Lauren J. Rivera

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    Lauren J. Rivera

    Field Producer at The Dr. Oz Show

    Entertainment | Greater New York City Area, US

    Summary

    I am a field producer for the Emmy award-winning Dr. Oz Show (ZoCo Productions.) Prior, I was part of the Sony Pictures Television Ad Sales team, where I worked with the Branded Entertainment group, proposing ideas for brand integration into Sony produced originals.

    Through my short form film production company, Side Job Productions LLC, I have worked as a producer, director, screenwriter and actor. I executive produced three web series: www.GetLinkedTV.com (sci-fi thriller), www.TheWorkJerks.com (comedy) and www.unGirlyTheWebSeries.com (comedy) as well as several short films and documentaries.

    Beyond these professions, I have also worked as a freelance writer, having written for Rap-Up Magazine, Bombin' Magazine, Latino University Magazine and Huffingtonpost.com.

    Specialties: Web, film and TV producer, screenwriter, shooter and director. Branded entartainment creative.

    Experience

    • Jun 2012 - Present
      Field Producer / The Dr. Oz Show

      • Write, produce and shoot field packages for Emmy-winning daytime talk show
      • Shoot and conduct numerous on-camera interviews for field packages
      • Supervise the edit of important advertiser integration packages

    Education

    • 1999 - 2003
      Rutgers, The State University of New Jersey-New Brunswick
      Communication in Marketing, Public Relations, English, Interpersonal Comm

    Additional Information

    • Websites:
      Company Website, My Huffington Post Profile
    • Interests:
      organic brand integration, creative writing, creative content for Internet and television distribution
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  • So when I talk about love...

    Jan 05, 13

    ---and relationships and everything in between, you will find those writings here: www.everyonesweddingbutmine.com I'm going to keep the blogspot for all other things - entertainment, randomness, upcoming projects and life lessons.
    
    And now that I've had two weeks on hiatus to sit around and remember that I used to do this thing called writing, I took a moment to write something I should have penned months ago. It has to do with a valuable lesson a 22 year old songstress taught me: http://everyonesweddingbutmine.wordpress.com/2013/01/05/taylor-swift-little-miss-love-prodigy/

  • My "Sandy" View of Politics

    Nov 03, 12

    I've never been one to heavily deal in the stress-inducing game that is political discussion, especially around the Presidency. Maybe it's because it's not in my nature to believe any one person could have that much power. Within my daily life, the only person who can really "change" anything (for better or worse) is me.

    
    

    So I'll admit that the first time I ever voted was in the 2008 election. And yes, I voted for Obama. There were two main reasons; I believed in him and I wanted to see something unprecedented happen in our history. Oh, and I also thought Sarah Palin was batshit crazy and feared that McCain could die while in office, allowing her to take over the Presidency... And after watching Obama take the win, I returned to my little non-political world and continued life.

    
    

    Four years later, another election rolled around and I often found myself avoiding water cooler talks about the candidates and Facebook arguments about policies. To be honest, I wasn't convinced anyone could undo the damage our economy has suffered, but I also wasn’t sold on the idea of jumping ship and into the arms of a guy who only seems concerned with money. “But that’s what we need!” some of my left-siding friends cried. They aren’t wrong. I recently learned the value of property I bought four years ago has tanked and I nearly had a heart attack. But the economy isn't the only issue our country faces, and knowing that left me with this question: is it better to vote for a guy whom I feel entirely unconnected to, but who MIGHT help the economy grow a little bit in the next 4 years? (And I say a little bit because if anyone takes over and drastically changes our economy it means at least one class of people is getting totally screwed.) Or do I reelect a man who did ok (not great) with the hand he was dealt? Up until a week ago, I really wasn’t sure.

    
    

    Then Sandy arrived.

    
    

    Like pretty much everyone on the East Coast, I shooed away the idea that Sandy would bring us anything more than some rain. Friends in Florida told me she had barely bothered them, so really, what could she do to the North? Well, a whole lot.

    
    

    She arrived near my birthday, turning my celebration into (at first) a three day weekend. I only flinched slightly when the Mayor announced he was shutting down our transit system. “It’ll be OK ” I told myself. The next day, as we sat watching preparations unfold on the news and the wind starting to whip passed our window, the power went out. I slept restlessly that night.

    
    

    Twelve hours later I left my apartment with a suitcase and a hope that I’d be able to return home the next day. With power on in my temporary home, I once again returned to the news and what I saw left me speechless... Lower Manhattan was dark and under water... Staten Island was submerged... And the Jersey Shore was almost non-existent. Images of the Jersey Shore were what made my heart stop. Having not spent much time there prior to this summer, it's ironic that just two months ago I was experiencing it almost for the first time.

    
    

    This is a photo I took of Casino Pier where I ran around like a child in August. 

    
    

    
    

    This is the roller coaster on that pier that I rode and made me scream like a little girl.

    
    

    
    

    This is that same roller coaster after Sandy...

    
    

    
    

    (unknown source)

    Source: STAR-LEDGER, DAVID GARD — AP Photo

    
    

    And these are the streets I walked...

    
    

    Source: (Saed Hindash/The Star-Ledger)

    I found myself curling further into a ball as each image became increasingly more disturbing. "How could this happen?" I asked to no one in particular. And I realized then that unlike the economy, it's going to take a lot more than money to fix this tragedy. It's going to take patience, leadership and heart.
    
    Like many others, I was glued to the TV during all the press conferences. And while I applaud Governor Cuomo and Mayor Bloomberg for how they handled New York's crisis, I was most affected by Governor Christie. He was clearly devastated by the destruction of his state, but he was also strong and humble. And when President Obama came to New Jersey's aid in record time, he pushed aside his political affiliations and was gracious and appreciative. More so,  when he was asked about the campaign (for which, up until this point he'd been a strong and loud supporter of Romney) he sternly replied, "“I have no idea, nor am I the least bit concerned or interested. I’ve got a job to do here in New Jersey that’s much bigger than presidential politics, and I could care less about any of that stuff.” I wanted to hug him. 
    
    On Wednesday, when the President toured New Jersey's coast with the Governor, there was a genuine concern shared between them and photos like this emerged.
    
    

    Source:  Pablo Martinez Monsivais, AP

    And as they took the podium side by side to address the crowd of pained but coping shore dwellers, it suddenly occurred to me that they were a team I would vote for. I don't care that Governor Christie is Republican or that President Obama is a Democrat. I care that they care, and that I believe they care. And I have faith that they want and will do all they can to help rectify what nature's fury has left behind.
    

    
    

    And I wish that is what politics were really about - nominating someone you could believe in on every level instead of nominating the person that might help your wallet. Because, as we learned from Sandy, it doesn't matter how big of a house you have, it can be gone in an instant. And when the dust settles, it's not just a check you need, but a leader who will help instill the faith you are searching for to make it through the very hard times ahead... 

    
    

    To donate money towards recovery to all areas affected by Sandy, please visit RedCross.org 
    

    
    

    And on November 6th, when it's time to choose a leader for this nation, no matter who you cast your vote for just make sure you go DO IT.
    

    
    

    
    
  • A Case of Accidental Celebrity

    Aug 08, 12

    Admission #1: I've always wanted to be some sort of star.
    
    Admission #2: I never expected my claim to fame to come from a commercial promoting singles dating in New York City. 
    
    Admission #3: Beneath the surface, I still smile when someone makes fun of me for participating in the above. 
    
    Now that I got that off my chest, I guess it would be a good time to explain how said commercial came to be...
    
    It's not a secret, at least not to those in my immediate circle, that I have had a whirlwind of a love life over the last two years. I will keep the details to myself (and to my best friends whom I've had sign NDAs.) What I will share is that I adhered to the advice of a friend and joined Match.com "to try something different." I wasn't on the site long before I was contacted by the [awesome] marketing team because of my outgoing profile and favorable pics. I was asked to be a part of their new campaign by participating in a group event and chatting about my experience... And what an experience it was! 
    
    A few months later, as I vacationed in Key West, I began to receive a flurry of texts, IMs, Facebook messages, emails and carrier pigeon notes claiming I'd been seen all across the United States from flat screen to flat screen. I didn't get it. I didn't know what they were seeing... And then, as I sat beside my Floridian best friend, watching something loud on Bravo, I heard my own voice say "If I can get my flirt on, it's all good!" And then I saw this goofy smile:
    
    

    
    

    I promptly threw myself under a mound of throw pillows while Marjorie giggled and pointed. The influx of commentary poured in thereafter, concluding in my office when I returned from summer hiatus. I had to confront the 30+ people that I'd gone more than a month without seeing, but whom had each seen me... toothy, grinning me. 

    
    

    That was about a month ago and since then Match has continued their campaign with new ads and me with my life. I'm no longer on television, and, ironically, no longer on Match. Is it because I actually met my match? A girl has to keep a secret or two... or maybe she just needed to go back to work. 

    
    
  • "Dear Me at 30"

    Oct 25, 11

    Five years ago my friend Candace and I came up with the idea that we should write letters to ourselves at random moments in the years leading up to our thirtieth birthdays. Call it self-help, call it therapy, call it nuts. Whatever you want to call it, we did it, or at least I did, and I ended up writing myself several letters at various points throughout that time span. As I battle a head cold tonight, unable to sleep, the memory of them returned to me. So I find it only appropriate that I return to blogging by divulging bits of what I learned about myself...and about life in general.
    
    "When I think back to my childhood, I'm reminded of a little girl with brown curly hair and big brown eyes who didn't know how not to portray the emotions she was experiencing at any given moment. She possessed an undying ambition to ham it up at every opportunity and utilize her wise-cracking mouth. (Pause) I guess I haven't changed much...but, to some degree, I've evolved." - 4/8/06
    
    
    They say you can't get anywhere if you don't know where you came from and my first step toward growing up may have been coming to the realization that I'm not that much different than I was when I was five. And the second step: being okay with that. Being okay with who you are. I can't say I've fully grasped the second step yet, but I'm learning to...
    
    "I worry that my talents will not get their chance to come to fruition." 
    
    
    That line is from the same letter. Firstly, why am I using words like fruition when I'm writing a letter to myself? Secondly, this was a worry that would trouble me desperately for the next four years. But it was this same worry that would propel me to bust my ass on weekends and create web content without a budget and hope that at some point it would all mean something to my future. Which leads me to a telling moment from another letter...
    
    "I think the main reason I've never actively pursued my creative side is a fear of rejection. I hold my writing so close to my heart that if I'm told it sucks I may abandon it forever." -7/17/08
    
    
    I was on the verge of completing my first web series, Linked, and feeling incredible pressure for it to be successful, not for just myself but for all those who had dedicated their free time to make it happen. I remember reaching a do or die point where I had to finalize the second half of the series, 40-50 pages of script, within a two day span. I sat on the porch of my family's beach house in North Carolina and was shaking from the pressure and fear that I couldn't finish the project. And then I told myself "Stop worrying about what you can't do and just DO." And after that...I wrote...and wrote...and I finished it. I look back now and know that I could have made the series even better had I had an actual budget, but I did what I could... and what I could turned into a project that made the series a finalist in a nationwide competition. But more so than that, it alleviated a bit of my fear. To say I am fearless now would mean that I have learned nothing at all. Fear drives me, without it I would be complacent.
    
    "My life has changed so rapidly in the last few weeks that I can't seem to make sense of anything. I'm stuck on a ride that spins uncontrollably with a broken brake and I have no idea where I will land." -8/1/10
    
    
    This was the beginning of a new chapter in my life...Scratch that.  This was the beginning of a whole new book! The year I spent as a twenty-nine year old (and the few months leading into it) would prove to be the most eventful (sad, happy, life-altering) year of my life... Or at least to date. I would spend the full year without a strongly significant other in my life, something I hadn't done since...since...Crap, was I ever single before this?? Simultaneously, I would attend four weddings of very close friends, then have several friends also give birth to children and through it all have my mother giving up on me and fearing she would never have her own grandchildren. She means well though, and when she found the cutest puppy in the world to call her own, she stopped beating me with the pressure of being the only child and continuing our family lineage. So with that off my plate, I relaxed and started to learn the difference between alone and lonely. And I was okay.
    
    And in the midst of that biological and emotional chaos, I made a career change and left my stable and secure job in the corporate world for the ever-changing, never 100% stable, always energy-draining life that is the television business. Within one TV season, I learned and propelled to heights I'll admit I hadn't thought I could handle. And when that first chaotic season was behind me I stopped to reflect on it and realized that for the first time, I had to give myself some kind of credit. I may not be the best, but I'm good at this. And I can be better, and I will be, and then I'll try to be even better than that. I'll keep learning from others, their fortunes and their mistakes. And I will be grateful for having known them all.  
    
    As if I could pack anything else into my 29th year, I took two amazing trips; one to my family's homeland of Puerto Rico and one across the Atlantic to Europe. In PR I learned that what is usually familiar can become something wondrous when you're the one in charge of showing others what you know. And in Europe, as I made the journey on my own, I learned friendships aren't hard to come by when you're stuck on a bus with fifty people or viewing some of the most amazing sights our world has to offer us. And from both I learned that the places I've been are only the first steps towards where I will go in this lifetime.
    
    So, as I sit here, writing all this and wondering how I should end it, I realize that there is no end...just more of life to look forward to.
    
    "Dear Me at 40...I hope you are still learning. I hope you are not fully satisfied so that you keep striving to make a difference in your own life and that of others. I hope there is still some fear in you so that you will push yourself to reach greater heights. I hope that you have evolved... but I'll he happy to know that, deep down, you are still that little girl you first wrote about when you were 25..." 

  • Planned Spontaneity

    Feb 14, 11

    
    

    I wouldn't say I grew up the most rambunctious and free-spirited of kids. I planned my Saturday morning cartoon marathons according to a schedule that included a breakfast break and cleaning duties. Twenty years later, I haven't proven to be much different than that little chubster. I make weekend plans several weeks in advance, organize my day around a timed distribution of snacks, and search for summer weekend getaways in February. It's just how I am.

