've shared it with all of my family and friends. I found my way to one of my local spots, the Film Center Cafe. A place where I go for weekend brunch and good converation. My friends where already there and like the action outside everyone was cheering at the TV. UNITED WE STAND DEVIDED WE FALL. I haven't seen us as united for a GOOD cause in a long time. We were united during the attacks but not to celebrate. At 11pm when we saw that the electoral votes for Obama were 289 we all screamed at the top of our lungs. We all huged like it was a new year and we, of course, cried. Never in my lifetime did I think I'd see this day. I'm sorry for those of you that don't understand the meaning of this win for those of us who are minorities. I'm sorry that you think this brought us out because of race and race alone. That is not the truth, yes there were people who voted just for that reason just that reason alone just as there where voters who DIDNT vote for that very reason. Why did I vote for OBAMA? Because my parents came here for a better life. Because I thought Clinton would be the closest thing we'd get to a black president (I still LOVE me some Bill). Because this IS the greatest country in the world where your dreams CAN and DO come true. Negro Spirituals came to mind often last night but I put a modern spin on them: We HAVE overcome. We HAVE overcome TODAY! OH deep in my heart I do believe that we HAVE overcome TODAY! "Lift every voice and sing, til earth and heaven ring. Ring with the harmony of liberty". I am overtaken with emotions right now. We didn't leave our beloved lands in vain!!! http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=15 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=15 Fri, 31 Oct 2008 21:52:01 +0000 I swear like a motherfucking sailor, a fucking angry sailor. I don’t know when or where the fuck I developed such a filthy mouth since I grew up in a Spanish speaking home where my parents didn’t use any of those words and we didn’t have HBO back then. However, I know for a fucking fact that I use four of the Carlin seven at least a thousand times a day. I have to make a fucking effort to NOT swear in mixed company. I don’t swear for shock value or to emphasize emotion; these words are just a fucking part of my life. I don’t understand why motherfuckers are so hung up on those words; I mean what the fuck? I think war, hate, and cancer are much more offensive than the fucking words that pepper my speech. Some of you motherfuckers might find me un lady-like or un refined but I say fuck you, you fucking fuck! I’m a woman that knows how to express herself and isn’t ashamed. I draw the line at my writing. I don’t fucking swear when I write. I know you’re reading all of this and thinking: “this fucking bitch just said she doesn’t fucking swear in her writing and this shit is replete with f-bombs.” I had to make a fucking exception since I need you to hear me telling you this fucking story…asshole! I don’t, however, ever swear in Spanish. That’s just fucking vulgar. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=14 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=14 Fri, 31 Oct 2008 21:39:33 +0000 I’ve seen the Sistine chapel. I’ve sat on the Spanish Steps in Rome. I’ve been to Monte Carlo and visited Grace Kelly’s tomb in Monaco. I’ve sipped wine in Santorini while overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. I touched one of the Doric columns at the Parthenon (you’re not suppose to touch them, so a woman blew a whistle at me.) while in Athens. Went to Malta and even saw a falcon there. I’ve walked on Cancun’s, Punta Cana’s, Puerto Rico’s and South Beach’s white sand. I’ve been to the top of the Space Needle and rode a streetcar in Frisco (it wasn’t named Desire like I had hoped.) I’ve seen the mighty redwoods in California, the majestic glaciers in Alaska and the beauty that is the Grand Canyon. I’ve bought spices in Nice, and saw Michelangelo’s Pietà at Saint Peter’s Basilica. I stood on the outfield turf at Three Rivers Stadium and saw many a game at the Orange Bowl. I’ve seen the Liberty Bell, the Hollywood sign, the Washington Monument and the Smithsonian. I’ve had chowdah in Bawston and peaches in Atlanta. I’ve won big in both Atlantic City and Vegas. I drove past Mount Vesuvius on my way to Pompeii and swam with stingrays in Grand Cayman. I walked up Dunn River Falls in Jamaica and went parasailing off the coast of Haiti. But I have yet to visit a place that has inspired, excited, educated, entertained, or romanced me like New York City. Obviously I’m somewhat traveled, but in my humble opinion, New York is the greatest place on earth. You see, I am a self proclaimed asshole New Yorker. Not because I’m an actual asshole (that