This has been a very Tufts weekend, full of former peers I haven't seen in about a year sprinkled with a few peers I never even knew and topped off with a visit from the one and only Joggles. It was all very good and fun, and Joggles is absolutely one of the best people I know. And hopefully I'll be seeing more of those former peers because they happen to live quite close to me! It was really nice to hang out with them again.
Lately, I've enjoyed the process of reconnecting with old friends in the now and seeing how we've changed and how we've stayed the same. It's amazing that one and a half years has passed since graduating, because in some ways college feels so far away but in others it feels like the past year and a half has FLOWN by. Time is such an interesting concept. The idea of being on time always, and there being a certain amount of time between things, and that this is all very important. Who really knows? I think the construct of time was created for organizational purposes and now it's become this important thing that we couldn't live without. Just for a minute, imagine your life without TIME.
Okay, good. A busy few weeks lie ahead! This week is working and making presents and submitting my NYU application! Woooo! I'm very happy to have everything complete and ready to hand in. It took lots of work and focus to get everything ready by Dec 18th, and I'm very proud of the fact that I did it. Whether I get in or not, I pulled this entire application together in two months, and it feels nice to be submitting it.
Then next Monday, flying to KY with Dave! We're in KY for 3 days, then flying from there to Mexico City together and spending 5 days and 6 nights, including New Year's Eve, in the City that is Mexico. We are freakin' excited! And don't worry, there will be blog entries about the tales of speaking Spanish again and the trips throughout the countryside and the crazy nights salsa-ing in clubs. Estoy muy excitada!
So to all, Happy Holidays. Enjoy your time off and your time with family, and all the fun of celebrations. Much love!
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Friday, December 7, 2007
Now Focus on the Coffee Table
In my yoga class on Wednesdays, I have this really amazing teacher who has been practicing for almost 10 years and truly understands how to help and teach other people. She's incredibly wise and sweet...I've learned a lot from her already. And to top it all off, she is absolutely gorgeous.
One thing I love about her is that she brings a holistic approach to her classes. We meditate in the beginning and do breathing exercises together. She then tells a story relating to the philosophies of yoga or describes another yogi's teachings. And then we do the physical poses, ending class with meditation.
This past Wednesday, not only did she help me do two moves I had never done before, but she also described an incredibly interesting mental exercise that her friend shared with her. Apparently over the weekend, she was having a tough time with something that made her feel negative and angry, and kept dwelling in these feelings. Her friend told her to look around the living room she was sitting in and notice all the individual things, like the plants, the coffee table, the rug, the books, etc. Then, she was instructed to take out every object one by one until the space was completely empty. She spent a few minutes in her mind removing each thing, and then sat in the empty space, noticing how open and big it felt. Her friend then told her to put the objects back in, one by one. After this, he said to her that the space was still just as large and open, it just had things in it now. He instructed her to look around and notice all the things while also noticing the space. Next, he told her to focus in on the coffee table, so she stared at the coffee table for about a minute in silence. This wise friend of hers then said, "Now this is what you're doing in your life right now. You are focusing in on the coffee table, on this one issue, and you're ignoring everything else in the room. Even when there's something big and stressful going on in your life, there are still other things of equal importance also going on. Now look around and notice the other things in the room." She did this, noticing the plants again, the rug, the couch she was sitting on. And it made her look at all the other things in her life that were going on, and helped her realize that she was zeroing in on the coffee table, even though there was so much else happening in the big, open life of hers.
This story really stuck with me. I've recently adopted this very Buddhist philosophy (as a result of my yoga classes) of trying to look at all of my emotions as another emotion I experience and then move on from. Frustration, anger, sadness and pain are all emotions, just like happiness, pride and excitement are all emotions. Rather than dwelling in one of these, which thus takes away from experiencing whatever else is happening in the room/life, it's best to recognize the feeling, experience it, and then move on. Getting stuck in an emotion, whether it's positive or negative, really doesn't help anyone. It only takes the stuck person out of the present moment and keeps her in the past emotion. And if that emotion is negative, then it keeps her in a really bad place that effects her interactions with other people. But on the other hand, if she stays in a positive emotion, this can also negatively effect her interactions. Rather than getting worked up about an event and its emotions, or overjoyed about an event and its emotions, I want to experience all events and emotions as simply events and emotions. This is a really interesting and difficult practice!
I have yet to try the exercise I described, but just hearing about it really helped me. I want to try it sometime soon, to see if it opens the space around me a little bit more and helps me look at all the aspects of my life instead of just the few I typically focus on. And who knows... maybe it will help me see my tiny, cozy apartment as an enormous loft with plenty of space for dinner parties. We'll see.
One thing I love about her is that she brings a holistic approach to her classes. We meditate in the beginning and do breathing exercises together. She then tells a story relating to the philosophies of yoga or describes another yogi's teachings. And then we do the physical poses, ending class with meditation.
This past Wednesday, not only did she help me do two moves I had never done before, but she also described an incredibly interesting mental exercise that her friend shared with her. Apparently over the weekend, she was having a tough time with something that made her feel negative and angry, and kept dwelling in these feelings. Her friend told her to look around the living room she was sitting in and notice all the individual things, like the plants, the coffee table, the rug, the books, etc. Then, she was instructed to take out every object one by one until the space was completely empty. She spent a few minutes in her mind removing each thing, and then sat in the empty space, noticing how open and big it felt. Her friend then told her to put the objects back in, one by one. After this, he said to her that the space was still just as large and open, it just had things in it now. He instructed her to look around and notice all the things while also noticing the space. Next, he told her to focus in on the coffee table, so she stared at the coffee table for about a minute in silence. This wise friend of hers then said, "Now this is what you're doing in your life right now. You are focusing in on the coffee table, on this one issue, and you're ignoring everything else in the room. Even when there's something big and stressful going on in your life, there are still other things of equal importance also going on. Now look around and notice the other things in the room." She did this, noticing the plants again, the rug, the couch she was sitting on. And it made her look at all the other things in her life that were going on, and helped her realize that she was zeroing in on the coffee table, even though there was so much else happening in the big, open life of hers.
This story really stuck with me. I've recently adopted this very Buddhist philosophy (as a result of my yoga classes) of trying to look at all of my emotions as another emotion I experience and then move on from. Frustration, anger, sadness and pain are all emotions, just like happiness, pride and excitement are all emotions. Rather than dwelling in one of these, which thus takes away from experiencing whatever else is happening in the room/life, it's best to recognize the feeling, experience it, and then move on. Getting stuck in an emotion, whether it's positive or negative, really doesn't help anyone. It only takes the stuck person out of the present moment and keeps her in the past emotion. And if that emotion is negative, then it keeps her in a really bad place that effects her interactions with other people. But on the other hand, if she stays in a positive emotion, this can also negatively effect her interactions. Rather than getting worked up about an event and its emotions, or overjoyed about an event and its emotions, I want to experience all events and emotions as simply events and emotions. This is a really interesting and difficult practice!
I have yet to try the exercise I described, but just hearing about it really helped me. I want to try it sometime soon, to see if it opens the space around me a little bit more and helps me look at all the aspects of my life instead of just the few I typically focus on. And who knows... maybe it will help me see my tiny, cozy apartment as an enormous loft with plenty of space for dinner parties. We'll see.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
The Bunny
If any of you have traveled to the Bedford L stop, you have probably witnessed the glory of The Bunny... a young, goofy yet attractive man dancing wildly in the streets wearing various outfits, from bunny costumes to striped overalls to pirate hats to plaid pants with polka-dotted shirts. His moves are energetic and fun, sometimes in one place and other times up and down the sidewalks of Bedford Ave, all the way from Metropolitan to N. 12th. Sometimes he crawls, other times he hops, sometimes he runs and bops in place. He often has a boombox with him, blasting out classic rock or some 80s song that he exercise/dances to. He interacts with people in an exaggerated, comical way, making large facial expressions and rarely falling out of character no matter how they react. He also brings a bin full of costumes so that he can change midway through into whatever ensemble best fits the mood. I would love to dig through it one day and see what crazy shit is in there!
I'll probably have to work my way into his trusted network, though, before he'll let me dig through his costumes. But I think I might join up and dance with him one of these days. I'm sure he would love it. In fact, he already invited me! About two weeks ago on some drunken night, my friends stopped into a deli and The Bunny was dancing on the corner. I commented to the deli employee about how much I love watching The Bunny, and the employee started raving about how sweet he is and how he's this dedicated performance artist who cares so much about his art. My theories were either insanity or drug abuse, so after learning this info, I danced my way over, joined him in his interesting hop, and asked what was up. He told me he's an artist who loves to dance and thinks performance art needs to be brought to the streets like music and visual art have been. Can't protest with that! Time Out New York can't protest with that either...an awesome picture of him with a half page interview is in the latest edition. According to their story, he doesn't use drugs. I wonder.
So, everyday The Bunny makes me smile. And one day I will join him. Apparently he has already found a friend though! She's a mime who hangs out further south on Bedford and performs her skit on the street corner, and I heard from my newfound coffee shop buddy that they've bonded and sometimes perform together. Only in New York. I love it. Watch out... maybe I'll be there with them next week, dancing in sparkling slippers and a Cinderella dress!
