Lana Maryé Morelli

I always thought Halloween was a peculiar holiday. As a kid you dress up and go door to door, taking hand outs from strangers—something that certainly defies all “stranger danger” rules. Nevertheless, the distraction of sugary treats can be enough validation to forget how weird the concept really is. However, as an adult, I find Halloween even more mystifying. Not because of the creepy music or spooky undertones. I really just find it odd that people make such a fuss about dressing up. Spending exorbitant amounts of money perfecting a costume. Making sure everything   is “just right,” because “it’s only one day a year you get to dress up.” Or is it? Aren’t we all “dressing up” everyday as adults? Wearing our “costumes” to work and in our personal lives. People call it “changing hats” or a “different face.” Whatever the cliché, the truth is that we’re all acting a certain way for our certain role. Employee, Professional, Child, Parent, Student…the particular role dictat

“I’m sorry for your loss…”   It’s what you’re supposed to say.  But even as the words left my lips and resonated in my brain, I thought about how empty, generic and half hearted they seemed.  As I listened to his voice on the voicemail I rehearsed saying it, but each time it sounded wrong.  I wanted a Hallmark zinger; something short, sweet and powerful. At this point even if it rhymed and skimmed the surface of cheesy, I thought that it would have been better than “ I’m sorry for your loss.” This was a person I spent my childhood summers beside.  He was someone I’ve known for almost two decades and I felt like the words “I’m sorry for your loss” were desensitizing his situation. This is when I really needed Hallmark, but instead was left to my own devices.  Suddenly the voicemail beeped indicating for me to speak... “ Hey… it’s me .” I sounded too chipper; I tried to adjust my tone.  “ I heard about your dad …” Shit, now I sounded too depressing, I need to fix that {Long Pause} “ I

Mother’s Day is Sunday. It’s the Hallmark-official day when we are required to celebrate our mothers. In theory it’s nice. It says, “On this special day in May, make sure you tell Mom how great she is.” Okay we can live with that… but in reality; it doesn’t fit into such a neat little box…  If you are a person who has a strained relationship with your mother, then Mother’s Day is not exactly your favorite time of the year. Truth is, not everyone has the Mrs. Brady mother type. You don’t have to get a license or pass a test to procreate, therefore, some people, who aren’t quite suited for the job, end up becoming mothers. So for those people, the day is awkward, forced and fake. You participate because you feel obligated. If you are person who lost your mother, (especially if it’s recent) then Mother’s Day is painful. You don’t want to be reminded that you are without a Mother to celebrate. If you are a person who has been trying to conceive a child, but have been unsuccessful,

“Pictures don’t change only the people in them do.” No truer words have ever been spoken. I look back at pictures of my life, elementary school, high school and college. In all of the pictures as the camera clicked I am smiling, arm around my friend du jour, thinking, “It will be like this forever”. Some of the pictures are with friends who are still my “true blue” today, but some are with people who are no longer in my life. Some I’ve had a “falling out” and some it’s just because “life gets in the way.” My Mother is from Long Island, NY, born and raised. She relocated to Philly years ago, but when she gets on the phone to talk to her “Long Island Girls” she is always emotional when she hangs up. I remember being very young and seeing tears in her eyes as she hung up the phone. I asked her what was wrong and she replied “Oh nothing is wrong, I just miss my girls.”  I remember being perplexed by this comment. It seemed easy enough to me, so, I added my adolescent solution

Irony is a funny thing– I say this in contemplation of one specific reference: Sometimes it’s the people that we’ve held onto the longest, that, when were ready; are the easiest to let go. Whether its relationships or friendships. Maybe it’s because while we held tight to that person, what we were really holding, was our idea of them. I say “idea” because of the pesky irony… The irony, that even though we may see good and beautiful qualities in another person, they may never see it in themselves. Just because you love someone, doesn’t mean that they love themselves. This problem successfully masks itself while growing up. By the time your 20something, some people are mature, some immature. Some people have grow-up, some are on their way, and some are destined to be life-long Toys R’ Us kids. We are all on our own path, struggling to find our own way. What is difficult to understand, is that just because we start off at the same place, doesn’t mean we end up any where near the same pla