might be debatable) but because I feel no place can ever top the city that never sleeps. I’m an asshole because I feel sorry for those of you who don’t live here. I’m an asshole because I just assume you WANT to live here. I’m an asshole because when I hear of other cities being concerned of possible terror attacks I laugh and say “who do they think they are, us?” (That one’s for you L.A.) I’m an asshole because I defend my city like a jealous girlfriend. It boils my blood to hear someone say “Chicago’s just like New York, only clean.” Chicago’s wishes it could be New York, it’s called the SECOND city for a reason. I’m an asshole because I feel that any city that hasn’t banned smoking in all public places is antiquated and barbaric. Don’t get me started on people thinking we’re rude. We’re not rude, we’re in a hurry--always. I love to give tourists directions and tell them where we locals hang; just don’t stand in the middle of the block reading your maps when I’m in trying to get somewhere. That pisses us off. I’m never happier then when I land at LaGuardia or JFK. Speaking of airports, on my last trip back to NYC, as I was waiting for my luggage, smiling to myself while Billy Joel sang “New York State of Mind” in my ears; this mother let her little kids play around the luggage belt. Why was I the only one that saw a problem with this? So of course my bag came around I had to reach over this little brat to try and grab it before it sails past me. Excuse me little girl, you and your brother really shouldn’t be there, I say trying not to yell or yank her out of the way. As I reach over the little bitch I elbow her younger brother on the head. Now I’m the asshole when this woman should’ve been minding her kids! It was one of those moments that even though I knew I was right, I didn’t say anything because then I’d be the loud Latina causing a scene. Don’t you hate that? Sometimes we have to be quiet so we don’t personify some people’s stereotypes of us and give us the “I knew you were all alike” look. They weren’t from here, I could tell. Ok, that was just a little side bar, let’s get back to my NYC love fest… I love our history and buy every book I find on the topic. I love our architecture and the fact that every country in the world is represented here. I love the train(those of you who aren't from here call it the subway), in Frisco you pay according to how far you’re going. Berkeley to San Fran is $6.80 round trip on their train and the distance is the same as going from Yankee Stadium to 34th Street. I love that both Peter Parker and Bruce Wayne live here. I love that this city HATES smoking. I love Central Park, Lincoln Center and Radio City Music Hall, the Empire State Building and Macy’s on 34th Street (with Dominican Macy’s, A.K.A Conways right across the street.) I can’t imagine not falling asleep to the horns and sirens on 8th Avenue. I do miss the hookers from 42nd Street but the few porn shops left make up for that. I love that Seinfeld, I Love Lucy, The Honeymooners, The Cosby Show, All the Law & Orders, The Odd Couple(I still wish I lived in Oscar and Felix’s AWESOME Central Park West apartment), When Harry Met Sally, Fatal Attraction, New Jack City,Sex and the City, Oz and, Saturday Night Live would’ve never worked had they been set in L.A. I would never accuse I Love Lucy of jumping the Shark but those Hollywood and Connecticut episodes weren’t as great as when they were in their little apartment on the Upper East Side (623 E. 68th Street, which actually puts their apartment in the East River.) The one thing I’ll admits sucks about New York is that all these chain restaurants have invaded us. Why would anyone come to New York City to eat that the Olive Garden, Applebee’s, Ruby Tuesdays or Red Lobster? Mayor Bloomberg please put a stop to this before we get a Sizzler. The only other people that I know to be as proud as New Yorkers are Texans, but they’re just plain crazy. Texas still thinks it’s a country. You’d never catch a New Yorker carrying our state flag around or saying something as stupid as “don’t mess with New York”. New Yorkers don’t have to say shit like that because you just KNOW not to fuck with us. Bottom line is I (heart) NY, and everywhere sucks but here, and possibly Vegas. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=13 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=13 Fri, 31 Oct 2008 13:39:21 +0000 My mother has a large serving spoon that has "U.S." engraved on the handle. She got it from her grandmother, who got it during one of the 2 occupations of the Dominican Republic by the United States. I like to make up stories as to how Lalita (that's what they called my great grandmother, I have no idea what her real name was) got that spoon. Story #1: She was a hot sexy thing and had a steamy affair with a GI (we'll call him Joe of course) and when Joe had to go back to Kansas or Ohio he gave her that spoon instead of his dog tags. Story #2: Lalita was a secret spy for the US and she was placed in US base as a cook to see if anyone was speaking out against America. When her assignment was over, they screwed her over and paid her with that spoon. Story #3: Some GI's were eating while on post near Lalita's house and left the spoon behind. Regardless of how the spoon got into her little hands all I know is that it's the only thing my mother has of her grandmother. It's the closest thing to an heirloom we have in my family. We use that spoon every day to serve rice. I've known it all my life and I know that one day it will be mine. For the reason and ONLY for this reason do I sometimes want to become a breeder, so I can pass on the family heirloom and have my child make up more Lalita stories. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=12 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=12 Mon, 27 Oct 2008 10:45:54 +0000 Jenny: What has the journey been like for you to finally become published when not that long ago you were homeless? Jeff: If you were to tell me when I was living in my car with my poor mother, turtle and cockatiel that I would one day be published by a major publisher and have my book in bookstores, I'm not sure that I would believe you, Jenny. I mean, I'd want to but back then I was just trying to survive and wondering where God was and why he wasn't there to help us. It's now that I look back and appreciate our time in that old hot black Buick but I knew on some level even back then when we got out of the situation that somehow I'd be a surviving witness and hopefully some type of inspiration to people on making it. I don't feel sorry for myself, Jenny. There are people like you that have gone through much worse. I don't think I could make through cancer but you did. That is amazing, not anything that I've been through. Jenny: Why do you think so many Latinos and people in general have been raving about Forever My Lady? Jeff: I really think people are connecting with the heart of the story. They see themselves in Jennifer and Dio. They see beyond the fact that Dio's in a gang and that Jennifer is virtually a prostitute. They understand why they fell into those traps and they understand their struggle, their desire, longing and need for each other. They understand the kinship and the feel their hurt. Latino people in general are passionate about life and I wrote this story from my heart, I think people feel that passion I had when writing it. It was my motivation in life and probably kept me alive because there were times in my life when I felt like giving up. Jenny: What advice do you have for someone who's been wanting to tell their story, Jeff? Jeff: I would say just do it. I mean, sound obvious but a lot of people talk about wanting to do this or wanting to do that but they neglect to do the first step, doing it. I believe actions speak louder than words and at the end of the day no matter what challenges you may have in your life, if you really wants something you'll put the effort out there to do it. Jenny: What have you learned about this whole journey as a writer? Jeff: I learned to follow my own instincts. Oh sure, listen to what people are saying to you but at the end of the day you have to listen to what feels right for you. I hadn't written a novel before in my life, I hadn't a clue how to do it but I listened to my gut about what felt right in the story and my gut has been a blessing to me in my life when I felt like I had nothing else. Jenny: Where can my readers pick up a copy of Forever My Lady? Jeff: They can get it at any bookstore, Amazon.com, and www.JeffRivera.com http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=11 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=11 Sun, 19 Oct 2008 22:07:26 +0000 My head is cold. I’m lying on the end of the bed that puts my head in the direct line of the window AC. It’s unseasonably hot for April, the high was 90º. I’m looking up at the shadow the ceiling fan is casting on the ceiling from the light of the Law and Order episode on TV. It’s midnight or around midnight and my mind is racing even though the Vicodin should’ve kicked in an hour ago and everything hurts. I have no idea what Munch and Stabler are fighting about on TV and couldn’t care less. The ceiling shadow gets lighter and darker as the scenes change and I can’t stop looking up at it. I felt great yesterday. I went to brunch, had a bunch of mimosas, ate like a pig and walked around the village for hours. Tonight’s a different story, everything hurts and I