Also, I'm going to take a few sentences to brag. I'm completely average when it comes to the verbal and math sections of the GREs, but when it comes to the writing section, I just found out that I am perfect!! I scored a 6 out of 6 on the writing section! Yay! Even though I've said for the past two months that this test is complete bullshit, my ego is still boosted.
I'll probably have to work my way into his trusted network, though, before he'll let me dig through his costumes. But I think I might join up and dance with him one of these days. I'm sure he would love it. In fact, he already invited me! About two weeks ago on some drunken night, my friends stopped into a deli and The Bunny was dancing on the corner. I commented to the deli employee about how much I love watching The Bunny, and the employee started raving about how sweet he is and how he's this dedicated performance artist who cares so much about his art. My theories were either insanity or drug abuse, so after learning this info, I danced my way over, joined him in his interesting hop, and asked what was up. He told me he's an artist who loves to dance and thinks performance art needs to be brought to the streets like music and visual art have been. Can't protest with that! Time Out New York can't protest with that either...an awesome picture of him with a half page interview is in the latest edition. According to their story, he doesn't use drugs. I wonder.
So, everyday The Bunny makes me smile. And one day I will join him. Apparently he has already found a friend though! She's a mime who hangs out further south on Bedford and performs her skit on the street corner, and I heard from my newfound coffee shop buddy that they've bonded and sometimes perform together. Only in New York. I love it. Watch out... maybe I'll be there with them next week, dancing in sparkling slippers and a Cinderella dress!
Also, I'm going to take a few sentences to brag. I'm completely average when it comes to the verbal and math sections of the GREs, but when it comes to the writing section, I just found out that I am perfect!! I scored a 6 out of 6 on the writing section! Yay! Even though I've said for the past two months that this test is complete bullshit, my ego is still boosted.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Holiday Hoopla and Feminine Conversations
Happy Thanksgiving to all, a day late. To be cheesy and fulfill my holiday duty, I am thankful for the turn my life has taken in the past few months because I'm very much enjoying the things I'm currently doing with myself.
On to other holiday duties... FOOD! I ate so much food that I woke up this morning still full and didn't eat until way in the afternoon. But damn, was that food yummy! And now there are tons of leftovers, which is really good but also really bad when it comes to getting too full. But how could one resist Mrs. Fine's Thanksgiving Menu? Let me just give a brief overview of the various foods I fully enjoyed yesterday:
Started off with red wine, crackers and guacamole with hot salsa, amazing stuffed mushrooms, and roasted red peppers
Moved to the table with normal, gluten-free and vegetarian stuffing, gluten-free cornbread with spinach and cheese, delicious sweet potatoes, loads of mashed potatoes, brussel sprouts with lemon sauce, and more that I'm totally forgetting.
After that was some tea, followed by (gluten-free, of course) pumpkin pie, pecan pie and apple pie, with ice-cream on the side.
YUM!!!!!
So all of this food was consumed at Dave's parents' house in Boston. For the first time ever, I spent a holiday with my boyfriend's family! And it was great. I was a bit nervous going into it, just because of the whole concept, but it was great in so many ways and very silly for me to have been nervous at all. First off, as proven in the above menu, his mom is a fabulous cook and was very sweet about my being a veg. She made tons of vegetarian food, making sure to use vegetable broth and separate utensils while cooking. She also put the turkey on a cabinet and made everyone go over and serve themselves, rather than placing it on the table where it would be in my view. What a sweet and thoughtful woman! I felt special. Aside from the delicious food, I got to spend more time with both of them, and getting to know your partner's parents really gives a deeper understanding of your partner in a way that I appreciate. Both Dave and his mom are similar in that they're very aware of emotions and people and the world in general, yet manage to escape certain societal pressures and live in their own worlds without being removed from reality. It's just really cool to get to know her; I like her a lot.
I'm also learning more about his father, who is very political and passionate and funny. At first I was a little nervous about what he thought of me, but now it's a lot more comfortable, and I'm really enjoying getting to know them both while also letting them get to know me. I'm quite glad our relationship is going well! My ex-boyfriend's parents could not believe I was the girl their son dragged in... a poor hick with dreadlocks from KY? Really, did you have to do this to us? That's the attitude Nick's mother assumed when I was around, and it made me feel really uncomfortable (obviously). I'm really happy that Dave has such warm, open, cool parents.
Yay Thanksgiving.
Other things on my mind: recently overheard feminine conversations. The other day, I was riding on the subway and overheard these two twentysomething girls talking about shopping for underwear. One of them said she needed to buy new underwear and that right at that moment, she was wearing her period underwear and wanted to buy new, cute ones. When I heard this I broke into a huge smile because I knew exactly what she was talking about. EVERY girl has her period underwear...those ugly, granny pants that have stains all inside them and are either pink, red or printed with something cheesy like big snowflakes. I would bet that the large majority of women in this world, due to personal experience, understand the concept of "period underwear."
So wait, why is it weird to talk about our periods? I'm sure most people reading are cringing right now, and probably all the boys will choose not to continue further. But that seems ridiculous to me. I hate it when our periods are this gross, hush-hush topic, and I love it when I hear women openly and loudly talking about it on subways. What's wrong with the word "tampon?" Why is "feminine needs" more acceptable than "Tampons, Pads, Etc" in the grocery store aisles? Why do men act offended and ask us to stop talking about it, or pretend to cover their ears when we compare cramps and aches? Our periods are how you got here, mister. Yeah, they're pretty gross, but almost all women have suffered through a period, most likely many of them, and that's just how it is. There are gross things in life that we talk about all the time. I.e., fighting and getting all beat up is pretty gross, but some people actually pay money to watch fights, and lots of people definitely talk about them with frequency. But I bet there are more people in this world have their periods than people who get into bloody fist fights.
So on this holiday weekend, think not only of what you are thankful for or what food you just overstuffed yourself with or what crazy family member you just saw, but think also of the female menstrual cycle.
On to other holiday duties... FOOD! I ate so much food that I woke up this morning still full and didn't eat until way in the afternoon. But damn, was that food yummy! And now there are tons of leftovers, which is really good but also really bad when it comes to getting too full. But how could one resist Mrs. Fine's Thanksgiving Menu? Let me just give a brief overview of the various foods I fully enjoyed yesterday:
Started off with red wine, crackers and guacamole with hot salsa, amazing stuffed mushrooms, and roasted red peppers
Moved to the table with normal, gluten-free and vegetarian stuffing, gluten-free cornbread with spinach and cheese, delicious sweet potatoes, loads of mashed potatoes, brussel sprouts with lemon sauce, and more that I'm totally forgetting.
After that was some tea, followed by (gluten-free, of course) pumpkin pie, pecan pie and apple pie, with ice-cream on the side.
YUM!!!!!
So all of this food was consumed at Dave's parents' house in Boston. For the first time ever, I spent a holiday with my boyfriend's family! And it was great. I was a bit nervous going into it, just because of the whole concept, but it was great in so many ways and very silly for me to have been nervous at all. First off, as proven in the above menu, his mom is a fabulous cook and was very sweet about my being a veg. She made tons of vegetarian food, making sure to use vegetable broth and separate utensils while cooking. She also put the turkey on a cabinet and made everyone go over and serve themselves, rather than placing it on the table where it would be in my view. What a sweet and thoughtful woman! I felt special. Aside from the delicious food, I got to spend more time with both of them, and getting to know your partner's parents really gives a deeper understanding of your partner in a way that I appreciate. Both Dave and his mom are similar in that they're very aware of emotions and people and the world in general, yet manage to escape certain societal pressures and live in their own worlds without being removed from reality. It's just really cool to get to know her; I like her a lot.
I'm also learning more about his father, who is very political and passionate and funny. At first I was a little nervous about what he thought of me, but now it's a lot more comfortable, and I'm really enjoying getting to know them both while also letting them get to know me. I'm quite glad our relationship is going well! My ex-boyfriend's parents could not believe I was the girl their son dragged in... a poor hick with dreadlocks from KY? Really, did you have to do this to us? That's the attitude Nick's mother assumed when I was around, and it made me feel really uncomfortable (obviously). I'm really happy that Dave has such warm, open, cool parents.
Yay Thanksgiving.
Other things on my mind: recently overheard feminine conversations. The other day, I was riding on the subway and overheard these two twentysomething girls talking about shopping for underwear. One of them said she needed to buy new underwear and that right at that moment, she was wearing her period underwear and wanted to buy new, cute ones. When I heard this I broke into a huge smile because I knew exactly what she was talking about. EVERY girl has her period underwear...those ugly, granny pants that have stains all inside them and are either pink, red or printed with something cheesy like big snowflakes. I would bet that the large majority of women in this world, due to personal experience, understand the concept of "period underwear."
