Blog Posts by Monika Basile

  • Ripples of Love

    Sometimes love comes quietly without a fireworks show. Sometimes it is in the silence, in the normalcy and in the peacefulness that we fall in love. Yet, most of us don't even realize it as we wait for the big ka-bang.

    We can see the grandest passion as the ocean, a whirlwind of crashing waves and exotic creatures or we can realize that sometimes love is the quiet of a gentle ripple on a lake. Both can make you seasick if you are floating long enough. The whole point of it is, is that we need to anchor somewhere. We cannot float forever. We hope we don't float forever drifting aimlessly while we wait for the tide to sweep us away into the fantasy we create in our own minds. We need to stop in our quest of only searching for the wildest turbulent emotion to tell us we have love in our life.

    I want the quiet lake now. I want the sun setting in the same spot. I want to know that the waves won't erode me or wash me away in a current of feeling-feelings that can last moments

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  • Simple Joys

    Today is a day when I need to find my simple joys.

    Today is a day when I need to look at all the little things that I have experienced that add up to living in a lifetime, because I have been having a day where I have been mourning things I have missed so far. Today is a day when I need to take account for moments that I have been lucky enough to know.

    I have made love in a thunderstorm. Not sex, love.

    I have held newborn babies in my arms.

    I have watched someone cured though I thought they would die from the cure.

    I have watched someone die.

    I have watched someone survive the deepest tragedy and go on.

    I have survived multiple tragedies and I am still kicking.

    I have a job that I feel good about going to. I see amazing people every day accomplish things I never imagined was possible.

    I saw a shooting star once while I lay on a road because the stars made me dizzy. I shared that experience with my dear old dog. I am not sure if he saw it too.

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  • Reality Bites


    I hate reality TV.

    Someone tell me what is actually real about it. Someone explain how being set up in a mansion, on an island, having all of your bills paid or having a variety of the "perfect" mates at your disposal is reality in any way? Please, I want an answer, if people behave as badly as they can, hurt as many as they can, and show themselves to be selfish and mean, how they wind up being rewarded with their own television show? How did this happen?

    I watch TV to escape reality not to watch someones created fake reality. What happened to a story or a plot? Even the "based on true story" movies are making me a bit crazy to see. What happened to brain storming and creativity? I am at a loss as to why so many people are focused on watching such insults to their intelligence. Does anyone actually believe that this is reality?

    Here is an eye opener that I try to give my children when they are sucked into the Jersey Shores and Biggest Losers and Survivors. These

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  • User Post: Rescue Me...

    Heat waveHeat wave

    Sometimes I can be the ultimate dork. It makes no sense at all really as I have no issue speaking with people, except in one situation-when a man is speaking to me showing obvious attraction. Then all of the eloquent words, the witty remarks, the deep insights I can easily spew-slip right down the tubes and I sound like a ten year old socially challenged little twit. How can this be me? How can I possibly not immediately know how to respond in this situation when no other situation unnerves me?

    I am in love with words. Reading them, writing them and speaking them. I got an A in speech class from a teacher who never gave A's. I won fifth in the state of Illinois on the speech team for a piece I did. I was in every play in high school. I was an MC for a festival. I speak to everyone about everything. I actually can't shut up most of the time even when I should. Yet, throw a handsome man my way who happens to take me off guard and I am suddenly Jerry Lewis stuttering and

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  • User Post: A Letter to the Man of My Future

    There are things you will not know about me in the beginning. We are supposed to show our best sides first and be on our best behavior in the beginning. We are imposed upon with that rule by whatever deity created it.

    If we are cars in the show room of life, we wouldn't point out all the faulty parts, the dings and scratches we try to hide with a fine wax. We would never say, "Hey buddy, sometimes it breaks down and then you have to call a tow." I am not implying that I am some hunk of junk trying to pass herself off as a Rolls Royce. What I am merely trying to get across with this bad metaphor is I am not "new" and that there are secrets in my life, just like in yours. And besides, one man's junk is another man's treasure-this is what I am banking on. I am hoping that you, the man of my future, will see all of the junk-yet find me enough of a treasure to keep me and not throw me into the scrap pile.