keep thinking about my 21st birthday; my 25th birthday; my 30th birthday, all milestone birthdays and all birthdays I remember vividly. I remember what I was wearing for each, what I drank and how much fun I had. How great it was to be alive and how much I loved my friends for making sure I made it home ok each time. My head is cold. The tears start to fall down the sides of my eyes onto the pillow and they’re cold too. Saturday was my 35th birthday, I had huge plans. We were all going to Vegas, stay at the Bellagio and kill as many brain cells as we could. I sent out the invites the previous November even though my birthday’s in March. I even had ‘save the date’ stickers made with the famous Vegas sign to mail out in early January. None of that happened, instead I went to dinner with my boyfriend and started to feel crappy so I went to bed right after dinner, but yesterday I felt great. I hadn’t walked that much in months and the sun felt good on my skin; but right now my head is cold. I could go sleep on the other end of the bed but I can’t move; it’s like the tears have formed icicles and have stuck me to the pillow not to mention my bones hurt so much they feel like they’re made of glass and will break with every move. Law and Order finished and now the shadow is dancing faster because of the commercials, soon another Law and Order will start but I’m hoping I’ll be under the sweet spell of Vicodin by then. I feel just as awful as I did the first time and everything still tastes like metal, it’s like having a spoon in your mouth at all times. Tomorrow (well technically today since it’s after midnight) I have a full day. I have to have to give blood, go to the doctor then go sit in a Lay-Z-Boy for five hours while they pump me full of poison. I’ll feel like shit for almost two weeks and right when I start to feel great again, I have to go back. I slowly try to sit up and I’m sure I can hear the glass bones braking under my skin. First my right arm brakes since I use it to sit up. Then my hip bone cracks ‘cause I’m fully sitting up now; then my toes explodes as I grip for the floor to steady myself. Glass chips of myself trail me with every step I take like breadcrumbs that will lead me back to the safe haven of my bed. The bathroom is 10 steps away but it feels like a mile, I’m holding on to the wall, and feel at least 110 years old. The icicles on my face are now salty tracks and I reach the bathroom after what seems like an hour. I hear my fingers snap as open the drawer to get a scarf, I look up at myself in the mirror and I’m still shocked at what I see. I’m bald, my eyes look huge, bug-like and my glass collar bones are sticking out. I am beautiful. I slowly crawl back to bed after I painfully tie the scarf on my head. Tomorrow: Chemo #3   http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=6 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=6 Fri, 19 Sep 2008 10:10:31 +0000 I was watching Anderson Cooper the other tonight (he's smoking HOT!!) and he had one of the reporters on his show interview a group of women both republican and democrats and asked them what they thought of Palin. One of them said "Why aren't they asking Obama if he can handle being a father and president?" I also hear stupid Elizabeth Hasslebeck from The View say the same thing. I CANT believe these women!! Do you know why they don't ask Obama or McCain or Bush or Bill Gates or ANY OTHER man in power this question? Because the answer is OF COURSE they can handle being a father and a leader BECAUSE....wait for it..... THEY HAVE WIVES!!!! And if you havent noticed it's hard to be a man of power without a wife...behind every good man is what? A WOMAN!!! I believe in the importance of father in childrens' lives, I am living proof of a nuclear family, but as much as we fight for equality, children belong to the MOTHER! Children are whatever the mother (or primary caregiver is and that's usually the mom EVEN if she has a job). You're not considered Jewish if your mother isn't. My boyfriend's Irish and you BETTER BELIEVE if we get married and spawn, our kids will be DOMINICAN! because I don't know how to cook corned beef. In a divorce the only way the father gets the kids is if they find a needle in the mother's arm and even then.... When couples divorce, she's a single mom, he's....single with kids that live with the mom. I'm sorry ladies, being born female gives us more responsibility in life. I'm not complaining, I welcome it and it's challenges I just get mad when women don't recognize this or pretend not to. Even though I'm not a fan, Sarah Palin might prove that she can juggle a family and be second in command, that is.... if her hot husband becomes her wife. God forbid one of her other kids messes up while she's VP(hopefully she won't be), because then she'll unfortunately screw it up for all of us. They'll say "see that's because she didn't put her family first"...and that would be completely unfair to all women. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=5 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=5 Thu, 18 Sep 2008 18:13:31 +0000 I'm sitting in that seat on the A train that's perpendicular to the others like on a bus. You know the one, the two-seater that's next to the window one can look out of if we weren't underground. I love that seat, I don't know when I decided it was my seat, but I've cut people off to sit there. I love the A train, it's my favorite train in the whole MTA system. The nerdy New York history buff that I am knows that's the train with the longest route covering three boroughs and one of the fastest. There used to be two A trains when I was a kid; the single A which was a local, and the AA which was the express. They since have dropped one A, and made the C train local and the A became the uptown express. I love that I can go from Columbus Circle to 125th Street racing past all the stops in between humming that wonderful Duke Ellington song: If you miss the A train you'll find you missed the quickest way to Harlem. I wasn't going up to Harlem; I was coming from the Heights, Washington, that is. Believe it or not, as a young girl growing up in Washington Heights I never went to Harlem, just past it. I think the first time I ever got off at 125th street I was in my early twenties. You see, Dominicans don't have any need to leave Washington Heights. Most of us work, study, party and live in The Heights. The only time Dominicans leave the Heights is to go to the Dominican Macy's on 34th Street. Oh, you've never heard of a Dominican Macy's? Well maybe you know it by its other name Conways. At Conways a Dominican can find everything they need to send back home. I have to admit I have found the occasional cheap top or skirt that passes as if it's from a much better store; but you gotta really look to find that kind of treasure there. Usually when I dare to set foot in Dominican Macy's it's for cheap winter gloves and socks. I haven't been from the Heights in almost 23 years; I've seen many other blocks since then and now call midtown my hood. Holler!! Did you see what I just did there? I said Holler not holla, this is the very reason Washington Heights will never claim me as their own when I become famous, I can't even get the vernacular right. I'm reading my book or trying to (my chemo brain makes me drift off at times and look out the window at absolutely nothing since we're underground, remember?) When I look down to try to read again I notice it - the bracelet around my left wrist. It has a bar code, my full name, date of birth, today's date, and some other numbers that the conspiracy theorist in me thinks it's a secret code to tell someone my race and socio-economic status so they know how they should treat me. Most importantly it says Columbia Presbyterian Hospital. It's summer and I'm wearing a tank-top so everyone on the train can see that I'm wearing this thing. Everyone knows I just left the hospital and that something was plugged into my veins since I have that huge wad of gauze with the hospital tape over it in the fold of my arm. Why can't they just gimme a band-aid? I'm also now aware that half of my face is probably still red and marked up from the way I was laying on the MRI gurney. I look like a freak! Does everyone know why my face is so red? Why I have indented wrinkled sheets lines on just my left side? This bracelet is what my life is now. A series of bracelets that remind me I had cancer. Remind me that for the rest of my life, once a year, I will have to lie face down on a gurney with two extra large cup holders where my breast must drop into. My doctor usually gives me a valium like substance so I don't run out of the metal tube they shove me into. Today I forgot to take my happy pill and I had to psyche myself out just to sit on that thing. The best part (well, the good part, saying best implies that there were other good parts and this is the best of them all) of this whole nightmare is that I get to wear those socks with the rubber treads on the bottom. I love those things, just like my collection of plastic hospital bracelets I have a drawer full of rubber bottom socks. I can't get enough of them , and I kept them to wear on future plane rides. As I sat there on the gurney that will be my resting place for the next 45 minutes once they push me into the tube, I realize that this gurney is a like a giant tampon going into the biggest vagina of all times. The lovely Dominican tech tells me to open my gown and