So wait, why is it weird to talk about our periods? I'm sure most people reading are cringing right now, and probably all the boys will choose not to continue further. But that seems ridiculous to me. I hate it when our periods are this gross, hush-hush topic, and I love it when I hear women openly and loudly talking about it on subways. What's wrong with the word "tampon?" Why is "feminine needs" more acceptable than "Tampons, Pads, Etc" in the grocery store aisles? Why do men act offended and ask us to stop talking about it, or pretend to cover their ears when we compare cramps and aches? Our periods are how you got here, mister. Yeah, they're pretty gross, but almost all women have suffered through a period, most likely many of them, and that's just how it is. There are gross things in life that we talk about all the time. I.e., fighting and getting all beat up is pretty gross, but some people actually pay money to watch fights, and lots of people definitely talk about them with frequency. But I bet there are more people in this world have their periods than people who get into bloody fist fights.
So on this holiday weekend, think not only of what you are thankful for or what food you just overstuffed yourself with or what crazy family member you just saw, but think also of the female menstrual cycle.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
I Am Completely Average
The GREs are over! Woo! I scored completely average on the verbal and math sections and am thrilled (the writing scores come later, but I feel very positive about them). All I needed was to score exactly in the middle, and with only two weeks of somewhat regular studying, I managed to do just that. Yay! My programs of choice have all said they don't pay much attention to the GRE scores (focusing mainly on the portfolio), and I read in my study book that most programs in humanities and arts only pay attention to scores that are exceptionally low or high. I am neither. I am contentedly, exceptionally average.
Whew. SOOO nice to have them done! I was a mess. I pooped three times before I even made it into the testing center (woo, IBS) and bit my nails down to their nubs. The test is so long that by the last section, I was tapping my feet and popping my back every few minutes, to the point that I got nervous the proctors might think I was cheating. So then I stopped turning around but starting fiddling with my ring until that got boring, and then I started slouching and sitting up, over and over. Damn, it really took a lot of mental energy out of me! For a few hours afterwards, I felt completely spaced and exhausted. Wonderful Lizzy was there to rescue me, cook for me, liquor me up, paint with me, and then take me out for a rockin' good time where we danced like crazy with some even crazier friends. It was the perfect way to end an otherwise shitty day! And now I never have to stress out about the GREs again.
Except that I'm still feeling the stress! But I've learned that this is how I work. My body and mind goes into this mode of completion, so that I do what I need do while definitely feeling a little nervous but not necessarily feeling stressed out... until afterwards. Right when I no longer have anything to stress out about is when my body feels it all. Every semester, I would come down with a cold a few days after finals and be all tight and stressy, but during finals I felt perfectly fine and motivated. I just go into this mode of studying, or doing whatever else I need to do to get things done, and then as soon as I can relax, all the stress hits me. I was soooo exhausted yesterday, and since the test have felt very tense and tight. I got an unusual headache on Sunday and again today, and during yoga I was just out of sorts. My body felt tight and a little shaky, and my head felt muddy. It's strange, but this happens after every big, stressful situation. I guess I just go into this "get 'er done" mode and then once everything's been done, my body is like, "Okay, now that we did what we needed to do, let's be all tight and cranky and achy so we can get all that hard work and tension out of us." But blah! I don't like it.
I also don't like being in a long-distance relationship. Nor do I like being separated from Jess, my best friend from college who I lived with until I moved here. Both Dave and Jess came to visit on Sunday, and it was just so exciting to see them. Then they both left and that definitely added to my crankiness. It's hard! Woe is me!
In other news, I'm making bank lately. Linda went out of town last week and then on Monday, her boss told her that she would be going out of town again for three days, and had a flight scheduled for her in the next TWELVE HOURS. So, I've been practically living with the girls but making excellent money as a result of it. But despite the money (which weirds me out sometimes that I get paid to step in for Mom...), I feel like I've hit my rope with Marie and am definitely needing a break. Thanksgiving is well-timed. The past month has overall been better than the first two, and I feel like we're really falling into a groove where she gets her homework done with minimal struggle and we understand each other a bit more. But she just constantly mouths off about anything. It seems like being nice is impossible for her, but being sarcastic and snotty is natural. And oftentimes it's quite entertaining and funny, but after a long day (I was with them for 14 hours the other day because they were out of school for parent-teacher conferences and Linda was at their conferences and then at work), it's just really grating. And waking up in the mornings with her is hard because we're both such not morning people it's awful. We barely speak to each other, and when we do, it's not pleasant.
Overall though, we have definitely made leaps from when I first started. I've learned much more about her and how she operates and had a big realization while I was camping that I'm often too hard on her. I tend to hold her responsible for quite a lot without remembering that she's still only ten. What a weird age! In some ways, she's very mature, smart and grown up, but in other ways she's incredibly immature. And in more other ways, she's still a fun-loving, silly kid. But I can see the contradiction in her of wanting to be an older girl but still wanting to be a kid. And I remember how hard of a struggle it was for me. I specifically remember my first week of 6th grade, when a friend of mine and I asked the principal when recess was, and he replied, "Girls, you're in middle school now, we don't have recess here." It was embarrassing and such a let-down at the same time. And it's really hard for me to see her express the pain of missing her mother and just not being able to do anything about it. Though she'll never talk about the emotions honestly ("Nah, I don't miss her, she's only gone for three days!" which is followed by an incredible outburst over my having used the pen she wanted to use for homework), it's clear that she's very angry about her mother's work schedule, and misses her tremendously, and I am not at all a replacement and she resents me in some ways because I'm the person that represents her mother's absence. But in other ways, she loves me and realizes I'm not a bad guy and can really have a lot of fun with me. It's just that we've spent so much time together in the passed two weeks! I think we're on each other's nerves. But I'm glad to see general progress. And Angela and I absolutely adore one another. Her birthday was recently and I had a lot of fun picking out presents and burning CDs for her. And we went shopping together the other day, and at one point she grabbed my hand and led me to a rack so I could give her advice. She feels like a little sis already, and she's just so damn cool that I'm excited about our relationship.
That's the latest. The GREs are over, my work schedule should be more normal in the next few weeks, I have a break coming up, and am actually looking very forward to working more on my portfolio. I miss that, because for the passed two weeks I've dedicated most of my writing time toward learning new vocabulary and reviewing geometry. But no more! My stories have never seen a more dedicated Becky...
Except when she's sleepy. I'm out to bed...er, to the pull-out couch I'm sleeping on.
Whew. SOOO nice to have them done! I was a mess. I pooped three times before I even made it into the testing center (woo, IBS) and bit my nails down to their nubs. The test is so long that by the last section, I was tapping my feet and popping my back every few minutes, to the point that I got nervous the proctors might think I was cheating. So then I stopped turning around but starting fiddling with my ring until that got boring, and then I started slouching and sitting up, over and over. Damn, it really took a lot of mental energy out of me! For a few hours afterwards, I felt completely spaced and exhausted. Wonderful Lizzy was there to rescue me, cook for me, liquor me up, paint with me, and then take me out for a rockin' good time where we danced like crazy with some even crazier friends. It was the perfect way to end an otherwise shitty day! And now I never have to stress out about the GREs again.
Except that I'm still feeling the stress! But I've learned that this is how I work. My body and mind goes into this mode of completion, so that I do what I need do while definitely feeling a little nervous but not necessarily feeling stressed out... until afterwards. Right when I no longer have anything to stress out about is when my body feels it all. Every semester, I would come down with a cold a few days after finals and be all tight and stressy, but during finals I felt perfectly fine and motivated. I just go into this mode of studying, or doing whatever else I need to do to get things done, and then as soon as I can relax, all the stress hits me. I was soooo exhausted yesterday, and since the test have felt very tense and tight. I got an unusual headache on Sunday and again today, and during yoga I was just out of sorts. My body felt tight and a little shaky, and my head felt muddy. It's strange, but this happens after every big, stressful situation. I guess I just go into this "get 'er done" mode and then once everything's been done, my body is like, "Okay, now that we did what we needed to do, let's be all tight and cranky and achy so we can get all that hard work and tension out of us." But blah! I don't like it.
I also don't like being in a long-distance relationship. Nor do I like being separated from Jess, my best friend from college who I lived with until I moved here. Both Dave and Jess came to visit on Sunday, and it was just so exciting to see them. Then they both left and that definitely added to my crankiness. It's hard! Woe is me!
In other news, I'm making bank lately. Linda went out of town last week and then on Monday, her boss told her that she would be going out of town again for three days, and had a flight scheduled for her in the next TWELVE HOURS. So, I've been practically living with the girls but making excellent money as a result of it. But despite the money (which weirds me out sometimes that I get paid to step in for Mom...), I feel like I've hit my rope with Marie and am definitely needing a break. Thanksgiving is well-timed. The past month has overall been better than the first two, and I feel like we're really falling into a groove where she gets her homework done with minimal struggle and we understand each other a bit more. But she just constantly mouths off about anything. It seems like being nice is impossible for her, but being sarcastic and snotty is natural. And oftentimes it's quite entertaining and funny, but after a long day (I was with them for 14 hours the other day because they were out of school for parent-teacher conferences and Linda was at their conferences and then at work), it's just really grating. And waking up in the mornings with her is hard because we're both such not morning people it's awful. We barely speak to each other, and when we do, it's not pleasant.