    
    

    But, in the last year, there are things outside of my control that take the luxury of planning away from me. I have a job that keeps me working around the clock and a diminishing list of single, childless friends to keep me company. The times I find myself free are usually last minute and, unfortunately, not when my my friends are available. I've been a bit cranky about it. Three weeks ago, on a Friday night, I desperately wanted tacos and cupcakes. (I know that's random, but one block length of Mott Street will bring you to both.) Sadly, no one was free to accompany me and I couldn't stand the thought of going alone, so I didn't. Instead, I pouted and stomped my way home.

    
    

    This past Thursday, I regained a sense of purpose because I had a clear plan for my evening. I would take an uneventful subway ride to Houston & Allen Street to see my friend Nicholas Howard perform at Rockwood Music Hall. Simple as that. But, when I jumped on the F train, that plan immediately swerved off course... 

    
    

    I took a seat on the train, tired from my day, and pumped up the volume on my iPod. I did a little seat dancing to a Rhianna song in hopes of waking myself up. That's when I noticed the girl standing in front of me was doing the same thing, tapping her foot to a beat I couldn't hear. I was so caught up in admiring her stylish snow boots that it took me several minutes to look up at her face. When I did, my mouth nearly feel open.

    
    

    Unless this woman has an identical twin in NYC, I was staring at America Ferrera. I nearly lost my sense of control and tugged on her arm. For those of you that don't already know, I had a serious love for the TV show Ugly Betty. It reminded me (almost too much) of my life as an assistant and of being the only Latino in my workplace. When the series ended I wrote a tribute to it on Huffington Post and caught the attention of Michael Urie, an actor on the show. While I love Michael, this moment with America may top my list of celebrity interactions... Except we never actually interacted.

    
    

    I think the air changes the moment a person recognizes a celebrity, and the celebrity notices them stalking staring. I could almost feel her quick look into my eyes tell me "Please don't say anything, I just want to get home." Had I been standing next to her I would have simply mouthed the words, "I loved Ugly Betty." But, from my seated position this wasn't possible and so I rode with her standing three inches from me all the way to 2nd Avenue. When the train came to a stop, I gathered myself, and my longing need to expose her identity, and exited. 

    
    

    When I got above ground I immediately called Jonathan, who shared my love of UB, and left an explosive voice mail on his cell that was both rushed and, I'm sure, incomprehensible. I then got wind whipped back into sense and made my way down Allen Street toward Rockwood, all the while smiling and finding it hard to believe in my unplanned encounter. 

    
    

    I grabbed a table with Nick's parents, their friends and my mom who had actually made her way into the city for the performance. If you haven't seen it, Rockwood's stage 2 is a sexy venue, lit in such a way that everything looks hazily red except for the stage. I prefer the word intimate to small, but whichever you use, it is only worthwhile to know that it was filled up rather quickly. Nick jumped on around 7:30 and started things off with a newly written song that easily hooked the crowd and grabbed their attention for the rest of his set. The boy did his thing and (as his friend I can tell) is finding his comfort zone with the piano, making beautiful arrangements pulse through the air.   

    
    

    
    

    After Nick, the headliner, Maiysha, took the stage with her band. I'd heard her music briefly on iTunes but, if I'm going to be honest, it was only a small glimpse of what this gorgeous woman is capable of. I connected with nearly every song she sang, less because of the songs themselves and more because of her voice and performance. She was sassy and sexy, but only in a way that was wonderfully compelling instead of tacky. The emotion in her voice had a way of resonating with me. By the time she was done I was fully aware of the new fan she now had within me. 

    
    

    
    

    Hours after I had entered Rockwood dazed with the sighting of my TV icon, I left dazed by the vocals of two super talented musicians. I was on some weird entertainment high. My mother asked what I planned to do next and for once I wasn't really sure, I only knew that I didn't want to go home. That's when I got an unplanned text message from my friend Chris asking me if I was in the city. As it turns out he was only a few train stops away. So, I went along with this unplanned turn of events and joined him at Florencia 13 in the Village. 

    
    

    Chris and I met in March of 2006 when I stepped outside a club for fresh air and he decided to chat me up while he smoked a cigarette. One month away from exactly five years later, we're still close friends regardless of the fact that we rarely see each other. I ordered a glass of wine and he suggested I eat some tacquitos when I told him I hadn't had dinner. Over the next hour we caught up on our work lives, love lives (or lack thereof) and whatever else came to mind. We laughed at the fact that had we actually planned to get together, it may have taken months. 

    
    

    "That's the thing about life in New York, it's a plethora of random, unplanned moments," Chris said. I smiled. 

    
    

    
    

    The next day, I started writing this blog and planned to finish it at home that evening, but I was sidetracked by a conversation I was having with Jonathan via text. 

    Me: It's Friday and I'm going home to write a blog. I'm a loser. 

    Jon: Call me right now.

    
    

    I call Jonathan. He answers and before he can say anything I jump in with, "Before you tell me I need to stop whining and man up and remember what's good in my life, let me just tell you that there's a box filled with nails that I'd rather go stand in barefoot." 

    
    

    "Listen, hot mess, that's not what I was going to say. I was going to ask you if you want to meet up for happy hour," was his answer. Well, that was unexpected. Locking down plans with Jon is something I usually start to put together at least two months in advance. This was a treat. 

    
    

    I met him and his friend Nicole at the Adidas store on Houston. After my shoes were complimented, which flattered me considering I see both Jon and Nicole as highly fashionable people, we zig-zagged our way through SoHo to Sweet & Vicious. Nicole suggested a frozen margarita, something the place is known for and I easily obliged when I found out it came in a mason jar. As we sipped the slushy wonderfulness, we chatted about music and the OWN network. Nicole had to dip out shortly thereafter, leaving Jon and I to our usual devices. And by devices I mean Jon saying so many hilarious one liners that I ended up quoting him on Twitter repeatedly. For example: "Why is 'Depression Advice' following me on Twitter?" and, my personal favorite of the evening, "When your undergarments can check in to separate places on Four Square, you're a whore." If you're not yet aware of why I love this guy, you haven't been reading my blogs closely enough.

    
    

    By 930pm, the week was weighing on me and I was getting sleepy. Jon's friend Carolina arrived, giving me the out I needed to not feel bad about leaving him at the bar. I hugged them all goodbye and then headed out. There was only one problem...I was starving. 

    
    

    I looked up at the street sign as I walked. I was closing in on Spring and Mott Street. Which meant that if I turned right I would end up on Mott between Spring and Prince...which was exactly where my tacos and cupcakes were located. This was the place I had wanted to visit three weeks ago. There I was, alone and in very cool shoes with a rumbling stomach. I took a deep breath, walked up to Pinche Taqueria and opened the door. 

    
    

    A burst of loud voices and laughs greeted me, as the place was filled with a group of people who were clearly friends gathering between bar hops. I ordered my two tacos and walked over to a small, unoccupied table. No one looked at me weird and I didn't do something strange like implode. I just sat and ate the delicious braised pork tacos. 

    
    

    Over the course of two evenings I had two unplanned, but totally welcomed meet-ups, a celebrity sighting, had fantastic music touch my ears, and an experience of eating on my own. Life is continually changing...and I'm starting to think it's not such a bad thing.

  • In the Land of Mini-Films

    Feb 03, 11

    To say I've stepped out of my comfort zone in the last six months of my life would be an understatement. It's been more like a leap, followed by a 1000 meter dash, finished with a long jump. Between job changes and personal changes, I've all but buried the person I used to be. But I've managed to keep in tact the core of what made me who I am, and I attempt to continue a building process. I'm not sure a process such as this ever ends, but at least I'm aware of it. 
    
    
    Over the last three years I've been a producer of web series, with a special interest in comedy and sci-fi. When I landed my current job on a medical/health show I nearly panicked. How could I possibly mesh my background with this new endeavor? Well, six months later I've learned, that wasn't really the point. The point, little Lauren, is that no matter what you do, you need to make it interesting. You need to tell a story that the audience can connect to. 
    
    
    With this piece of knowledge in mind, not only did I begin to find comfort and confidence in what I was doing with the show, I began to incorporate it into what was once my only means for self-expression, but is now more of a hobby. I began to think of my next side project. And that's when I started to work with Nicholas Howard...
    
    
    Nicholas and I met last April in the way many people meet these days... via Twitter-conversation. I had written a Huffington Post article on his and Louis Colon's iPhone App (MySneakers) and he had Tweeted me a thank you note. Our online friendship continued sporadically until we met in person at an industry function later that summer.  Meeting Nick was like buying a new car and then suddenly seeing it pass you by at every crosswalk; after meeting him we kept bumping into each other and, thanks to our shared abilities of intuitiveness and blunt commentary, became actual friends.
    
    
    Among other things, like learning he's the owner of two humans trapped in feline bodies (shout out to Lucky & Cookie!), I learned he was a very talented musician. Having already released two independent albums that focused on his vocal talents, Nick was amidst the process of mastering the ability to sing and play the piano simultaneously. I visited venues where he would test the musical waters and later hear him recount his interpretation of the experience. Watching him tell these stories, and being witness to his passion for the craft reminded me of my own love for filmmaking. And that's when the idea came: Why not shoot my first documentary and make Nick's music the subject? Granted I have not the time nor means to pull together a full feature production, but 5-8 minutes? Sure! 
    
    
    Over the course of a few weekends, we made a couple of runs around NYC, and gathered videos and photos of Nick's past. I interviewed his friends and family, grabbed shots of him playing the piano, working in his studio and giving candid commentary. I started to pull together a layer of sense. While in other productions my involvement topped out at producing, acting, directing and editing, this new attempt also included being the director of photography. It wasn't the easiest of tasks, but I found myself loving every minute of it. 
    
    
    Being that filmmaking is still a hobby for me and is treated as such, reaching the final cut of the production took a bit longer than I would have liked.  But in the end, when I sat back to watch it in full I felt...proud. It wasn't so much that I had achieved at bringing the thing together on my own, it was that, while I watched it I felt as if I was learning about Nick for the first time. I was taking it in as if I hadn't been the one to construct it, and that felt somewhat surreal. As much as I've changed, my core need to create lives on and will always finds its way to the surface in an attempt to remind me of who I've always been. 
    
    
    So without further ado....
    
    
    
    If you're a YouTube user, you can also find the video (and other performances) on Nick's YouTube page: http://www.youtube.com/NicholasHowardMusic and you can hear his music on his artist site: www.NicholasHowardMusic.com 
  • Culture. Schmulture.

    Apr 28, 11

    I want to be cooler. 
    
    
    Not in an overall acceptance kind of way. I want to be the kind of person who makes the most of living  in one of the world's most fascinating cities. I've been alive for 29 years and stomped my way through Brooklyn and Staten Island while making a small mark in NYC itself, yet I don't feel like I've fully seen it. And I want to...badly. 
    
    
    I'm not the best at being a loner, and I don't see that as a fault. I like to share my experiences and small joys with those that will get the same fulfillment from them. Most recently, my friend Jon has attributed to this aspect of my life in ways he may not even be aware of. I think I relinquished my will to his demand after a night of theater and binge drinking months ago, but that's a whole other story...The planning of yesterday's outing started on Monday with the following conversation. 
    
    
    Jon: What are you doing Wednesday?
    Me: Anything you want me to. 
    Jon: Galleries. Lots of 'em. 
    Me: I'm in. 
    
    
    Immediately my Google calendar began buzzing with invites that began at 10am Wednesday morning and extended through the afternoon. A little overzealous? Maybe. But I held no doubt that the day would prove rewarding. 
    
    
    I arrived in SoHo a bit after 10am. The weather definitely felt of Christmas but it was pleasant enough to not have to build my clothing into layers of puff. I wore my sunglasses, Boho hat, and blended into the crowd. When I can walk around on Spring and W Broadway, easily stop in at any store and buy items without a second thought, that's when I'll know I've made it, financially speaking, in life... Until then I'll stick with the sale racks.
    
    
    When I found myself in front of what would have been our first stop, I saw Jon was not there. A cell phone ring later, we were chatting and I was told he was still on his way. 
    
    
    Me: You realize you're totally going against the gay stereotype with your lack of punctuality, right?
    Jon: Go f**k yourself.
    
    
    I *heart* him. 
    
    
    I later sent him this photo from an Anthropolgie dressing room and told him he owed me $185 and would have to carry my shopping bags all day. 
    
    
    

    
    

    Forty-five minutes later I'm drinking an Americano coffee in a cafe called Ground Stop. It's the kind of place where everyone looks like they just walked out of a European sample sale and are adorned with non-prescription glasses. I sip my brew and wait for Jon who arrives with his signature smile. He doesn't want coffee, he wants art, so we make our way out of bourgeoisville and across the street to our first stop... which turns out to be closed down.
    
    
    Well then. A walking journey takes us to the SoHo Photo Gallery...which doesn't open for several hours.   
    
    
    Me: If you wanted me to start preparing for the marathon with you, you could have just said so. No need for the elaborate "we're going on a gallery walk" cover story. 
    Jon: They were open...in my mind. 
    
    
    We jumped the E train and walked toward the Hudson River on 23rd street. Between loading docks and nightclubs we came to a building filled with various galleries. One floor introduced us to a set of artwork that was on the market for $10,000. I kept my hands in my pockets and made sure not to allow my inner klutz near anything in the room. 
      
      
    
    

    
    
    
    As we made our way uptown, we found more hidden gems and popped into several more galleries. We saw photos that amazed us and artwork that elicited the following responses:
    Jon: I feel like I'm camping with hillbillies. 
    Me: I think my 6 year old goddaughter could have done a better job.
    It's all about interpretation. 
    