give me ear plugs. She then places funny pieces of tape that have little capsules of yellow liquid that tells the MRI to look at that part of my body. That part of my body is my breasts. For some reason, mammograms always give me false negative results (blame the density of my breasts, which always give me that perky wow! you're wearing a great bra look even when I go commando; but also hide cancerous masses,) so MRI is the only way to make sure I stay cancer free. She strategically places the tape all around my right breast's mastectomy scar asking me in Spanish if this is the one that got operated on (that's a Latina's way of saying "is that the one that got chopped off?") No I just had my areola tattooed, cut this lovely scar into this oddly shaped boob and had the faux nipple created for the fun of it. Of course I don't say that, I was raised with manners so I just respond with a "..si". Lastly, one lonely piece of funny tape is placed over my left and only functioning nipple. I'm asked to lie face down and put my face in that doughnut hole like I'm getting a massage; but I feel like a can't get any fresh air so I asked if I can turn my head instead. I can now breathe but my face will be marked for at least the next three hours. Can the teenage mother with the kid trying to make nice with me see the markings on my face? Or the gaggle of six year olds that just got on at 145th Street on their way to Central Park for a field trip? Why is this kid still looking at me? I read that babies always stare at beautiful people. Maybe this kid can see the my inner beauty, 'cause right now I look like a troll doll (the fact that my huge and extremely curly hair is piled up on top of my head like a firecracker exploded on it adds to the troll experience.) Why didn't I bring my valium? Why didn't I ask for a shot of tequila? Or to get punched in the face? How about just a swig of Nyquil? Why didn't the tech slipped me a freebie? She was quick to give me a back rub when I slipped out of the vagina so why no little happy pill? Why did I get breast cancer? Now I'm on the train looking out the window at the dirty tunnels with a bolt of gauze taped on to my arm, X-men markings on my face that I'm trying to stretch out by making blowfish faces and pinching my cheeks trying to at least dent the other side to make myself somewhat symmetrical and to top it all off, I completely forgot where I left off in my book. Cancer fucking sucks. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=4 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=4 Thu, 18 Sep 2008 12:24:31 +0000 I�m having THAT moment. THAT moment where I�m walking through the hotel casino lobby in Vegas and everyone�s looking at me. THAT moment where my strut out-John Travolta John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. THAT moment where bitches are hating and men are celebrating. THAT moment where I�m wearing THAT dress that makes me look like I just stepped out of Studio 54 circa 1979, it�s clingy; loose; halter top; shiny yet matte all at once. THAT moment where whenever I catch my own refection I have to say �DAMN GIRL!� THAT moment where all my accessories are matching but not matchy-matchy �cause that�s would be just tacky-tacky. THAT moment, where my breasts are bouncing around under the thin fabric of my dress happy to be free of any harness and everyone is looking at them, pretending not to. THAT moment, where my hair is at its biggest pageantest-�Bob, my pet peeves are ugly people and if I win I promise to recycle all of my empty lipstick tubes to save the world!�-glory. THAT moment, where I don�t mind that I�m not at my high school weight and that I gave up my new year�s resolution to develop an eating disorder, since my curves are screaming �I AM WOMAN!� THAT moment where I�m heading to see a friend headline at one of the major casinos on the Vegas strip. What do you call yourself when you know someone famous but are not part of their entourage but you still get to do cool shit like this? Living in THAT moment! THAT moment, where as I pick up my free ticket to the show, the customer service girl comments: I LOOOVE your haaaairrrrr! YOU�RE WELCOME! I felt like yelling �cause I was in THAT moment. THAT moment where once seated, the man in front of me keeps looking back at me while using the, �wow, the crowd is filling up the place really fast� excuse on his wife. I smile knowing that I�m giving him THAT moment. Then�I drop my bag and have to reach down to grab it before the lights go down and at THAT moment, my right breast shifts and I see the scar. Right then, and for the rest of the night I�m having that moment. http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=3 http://www.jennysaldana.com/blog.php?id=3