Overall though, we have definitely made leaps from when I first started. I've learned much more about her and how she operates and had a big realization while I was camping that I'm often too hard on her. I tend to hold her responsible for quite a lot without remembering that she's still only ten. What a weird age! In some ways, she's very mature, smart and grown up, but in other ways she's incredibly immature. And in more other ways, she's still a fun-loving, silly kid. But I can see the contradiction in her of wanting to be an older girl but still wanting to be a kid. And I remember how hard of a struggle it was for me. I specifically remember my first week of 6th grade, when a friend of mine and I asked the principal when recess was, and he replied, "Girls, you're in middle school now, we don't have recess here." It was embarrassing and such a let-down at the same time. And it's really hard for me to see her express the pain of missing her mother and just not being able to do anything about it. Though she'll never talk about the emotions honestly ("Nah, I don't miss her, she's only gone for three days!" which is followed by an incredible outburst over my having used the pen she wanted to use for homework), it's clear that she's very angry about her mother's work schedule, and misses her tremendously, and I am not at all a replacement and she resents me in some ways because I'm the person that represents her mother's absence. But in other ways, she loves me and realizes I'm not a bad guy and can really have a lot of fun with me. It's just that we've spent so much time together in the passed two weeks! I think we're on each other's nerves. But I'm glad to see general progress. And Angela and I absolutely adore one another. Her birthday was recently and I had a lot of fun picking out presents and burning CDs for her. And we went shopping together the other day, and at one point she grabbed my hand and led me to a rack so I could give her advice. She feels like a little sis already, and she's just so damn cool that I'm excited about our relationship.
That's the latest. The GREs are over, my work schedule should be more normal in the next few weeks, I have a break coming up, and am actually looking very forward to working more on my portfolio. I miss that, because for the passed two weeks I've dedicated most of my writing time toward learning new vocabulary and reviewing geometry. But no more! My stories have never seen a more dedicated Becky...
Except when she's sleepy. I'm out to bed...er, to the pull-out couch I'm sleeping on.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Thursday, November 8, 2007
A Woodsy Weekend, A Gross GRE
This past weekend was heavenly. Dave and I ventured to Harriman State Park for some illegal, out-of-season camping and got absolutely lost in the woods and each other and how great life is when you're cuddling with your favorite person by a toasty campfire. Luckily, Dave is Mr. Mountain Man who grew up raised by wolves, so he knew all the right ways to do everything. I assisted him in performing the necessary duties to keep us warm and happy, learned how to make and tend to a proper fire, and chopped a bit of wood for my first time. Our fire proved to be entertaining enough for both nights and even part of the second day...we passed so much time just watching the embers and flames. It was a hell of a lot better than TV!
The weekend included making out atop big rocks, investigating for only the best fire wood, getting lost at night ("Oh, yes, definitely I can get us right back!"), a bit of scrabble, plenty of tequila and PBR, yummy food, lots of snuggles, and two little field mice who were brave enough to run over and stare straight at us. And how adorable they were! But we ran them off before bedtime...no one wants wild mice, not matter how freakin' cute they are, running in the tent.
Unfortunately the weekend also included studying for these damn GREs. The date is this Saturday, November 10th, and I absolutely can't wait to get them behind me. I feel like I've been doing so much studying but at the same time I sucked it up on the practice test, so I'm uncertain how the actual test will go down. In my defense, the practice test was filled with plenty of distractions (I was taking it in my kitchen) and I did quite well on the writing section. But the verbal was just okay, a little bit above average, and the math was embarrassingly bad. Thank god my prospective programs don't really care about these scores, especially the math scores, but still. I don't want to look like a complete dumbass!
In addition to absolutely hating the GREs, I found out that my chances of getting into NYU are less than 10%. I'm still going for it, but after I received this bit of info, am also going for quite a few other programs. Thanks to everyone who has helped out with the portfolio so far. I really appreciate the input!
So, I'm getting back into the swing of New York City and these applications and working and all that. It's amazing how only two and a half days away can really change your mindset. Just being in the woods like that with only one other person, to return to a city like NY in only an hour car ride! It can throw one off a bit. And I still feel like I'm adjusting to the city in general, so adjusting to it after the woods felt especially confusing.
Lastly, Frida Bat says, "Hi." And she just added, "I love Mama Tay!"
The weekend included making out atop big rocks, investigating for only the best fire wood, getting lost at night ("Oh, yes, definitely I can get us right back!"), a bit of scrabble, plenty of tequila and PBR, yummy food, lots of snuggles, and two little field mice who were brave enough to run over and stare straight at us. And how adorable they were! But we ran them off before bedtime...no one wants wild mice, not matter how freakin' cute they are, running in the tent.
Unfortunately the weekend also included studying for these damn GREs. The date is this Saturday, November 10th, and I absolutely can't wait to get them behind me. I feel like I've been doing so much studying but at the same time I sucked it up on the practice test, so I'm uncertain how the actual test will go down. In my defense, the practice test was filled with plenty of distractions (I was taking it in my kitchen) and I did quite well on the writing section. But the verbal was just okay, a little bit above average, and the math was embarrassingly bad. Thank god my prospective programs don't really care about these scores, especially the math scores, but still. I don't want to look like a complete dumbass!
In addition to absolutely hating the GREs, I found out that my chances of getting into NYU are less than 10%. I'm still going for it, but after I received this bit of info, am also going for quite a few other programs. Thanks to everyone who has helped out with the portfolio so far. I really appreciate the input!
So, I'm getting back into the swing of New York City and these applications and working and all that. It's amazing how only two and a half days away can really change your mindset. Just being in the woods like that with only one other person, to return to a city like NY in only an hour car ride! It can throw one off a bit. And I still feel like I'm adjusting to the city in general, so adjusting to it after the woods felt especially confusing.
Lastly, Frida Bat says, "Hi." And she just added, "I love Mama Tay!"
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Halloweekend, followed by Groupwriting
Wow, the past few days have been crazy fun... oh New York! How I love thy late hours, cheap PBR and constant happenings! Yet how I simultaneously loathe them the next morning! And by morning I mean noontime!
Lots of sleeping in, for sure. And napping, too. New York does not joke around when it comes to celebrating Halloween. Apparently they have this monster parade on the actual night, and tons of events leading up to it. All over the city all weekend long were various parties with zombies and blue-haired moonchildren and mobsters and toga-wearing Greeks, all dancing and drinking and celebrating. What fun! I dressed as a rather convincing Frida Kahlo and danced at the L-magazine party in the East Village on Friday, then split with my group to see my friends from Boston (Session Americana) play a few blocks away. However, my plans were thwarted when a really friendly janitor misled me and I ended up walking along the hairy scary FDR and Williamsburg Bridge until I found the correct path. Eep! All the while dressed as Frida whose unibrow was slowly dripping off from the steady rain.
I ended up at Banjo Jim's way after their set had ended, wet and still in costume, but was well entertained by the friendly fellows despite my extreme tardiness. Afterwards, I mosied down the street to another party to re-meet my group, but we all fled the scene once we discovered the amount of horny, drunk, 20-somethings dancing around. All in all, the night was weird, but I did get to see a large portion of the Lower East Side, and definitely had fun getting dressed up and going out with the girls.
And hey, there was plenty more fun to come on Saturday! I went to Queens to meet up with my new friend, Cassie, and we all (including her boyfriend and their friend, and my roomie Liz) made wonderful chili that went along nicely with the finally cold autumn that has set in. I carved a pumpkin while the boys turned into some pretty sexy Catholic school girls, and then a competition broke out with Cass, who was also a school girl, to see who got hit on the most. Definitely received some strange looks while still in Queens but fit in nicely once back in the 'Burg. I again became an extremely talented painter with very defined facial hair, and Liz transformed into a 50s housewife, and we all went to the biggest hipster house party I've been to ever. It felt very much like I was back at Tufts and a group of hipsters created a frat that threw keggers on the weekends...the puking girl, the face-sucking couples, the dance floor grinders, the way-too-loud-and-rowdy boys upstairs...very reminiscent of freshman year, but add in lots of tight jeans and glasses, good music and meticulous, artsy costumes, and a boatload of smokers in the back yard. But I actually had a lot of fun, spending most of my time in the smoking yard since inside was too hot and crowded. Met some very fun people, did a bit of dancing on the inside, then went for more pizza at the damn Alligator Lounge afterwards. I just can't seem to stay away from that free and delicious cheese pizza! Except this time there was no Elli to clean up the leftovers, so I happily took his place. And my lactose-intolerant belly has been mad at me for it all day. Come back, Ells, please, I can't be your replacement on pizza nights anymore!
Woke up at 2 today and met up with the writers group I mentioned. And it's so perfect! Just what I was envisioning when I organized it!
For those of you unsure as to what this group is, when I first moved here, I wanted to join some kind of workshop or writers class but didn't because of their appalling fees. So, I decided instead to form my own group! I posted on Craigslist about what I was looking for, got a lot of great responses, and set it up. During the past week, we sent each other some of our most recent stuff, and today met to discuss it. It was incredibly productive, constructive, and flat-out fun. I love the others' stories, and their input was so genuine and helpful. It felt really good to be in a group of writers and readers who are focusing on becoming better writers, and helping each other in that mission. I'm very happy for this! We're looking for a few new people, so if anyone is interested, please contact me. It was definitely inspiring, and made me feel good that I now have regular coaches, so to speak, while also being able to coach them. I like the reciprocity of it all! And because their suggestions were so right on, I'm now all excited about making these changes that I think will really enhance my stories. Who needs expensive workshops! Craigslist all the way!