    
    Amongst a slew of warehouses and cobble-stoned streets we found a chain of galleries, where we stopped in on a Jeff Bailey exhibit and came across a 1950s photo of our friend Billy Yoder's long lost relative. (It's not, but sure as heck looks like him!)
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    It was closing in on 1pm and our stomachs were starting to grumble, but before heading to the Upper East side we returned to the SoHo Photo gallery. There we found a pleasant gallery manager, an amazing experiment with color by a photographer named Rick Sammon, and the coolest bathroom I've ever tinkled in. 
    
    
    
    
    Afterward, I had an official food headache so we ended the gallery portion of our day and jumped the train to Taco Taco, a (clearly) Mexican restaurant on 2nd avenue between 89th and 90th streets. 
    
    
    Me: Is the food good?
    Jon: I don't know. I only know they have fantastic Horchata.
    Me: (perplexed) You mean they play Vampire Weekend songs on rotation.
    Jon: (deep breath) No. Horchata, the drink.
    Me: It's real??
    Jon: (pats my hand) Realer than Santa Claus. 
    
    
    We take a seat by the window, because that's the scenic thing to do and not because we thought it through and realized how cold we'd end up. Jon orders us Horchatas and when the milk-shake-like-thing-topped-with-cinnamon arrives I take a sip, then ten and soon enough my drink is gone. Obviously, I hated it. 
    
    
    

    
    
    I ordered steak fajitas, Jon orders something a friend recommended. We eat like starved artists and Jon, after wiping his mouth delicately with a single napkin, proclaims, "This is amazing." I, after using not one but three napkins at once and still chewing on steak say, "Hell yes."   
    
    
    Itis sets in and I'm mapping out my plan to return home. Jon begins one of his speeches. 
    Jon: You have a demanding profession.
    Me: This is true.
    Jon: You're on holiday.
    Me: I'm amazed by your power of observation.
    Jon: There's no way in hell I'm letting you go home at 3pm. 
    Me: But I'm tired.
    Jon: Drink a damn Redbull, Lauren. You're 29. What would you do at home?
    Me: Sleep. 
    Jon: In other words, be a loser.
    Me: Not sure I would have put it that way but-
    Jon: I won't let you do this! 
    
    
    My willpower is sitting on the plate in front of him. 
    
    
    Me: Fine. What do we do?
    
    
    Jon whips out his Blackberry as I tuck my now dead Droid into my purse. Little Fockers is playing just a few streets away and will help us kill a few hours before the Beatz & Brands showcase. If I'm going in, I'm making it worth it. 
    
    
    The sun is starting to set as we walk toward 86th street. I'm distracted by wondering if we're walking in the right direction. In doing so I miss the sight of a unicycler almost running me over. I turn to Jon who is looking at me dumbfounded.
    
    
    Me: What?
    Jon: Don't tell me you did not see that.
    Me: What?
    Jon: Lauren a unicycle almost ran you over just now. 
    Me: What? Where? 
    Jon: You know those leashes they put children on? I'm buying one for you. Walk!
    
    
    We make it to the theater with enough time to grab center seats. A guy behind me kicks my chair. A couple in front of me decides to take an abnormally long time to sit down. Then they giggle and talk. 
    
    
    Jon: (waving his hat at them) You two! (to me) Shit, I thought we were obnoxious. 
    
    
    We're lost in the funniness of Ben Stiller and Robert De Niro for a few hours before gathering our belongings and jumping the train once more to Bowery. As we resurface I see a familiar face walking ahead of us. Al, my brother from another mama, is headed to the same event. He falls into step with us as we're carded at the entrance. 
    
    
    Me: There's liquor here?
    Al: Open bar by Belvedere. 
    Me: Well color me drunk!
    
    
    Vodka and soda in hand, I work my way around the space checking out fashions by MadeMe and jewelry by Endless Noise NYC. Beautiful stuff. Catch up conversations with Kathy Iandoli and Nicole of Nina Sky. Then returned to my post by Al so we could talk life. A few vodkas later, my doll of a lady friend, Jenny, arrives and shares the news that she's landed a new gig after months of unemployment. If that's not a reason for another vodka, I don't know what is! 
    
       
    
    
    
    
    
    
    By 9:30pm I'm falling apart at the seams. I look at Jon pleadingly. 
    Me: Please tell me I've put in my cool time and am allowed to go home now.
    Jon: You've done well, grasshopper. We can leave. 
    
    
    After saying goodbye to our mutual friends we share a cab to Grand Central. Surely I rambled on about something that I'm not sure I remember and then we are suddenly at the end of our journey. 
    
    
    Jon: Listen hot mess, make sure you get home safe and text me. 
    Me: Same. 
    Jon: Next week, Amy Winehouse and George Michael are storming Frenchtown. 
    Me: Which one of us is Amy Winehouse?
    Jon: (stares at me.) 
    Me: Fine. But I'm not sporting a beehive unless you grow some facial hair. 
    
    
    We hug. We part. 
    
    
    I jump my train and start writing this blog. 
    
    
    Life...
    
    
    

    
    

    ..... is Good. 
  • Flash. Music. Legend.

    Nov 18, 10

    A flashy website has debuted for music legend Jay-Z. Check out my opinion on this Huffington Post blog:
    
    http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-j-rivera/jayzs-social-media-experi_b_783614.html
    
    
  • My Return to Web TV

    Oct 23, 10

    As most of my friends know I'm not the most girly of girls. I have a very small amount of female friends. I prefer sneakers to high heels. And I pee standing up. Kidding! (Although if that were true life might me much easier.)
    
    At one point last year I resorted to filling my calendar with a bunch of girl dates, hoping I'd expand my female friend base. Some of these pairings worked out, but others were a hot mess and almost comical. From the latter an idea popped into my head.
    
    What if I create a web series about this process and call it "Girl Date"?
    
    I shared my thoughts with my go-to comedy writer extraordinare, Jaime Fernandez (The Work Jerks), and we bounced around ideas for a series. Jerry Diaz (Room 28 Comedy), joined in on the fun for a bit of it and soon we had six solid episodes penned. But after all was said and done, we had one small problem: the title was limiting.
    
    "What if there's a second season?" I asked. "Maddie (lead female character) can't keep going on dates."
    
    We made a list of words that described Maddie and one of the adjectives was "ungirly." When I said the word aloud it lingered on my tongue. I ran it by Jaime who agreed it was simple and yet summed up everything our little show had to offer...And so there you have it, the birth of unGirly...But that's not the end of the story.
    
    Casting was our next order of business and a large order it was. What had already been determined is that I would play Maddie, Jaime would play Jonathan and Jerry would play Joey (Maddie's best friends.) Yet we still had six actresses to cast as Maddie's counterparts for each episode. Without blinking I turned to the always hilarious Rachel Strauss (The Work Jerks) and asked her to make a guest appearance on the show. She enthusiastically agreed and I was at ease...for 5 minutes. There were still five slots left.
    
    While we do know a lot of talented people, we also felt it was time to branch out and pull from a new pool of actors. I put together an ad on Craigslist and within a day had an overwhelming amount of head shots and resumes to sort through.
    
    Over the course of a week we auditioned a slew of girls and each time we were thoroughly impressed. After deliberations we chose our five and felt confident that our cast would be a successful one. At this point I should mention we'd also booked an actor named Billy Yoder to play opposite Maddie in a short date scene for the first episode. It was such a small role that we didn't bother having Billy audition, his online work credited him enough. Simple as that.
    
    After a couple of preparation weeks we were ready to start filming. There was just one problem...We lost Jerry. Not like the way a mom temporarily loses her kid at the mall, but like, to another production. We fully understood Jerry's need to take the other opportunity, but understanding didn't lessen the huge issue looming before us: who would play Joey, the idiotic perv of the group?? As I watched Billy Yoder's online work once more, the answer hit me.
    
    "Jaime, what if you play Joey and we try Billy as Jonathan?"
    
    Jaime looked up at me, spoon full of Cocoa Pebbles half way to his mouth, "That's a great idea." I called Billy to first see if he'd even be free to shoot on our scheduled 4 days of filming. When he agreed to that, we brought him in for a run-through.
    
    As we chomped our way through sandwiches and staged some cold reads, we found a rhythm. With Billy playing the less manic but still comical Jonathan, Jaime playing dimwitted Joey and me playing, well, an exaggerated version of myself, we were golden. It felt right.
    
    On June 5th we held our first eight hour shoot. Staging my apartment as the roomies' home, we filmed a bulk of scenes that would play out across all episodes. (Easter Egg** over the course of shooting I lost almost 15 pounds. There are scenes in almost every episode where I'm at first thin, later not so thin and then back to thin. I'm probably the only one that notices, but I still think it's funny - like Kristen Stewart's obvious wig in New Moon.)
    
    It was over the course of that first day where we really honed in on our characters and developed the chemistry that I believe plays out in every episode. Add to the mix the fantastic actresses we booked and you have what I consider to be an unforgettable collaboration.
    
    You can check out all details and episodes of the show by visiting: http://www.unGirlyTheWebSeries.com
    
    Enjoy!
    
    
  • Photos, Gardens & Friendship

    Sep 28, 10

    When it comes to female friends, I don't have many. I've always been somewhat of  a tomboy and felt more comfortable around dudes (and what a surprise that I'll be releasing a web series about that in October!) So when I find a girl I genuinely enjoy being around, I latch on like a sea barnacle. 
    
    
    One of my best female friends is Judie. We met maybe 4 years ago through an online book club than moved our friendship out of cyberspace and into the real world a year later. Since then, she's gotten engaged and made me her maid of honor, and in turn, I force her to listen to stories about every aspect of my life. Even if her ear starts to bleed, the woman continues to hold that receiver to it. A saint I tell ya! 
    
    
    Judie also happens to be a very talented photographer. She's taken head shots of me in the past, but this time around I didn't want to be just a subject. I wanted to learn about her craft which is so much more than point and shoot.  There's lighting and focusing and knowing what the hell is worth aiming your lens at. In an effort to   silence my whining, she agreed to spend the day with me at the Botanical Gardens this past Saturday. 
    
    
    

    
    
    Considering the temperature has been rather cool in NY lately, we figured it would remain the same as we made our way toward the garden. Alas! Summer returned on that fateful day! And ironically, only for that day as the weather quickly returned to brisk 24 hours later. Despite the ample amount of perspiration that found its way to our foreheads, we both posed for each other and came home with an array of portraits and pretty memories. Check them out by clicking on the albums:
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    My Photos
    
    Judie's photos of me
    Judie actually added some cool photoshop effects to some of the photos which I'm sure she'll end up posting on her blog some time soon. 
    After spending several hours looping around the beautiful landscape that is the garden, we took our tired butts back to her neighborhood to have some helado (yum!) and say hi to Juan before I had to bounce off to my next destination. It had been quiet an experience not just because of the beauty we were able to capture, but because of the time I was able to spend with a friend who shares more than just my biology make up. She gets me and accepts me for who I am. Love you lady! 
    
    

    
    
    
    
    
    Make sure to watch the video in 720p - clarity on Judie's camera amazes me. 
  • The Difference Between Alone and Lonely

    Sep 06, 10

    I'm a walking contradiction when it comes to being a loner...because I'm really not one.
    
    
    I enjoy being solo, but only within the confines of my own home. The minute I step outside I feel the immediate need to be accompanied by someone, regardless of my destination. I'm not sure of the cause, and I'm not going to bore you with some self-analytical babble. It's just who I am. Or who I was...
    
    
    Thanks to various changes in the last three months of my life, I found myself alone at the beginning of Labor Day weekend. The weather was gorgeous. Birds sang for me to join them outdoors. And a laundry list of fresh herbs I needed to purchase brought my attention to Chinatown. A trip into the city was a simple answer. The only issue was getting over the shock that I couldn't remember when was the last time I had ventured to do so on my own. It was slightly unbelievable to acknowledge the fact that I'd only ever hung out in downtown NY when in the presence of friends, family or a significant other. But, that says a lot about who I used to be. 
    
    
    I set out on an 1130am Metro North train to Grand Central where I then subway hopped my way to Prince Street. When I climbed out of the depths of smelly metal, I was met by a flood of tourists. After making my way through the crowds to Spring Street, I unsuccessfully attempted to talk down a woman trying to sell me a straw fedora for $15. After crossing the street I came in contact with a similar hat whose owner had no problem letting it go for $10. I contemplated walking back passed the original vendor, new hat sitting nicely on my head, but then forfeited my spite after seeing a sign for Uniq Lo (clothing store.) A pair of $30 jeans fit me perfectly except for the fact that the pant legs fell way past my toes. Either I'm shrinking, or every store now only stocks pants for people of runway model height. How happy was I to find out the store alters pants and jeans for free! Some small part of me wanted to believe this was my little treasure, that I wouldn't have learned about it had I not been wandering on my own. 
    
    
    After my purchase I remembered the Chinatown mission I had yet to complete. I crossed over to Mott street and headed South. Popping into several stores, I tried my best to pronounce the list of herbs my acupuncturist had told me to ask for. I was either met with blank stares, American accents or variations of what I was actually looking for. Although I didn't find the exact ingredients, I was enthralled by the natural medicines and smells of various herbs and tea leaves. Making a mental checklist, I added Asia as part of my future world travels then headed to Italy (aka Mulberry Street.) There I grabbed a seat at a sidewalk table and devoured a slice of pizza while watching passersby choose what restaurants they wanted to settle in. I was surrounded by noise and conversation, but at my own table I sat in silence. A weird sense of satisfaction overcame me. If I could have sat there for several hours, I would have. On a date with myself. 
    
    
    En route to visiting my mother, the last stop of this trip, I climbed the Staten Island Ferry, something I hadn't done in quite some time. It had been so long, actually, that I came close to feeling like a tourist and buying a hot dog. Like a four alarm fire, my digestive system (and overall health) screamed "No!" and so I sat and took photos with my phone instead. 
    