    It would be so much easier to go into a relationship and just blurt out

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  • My America

    This is my country. I am glad to be here.

    There are many Americans who do not believe that they are lucky to be here. I do-despite a lot of the bad luck that comes my way. I am honored to call this land my home, my country, my place in the world. I feel blessed to be born in this part of the world and I know, no matter where I may want to visit, I will never leave this beautiful country and set up house anywhere else.

    I do not take my freedom for granted. I am thankful for it. For every little part of freedom that we experience each day-I am thankful. So many times we forget that being free is our privilege and we don't stop to even realize how many others are not.

    We forget, as we cringe listening to some awful music blaring out of a car window or coming from our neighbors house, that there are others who cannot choose what they listen to. It is chosen for them. We forget when we spy art that someone may deem pornographic, that there are places in the world to show

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  • My Real Life


    In my real life (You see this is not it. This is not the life at all I imagined for myself.)I am having a lovely time. In my real life I sit on a sunset beach gazing upon gentle crystal blue waves. I am sipping on a glass of sweet red wine and the wind is blowing softly in my face and carrying the scent of hibiscus and jasmine with it. In my real life-it is peaceful and quiet and the noise around me is not drowning out my thoughts.

    In my real life I do not worry about how the bills will get paid or how to fix all the broken things piling up around me. In my real life, I am writing my tenth best seller and I am scheduling the next book tour with the hope it does not coincide with my vacationing in Tuscany. In my real life there is a limo waiting (not the granny panty car with constant loud noise coming from somewhere) outside my luxurious home as I am rushing to prepare myself for the party I have been looking forward to. In my real life I wear diamond earrings the size of

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  • Tuesday at Toni's


    This is for you Aunt Toni because I am not sure if you really know who you are to us.

    I have been blessed to be part of a large Italian family. However, it has only been the past five years that I have been able to come back into the fold. I was estranged from my extended family for most of the years I was married and the minute I decided to end the marriage I crept back, I ran back, I jumped back as quickly as I could. I was welcomed there, at my Aunt Toni's house. I was made a part of my family as if years had never separated any of us. At Aunt Toni's house I felt safe and loved and unashamed of what my life had become.

    This is you, Aunt Toni. This is the effect you have helped to create in our family and I wonder do you know how the simple olive branches you always reach out are truly what bring us all back? Us nieces and nephews who wander in and out of the family-somehow, we all feel the need to come back at one point or another to you and everything you

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  • The Birds and the Plan B's


    I am sitting at the dining room table when I receive this text from my daughter's bedroom ( yes, this happens all the time-the texting from a room away):

    Mom? Do you have to have a parent to get a Plan B pill?

    Oh my God! I tell myself not to panic. I tell myself that I can do this. I talk about this stuff all the time with a wide variety of people. It is in fact part of my job description-to educate on human sexuality. I am somewhat of an expert. Do not freak out I tell myself while I sit in the dining room trying to come up with a response.

    I finally begin my text and explain how to purchase it. I text about side effects and complications and how the Plan B pill actually works. But at the end of my response I do panic some- is this for you Kate?!

    This of course sets off an angry response from the girl: It is not me! I said it's for a friend and I mean it's for a friend. How long does it take for the egg to be fertilized?

    I then explain in text messages the

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  • The Unmentionable


    Yes, my unmentionables. I'm talking panties-and the Laundromat and the girls.

    I hate going to the Laundromat for this reason. There are no secrets there among us patrons. I can hide nothing. I am never more exposed to strangers than when I am fluffing and drying a wide array of panties and nighties and bras in full view. It is a place where we literally air our dirty laundry in public. Unfortunately, there is no avoiding it unless I wish to wash my unmentionables by hand and then suffer with the feeling they are not clean enough and feel stiff without the dryer to soften them.

    It is an odd ritualistic dance among the musical machines. We don't speak-we glance furtively from the corners of our eyes. It is not a place really to chit chat with the loudness of the giant room. I find it difficult to make small talk as I attempt to fold my nighties without anyone looking at them while I do it. And I am ashamed to admit that I am a creeper to the fifth degree when it comes to

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