So, I'm looking forward to a low-key week (minus Halloween night, of course) full of studying for these delightful GRE's and writing on my portfolio. And visiting with the lovely DJ Define! He's coming from Boston for a whole week and we're going camping over the weekend, and I feel like some ridiculous teenager who has a crush on the quarterback and gets super giddy when they talk. I'm looking so forward to a weekend away in the woods together!
It's very interesting to compare my activities and general feelings now to even just 3 months ago. I'm so happy with this move. Even though it has separated Dave and me, and I very much miss other people in Boston, this has been such a great move for my mind and creativity and overall life. I feel like this was a nearly perfect next step for me. And once I learn my way around, I'll take out those lost nights in the rain and it will be even more perfect. Woo, maps!
Lots of sleeping in, for sure. And napping, too. New York does not joke around when it comes to celebrating Halloween. Apparently they have this monster parade on the actual night, and tons of events leading up to it. All over the city all weekend long were various parties with zombies and blue-haired moonchildren and mobsters and toga-wearing Greeks, all dancing and drinking and celebrating. What fun! I dressed as a rather convincing Frida Kahlo and danced at the L-magazine party in the East Village on Friday, then split with my group to see my friends from Boston (Session Americana) play a few blocks away. However, my plans were thwarted when a really friendly janitor misled me and I ended up walking along the hairy scary FDR and Williamsburg Bridge until I found the correct path. Eep! All the while dressed as Frida whose unibrow was slowly dripping off from the steady rain.
I ended up at Banjo Jim's way after their set had ended, wet and still in costume, but was well entertained by the friendly fellows despite my extreme tardiness. Afterwards, I mosied down the street to another party to re-meet my group, but we all fled the scene once we discovered the amount of horny, drunk, 20-somethings dancing around. All in all, the night was weird, but I did get to see a large portion of the Lower East Side, and definitely had fun getting dressed up and going out with the girls.
And hey, there was plenty more fun to come on Saturday! I went to Queens to meet up with my new friend, Cassie, and we all (including her boyfriend and their friend, and my roomie Liz) made wonderful chili that went along nicely with the finally cold autumn that has set in. I carved a pumpkin while the boys turned into some pretty sexy Catholic school girls, and then a competition broke out with Cass, who was also a school girl, to see who got hit on the most. Definitely received some strange looks while still in Queens but fit in nicely once back in the 'Burg. I again became an extremely talented painter with very defined facial hair, and Liz transformed into a 50s housewife, and we all went to the biggest hipster house party I've been to ever. It felt very much like I was back at Tufts and a group of hipsters created a frat that threw keggers on the weekends...the puking girl, the face-sucking couples, the dance floor grinders, the way-too-loud-and-rowdy boys upstairs...very reminiscent of freshman year, but add in lots of tight jeans and glasses, good music and meticulous, artsy costumes, and a boatload of smokers in the back yard. But I actually had a lot of fun, spending most of my time in the smoking yard since inside was too hot and crowded. Met some very fun people, did a bit of dancing on the inside, then went for more pizza at the damn Alligator Lounge afterwards. I just can't seem to stay away from that free and delicious cheese pizza! Except this time there was no Elli to clean up the leftovers, so I happily took his place. And my lactose-intolerant belly has been mad at me for it all day. Come back, Ells, please, I can't be your replacement on pizza nights anymore!
Woke up at 2 today and met up with the writers group I mentioned. And it's so perfect! Just what I was envisioning when I organized it!
For those of you unsure as to what this group is, when I first moved here, I wanted to join some kind of workshop or writers class but didn't because of their appalling fees. So, I decided instead to form my own group! I posted on Craigslist about what I was looking for, got a lot of great responses, and set it up. During the past week, we sent each other some of our most recent stuff, and today met to discuss it. It was incredibly productive, constructive, and flat-out fun. I love the others' stories, and their input was so genuine and helpful. It felt really good to be in a group of writers and readers who are focusing on becoming better writers, and helping each other in that mission. I'm very happy for this! We're looking for a few new people, so if anyone is interested, please contact me. It was definitely inspiring, and made me feel good that I now have regular coaches, so to speak, while also being able to coach them. I like the reciprocity of it all! And because their suggestions were so right on, I'm now all excited about making these changes that I think will really enhance my stories. Who needs expensive workshops! Craigslist all the way!
So, I'm looking forward to a low-key week (minus Halloween night, of course) full of studying for these delightful GRE's and writing on my portfolio. And visiting with the lovely DJ Define! He's coming from Boston for a whole week and we're going camping over the weekend, and I feel like some ridiculous teenager who has a crush on the quarterback and gets super giddy when they talk. I'm looking so forward to a weekend away in the woods together!
It's very interesting to compare my activities and general feelings now to even just 3 months ago. I'm so happy with this move. Even though it has separated Dave and me, and I very much miss other people in Boston, this has been such a great move for my mind and creativity and overall life. I feel like this was a nearly perfect next step for me. And once I learn my way around, I'll take out those lost nights in the rain and it will be even more perfect. Woo, maps!
Monday, October 22, 2007
CMJness
This past week in NYC has been nuts! CMJ, a big indie rock music festival that happens all over Manhattan and Brooklyn for something like ten whole days, has been rocking my music lovin' butt. Unfortunately, it has also rocked my bank account, but that, my friends, is why I nanny.
Notable highlights from the past seven days of musical extravaganza:
The Gay Blades: A Brooklyn-based duo that relentlessly attacked the crowd with their sassy divaness and hard-rockin' rhythms from the very beginning. The frontman reminded me of Jack Stripe with his flashy guitar solos, melodic yet scratchy voice and intense screams, but added a nice touch of bitchy flair you'd expect from someone like Queen Latifah or Joan Jett. The drummer, an adorable nerd-type who sometimes backed up the singer with spoken word or high-pitched falsettos, only laughed at the antics while aggressively playing his fills. Throughout the night, a cup of ice was thrown at the crowd, my friend was told she was ugly for talking between songs, mostly everyone else was insulted in some fashion, and a large portion of the audience was pulled on stage to back up the singer's ultimate diva closure. I felt like his assistant princess when I got to officially end the music by banging the tom-tom and cymbal with a very worn drumstick he grabbed from his partner and thrust at me (which I then stuffed in my purse for keepsakes). Woo! And to top it all off, they played at the Lit Lounge, this cavernous venue with a twisty layout and extreme lack of light that promoted a kind of eerie and fun desire to get close to everyone.
The Press's costumes: The Press played an okay show musically but looked ultra hot physically. They apparently always dress in Native American costumes, complete with flowy panchoes, war face paint, and bandanas tied around their foreheads, but it was my first show and I fell in love with the look (I also fell in love with the spectacular third floor garden at the Delancey...definitely worth checking out before the winter!). Never before have I been able to watch a group of men jam out while simultaneously playing some weird version of "Cowboys and Indians." It was hot in that adult-who's-still-a-little-kid-at-heart kind of way.
The Woes: This enormous orchestra of random instruments was not a good fit for their venue, the Parkside Lounge, but despite the rough sound mix, they played a fun, solid set. Their gorgeous, dreadlocked lead singer alternated between banjo and acoustic guitar while twangily singing their blues/folk/rock influenced tunes. Their lineup included a pianist, accordianist, alto saxophonist, upright bassist, drummer and trumpeter, and probably something else I'm leaving off. They were packed up there on stage, all dancin' and smilin' and shoutin' along with the words. A good ol' time for sure.
The conversations I overheard: I was totally inspired. Like, every corner I turned would be another group of young people analyzing a performance or talking about their next show or sharing stories about falling off stages or discussing some philosophy behind their art. Dave B. and I would walk into one place, overhear lots of interesting chatter, go down the steps and listen to some music, then make our way down the streets, passing the crowds of music-goers, to another club to begin this process yet again. And let me point out: This all started somewhere around 12 noon. NOON!
The amount of pizza I ate Friday night during 11 straight hours of going out (I realize pizza has nothing to do with CMJ): Elliot came to visit on Friday and helped set off these 11 ridiculous hours. We had an absolute blast bashing in NYC, and I loved pretending like I'm Miss New Yorker who knows my way around everywhere already. Anyway, it all started when I ate a slice of pizza with the girls for dinner, then got off super early (at 5:30!) and met Elli at this yummy and very cool mex place called the Cosmic Cantina. We ate delicious, organic, and cheap food, accompanied with a $12 pitcher of Tecate that was abnormally large. Then we made our way to Brooklyn and met up with some others to enjoy those delicious $3 margaritas at my new favorite bar, Anytime. Then the Gay Blades entered the night, followed by another slice of pizza that entertained us on the walk to the Cake Shop, a club with this very inspiring and funky bar/cafe/record shop on the first floor and an intimate and arsty venue down below. The music was good (Yeasayer, check 'em out) but the below too hot and stanky, so we chilled for a bit and then decided more pizza was necessary. Our appetites led us all the way to Brooklyn to a place called The Alligator Lounge, a bar at Lorimer that serves huge, delicious cheese pizzas for FREE with every drink purchase. I opted for a water and a slice of Lizzy's pizza, who also only ate a slice or two herself, thus leaving half a pizza for the trash can. But wait, fat-ass Elli saved the day! Props to him. He ate so much food that night, it was remarkable.