    
    At the end of my day these photos were my bounty. And as a result, I was left thinking this whole being alone thing is given such a bad rap. It's not being alone. It's just being comfortable with yourself. 
    
    
    

    
    
                                                              (RetroCam app rocks! Android)
  • Risk

    Aug 23, 10

    I’ve spent nearly 28 years of my life playing it safe. A stable lifestyle with occasional spurts of passion. Sure, it wasn’t at all a bad way to live, but with every waking moment there was a truth I had a hard time acknowledging: this wasn’t me. I was living this life because I was told it was what I should do. It was where I should stay to secure my future. But what’s the point of securing a future if you’re not living in the moment?
    
    
    Enter risk; the arch-nemesis I didn’t know I’d been battling. Risk in the flesh was a way of life so unlike the one I’ve been living it wasn’t even something I was aware of until 2007. It was then that I met someone whose belief in me and support of me brought me to realize that I may possess a thing called talent. A talent that could be fostered into a, dare I say it, career.
    
    
    When this light bulb flickered I came to see there were people in this world who didn’t work simply as a means of income, but as an outlet for some unique talent. I wanted to join this group of elites, but I knew there was a price to pay. Dedication. Hard work. Sacrifice... And I was ok with that. I’d spent the last 3 years of my life dedicating Spring and Summer weekends to producing my web series and shorts while dealing with a 9-6 job during the week. All the while I was constantly asked, “Why do you spend your free time doing this if you’re not getting paid?” I’ll admit, there were times I wasn’t so sure myself. But, when my Sony commercial made its rounds, the desire to make my passion my profession was overwhelming…and the thought of making the jump was scary as hell.
    
    
    A talk with my mentor brought me down from the fence I’d been straddling and landed me on the side of change. “Production is where your heart is. If you don’t take this chance now it may be too difficult for you to do so later on,” she told me. I knew she was right, so when I got the call to interview for an associate field producer position on an Emmy award winning daytime TV show I went for it…and landed it.
    
    
    Being the crew had already been back from hiatus for a few weeks, they needed me asap. The 2 weeks that followed my acceptance of the offer were some of the most hectic I’ve ever lived. It wasn’t just the transition, I was dealing with serious personal issues, family issues, the loss of 2 years worth of editing (thank you guy who stole my harddrive!), a wrecked bathroom (thank you upstairs neighbor!), and an annoying physical reaction to all the stress (hello hives!) So believe me, I understand that when it rains, it tsunamis. And following with another cliche, I’ll add that what didn’t kill me did make me stronger and ready for the insanity I would experience once I started my new position.
    
    
    Today, with a full week of being an AP under my belt, I can say that I have no regrets. I’ve already experienced a few things like...my first 14 hour day... the uncertainty of not knowing when I’ll be able to wrap up and go home...wondering if I'll be called on a field shoot in the middle of my cousin's bday party...the delicious tasting food of a celebrity chef...the feeling that I’m very much needed for the skills I possess...the adrenaline rush caused by last minute chaos. And through it all, something deep down tells me I was born for this.
    
    
    For the first time in my professional life I feel I’ve landed not on a job, but a career. I have to do what I love on purpose. It’s both daunting and enthralling, but now that I’m here, I can’t imagine living life any other way.
    
    
    
    
    
  • The Reunion - Part 4 (Finale)

    Jul 28, 10

    I'm not sure it's ever taken me this long to write a story about a 5 day vacation. Let's just say my life has been flipped upside down over the last few weeks leaving me with a depleted amount of creative super powers. However, I don't enjoy unfinished storytelling. So, without further adieu, the conclusion...
    
    

    Saturday morning, after maybe 4 or 5 hours of sleep we awoke unable to continue slumbering about nor able to get out of bed. It wasn't actually a hangover, it was dehydration mixed with complete laziness. Around 2pm we finally got moving and gathered the outfits we were wearing to Pablo's wedding. Contrary to how this seems, Adonis, Bru and I did not coordinate these colors prior to the trip.

    
    

    
    Collective fashionable minds. Purple, and its many shades, is just a hot color.
    

    
    I dedicated a blog entry regarding Pablo's wedding on my other site Everyone's Wedding But Mine. Check the site for the full details of our time spent within the boundaries of El Conquistador Hotel and Resort.

    
    

    In the end, we unanimously agreed that it had been one of the very best weddings we'd ever attended.We thought about continuing the evening at Drums but by the time we reached our hotel rooms, we wanted nothing more than sleep. Sunday would be our last full day on the island and we hoped to make the most of it.
    
    We awoke fully refreshed and in the mood for some local interaction. After visiting Mi Casita and filling our bellies with yummy omelets, we dropped by Charlie Car Rental to grab a vehicle for the day before heading to Carolina's public beach. Although it is not far from the tourist area of Isla Verde, this beach is clearly of a different nature. Large families camp out across the sand with grills, coolers and BBQ pits. The smell of fried food and the sounds of salsa fill the air. Little kids run a muck, somersaulting across the waves and shouting games of hide and seek in the currents. There is a ton of laughter and an overall sense of fun. We soaked it up, hoping that on this last full day of our vacation, we might somehow bring it back with us to NY.
    
    With the sun dipping in and out of clouds that produced rain sprinkles while also allowing through sunshine, we laid about for an hour or two before moving on to the next portion of our day trip. Knowing a bit about this North East section of the island, I guided the boys to an area called Los Pinones . As we drove through the slow moving traffic, our mouths watered at the sight of several road side shacks boasting foods like bacalaítos (cod fish), pastelitos and pollo frito (fried chicken.) We made a pit stop for some wood crafted souvenirs before landing at a shack that smelled the most oily...which means that it would have the most delicious tasting food. We were not let down.
    
    
    
    The more I write the more I'm amazed that we didn't all gain 10 pounds on this trip. Ironically, I came home two pounds lighter. Maybe the oil helped wash the fat off my fat?
    
    Later in the evening we found our way to Old San Juan, one of Puerto Rico's premiere historical sites. Regardless of the fact that I've visited this area many times over the years, the effect of its colonial beauty is never lost on me.
    
    

    
    

    
    Pretty isn't it? So full of history. And what better way to celebrate history (and Spain winning the World Cup) than by downing a few beers from a microbrewery?!
    
    
    

    
    After eating once more (I believe the place was called Mojito- right??) the rain began to fall yet again and so we loaded ourselves back into our rental car and joined Dex and Stephanie at the El San Juan Hotel lobby.
    
    There are nights where the lobby is quite the party, filled with the sounds of a live salsa band. This wasn't one of those nights. Old timer jazz and the kind of people that listen to such things (read: aged) filled the lobby and so we left to pursue a younger crowd back at Drums. One problem: it was Sunday. The club walls were filled with us, a band lead by the craziest, gyrating-centric, singer we've ever seen perform and his random followers, which equaled about ten bodies. We stuck around for a bit simply because the man was entertaining in a "this is so crazy I can't look away" type of manner. However, after the long day of sunning, walking and eating, our sleepiness got the best of us and we called it a night rather early, retreating very sadly down the road to our hotel one last time.
    
    Monday's morning rays crept through our blinds in a taunting way. From the moment we all awoke you could sense the mood change. The three of us hardly spoke unless necessary, an overall emotional dampness filled the room. The boys went to return the rental car while I grabbed some last moments of sun on the beach. When they returned, I joined them upstairs where we packed our belongings and rattled our suitcases down to the La Playita restaurant for our last meal. Adonis and I chose cheddar cheeseburgers while Bru had his last mofongo. I checked his skin color. It was surprisingly red for someone who should be banana yellow by now. And how could we leave without a last taste of our favorite desserts?
    
    

    
    Before the cab came to drive us away from our weekend paradise we snapped one last photo in our "backyard."
    

    
    At the airport we were pretty quiet until the Gonzalez clan joined us. It's hard to stay quiet around that funny and happy family. While the boys gawked at some lovely ladies boarding our flight, I looked out at the airport and the palm trees beyond. I sighed so loud several people turned to look at me... or maybe they were looking at the model-like woman behind me. Ehh.
    
    We found our seats, prepared for the three hour flight ahead of us and I pulled out my laptop. I began this blog... but not before snapping yet another photo of Bru falling asleep with his mouth open.
    
    

    
    And then I turned to my window and caught the last glimpse of our beautiful island before it was nothing more than a speck at the far corner of the plane's wing.
    
    

    As I said a silent goodbye, I thought about the four years that had passed since my last visit. I thought about all I'd been through since then, about all that has changed. I thought it was ironic that I was returning home to change. Big changes. I took a deep breath.
    
    I got through them once before.
    
    I could do it again. 
  • The Reunion- Part 3

    Jul 23, 10

    If there was one thing we knew how to do in Puerto Rico, it was eat.
    
    Lunch on Thursday found us at Lupis- a quasi-Rican-Mexican joint where the boys chomped down on their first mofongo (a mashed plantain dish stuffed with your choice of shrimp, meat, etc) and I began my binge on tostones (fried plantains.) The food was good, but apparently we tasted better. Just ask the brigade of mosquitoes that decided to chomp on us while we ate. Ouch. Never eating there again.
    
    After several hours in the sun we were only motivated to walk a few feet to dinner, which is why we ended up at La Playita- the restaurant within our own hotel. The boys tried fish while I sucked away at chicharron de pollo (fried chicken pieces) and my second serving of tostones. I was convinced FRIED bananas would contain less carbs than rice (idiot.)  My food was yummy although the boys weren't too happy with their fish. Dessert was the saving grace for all of us. I had the most perfect flan (custard) I've ever tasted while Adonis lost his mind over a chocolate cake and Bru devoured a coconut cheesecake without breathing. Then our 7 foot water Yuri took a photo of us.
    
    

    It is amazing that we were able to make it out that night with our bellies so full of Puerto Rican goodness. By 1030pm we were making rounds in Isla Verde. Per my suggestion we headed down to The Water Club hotel which has a swanky rooftop bar. Apparently the memo didn't make it out proclaiming this was the spot to be on a Thursday night because no one was there. Regardless, our small crew joined by Dex's brothers, had a fine time chatting it up while overlooking the beach.
    

    Who says late 20/early 30 year-olds stay up all night? Not us. Our old asses were in bed by midnight...But up the next morning to hit the beach without fail. I had a tan to work on dammit!
    
    After another day on the beach, the boys and I decided to troop down the avenue to Mi Casita which came highly recommended by my mom. Once again frick and frack ordered mofongo. I started to worry that Bru would turn in to a giant mound of yellow mushiness by the time our trip was over. Ironically though, that would mean I would also turn into a tostone since that was all I ate. (Earlier I had snuck down to La Playita while the boys were out and chowed down on a delicious arugula and steak salad.) After Adonis swallowed his last piece of mash and Bru slurped up his sauce with a straw (he really did), we headed back to our hotel.
    
    Horribly lethargic and awaiting Lebron's decision (gag me!), we three lounged around our room without much motivation to do anything else. However, I had two of my female cousins on the way and there was no chance in hell they'd let it be a slow night. The first cousin to arrive was Carmen who met me down at the bar of our hotel. I hadn't seen Carmen in over four years and above all else it was the first time we were hanging out as adults without our parents. As she and I threw back a beer and caught up on family news, Adonis and Bru joined us. Jessie, my long term friend who migrated to PR when she was a preteen, showed up soon thereafter and we quickly joked about our childhood thanks to pics she had brought for show and tell.
    
    We contemplated what to do with our evening when suddenly the DJ played some merengue and got us all in the mood to dance. The natives suggested we hit up Drums, a local club not far from our hotel. Chugging the rest of my beer, I lead the crew to the club where we were greeted with reggaeton beats and cheap drinks. A bucket of some form of jungle juice had us laughing and dancing like fools. A live band played Shakira hits and other songs native to Puerto Rico which the girls seemed to understand but had Adonis, Bru and I giving each other blank stares. Even with our cluelessness the fun never ended...Until 4am when the lights came on and the music stopped.
    
    
    
    I closed down a club. I thought old timers couldn't do such things!
    
    As we returned to the hotel, drenched in sweat, one of us came up with the miraculous idea of jumping into the ocean. I can only say it wasn't me...and yet I was one of the ones that did it. What started out as a good idea turned brutal when I bang the bottom of my foot on a rock and Bru tripped and scrapped up his shin. In the end though, all we could do was laugh.
    

    And then Jessie got hungry. Or maybe we all did. And so our journey of food consumption continued as we changed and headed to Denny's where we were met by a horde of clubgoers. Once at the table I did what I do best at diners - fell asleep.
    

    I awoke to the sound of silverware crashing onto plates. Everyone was done eating and Jessie was softly pushing me out of the booth. As we exited Denny's I blinked several times. "Is that the sun?!" I asked aloud. Adonis confirmed my suspicion. It was in fact 6:30 in the morning.By the time we reached our beds the sun was in full bloom and I had to hide my head under a pillow.
    
    It had been a fun and memorable evening. There was only one problem...we had to be up in less than 5 hours to get ready for Pablo's wedding. Ouch.
  • The Reunion- Part 2

    Jul 18, 10

    The night before our flight, none of us slept. Therefore, when we arrived at Newark airport at 530am on July 8th, it was no surprise that we greeted each other with grunts instead of hugs. The most verbal communication I had was greeting the Gonzalez clan (Dex’s fam had joined us) and asking where the bathroom was.
    
    Boarding on time, Bru and I found our adjoining seats while Adonis smiled at the sight of two single ladies whose row he’d be joining. I don’t think we were even off the ground before I caught the first of many moments where Bru would fall asleep with his mouth wide open.
    
    

    
    I tried to sleep myself, but alas I could not. Instead, I watched How to Train Your Dragon which was entirely entertaining. Three hours later we touched down in San Juan. Sun and a little cloud cover greeted us.
    
    

    
    Bru, Adonis and I headed straight to the hotel while Dex and Stephanie (his wife) joined their family for lunch. The hotel was at the East most end of the Isla Verde beach, reaching two levels and quaint. I met Linda who was thrilled to find out I live in her old neighborhood and consequently not pissed at the 15 times I had called her over the last month. She directed us to room 207.
    
    We entered the room and this was our view.
    
    

    
    Adonis stood beside me. “I want this to be the view outside my bedroom at home. Think you can work some magic and make that happen?” In his not serious yet serious demeanor he replied, “I’ll see what I can do.” That Adonis, always coming through for me!
    
    I called my cousin Jessie who informed us that Puerto Rico had endured a crappy summer thus far, filled with rain and humidity. “If you even see a peek of sun, go lay out because that’s all you’re going to get.” With that advice we changed into our bathing suits and found a spot on the beach. While I soaked up rays, the boys did what boys do and commented on every chic that passed us by. If women watching were a sport, these boys would win the gold medal.
    
    

    
    Dips in the ocean introduced us to the most refreshing sensation of cool, but not cold, water. Bru bobbed up and down next to me in the soft waves. “Dude! We’re finally here!” He nodded. “And now we just need to figure out how to make sure it doesn’t rush past us.” He looked at me, “Well, when you figure out how to bottle up time and sell it at an insane price, let me know.”
    
    If only it were that easy.
    
    To be continued…
  • The Reunion- Part 1

    Jul 18, 10

    Back in March 2003 I was a senior at Rutgers and had never attended a vacation outside of the tri-state area without my parents. With my college graduation sneaking up on me I felt it was my duty to organize a liberating adventure filled with partying and sunbathing. I rounded up 9 of my friends and booked our Jetblue flight and hotel arrangements in South Beach, Miami. The 7 day vacation that transpired would go down in history as the best vacation any of us had ever had.
    
    

    The 2003 South Beach Crew

    
    Until last week.
    
    One of the South Beach attendees had been Pablo, who was set to marry his beloved girlfriend Amanda in Puerto Rico on July 10, 2010. Besides Pablo, I had also remained very good friends with three of my other dorm-mates: Dex, Bru and Adonis. When we learned we were all invited to the wedding our collective tank of brains began to buzz feverishly. Not only was this a wedding, but a reunion 7 years in the making! In a complete role reversal, Dex took the reins and started looking up flights and hotels. Maybe marriage has made him as organizationally compulsive as I am. I received a call at my office several months before the wedding with a very motivated Dex on the other end. He placed a metaphorical gun to my head and instructed me to purchase a specified Continental Airlines ticket. Ok, I’m exaggerating. Really, he just said, “I found us a flight. You in?” And I responded, “Ok.”
    
    Once past the air transportation, we moved on to hotels. For various reasons 3 of us were attending the wedding solo. No stranger to sharing a room with these guys, I put my femininity aside, deepened my voice and asked Bru and Adonis if I could room with them. They said it was cool…as long as I stopped talking like a man. Done.
    
    When it came to choosing a hotel, I was the guru of sorts since I’d lodged in Isla Verde, PR many times throughout my adolescence. An internet search landed me on the homepage of La Playa Hotel. It took me only a moment to realize the newly renovated hotel was once a hot spot my mom frequented in her heyday. Good karma. I jumped on the phone and negotiated the price for an ocean view room with the ever helpful and jubilant hotel manager, Linda. Over the following months I would come to call Linda repeatedly to reassure our reservations were still valid. Bless her soul for being patient with my paranoia.
    
    

    
    

    With flights and hotel accommodations settled, all we had to do was wait. Gchat convos with Dex, IM with Pablo and phone calls with Bru always revolved around one thing: Can we go yet? Fortunately, life sped by as it often does and before we could all say “Yo quiero mofongo!” (I just made Bru’s mouth water) we were a week away from our flight. It’s ironic how sometimes vacations pop up at a time when you need them most. Bru and I were dealing with sicknesses in our families and collectively we were all at a boiling point with our everyday lives. We didn’t just need a tan, we needed a sanity readjustment.
    
    To be continued…
  • The Great Debate

    May 27, 10

    As any of my immediate friends would tell you, I had an unhealthy dependence on the TV show "Lost". I'd build my week around it and wouldn't take calls during unless there was an impending death involved. On May 23rd the series concluded and sparked one of the largest internet debates I've seen in quite some time. I decided to write a Huff piece on it and as it stands there are over 100 comments. Regardless of its faults, the show was clearly a phenomenon.
    Check it: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-j-rivera/ilosti-a-day-later_b_588122.html

  • The Vampire Diaries: First Season Reflection

    May 17, 10

    I wrote a quick piece for Huffington Post about The Vampire Diaries season finale last week. You can find it here...and yes I'm fully aware of the typo in the latter part of the article =o) (Because I know someone's going to mention it.) Enjoy!
    
    http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-j-rivera/emvampire-diariesem-first_b_576291.html

  • A Evening with Nate

    Apr 29, 10

    Working where I work, I've come across my share of celebs. Some are well known, some think they are well known, some deserve to be most known. Nate Berkus falls in the latter category.
    
    Rewind. 2006. My family and I just finished dinner at a quaint Italian restaurant on 8th avenue. As we're leaving the joint my cousin slaps my arm and says, "We just walked by Nate Berkus." Me: "Who?" Her, flabbergasted that I'm clueless: "He's always on Oprah, he does home design." I shake my head and smile; I hadn't watched Oprah since college, back when my schedule allowed for it. My cousin rolls her eyes. And that was my first run in with Nate.
    
    Fast forward. 2010. Nate is getting his own talk show. Sizzle reels, decks and artwork pass by my desk. All have one thing in common; his face (an adorable one at that.) Soon enough what was once on a piece of glossy paper is now in front of me. We are quickly introduced as he is in town to meet our group and their clients at an event later in the evening. I'm assigned a specific task for the meet and greet: shadow Nate. First thoughts: easy breezy.  
    
    We arrive at Monkey Bar and I meet Ali the photographer. She's personable, full of stories and shares my sense of humor. Instant teammate. Nate arrives soon thereafter and we're all given the lowdown: it will be my responsibility to make sure Nate meets all the clients, spends enough but not too much time with them and has numerous photo ops. Light bulb! Publicity work. Something I was once involved in but forgot about when production took over my (side job) life. Nice way to be reintroduced.
    
    At first things are moving slowly, clients are taking their time to arrive. Ali and walk around snapping random photos. Then it seems as if everyone picks the same moment to make their fashionable entrance. They also share another goal: immediately wanting to meet Nate. Game time! The next two hours involve me ushering Nate around, learning how to catch his eye or politely interrupt him in order to move him to another client, hearing my name called from each direction by my colleagues who need his attention, holding his drinks during photos or running off to replenish said drinks. With each introduction, he is charming and engaging. He listens and you get the sense you already know him. It was all a blur for me, quite a fun blur.
    
    At one point, when I reach to hold his drink again he says to me, "I'm growing an attachment to you." I, and the group of clients around us, laugh. He continues, "Seriously, I'm going to wake up in the middle of the night, look around and say 'Where's Lauren?'" I smile at the warmth of his joke. This is Nate. Funny, sweet and the kind of person you instantly want to be friends with. What's most important, from my own experience, is that I can't smell a fake bone in his body (and I've got quite the nose for such a thing.)  And it is because of this genuineness (and his talent of course) that I think his show will do very well. In a room of more than a 100 people, not one walked away feeling they couldn't relate to him. I think that says a lot.
    
    By almost 9pm things were finally beginning to wind down. I was introduced to some of his good friends and family and then it was time for goodbyes. He thanked me for helping him through the evening. I thanked him for being quite the trooper. And silently and to myself, I thanked him for reminding me of something else I'm good at. 
    
    
    
    For more info on Nate, visit: NateBerkus.com
    
    To check out Ali's awesome photography, check out her site: AliPaigeGoldstein.com
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
  • "The Back Up Plan" - My Review on Huff

    Apr 27, 10

    I have a relationship with Jennifer Lopez...she just doesn't know it. My family has been referring to me as their version of JLo for years. Okay, maybe we share the same anatomical body proportions, always seem to cut our hair into the same shapes and have similar voices (I'm not sure if that's good or bad.) However, the same family also calls my cousin Lucy Lu...did I mention we're Puerto Rican with no Asian ancestry? You get my drift.
    
    My rambling point is that despite the way critics seem to hate on her repeatedly, Jennifer Lopez made her way into my life a long time ago and her newest wave may be one of her best yet.
    
    Check out the review on Huffingtonpost.com here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-j-rivera/jennifer-lopezs-emthe-bac_b_550549.html

  • Ugly Betty and I Go WAY Back...

    Apr 15, 10

    I'm on a bit of a Huffington Post blogging frenzy this week. Last night as I watched the series finale of Ugly Betty, I felt like I was saying good bye to a good friend. Check out my review of the finale here:
    www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-j-rivera/emugly-bettyem-saying-goo_b_538677.html

  • New Huffington Blog Post

    Apr 12, 10

    It's been a VERY long time since I posted on Huffingtonpost.com. I'm not the kind of writer to just blab for the hell of it and expect people to follow my every word. Instead, I write about subjects that I know will have special interest. This time around I wrote a review of the new iTunes app called MySneakers developed by my friend Louis W. Colon III. Check out the full blog here:
    
    http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-j-rivera/mysneakers-app-on-itunes_b_533917.html
    
    And here are some screen shots of the app that I couldn't attach to Huff post:
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    

    
     As if I needed any more of a reason to fill my closet with sneakers! :-)
  • Me, a Role Model?

    Mar 08, 10

    While watching the boring Oscars last night, I kept fantasizing about my own acceptance speech. It's the one where I thank the Academy, my parents, my friends... and then tell everyone who doubted me to suck it. Classy. But honest.
    
    While it may take me a bit to make that fantasy anything close to real, in the meantime, I've recently found myself dealing with fans. Thanks to my Sony commercial reaching 30K views on YouTube(talk about milking 15 minutes of fame!) I now have a new slew of them. Some are borderline stalkers, some are wannabees (read: they want to give me "entertainment advice" and yet the most they've done is perform in their high school talent show) and then there are the genuine kind, my faves! One of my most recent is this adorable kid named Blayne.
    
    Blayne saw my commercial and then reached out to my personal YouTube page asking if I was the same person starring in the commercial. When I confirmed, he was psyched, told me I was his idol. I check this kid's YouTube page and see this video:
    
    
    
    I'm his idol?? Pfft! This kid is 14 and making better videos than I did two years ago lol. If I can inspire a kid to be more awesome than they already are, I'm in! And while I'm doing that, I'll continue to be inspired by them. 

  • Blog here! Blog there! Blog everywhere!

    Mar 05, 10

    While this will remain my blog for random thoughts, my thoughts revolving around the 3 weddings I am involved in over the next year will be blogged about here: www.EveryonesWeddingButMine.com . If you don't get the tone of the website from the title, here is the logline: The tales of an unmarried wedding hopper. Sure, it sounds like something only girls would find interesting but I plan on tying in my sense of humor as well as interviewing/chatting with various people who have different opinions of love and marriage. So, what I'm saying is - CHECK IT OUT! :-)

  • Best of 2009 - Movie Edition

    Dec 23, 09

    Best movie to make me question my mortality: The Road
    Best movie to make me question John Cusak's mortality: 2012
    

    
    

    Best movie adapted from a book about physical monsters: Where the Wild Things Are
    Best movie adapted from a book about emotional monsters: He's Just Not That Into You
    

    
    

    Best movie starring Zoe Saldana as a human: Star Trek 
    

    Best movie starring Zoe Saldana as an alien: Avatar
    

    
    
    

    Best movie I didn't know I would like: District 9
    

    Best movie I thought I would like and hated: I Love You, Beth Cooper (book was hilarious!)
    

    
    

    Best movie to remind me why I love George Clooney: Fantastic Mr. Fox
    

    Best movie to remind me why I love George Clooney a couple of months later: Up in the Air
    

    
    

    Best movie to remind me why it's awesome to have best friends: I Love You, Man!
    

    Best movie to remind me to check on camera for evidence of what my best friends do while I'm not around: The Hangover
    

    
    

    Best heartbreaking romantic comedy: 500 Days of Summer
    

    Best heartbreaking romantic comedy that wasn't trying to be a heartbreaking romantic comedy but the acting was so bad that it was heartbreakingly comedic: Twilight- New Moon
    

    
    

    Best 80s TV icon cameo in a movie: Lou Ferrigno (I Love You, Man!)
    

    Best 80s movie icon cameo in a movie: Bill Murray (Zombieland)
    

    
    
    

    Best movie we wish we could have seen in 2009: Actual, non-rehearsal concert footage of This is It
    

    Best movie we won't have to see in 2009: Tiger in the Sack- A Tiger Woods Story
    

    
    

    
    

    
    

    
    

    
    
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  • Taylor Swift: Little Miss Love Prodigy

    Jan 05, 13

    I forget what it was that brought me to Taylor Swift’s song Red sometime this past October, though I have vague memories of a Target commercial. Once it found its way onto my iPod I had a hard time keeping it off my daily rotation of musical selection. At first I just assumed it was catchy, but then I listened more carefully…

    Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street

    faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly…

    But loving him was red…burning red

    Why couldn’t I stop listening to this? Why was I clinging to these phrases like a preteen hangs on HarryWhatsHisBoyBandFace’s every word? Duh, Lauren! Because you know exactly what she’s talking about and you are fascinated by how she was able to express your feelings better than you ever could yourself. 