Somehow, midst all of this I have been working hardcore on my portfolio. If anyone is interested in reading my current stories and offering advice, I'm looking for all the help I can get. I also formed a writer's group via Craigslist to meet every other week and review each other's stuff...first meeting is this Sunday, so stay tuned.
Notable highlights from the past seven days of musical extravaganza:
The Gay Blades: A Brooklyn-based duo that relentlessly attacked the crowd with their sassy divaness and hard-rockin' rhythms from the very beginning. The frontman reminded me of Jack Stripe with his flashy guitar solos, melodic yet scratchy voice and intense screams, but added a nice touch of bitchy flair you'd expect from someone like Queen Latifah or Joan Jett. The drummer, an adorable nerd-type who sometimes backed up the singer with spoken word or high-pitched falsettos, only laughed at the antics while aggressively playing his fills. Throughout the night, a cup of ice was thrown at the crowd, my friend was told she was ugly for talking between songs, mostly everyone else was insulted in some fashion, and a large portion of the audience was pulled on stage to back up the singer's ultimate diva closure. I felt like his assistant princess when I got to officially end the music by banging the tom-tom and cymbal with a very worn drumstick he grabbed from his partner and thrust at me (which I then stuffed in my purse for keepsakes). Woo! And to top it all off, they played at the Lit Lounge, this cavernous venue with a twisty layout and extreme lack of light that promoted a kind of eerie and fun desire to get close to everyone.
The Press's costumes: The Press played an okay show musically but looked ultra hot physically. They apparently always dress in Native American costumes, complete with flowy panchoes, war face paint, and bandanas tied around their foreheads, but it was my first show and I fell in love with the look (I also fell in love with the spectacular third floor garden at the Delancey...definitely worth checking out before the winter!). Never before have I been able to watch a group of men jam out while simultaneously playing some weird version of "Cowboys and Indians." It was hot in that adult-who's-still-a-little-kid-at-heart kind of way.
The Woes: This enormous orchestra of random instruments was not a good fit for their venue, the Parkside Lounge, but despite the rough sound mix, they played a fun, solid set. Their gorgeous, dreadlocked lead singer alternated between banjo and acoustic guitar while twangily singing their blues/folk/rock influenced tunes. Their lineup included a pianist, accordianist, alto saxophonist, upright bassist, drummer and trumpeter, and probably something else I'm leaving off. They were packed up there on stage, all dancin' and smilin' and shoutin' along with the words. A good ol' time for sure.
The conversations I overheard: I was totally inspired. Like, every corner I turned would be another group of young people analyzing a performance or talking about their next show or sharing stories about falling off stages or discussing some philosophy behind their art. Dave B. and I would walk into one place, overhear lots of interesting chatter, go down the steps and listen to some music, then make our way down the streets, passing the crowds of music-goers, to another club to begin this process yet again. And let me point out: This all started somewhere around 12 noon. NOON!
The amount of pizza I ate Friday night during 11 straight hours of going out (I realize pizza has nothing to do with CMJ): Elliot came to visit on Friday and helped set off these 11 ridiculous hours. We had an absolute blast bashing in NYC, and I loved pretending like I'm Miss New Yorker who knows my way around everywhere already. Anyway, it all started when I ate a slice of pizza with the girls for dinner, then got off super early (at 5:30!) and met Elli at this yummy and very cool mex place called the Cosmic Cantina. We ate delicious, organic, and cheap food, accompanied with a $12 pitcher of Tecate that was abnormally large. Then we made our way to Brooklyn and met up with some others to enjoy those delicious $3 margaritas at my new favorite bar, Anytime. Then the Gay Blades entered the night, followed by another slice of pizza that entertained us on the walk to the Cake Shop, a club with this very inspiring and funky bar/cafe/record shop on the first floor and an intimate and arsty venue down below. The music was good (Yeasayer, check 'em out) but the below too hot and stanky, so we chilled for a bit and then decided more pizza was necessary. Our appetites led us all the way to Brooklyn to a place called The Alligator Lounge, a bar at Lorimer that serves huge, delicious cheese pizzas for FREE with every drink purchase. I opted for a water and a slice of Lizzy's pizza, who also only ate a slice or two herself, thus leaving half a pizza for the trash can. But wait, fat-ass Elli saved the day! Props to him. He ate so much food that night, it was remarkable.
Somehow, midst all of this I have been working hardcore on my portfolio. If anyone is interested in reading my current stories and offering advice, I'm looking for all the help I can get. I also formed a writer's group via Craigslist to meet every other week and review each other's stuff...first meeting is this Sunday, so stay tuned.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Grad School Freak-Out
I've been talking for awhile about going back to school, but debated at length over what type of degree I wanted to get. I finally decided to go for an MFA in creative writing and then go a little further for a PhD in English. After that, the plan is to get a job teaching at a university and use money to develop a program that sets up college students with Spanish-speaking children in the area to work on English and literacy skills. Assuming I get accepted into all of these programs and jobs, and get enough funding to do all of these things, it's a pretty good and exciting plan!
So, I've been checking out some MFA programs in New York City and getting excited. I'm interested in three places so far, but I have my heart set on one of them that seems totally perfect -- a Master's at NYU that combines English, American literature, creative writing and foreign language studies. And also, they have all of these literacy outreach programs and fellowships where MFA students work with young ones in the city on their reading and writing skills. Yeah, that's right, all the things I want to be doing with myself! There couldn't be a more perfect fit for my master plan.
So, since the other applications I've looked at are due in February (I'm also interested in the New School and Hunter College), I just assumed this one was due right about then as well and was taking my time putting the pieces together. Turns out, I was way wrong... THE NYU APPLICATION IS DUE DECEMBER EIGHTEENTH!
What?!? What admissions counselors need that much time between application deadlines and when the semester actually begins? Ahhhh! So, I properly freaked out, as the app requires three recommendations, two official transcripts, a two page statement of purpose, a twenty-five page portfolio, a resume, and GRE scores. Holy shit, right? Holy shit!
But then I kicked my ass into gear and so far, I've secured my recommendations, received my transcripts, outlined my statement of purpose, signed up for the GREs (Nov 10th) and bought one of those stupidly expensive Kaplan books, and have been writing writing writing. Luckily, NYU doesn't mind reapplying so if I don't make it this year, either I'll get into one of the other programs or I'll get in next time! But ahhhh, I really hope it doesn't come to reapplying next year... eep, I'm nervous!
But whether I get in or not, this is definitely a good experience for me as a writer. I've been writing every day and have fallen into a groove where it feels good and normal to be writing that much, whereas in Boston it was a struggle to write twice a week. I'm definitely feeling very inspired here, by the vibe of Williamsburg, by the people I'm meeting, by the music and art I pass in clubs and on the streets and in the subway (59th and Lex on the 4/5/6 is gorgeous, by the way...beautiful mosaics all over the station! And Union Ave tends to have the most eclectic musical performances... one day, a woman in a dress singing high-pitched opera, the next, a black man with dreads wailing on the guitar, the next, two very buff drummers banging on buckets...). This City definitely has its own energy, and I'm completely feeding off of it right now in really good ways. Let's hope NYU thinks the same!
So, I've been checking out some MFA programs in New York City and getting excited. I'm interested in three places so far, but I have my heart set on one of them that seems totally perfect -- a Master's at NYU that combines English, American literature, creative writing and foreign language studies. And also, they have all of these literacy outreach programs and fellowships where MFA students work with young ones in the city on their reading and writing skills. Yeah, that's right, all the things I want to be doing with myself! There couldn't be a more perfect fit for my master plan.
So, since the other applications I've looked at are due in February (I'm also interested in the New School and Hunter College), I just assumed this one was due right about then as well and was taking my time putting the pieces together. Turns out, I was way wrong... THE NYU APPLICATION IS DUE DECEMBER EIGHTEENTH!
What?!? What admissions counselors need that much time between application deadlines and when the semester actually begins? Ahhhh! So, I properly freaked out, as the app requires three recommendations, two official transcripts, a two page statement of purpose, a twenty-five page portfolio, a resume, and GRE scores. Holy shit, right? Holy shit!
But then I kicked my ass into gear and so far, I've secured my recommendations, received my transcripts, outlined my statement of purpose, signed up for the GREs (Nov 10th) and bought one of those stupidly expensive Kaplan books, and have been writing writing writing. Luckily, NYU doesn't mind reapplying so if I don't make it this year, either I'll get into one of the other programs or I'll get in next time! But ahhhh, I really hope it doesn't come to reapplying next year... eep, I'm nervous!
But whether I get in or not, this is definitely a good experience for me as a writer. I've been writing every day and have fallen into a groove where it feels good and normal to be writing that much, whereas in Boston it was a struggle to write twice a week. I'm definitely feeling very inspired here, by the vibe of Williamsburg, by the people I'm meeting, by the music and art I pass in clubs and on the streets and in the subway (59th and Lex on the 4/5/6 is gorgeous, by the way...beautiful mosaics all over the station! And Union Ave tends to have the most eclectic musical performances... one day, a woman in a dress singing high-pitched opera, the next, a black man with dreads wailing on the guitar, the next, two very buff drummers banging on buckets...). This City definitely has its own energy, and I'm completely feeding off of it right now in really good ways. Let's hope NYU thinks the same!
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Accidental Intermediate Yoga
I finally joined a yoga center! I've been talking for months about how great I think yoga would me for my weirdly tight legs, slouchy posture, tense shoulders, and overall strength and clear-headedness, but have seemed to be content with just talking about it rather than actually doing it.
But now, no more just talk! I have entered a new era of a healthier me! I am now a neti-potter, facial mask wearer, daily protein smoothie drinker, and yoga master.
Well, not quite. Yoga absolute beginner is more fitting, but it's very interesting how I can already feel the benefits. Even during the actual poses I can feel my body opening up and stretching out and relaxing a bit more. And afterwards I feel so rejuvenated, and so motivated to drink herbal tea and take vitamins. It's weird how doing yoga only twice so far has kicked me onto this healthy Becky path. But hey, I'm down!
So anyway, my first class was the other day and my second today, and I'm diggin' it. But today's class was definitely a much more uh, appropriate session for me and my current in-flexibility. I accidentally went to an intermediate level class for my first session, and wow. The teacher was really helpful and nice to me, but I spent a good portion of those speedy and difficult salutations chillin' out in my downward dog. At one point she came over and helped me into a different pose, and I then spent a good portion of the next round chillin' out in my new pose. I was able to keep up for the first hour, but then it just kicked into this fast, twisty, legs over necks and arms around backs stuff, and I almost laughed at loud at the idea of me attempting these poses. But then the final half hour was doing bends on the floor, and I learned that I can push my legs up in the air when laying on my back, and then roll them all the way behind me so that my shoulders are on the floor and my knees are also on the floor except beside my ears. My body was all twisted up and it felt very strange but quite nice, actually. Then I got embarrassed because I queafed and the teacher was near me, but she didn't seem to notice. And anyway, I think some of the moves are supposed to cause gas passing. Later on, once we rolled out of this pose and back into the just normal stuff, the teacher came over to me and said, "Good job, I'm impressed!" I had spoken to her prior to the class about how I've never really done yoga before (that's when I found out it was an intermediate class), but since there were no beginner classes that day, she let me stay. And she was really sweet about it, too. According to her, my body is "very open." But according to me, my body was very confused during those two hours.
But besides all that, I felt better for having stuck through it, and found my beginner's class today to be perfect. Much slower and much more instruction, and much less complicated. I really like it, and am excited about continuing. The center, Greenhouse Holistic Center, is really great, too. It has a strong community feel...everyone is really friendly and warm, and the teachers appreciative and happy to be teaching something they clearly love. There are also pilates and belly dancing classes (oh la la!), and a suana that I can use for free whenever. I am looking forward to getting all sweaty and gross, which apparently cleanses me and revitalizes my skin.
I'm finding all of this really, really fun. And I can't wait until intermediate is the perfect choice for me! It will be nice to casually curl my leg around my neck and put my arms straight above me. Perhaps I'll learn how to do it while also soaking in the suana, drinking some roobois and pouring the neti-pot through my nostrils. Then I will have obtained the ultimate in health.
But now, no more just talk! I have entered a new era of a healthier me! I am now a neti-potter, facial mask wearer, daily protein smoothie drinker, and yoga master.
Well, not quite. Yoga absolute beginner is more fitting, but it's very interesting how I can already feel the benefits. Even during the actual poses I can feel my body opening up and stretching out and relaxing a bit more. And afterwards I feel so rejuvenated, and so motivated to drink herbal tea and take vitamins. It's weird how doing yoga only twice so far has kicked me onto this healthy Becky path. But hey, I'm down!
So anyway, my first class was the other day and my second today, and I'm diggin' it. But today's class was definitely a much more uh, appropriate session for me and my current in-flexibility. I accidentally went to an intermediate level class for my first session, and wow. The teacher was really helpful and nice to me, but I spent a good portion of those speedy and difficult salutations chillin' out in my downward dog. At one point she came over and helped me into a different pose, and I then spent a good portion of the next round chillin' out in my new pose. I was able to keep up for the first hour, but then it just kicked into this fast, twisty, legs over necks and arms around backs stuff, and I almost laughed at loud at the idea of me attempting these poses. But then the final half hour was doing bends on the floor, and I learned that I can push my legs up in the air when laying on my back, and then roll them all the way behind me so that my shoulders are on the floor and my knees are also on the floor except beside my ears. My body was all twisted up and it felt very strange but quite nice, actually. Then I got embarrassed because I queafed and the teacher was near me, but she didn't seem to notice. And anyway, I think some of the moves are supposed to cause gas passing. Later on, once we rolled out of this pose and back into the just normal stuff, the teacher came over to me and said, "Good job, I'm impressed!" I had spoken to her prior to the class about how I've never really done yoga before (that's when I found out it was an intermediate class), but since there were no beginner classes that day, she let me stay. And she was really sweet about it, too. According to her, my body is "very open." But according to me, my body was very confused during those two hours.
But besides all that, I felt better for having stuck through it, and found my beginner's class today to be perfect. Much slower and much more instruction, and much less complicated. I really like it, and am excited about continuing. The center, Greenhouse Holistic Center, is really great, too. It has a strong community feel...everyone is really friendly and warm, and the teachers appreciative and happy to be teaching something they clearly love. There are also pilates and belly dancing classes (oh la la!), and a suana that I can use for free whenever. I am looking forward to getting all sweaty and gross, which apparently cleanses me and revitalizes my skin.
I'm finding all of this really, really fun. And I can't wait until intermediate is the perfect choice for me! It will be nice to casually curl my leg around my neck and put my arms straight above me. Perhaps I'll learn how to do it while also soaking in the suana, drinking some roobois and pouring the neti-pot through my nostrils. Then I will have obtained the ultimate in health.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Sik in the Sity
I caught a cold, complete with sore throat, lots of drippage, achy limbs and tired-tired-tiredness. I laid in my bed from midnight until 2:30 IN THE PM today. I feel worthless when I'm sick. And to be sick when I want to be exploring my new city! Though my clubhouse bunk bed is super fun, I think I have fully explored all of its four, small corners.
It's not exciting in any way to be sick when you're an adult. As a kid, you get to miss school and drink Sprite and eat mashed potatoes and watch movies all day. But as an adult, you still have to go to work unless you really just can't go, and if that's the case then you have to deal with falling behind or, in my situation, with the amount of stress your illness puts on your employer. I know that Linda is understanding enough that if I were really sick, she would find backup. But it would be so hard for her to work all that out! And I don't want to make something really hard on her for just a measly little virus. I am stronger than this common cold!
Anyway, me and my cold have been going to work but the girls have taken it really easy on me. We made tea and by the end of last night, I was literally lying on the couch with my eyes closed while Angela read something out loud to me. But then I got a free car ride home, so that was sweet. Last night and tonight are both late nights, but it actually might be better for me to be stuck here. Otherwise I may be too tempted by the lights of the neighboring bars near my house!
Actually that's false. I have no desire to put any type of drink in my system other than OJ and herbal tea right now.
I'm rambling. Basically, I'm using all this space to say that I've worked and slept all week. I've worked more than usual, but it's not real work because once the girls go to bed, I just sit and chill out with their amazing, adorable, sweet and cuddly dog. And Marie and I have had our best week yet. She's arguing less, but I've also adopted a new outlook toward her. Instead of letting her sarcasm and attitude get under my skin, I've decided to focus on the comical side of it. It is pretty hilarious to see a 10-year-old mouthing off some of the stuff she comes up with! Obviously I don't laugh out loud at her because that's just insulting, but I understand that she has a lot going on inside of her that makes her angry, and that she's just being a normal 10-year-old, and that it's nothing personal against me. When I keep all those things in mind, her little bursts are kind of hilarious.
Before I close, I must mention the fun but exhausting weekend. My family came all the way from farm land KY, via a car, to visit me in the big city of sin! Dad, Mom and the Granny DROVE from Kentucky to scope out their daughter's new 'hood. We did have a good time, but most of our visit was spent in their hotel room. Granny wasn't feeling her best, and all three were overwhelmed by Brooklyn.
By Brooklyn! Some of the top quotes: "Too many people." "The cars just park on the corners like that, you can't see anything! That's dangerous." "Those people just pop out from everywhere, they don't even look!" It was funny. When I'm being hard on myself for not being a big tough city girl, I just think of where I came from. Overall, the visit was good. I taught Mom how to play Texas Hold 'Em and we bet with Skittles. And they bought me yummy food all day long. Then on Sunday, all of them met Dave over brunch at this neat restaurant with weird art on Staten Island. Of course they adored him. Then we parted ways, and Dave and I walked all around, exploring the very residential lands of Staten Island. Quite pretty, but a little boring in comparison to other boroughs.
And then I got sick. But you've heard plenty about that already. Just one quick piece of advice: EAT LOTS OF VITAMIN B AND C! Being sick is lame.