    Somehow, someway, little Miss Swift had cracked the code to my diary and studied the last 15 years of my life, zoning in on the relationships that had turned my existence upside down, leaving me dazed, confused and wondering what the hell had just happened… (i.e. almost all of my previous love life run-ins.) She took that info, stirred it in her magical word pot and released an album that made me sit back, take a deep breath and utter the words, Holy shit. 

    When I expressed my interest in this song to my friend Jonathan, he immediately asked me, Have you read her liner notes? When I said no, he cyber-gasped at the ridiculousness of my ways and immediately forwarded me the following (Taylor’s prologue to the album Red):  

    There’s an old poem by neruda that I’ve always been captivated by, and one of the lines in it has stuck with me ever since the first time I read it. It says “love is so short, forgetting is so long.” It’s a line I’ve related to in my saddest moments, when I needed to know someone else had felt that exact same way. And when we’re trying to move on, the moments we always go back to aren’t the mundane ones. They are the moments you saw sparks that weren’t really there, felt stars aligning without having any proof, saw your future before it happened, and then saw it slip away without any warning. These are moments of newfound hope, extreme joy, intense passion, wishful thinking, and in some cases, the unthinkable letdown. And in my mind, every one of these memories looks the same to me. I see all of these moments in bright, burning, red.

    My experiences in love have taught me difficult lessons, especially my experiences with crazy love. The red relationships. The ones that went from zero to a hundred miles per hour and then hit a wall and exploded. And it was awful. And ridiculous. And desperate. And thrilling. And when the dust settled, it was something I’d never take back. because there is something to be said for being young and needing someone so badly, you jump in head first without looking. And there’s something to be learned from waiting all day for a train that’s never coming. And there’s something to be proud of about moving on and realizing that real love shines golden like starlight, and doesn’t fade or spontaneously combust. Maybe I’ll write a whole album about that kind of love if I ever find it. but this album is about the other kinds of love that I’ve recently fallen in and out of. Love that was treacherous, sad, beautiful, and tragic. but most of all, this record is about love that was red.

    My first reaction was to Google Taylor’s age. My second was to quickly text Jonathan: HOW IS SHE ONLY 22?? (at the time, she’s 23 now – still a child for all intents and purposes.) And at the time of this discovery, I was still 30; a 30-year-old woman who was just now coming to understand the kind of love I had experienced up until that point. The red kind she described, but could never categorize so perfectly myself. Suddenly, having this category to place my former heart trials into gave me the power to understand just how different I felt about my current relationship. And that brought me back to the final lines of the prologue above..

    And there’s something to be proud of about moving on and realizing that real love shines golden like starlight, and doesn’t fade or spontaneously combust.

    I don’t see red. I see gold like starlight.

    And it’s the most humbling feeling I’ve ever felt, like a graduation of sorts. Like, Lauren you’ve seen so much red that it’s time I let you see gold now, like the color of a first place medal… or else you’re going to burn out your retinas. 

    So there are two things I would like to say to this little prodigy, Ms. Swift, in thanks for helping me verbalize these differences in my life…

    1) You are my Neruda.

    2) I do hope you you’ll be able to write an album about gold love one day, because if you thought red love was mind-blowing, wait until you meet gold love. It will leave you breathless, but not alone. It will give you confidence, but not as consequence of a break-up. It will give you everything you thought you wanted from those relationships, but with the sudden realization that all those things were never meant for any relationships but this one. And it won’t burn out. Consequently, you should be ready for it to possibly continue for the rest of your life

    
    
  • The Soundtrack of My [love] Life

    Sep 05, 12

    There is something to be said about music and its ability to bring us back to a great memory, or maybe even a time we’d like to forget. I have a playlist on my iPod for just this reason. There have been some new additions to it lately and it made me want to ask, if you were a songwriter which lyrics could you have seen yourself scribbling into a notebook at a time of romantic triumph or of defeat? The following are my top five songs of meaning for 2012, some current, some classics. I hope you’ll share yours as well in the comments section

    Glad You Came – The Wanted 

    “The sun goes down, the stars come out and all that counts is here and now…”

    Breathe Me – Sia 

    “Hurt myself again today, and the worst part is there’s no one else to blame…”

    Wide Awake – Katy Perry

    “Yeah, I am born again,out of the lion’s den, I don’t have to pretend. And it’s too late, the story’s over now, the end…”

    Don’t Wake Me Up – Chris Brown

    “If I wake and you’re still here, give me a kiss. I wasn’t finished dreaming about your lips…”

    The Only Exception – Paramore

    “And I’ve always lived like this
    keeping a comfortable distance.
    And up until now I’ve sworn to myself
    that I’m content with loneliness.
    Because none of it was ever worth the risk.
    Well you are the only exception…”

    - LJ

    
    
  • After All is Said and Done

    Aug 17, 12

    I’ve logged on to this site many times since my last post with every intention of writing something insightful… and every time I do, my heart stops. This blog is about marriage, which is about relationships, which is about love, and if you know me well, you know love and I have had our issues since I started this blog. Actually “issues” is an understatement. We’ve been in the middle of a war. Yes, war is much more appropriate a word.

    I suit up (in warm PJs that love me as much as I love them), I gear up (with a cold glass of white wine that makes me feel spright) and I ferociously type the password to my battle. And when I scroll back to my first ever entry, I think…

    Oh sweetie, if you only knew how much life would change over the next few years you wouldn’t look so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed!

    Yep, it’s been almost three years since I first posted about my ideas surrounding marriage, and where I now stand may be more complicated than when I began.

    Don’t jump the gun with your assumptions; I’m not yet married, nor am I engaged. I’m hardly treading the waters of relationship territory. Ironically, I’ve spent the last few years being more single than I have since I was 13. Yes, you read that correctly: I spent nearly 15 years of my life holding a boyfriend’s hand. And what’s ironic about that statement is that it seems to imply I’m the codependent type. I’m not. On the contrary, I’m the most independent version of myself when I’m in a relationship. Maybe it’s because that’s when I feel most safe, when I can finally exhale and feel like some part of my life is in check and I can just be me. Maybe it’s because I love the feeling of loving someone. Or maybe it’s a combination of both things mixed with the fact that I am female and by nature I have to act girly once in a while (it’s in my contract with God.)

    Now I’m sitting here, watching the cursor blink in a way that shouts: It’s time for you to write again, darn it! But what is there to write about? I don’t have any weddings to attend in the near future, I don’t have a conclusive answer for how I feel about marriage and love… but maybe that’s the point. Maybe the point is to make this blog more about my journey instead of guessing what the last post ever will be… because what would be the fun in that?

    So there we have it… Going forward, this blog will be about relationships – those from my past, those of my friends, and family… It will be about random thoughts, conversations or reveals of concrete facts I find on the all-knowing interwebs. And maybe, just maybe, it will be the blueprint for that book/memoir/screenplay I’ve been trying to write. Whatever it becomes, I hope y’all are interested in following the journey…so let’s chat

    
    
  • A New York State of Mind

    Jun 25, 11

    Clearly I haven’t been the most faithful of bloggers. I can blame my “new” lifestyle. I can blame a bout of writer’s block. I can even blame the inconsistent weather that befalls New York and say it messes with my chi… But those would all be excuses and I’m trying my best lately to follow the advice of a friend and not get in my own way with petty excuses. So! Simply said, I lost my focus.

    But, with the arrival of FMC’s (Judie & Juan) wedding in April, I had to put my game face on and return to the world of matrimony. It had been seven months since the last wedding I attended, but a main difference with this event lie with the task of finding a date. My most pleasant choice was asking Jon (one of my closest friends) to attend with me and avoid the questioning that would revolve around me bringing anyone else. That being said, I’ve now put it out there that my love life hasn’t exactly secured it self since the last wedding. But, we’ll get to that later.

    Judie & Juan’s wedding took place on April 23rd at Russo’s Bay in Long Island (or is that the Queens border? I can never tell.) Clouds threatened hard rain throughout the morning, but I knew that would do nothing to dampen the beauty of this day. Their wedding was a daytime event, meaning it started at noon and would end by 6pm. By some miracle of God, I was able to keep to a tight schedule and arrived at Jon’s house on time despite the sloshy rainfall. He erupted from his house, dressed in a tailored black suit, looking quite perfect, but bitching about the rain f’ing up his white tie. I assured him the spot could not be seen by normal eyes, and then distracted him by focusing on how well his black suit matched my purple and black flowered dress. Jon, a man of fashion, looked at me with a smile and reminded me he would never allow us to have a joint fashion mishap. Bless him.

    A short time later, we found ourselves in front of Russo’s and hastily being ushered out of my car by the valet attendants. I forfeited my jacket and made a beeline for the door, crashing through it just before my hair found its way into frizz. Jon started surveying his tie again and I quickly grabbed him and led him to the bar filled with boozy delights. We started off with martinis and coffee (to ease the hangover I was fighting off due to a drinking binge with coworkers the night before.) After my palette was moist, we were led into the hall where the wedding ceremony would be held. Finding seats toward the back, I readied myself for the entrance of my dear friends.

    Salsa singer, Kevin Ceballo, opened up the ceremony with a special song. Juan, looking wonderfully handsome, made his way to the altar with his mother and father. Shortly thereafter, the music changed and we were asked to stand. The doors fell open once more and in glided the stunningly beautiful bride, flanked by her parents. Judie is a natural beauty; she has high cheekbones and a captivating smile. Now, dressed in a gorgeous curve-hugging gown, and made up just enough to accentuate her natural beauty without looking overdone, Judie was breathtaking. I nearly started crying just at the sight of her (cut me some slack, I’m allowed to be girly once in a while!)

    As she joined Juan at the altar I was suddenly aware that the man was on the verge of a tear filled waterfall.  It was adorable and almost brought me to tears myself. Juan was so anxious he jumped to kiss his bride before the ceremony even began and was quickly (and affectionately) scolded by the officiant. The crowd giggled and the ceremony commenced. Now I know Judie to be a funny woman, but her vows nearly had me howling in laughter. Of course they were also laced with sweet sentiments, but Juan’s heartfelt monologue was the more emotional of the two and all I could keep thinking was how lucky these two were to find each other.

    Soon thereafter they were pronounced man and wife and sashayed their way back down the aisle and out the back door. We were then led back to the cocktail area, now decorated with several food stations. Jon and I quickly made use of our plates, piling them high with pasta, veggies, pork, fish, fruit — the deliciousness of it all left us with no shame. As we chowed down we discussed our lives and our futures. Jon is gay and greatly looks forward to having his own wedding and family one day. It makes me sad to think that laws may make one part of that equation very difficult for him. I wish I could forfeit my “right” to wed to someone who believes in marriage so much more than I do. It just doesn’t seem fair.

    Our conversations and debates about life and love were interrupted by an announcement that we were to return to the hall for the reception. Taking a last swig of our martinis we headed inside and learned we were sitting beside Trance, one of Judie’s best friends and a mutual friend of mine as well. His presence alone was a sure sign that the sentimental wedding would now turn towards a full on party. House music played as the newlywed couple made their way into the hall. First and parental dances were had and soon enough we were all joining the lovers on the floor to sweat out our excessive martinis.

    The next few hours were a blur of wonderfulness. Jon and I danced to top 40, salsa, bachata and endless bouts of merengue. A live band (Los Homeboys) graced the stage and called Judie and Juan up to join them. Showcasing their hip-gyrating talents, the couple got the whole crowd involved in the dance extravaganza.  Calling it memorable is an understatement. Between dances there was more food, more drink and more laughs. I only broke from the fun to use the restroom, and in doing so found yet another sweet surprise: a photo booth.

    My most recent obsession with photo booths began when Jon and I found one in a dive bar on 9th avenue months ago. Since then, whenever I come across a booth I must grab someone to take photos with me. If not, I might turn into dust or something medieval and tragic like that.  Jon and I grabbed a clapperboard and a boa and jumped into the booth. After emerging with some fun photos, I spotted Judie, grabbed her hand and cut the line of party-goers while announcing, “I’m allowed to cut the line, I have the bride!” Fortunately, Juan found us, joined in, and now I have printed memories of our quartet being ridiculous together.

    The problem with fun and beautiful weddings is they tend to move along too quickly. Before we knew it, hours had passed and it was time to wish the couple well on their honeymoon to Italy. I hugged Judie fiercely, made her promise she’d have the most amazing time in Europe and contact me as soon as she returned. I approached Juan just the same and then let them both go off to attend to their other guests. Jon and I made our way to the valet and learned the clouds had begun to clear. The transition into a beautiful day.

    As we drove away, Jon commented on the experience. “That was an excellent wedding and they clearly love each other more than anything.” I smiled. Jon had never met the couple before, and yet he could acknowledge their shared love. I’m honored to know people who still love this way despite any outside factors. While I have my own opinions, my own doubts, while there are facts to back up my claims, and sad stories of experience to be told, I still know a few people who have made it through the bullshit. And in knowing Judie and Juan, I still have hope.

    Love you guys!

    [Addendum:: Since I wrote this original post, NY state legislation passed a law allowing same-sex marriages. Yay New York!!!!!]

    
    
  • Floridian Bliss- aka Marjorie’s Wedding

    Oct 18, 10

    It always amazes me how time can be so easily manipulated. It feels as if Marjorie and Erick were engaged only months ago, as if we helped Marjorie pick out her dress only weeks ago, as if we drank ourselves silly only days ago at her bachelorette  party. But alas! This is not true. The year long process ended the weekend of October 1st, in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, during the final leg of an intense journey.

    What would have been a week long trip for Melissa and I, turned out to be a strict Friday-Sunday stay because of our job obligations. All was running smoothly until I received an email from Continental on Thursday saying mine and Melissa’s flight for Friday had been cancelled.  We’d been rebooked on an evening flight which would mean we’d miss the rehearsal and the dinner, and possibly THE ENTIRE WEDDING!

    I was about to freak out, open a window of my 43rd floor office and scream to the heavens, but my coworkers calmed me down. I sat on hold with the airline for 45 minutes before finally having the chance to speak to an agent. Poor Lily, she never saw my maniac monologue coming. In one breath I said “MynameisLaurenRivera.Iwassupposedtobeonthe930amflighttoFortLauderdaleanditgotcancelledandI’mmaidofhonorandI
    havetobethere!Pleasehelp!”
    After suggesting I pop some Xanax, Lily went to work and 15 minutes later, Melissa and I were re-booked onto a 650am flight. We might not be sleeping much, but at least we would make it.

    Zombified, Melissa and I made our way to Newark adorned with our carryon bags and our bridesmaid dresses. Suddenly, flying with the dresses seemed incredibly stupid. There was nowhere to hang them and so up into the overhead they went. I didn’t have the brainpower to worry about what they’d look like when we landed.

    Hurricane Nicole had just blown through Florida and her reminants were dispersing, making way for the bright and beautiful sun. The rays beckoned me poolside even though I should have been catching a short snooze. A few hours later, slightly tanned and flanked on each side by my mom and Melissa, I entered the church. We were greeted by Marjorie, our fearless, gorgeous leader and ran through the motions of the ceremony. Afterward, I was entirely paranoid that it would be me who would somehow manage to screw this whole thing up.

    We quickly made our way to Bimini Boatyard where we were joined by a large group of the bride and groom’s families. My mother, Melissa and I made use of the marina setting by pretending we owned each yacht as part of our Billionaire Girls Club.

    Glasses of wine were poured, childhood stories were told and laughs were had. All the “kids” (everyone under 40) planned to head out to the Fort Lauderdale club area afterward. Melissa and I made the wise choice of banking our party hours for the following day and called it a night. To hell with being young and fun, we had beauty sleep to catch!

    The next morning I awoke first at 745am to commence the preparation process. Showered and packed, my trio left Pembroke Pines feeling as if we’d hardly set foot there and headed back to Fort Lauderdale. Arriving at the Hyatt by 930am, Melissa and I rushed down to the hair and makeup room while my mom checked in. The scene appeared less like wedding prep and more like behind the scenes of Next Top Model. Beauty stations filled the small ballroom and hair and makeup artists were diligently working on their customers. I asked for a natural looking face and pretty ponytail then let those with masterful hands take the reigns. When all was said and beautified, I felt runway ready.

    Knowing we would soon be swept up in wedding day madness, Melissa and I took a seat at the hotel’s bar and grabbed a quick lunch. Erick swung by to say hello before finding a room to park his belongings. He was the total opposite of Marjorie; stressed. Whereas she had an air of complete calm, he walked around with a sense of urgency. If I ever get married, I hope to handle the ordeal like Marjorie…but I’ll probably be like Erick.

    At 1230pm we reported to Marjorie’s hotel room where she was posing for photographers. Lorie, her drill sergeant of a wedding planner, ran about with a quickness, pulling pins and blotting tissues out of thin air. I stepped aside for fear of derailing her and causing World War 3. When Marjorie slipped into her dress, I spent a few moments frozen in time. It wasn’t just that she looked gorgeous, but also a confirmation that this was all really happening. My best friend was getting married.

    Grouped together like a small procession, we all made our way to the hotel’s lobby where the limo awaited us along with Majorie’s parents and Liliana, Erick’s niece who was acting as flower girl. Incredibly calm and sweet, Lilana, in her little white dress, was lost among the cloud of purple. I grabbed her hand and guided her into the limo. Crammed together, all eight of us slid with the turns and popped out of our seats with the bumps as we made our way to the church.

    Once inside, all the bridesmaids created a line of defense to insure no one saw Marjorie in her dress before coming down the aisle. The church might in fact crumble if one glance was stolen. With our mission accomplished, Marjorie safely hidden in a cubby corner, we lined up for the procession down the aisle. Amazingly, I didn’t walk too quickly or fall as I made my way to the altar. Melissa, Oscar and Fernando joined me before we turned to watch Marjorie make her grand entrance. And grand it was! She had somehow managed to look even more stunning than she did 5 minutes before. I felt my eyes tear up just a bit, but she didn’t look the least bit phased. Marjorie and her sense of calm, always present.

    Erick, the handsome and happy groom, accepted his wife to be and so began the ceremony. During said ceremony I: 1) Nearly laughed out loud several times not because anything was actually funny, but because I knew I absolutely should not laugh and so, of course, I couldn’t think of anything but laughing. 2) When the priest stood to deliver Communion, Melissa and I slapped our hands against our hearts (a sign that we are not practicing Catholics and were skipping Communion) so quickly and in perfect unison, that Fernando and Oscar had to hold back their own laughter from across the altar. 3) Ran after Marjorie every time she moved away from her post so I could fix her train.

    It was an intense 60 minutes.

    And then it was over and they were officially husband and wife.

    Whereas everyone else got to cut out, head back to the hotel and lounge, the wedding party had to go on a photo taking adventure. In the hot Floridian sun, we made our way through courtyards, parks and the middle of traffic heavy streets. All the while, I held tight to Liliana’s hand. Although her father, Oscar, was with us I had taken a very special liking to her and deemed myself her babysitter. Her soft-spoken mannerisms and angelic smile had me fall in love instantaneously and when several people mistook me for her mother, I was honored. Children like Liliana are rare. But, while I’m usually the person who says time and time again that I may never feel the urge to have my own kids, it’s children like her that make me feel something entirely different. Some deeply buried maternal instinct roars its way through me and I have to get my bearings before I go off the deep end and starting planning for a child I’m nowhere near having.

    Several hundred beautiful photos later, we returned to the hotel and joined everyone for the cocktail hour. I bum-rushed the bar and downed 3 Grey Goose with a splash of cranberry cocktails within 20 minutes. I wasn’t trying to set a record, I was just thirsty. Soon enough I was intoxicated, as was Melissa and we made our way to the bathroom, but not before stopping to play a grand piano in the foyer of the hall. I have no business playing a piano…but I did it anyway.

    Buzzed, jolly and excited, we made our entrances into the ballroom and the evening activities officially began. We danced, everyone but myself ate, and soon enough it was time for the Best Man and Maid of Honor speeches. My intoxicated fuzz had me believing it was possible my heart might literally jump out of my chest and run for the hills. Nervous was an understatement. I’d spent a week preparing this speech; had my coworkers give me notes and my “life coach” give me his most honest opinion. Overall, it passed everyone’s judgement with good grace… but I was still scared.

    I followed Oscar up to Marjorie and Erick’s table, folded paper with scribbled notes dug deep in my palm. Oscar winged it, and at the end, challenged me to give a better toast. I was less concerned with having a better speech and more concerned with simply surviving this. That’s the thing about being a writer: everyone expects you to write, preferably, something amazing. With that burden on my shoulders, I grabbed the mic, made a joke about actually needing a piece of paper because I had a lot more to say than Oscar, and when that got laughs, I began to relax. Below is the video of both mine and Oscar’s speeches, mine starts  at 1:49 although you should totally watch Oscar’s as well
    

    Dance videos!
    
    
    
    
    

    After the speech, I was approached by several people who made it a point of telling me how great the speech was. Yet another mission accomplished. I was now free to fully enjoy myself, but not before trooping back over to our hotel room to grab flip flops for my mom, Melissa and I. I offered to go alone because I felt one of my moments coming on. By the time I made it to the room, I desperately needed fresh air. I opened the balcony sliding door and plopped down on the concrete floor. The ocean was smooth underneath the bright moon before me. I was suddenly reminded of my break down at Pablo’s wedding just months before. The difference between the two evenings? I was now even farther away from the possibility of my own nuptials considering I was no longer in a relationship. I remember staring down at my hands and my unadorned left ring finger. Marjorie and Erick’s story, how they’ve known each other since childhood, but came together as adults, is the kind of story I’d probably end up writing a script for one day. And there are a ton of other romantic plot lines I’ll piece together as well. But when I’ll actually start believing in them? That is still yet to be determined…If ever.

    I shook my drunken head back to reality, wiped away the small tears that had formed at the corner of my eyes and remembered that I was supposed to be doing something… HAVING FUN! And like a switch, fun Lauren was back. She returned to the reception and to the dance floor. She met a group of wedding attenders and headed to the beach at midnight. She swam, yet again, in darkened waters and then had a slice of pizza to toast her survival. She returned to the hotel and joined everyone for a 2am dip in the pool and hot tub. She laughed. And for what it’s worth, she gave not another thought to her own bullshit and instead enjoyed the happiness emitted from those around her.

    
    
  • Bridal Weekend Extravaganza!

    Oct 05, 10

    The first and only wedding I’d been a part of prior to this 365 days of marital mayhem was my cousin Danielle’s wedding in the summer of 2004. Participating in that wedding as a bridesmaid was a breeze; buy a dress, show up, stand at the front of the church, party. The end.

    My participation in Marjorie’s (FMH) wedding was a hugely different experience. Prior to the wedding, there was the bridal shower and bachelorette party the weekend of September 10th. My last post dealt with the emotional affect the planning had on me. The actual weekend went a little something like this…

    I arrived at the bridal shower a bit later than originally intended. Luckily, most of the guest’s clocks and watches were as imprecise as mine and people were still filing in. The small room looked adorable, adorned in red and purple decorations. I played DJ on the jukebox equipped with pop chart toppers. The food was yummy, the games entertaining and many laughs were had.

    With every wedding event I attend comes the inevitable statement of my own future, especially if my mother is present. It goes a little something like: “I don’t think I’ll ever have grandchildren. Lauren may never even get married!” *Insert huge sigh here* No pressure. None at all.

    Easy to see why I was relieved when the day moved on; we dwindled down to a smaller group and hit the streets of NYC. But not before having to figure out how in the hell Majorie’s rented bridal chair would fit into Melissa’s car.

    After a brief layover at Melissa’s house, we left Brooklyn and made our way toward downtown NYC.

    The irony of the situation was evident the minute we emerged from the subway. Our hotel for the evening was the Millennium, located across the street from the World Trade Center. The current date was September 11, 2010. (It was the only date that had worked for everyone involved.) We made our way through hordes of tourists and NYers paying their respects around the site. After checking into our junior suite, we stood by the windows which had an amazing view of both upper NYC and the Trade Center reconstruction. The eerie beauty of it was almost overwhelming and the four of us were stuck between moments of reverence and anticipating the evening’s activities.

    We drank horrible homemade Vodka mixes and told stories of our love life pasts. The room was filled with giggles and “GET OUTTA HERE!”s for a couple of hours before we finally decided we’d be hitting a string of SoHo bars and lounges. A quick cab ride got us to R Bar on Bowery. There was a private party underway, but what bouncer would turn down 6 beautiful females? After dancing around to some tunes, throwing back a glass or two, and claiming the place lame, we moved East to Allen Street. There we stopped (and stayed) at People. Various friends joined us throughout the night and with each new group, rounds of shots were bought and drank.

    I’ve learned, in my old age, that my body does NOT like shots anymore. Evidence of this lies in the fact that I don’t remember a good portion of the evening…But my stomach did. Let’s just say I was sick three times. The following morning found me dazed and confused, and Marjorie and Melissa fast asleep. I awoke them because I had to get some work done and could not spend any more time at the hotel. I nudged Marjorie’s leg as I swayed off balance. She popped her eyes open ever so softly.
    “You have fun?” I asked.
    She nodded.
    “Good. That’s all that matters.”

    And with that I left my friends, spending the next 12 hours in hangover hell but feeling satisfied that it was a night we’d speak about for many years to come.

    (Marjorie’s wedding was 10/2. A post on that will arrive later this week.)

    
    
  • Maid of Horrible

    Sep 13, 10

    I’m not cut out for this.

    Somewhere between the time I said “Sure!” to these Maid of Honor requests, and today, my life was… normal. Or at least, as normal as it could be. I had the kind of job that blessed me with a reliable social life, I was in a relationship and my family life was semi-stable. All at once that changed.

    My mom went into a series of hospital visits. My three year long relationship ended. And I started my career. Not a new job, but a career. And for those of you that don’t follow my regular blog I didn’t exactly start a life long journey in something 9-5ish. I jumped head first into the entertainment industry. I became an associate field producer for an Emmy award winning daytime TV talk show. This formula created something completely chaotic that changed who I was and who my friends and family had known me to be.

    I became the biggest flake.

    Not exactly a good thing when you’re maid of honor for two upcoming weddings. There are restaurants to book, favors to find and dresses to have altered. When the change came I suddenly, and whole heartedly,  sucked. At all of it. Like very badly sucked. The bride of the October wedding lucked out in the fact that she picked an awesome Matron of Honor who stepped up and pretty much handled everything on her own. And me? I sat aside with absolutely no time to contribute to the cause and instead wrote checks as my sole contribution. It makes me feel pretty shitty. But this is my life now. And ironically this does in some way connect to my future with marriage… or without it.

    I’ve come to know several women in the production business and 85% of them are in their 30s or 40s without a husband or children. They love their careers and maybe it’s been their priority to keep their lives outside of work conducive to the craziness that is this business. In only four weeks I’ve learned that scale of balance is a constant slippery slope. Prior to joining this world my interaction with the idea of marriage was based solely on my own inhibitions. Now I’ve gone and thrown something completely extra into the mix. What’s more important? Living a life that makes me reliable and allows me the time to foster relationships while having me bored out of my mind with 8 hours of every day that passes me by, or enjoying what I do for a living and being given the satisfaction that my hard work actually means something to me, but losing a grip on pretty much everything else? How do you choose? How do you mesh?

    Maybe this is early speak. Maybe by the time next April comes and the weddings have all wrapped up I’ll have figured it out. Or maybe I’ll just be further away from a planned future than I am now. Maybe I’ll have found a way to settle down for good. Or maybe I’ll go weeks without sleep and recover on Caribbean islands (when I can afford it) before returning to the grind.  Maybe nothing will be much different than it is right now.

    Regardless of where I end up I hope those who I have let down know that I have not done so with ill intentions. That I love them for being my friends, but that I hope they understand this is what I need to do. Right now, and maybe for always. Because what light can I bring to other’s worlds if mine is filled with glumness?

    
    
  • La Isla del Encanto – aka Pablo’s Wedding

    Jul 14, 10

    It boggles me to think I began this blog at a time when the first event seemed so incredibly far off. Back in 2009 Pablo (FMD) alerted me his wedding would be of the destination type and would take place on July 10. The chosen destination was Puerto Rico; my homeland of sorts considering both my parents’ families derived from the island and each have a slew of relatives that still reside there. Needless to say I spent many vacations with this family who often refused to acknowledge that I didn’t speak their language and ran their tongue in ways I still can’t always comprehend. Why I never learned Spanish is still a mystery to me and a point that brings my parents to a full on war of denial, but that’s another story…wasn’t I talking about a wedding here??

    My friends (a small group of people I met in college and have stayed very close to) and I arrived several days before the wedding and stayed on the north east coast of the island, but what occurred outside of the wedding is irrelevant here and so I will blog about that on my personal blog. What’s important now is the amazingness my crew and I experienced on the day of Pablo and Amanda’s nuptials.

    Fans for the guests

    We arrived to El Conquistador Resort after swerving and climbing through several miles of mountainous terrain. At the top of said mountains, we were met by a stretch of golf course that was something out of a golfer’s wet dream. It was lush, green and ran for miles. Although I’d been to this resort 15 years before, the size of it still amazed me. And that was only the first of many moments of awe that I was to experience during the evening.

    Flanked by my two dates (Antonio and Adonis, my brothers from another mother who also came to the wedding solo), we approached the main building of the resort that was truly a wonderful replica of something you might see in Barcelona. I have a thing for terracotta and tile. If it were normal to build a house made of those materials in NY, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But, unfortunately, the only place where such a house would blend in would be Florida. Eh. Moving on…

    Everything about the place was elaborate and gorgeous. There were pools, slides, beautiful foliage and an amazing view of the ocean and islands off the coast of Fajardo. While we would have loved to roam around, we only had 15 minutes to find the ceremony and in a normal event hall that would have been easy; on a resort housing what feels like thousands of acres, not so much. I’ve never been more thankful that, unlike me, my friends aren’t plagued with the absence of a Spanish tongue. With just a few quick chats they were directed to the correct area and we arrived just in time.

    Upon the crest of a hill stood an altar, sheer white fabric wound about and floating in the soft breeze. Beyond the altar lie the bluest of oceans and the thinnest of clouds. I momentarily lost my breath and then was snapped out of it when I was nearly yanked into a chair by Adonis. Pablo had arrived and was making his way down the aisle. Now I know weddings are about the bride, but I have to say the man looked sharp! A beautiful burnt orange tie accented his light gray suit perfectly, and his robust smile was the final touch.

    The groom awaits his bride.

    When Amanda arrived my jaw nearly hit the ground. Firstly, let me say that Amanda is an absolutely adorable young woman, but in my eyes she’s always felt like a kid sister, shorter than me and full of innocence. However, when I saw her come down that aisle, I saw the most beautiful bride, a woman who stood tall and ready to take on the world with her new husband. I started tearing up. “Already?” Antonio asked me, “It hasn’t even really started. Get it together!” I sucked it up and watched the couple take their positions by the altar.

    The bride approaches

    A pastor with a smooth voice brought us all to attention and began the ceremony which included vows, a symbolic mixing of white sand and of course, a set of I Dos. When they kissed, we cheered and when they came down the aisle together as Mr. and Mrs. Diaz, we cheered even more. Then they ran away for photo taking and we hit the bar set up on the grassy knoll. We drank Cuba Libres and Margaritas while we planned timed attacks on the waiters who brought out appetizers like piononos and empanadas. I’d have a wedding in PR just for options like those.

    They kiss as a married couple

    Inside one of the main buildings, we were guided to the reception hall; a quaint room decorated in the orange of Pablo’s tie and Amanda’s flowers. Unlike some halls I’ve been to, the decorations around the room were neither tacky nor old-fashioned. They were modern and majestic looking. We took our seats at the Rio Grande table (each table was very cutely named after a city in Puerto Rico) and awaited the arrival of our hosts. When they joined us, entering the room to some party music and finding their way to the dance floor, it dawned on me that my dear friend was now a husband. Wow.

    Watching them dance with their parents brought me to tears once more, at which point I was shoulder checked by Antonio. Low and behold, when Pablo gave his thank you speech, Antonio was right there with me, reaching for a napkin to wipe the tears from his face. At least he held it somewhat together. Me? I was on the verge of sobbing. It had everything to do with the context of Pablo’s speech…

    It revolved around Amanda’s fight with Lupus over the last two years. Although I may never fully understand what this couple has gone through since their meeting, I was easily reminded of what Pablo had shared with me about the experience and from what I viewed with my own eyes during Amanda’s bouts of sickness. But the most amazing part of it all? Remembering how Amanda never looked defeated. How she fought through her illness with a sureness and strength that I’ve never seen in anyone. And how, through it all, Pablo was by her side. Damn. That, my friends, is love.

    Pablo giving his thank you speech

    I forgot what brought us all out of the most touching and emotional speech I’ve ever heard, it was probably one of Pablo’s random and hilarious one liners. Whichever the case, we were soon laughing, then eating, and quickly on our way to partying. The DJ’s mix of salsa, merengue and dance jams left me without a choice but to dance the entire evening. Adonis battled it out with Pablo in a dance match, and a plenero band (a traditional Latin improv percussion group) called me out to the dance floor to follow a set of dance rules… in Spanish. I understood that the leader was asking me to shake my hips to the beat, I just couldn’t remember the translation of each numeral he was throwing at me as a guide. “Siete!” he called out, and I shook my hips 6 times, one beat short. Everyone laughed. I told them I meant to do that.

    The Dance Off

    After many rounds on the dance floor and just as many rounds at the bar, a group of us headed to the balcony to smoke cigars. Big mistake. Not because I was smoking, but because the lack of music and distraction brought me front and center to the obvious issue at hand. I was at a wedding. Of a friend my age. Slowly but surely, each of my close friends would be married by 2011. I stood off to the side, and peered out at what was now a very dark ocean. Antonio noticed I had wandered off and came to join me while everyone else turned back to the reception. He’s been a close friend for 10 years, I didn’t need to speak for him to know what I was thinking about, but I did so anyway. While continuing my gaze at the ocean I said, “I just realized my beef with weddings.” He asked, “And what would that be?” “It’s not that I don’t believe in marriage, it’s quite the opposite. I hold them in such high regard that I can’t imagine ever being a part of one.” Antonio has his own relationship scars, some deeper than mine. “I know exactly what you mean.” We said nothing else, but stared at the ocean for several more minutes like two wing-clipped angels staring off at a heaven they can’t be a part of. OK, that was a dramatic statement…but I kind of like it.

    Once back at the reception we were immediately thrown in the mix of the ongoing party that lasted well through the evening. When the last song played at midnight, I wanted to pout. I was having too much fun with friends I realized I just don’t see enough. Friends I spent countless hours with in a dorm room or a study hall. Friends that sometimes knew me better than I knew myself.

    After long and tight hugs with both the bride and groom, my crew made their way back to the car. Throughout the ride home, Adonis, Dexter and I reminisced (as we often do) about our times together in college while Antonio and Stephanie caught the first train to dream world. We laughed to the point of stomach cramps and by the time we arrived at our hotel I wanted nothing more than to surrender my experience to memory so my brain could get some rest.

    But before I closed my eyes, I thanked the higher powers that be for blessing Pablo and Amanda with a love I will forever admire and for blessing me with a group of friends I will cherish for the rest of my life.

    Adonis, Me, Antonio

    
    

    All the buds

    The Lovely Newlyweds

    
    
  • From unGirly to Girly in 24 Hours

    Jun 08, 10

    Often my life is ironic. So ironic, in fact, that I begin to wonder if it’s all part of some master plan created by the gods of irony and non-coincidence. Case in point: This weekend I spent an entire day on the set of my company’s latest web production where I play a character named Maddie; she’s a tomboyish female struggling to get her femininity in order by obtaining girl friends. The very next day I had to attend a girl date with FMC and the rest of her bridal party. In essence, a bunch of girls together to discuss a wedding = Maddie’s worst nightmare.

    Luckily, I am not my character.

    While I’d admit to not being terribly enthralled by the idea of trying on bridesmaids dresses yet again, I was happy to spend time with FMC. She has chosen me as Maid of Honor for her April ’11 wedding, but with our crazy schedules we haven’t had much time to catch up. So I now had two reasons to be motivated: spending time with her…and drinking heavily.

    While FMC does many things well (she’s an awesome photographer), it’s her choice of restaurants that never proves her wrong. This time around she chose Agozar, a Cuban restaurant in the LES. I greeted her with a warm hug and she was quick to mention the unlimited sangria was only available for another hour. (I’m going to use that as my excuse for drinking more than 5 glasses within that allotted time period: peer pressure.) During our time there we laughed, gabbed, and received bridal party gifts (yummy tank tops and candles) complete with a newsletter welcoming us to the experience and alerting us of important dates. Internally I had this moment of questioning: should I have helped with this? That might be the first moment between being chosen as Maid of Honor for both FHM and FMC’s weddings that I realized I don’t really know what the hell I should be doing. Nor have I had the time to really sit down and think about it. I made a silent vow to up my participation in such matters…and then downed another glass of the red stuff.

    After several photo ops and a shot of Patron (why!), we headed to David’s Bridal on 6th Avenue. The weather was balmy and threatened to rain so we split up and jumped into cabs. I had to ride shotgun as FMC, Haizel and Tara rode in the backseat. I think I figured out I was drunk when I couldn’t get over the fact that I had trouble remembering who sang a song called “Back in the Days.” Either that, or when I decided I knew NYC better than the cab driver and was trying to direct him. I’m sure he couldn’t wait to throw us out of the cab.

    At David’s Bridal we were no better. Retrospectively, I realize we were that group of drunk, obnoxious girls that enters a bridal store with only one thing in mind: act like idiots. I’m a little hazy with remembering the exact course of events, but what I do remember is trying on several dresses we had no intention of buying (Maali and Trance arguing over a particular red one), sharing a dressing room with the other 3 females in the party and choreographing a Tina Turner style dance segment for the whole store to see. Wait, what? Yeah. We did that.

    Sometime later we got into serious mode (maybe FMC smacked us upside the head and I just don’t remember) and tried on a two piece set in a pinkish color. What I’ve learned after two dress fittings is that it’s a BITCH to coordinate a style that compliments everyone in your wedding party. Someone is short, someone is tall, someone has wide hips, someone has no hips, someone is super tan or super pale. You can’t win. Although I was pleasantly surprised by the top of the outfit, I wasn’t very excited about the bottom. But, in the end it’s like I’ve said in the past: it’s not about me. I openly and happily relinquish control to the bride.

    After the dress hoopla I started to not feel so well. I opted out of seeing Sex and the City 2 because there is only so much girly stuff I can take in one day, and headed home. By 8pm I was on the couch with my boyfriend watching the intro for the MTV awards and we had this conversation:

    Me: Babe, I don’t feel so great.
    Him: Sweets, I think it’s called a hangover-
    Me: (cutting him off) Wow, I totally tried on a dress that would have been perfect for this red carpet!
    Him: What?
    Me: (cutting him off again) Shh! You wouldn’t understand. You’re a boy!
    Him with a look of “whatever” on his face.
    Me…smile.

    Check out pics here:http://public.fotki.com/ElleJRivera/limited-brunch-album/

    
    
  • Marriage: Is it just a word?

    Apr 23, 10

    A wise man once said to me, “Marriage is what you make of it. Maybe you’re in love, maybe you’re just undergoing a business transaction. You and I could get married for health and tax benefits. Simple as that.”

    No, this wasn’t Mr. Wise Man’s way of proposing to me. He’s a gay man. In fact, Mr. Wise Man wasn’t even aware of the light he’d just shone in my eyes. (Evident from how he easily returned to his salmon platter.) I blinked. And then returned to my own Greek salad to mull it over.

    The idea and purpose of marriages has changed drastically over the last 60 years. Just ask my 85 year old grandmother who (after I turned 21) wondered if every guy I dated would turn out to be my husband. After seven years of perking her ears like a happy puppy only to be told there were no marriage treats in my shopping bag, she finally let up. I hate to let her down but I just don’t feel the pressure. I don’t have the need to settle down for a life long commitment simply because so many around me seem to be. Which lead me to my next question: Why did they chose to get married?

    I’ve heard several answers over the years. They were not all rosy and cushy as one might hope.

    “Because we’ve been together for ten years and…it’s just time.”
    “Because they give me what I need.”
    “Because I want to plan the rest of my life with someone.”

    With each of these I scrunched my nose like I’d just smelled something terrible. These answers were so…functional. Like a simple means to an end. The irony? The more answers I heard that left a bad taste in my mouth, the more I began to realize what it would take for me to ever consider marriage: the complete opposite.

    IF I ever get married it will be because I want to share something with this person that I don’t plan to share with anyone else for the rest of my life. I want to know, without a doubt, that I could never love anyone the way I love them. I want to be sure that they can have my back as well as I can have theirs (emotionally, financially, etc.) I want to know that if I ever decide to have kids, they are capable of helping to raise the children every step of the way. And most of all I want to know that I WANT it, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

    But hey…that’s just my opinion. I leave you with a clip from the movie “Shall We Dance” where Susan Sarandon explains why she thinks people get married (thanks for this Sandra!)

    
    
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