It's not exciting in any way to be sick when you're an adult. As a kid, you get to miss school and drink Sprite and eat mashed potatoes and watch movies all day. But as an adult, you still have to go to work unless you really just can't go, and if that's the case then you have to deal with falling behind or, in my situation, with the amount of stress your illness puts on your employer. I know that Linda is understanding enough that if I were really sick, she would find backup. But it would be so hard for her to work all that out! And I don't want to make something really hard on her for just a measly little virus. I am stronger than this common cold!
Anyway, me and my cold have been going to work but the girls have taken it really easy on me. We made tea and by the end of last night, I was literally lying on the couch with my eyes closed while Angela read something out loud to me. But then I got a free car ride home, so that was sweet. Last night and tonight are both late nights, but it actually might be better for me to be stuck here. Otherwise I may be too tempted by the lights of the neighboring bars near my house!
Actually that's false. I have no desire to put any type of drink in my system other than OJ and herbal tea right now.
I'm rambling. Basically, I'm using all this space to say that I've worked and slept all week. I've worked more than usual, but it's not real work because once the girls go to bed, I just sit and chill out with their amazing, adorable, sweet and cuddly dog. And Marie and I have had our best week yet. She's arguing less, but I've also adopted a new outlook toward her. Instead of letting her sarcasm and attitude get under my skin, I've decided to focus on the comical side of it. It is pretty hilarious to see a 10-year-old mouthing off some of the stuff she comes up with! Obviously I don't laugh out loud at her because that's just insulting, but I understand that she has a lot going on inside of her that makes her angry, and that she's just being a normal 10-year-old, and that it's nothing personal against me. When I keep all those things in mind, her little bursts are kind of hilarious.
Before I close, I must mention the fun but exhausting weekend. My family came all the way from farm land KY, via a car, to visit me in the big city of sin! Dad, Mom and the Granny DROVE from Kentucky to scope out their daughter's new 'hood. We did have a good time, but most of our visit was spent in their hotel room. Granny wasn't feeling her best, and all three were overwhelmed by Brooklyn.
By Brooklyn! Some of the top quotes: "Too many people." "The cars just park on the corners like that, you can't see anything! That's dangerous." "Those people just pop out from everywhere, they don't even look!" It was funny. When I'm being hard on myself for not being a big tough city girl, I just think of where I came from. Overall, the visit was good. I taught Mom how to play Texas Hold 'Em and we bet with Skittles. And they bought me yummy food all day long. Then on Sunday, all of them met Dave over brunch at this neat restaurant with weird art on Staten Island. Of course they adored him. Then we parted ways, and Dave and I walked all around, exploring the very residential lands of Staten Island. Quite pretty, but a little boring in comparison to other boroughs.
And then I got sick. But you've heard plenty about that already. Just one quick piece of advice: EAT LOTS OF VITAMIN B AND C! Being sick is lame.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Just had some weird facebook encounters that got me thinking about this whole technological era thing.
I've always been hesitant to join up with online profile sites. I was slow to use facebook and myspace both, and now that I have them I rarely check or use them. I'm not looking for a boyfriend, I have lots of friends and much prefer meeting new ones out and about, and I'm very happily busy with my current, real life. I don't want to hang out with my friends online or on facebook; I want to hang out with them for real instead. And though it's quite nice to see pictures of my old friends and read their updates, it feels weird to check them every single day. But the majority of users probably check their sites multiple times a day. To me, why not go live my life with my friends that are physically here?
It's not that I'm anti- keeping in touch. I love emailing my friends and reading about their latest stories, and I speak frequently on the phone with a handful of college friends who have scattered broadly since graduation. But I feel that websites like facebook and myspace keep us too connected. It creates this false sense in us that we're better people if we spend more time on our computers keeping connected with long lost friends. But maybe we're not supposed to be doing that. Maybe these long lost friends are holding us too much in the past, or that these websites are keeping us too much in online world. Sure, these friends are wonderful, but isn't there such a thing as being too in touch? Does it really make us better and happier to spend so much time staring at a screen?
So don't get a facebook profile, I'm sure is what you're thinking. The reason I hold onto it is because I do enjoy getting updates and photos, and it's quicker and easier than email. And it's fun! I like sending little messages every now and then to my friends. But whenever I go on it, I just feel so overwhelmed. There are so many pictures and names and questions and notifications and requests from all throughout my life, and I feel guilty that I'm not keeping up with all of it. And interjection -- zombie wars? What? There are all of these crazy ways, like zombie wars, or sending virtual hugs and pokes, that keep us sucked in. We live our lives and celebrate our friendships and enjoy our hugs via the internet.
Isn't that weird to anyone else? It just seems so natural to most people, that of course we check our email from our phones, text message our friends while we're eating dinner with other friends, then go home and post photos and write to our re-newfound BFFs from Kindergarten.
I don't know, I guess I'm being harsh. On my generation and on myself as well. I mean, I'm the text message queen. And like I said, I have myspace and facebook profiles that I check definitely three times a week. Hell, I write in this blog every few days! It just feels like I spend so much time on the computer already, but in comparison to most others my age (and almost all others younger than me), my computer time is very minimal.
But no matter how weird or sheepish I may feel about this burst of technology, it's only bursting further. Angela is DYING for a facebook profile. She sends instant messages from her phone and knows more about the internet than I ever will. Marie grew up playing computer games and has friends who create webpages. Part of TechEd now is to learn how to make flash animations! In the field of technology, I am old. And my attitude is even older; I'm in a minority, I think. And this is the direction our society is headed in, no matter who's protesting or supporting. And there are many good things we can gain from technology. Our knowledge is increasing in amazingly rapid ways, and we're learning how to make life better.
But on the other hand...we're also learning how to make life worse. With every good thing there's a bad side (balance, there must be balance) and I just worry about the children who are growing up in the bad side of technology. And honestly, I feel most of them are. So many kids would rather be inside gaming than playing outside and experiencing nature, or even than playing with their friends. In 20 years, we're going to have a society of technologically savvy adults who can program any shit they think of, but don't know how to communicate face-to-face and have no idea how to cuddle their babies. I'm worried. Our society is evolving at such a rapid pace that I wonder if our minds can keep up. One day, this gap is going to be so intense that we fall apart. What will the world be like then?
I've always been hesitant to join up with online profile sites. I was slow to use facebook and myspace both, and now that I have them I rarely check or use them. I'm not looking for a boyfriend, I have lots of friends and much prefer meeting new ones out and about, and I'm very happily busy with my current, real life. I don't want to hang out with my friends online or on facebook; I want to hang out with them for real instead. And though it's quite nice to see pictures of my old friends and read their updates, it feels weird to check them every single day. But the majority of users probably check their sites multiple times a day. To me, why not go live my life with my friends that are physically here?
It's not that I'm anti- keeping in touch. I love emailing my friends and reading about their latest stories, and I speak frequently on the phone with a handful of college friends who have scattered broadly since graduation. But I feel that websites like facebook and myspace keep us too connected. It creates this false sense in us that we're better people if we spend more time on our computers keeping connected with long lost friends. But maybe we're not supposed to be doing that. Maybe these long lost friends are holding us too much in the past, or that these websites are keeping us too much in online world. Sure, these friends are wonderful, but isn't there such a thing as being too in touch? Does it really make us better and happier to spend so much time staring at a screen?
So don't get a facebook profile, I'm sure is what you're thinking. The reason I hold onto it is because I do enjoy getting updates and photos, and it's quicker and easier than email. And it's fun! I like sending little messages every now and then to my friends. But whenever I go on it, I just feel so overwhelmed. There are so many pictures and names and questions and notifications and requests from all throughout my life, and I feel guilty that I'm not keeping up with all of it. And interjection -- zombie wars? What? There are all of these crazy ways, like zombie wars, or sending virtual hugs and pokes, that keep us sucked in. We live our lives and celebrate our friendships and enjoy our hugs via the internet.
Isn't that weird to anyone else? It just seems so natural to most people, that of course we check our email from our phones, text message our friends while we're eating dinner with other friends, then go home and post photos and write to our re-newfound BFFs from Kindergarten.
I don't know, I guess I'm being harsh. On my generation and on myself as well. I mean, I'm the text message queen. And like I said, I have myspace and facebook profiles that I check definitely three times a week. Hell, I write in this blog every few days! It just feels like I spend so much time on the computer already, but in comparison to most others my age (and almost all others younger than me), my computer time is very minimal.
But no matter how weird or sheepish I may feel about this burst of technology, it's only bursting further. Angela is DYING for a facebook profile. She sends instant messages from her phone and knows more about the internet than I ever will. Marie grew up playing computer games and has friends who create webpages. Part of TechEd now is to learn how to make flash animations! In the field of technology, I am old. And my attitude is even older; I'm in a minority, I think. And this is the direction our society is headed in, no matter who's protesting or supporting. And there are many good things we can gain from technology. Our knowledge is increasing in amazingly rapid ways, and we're learning how to make life better.
But on the other hand...we're also learning how to make life worse. With every good thing there's a bad side (balance, there must be balance) and I just worry about the children who are growing up in the bad side of technology. And honestly, I feel most of them are. So many kids would rather be inside gaming than playing outside and experiencing nature, or even than playing with their friends. In 20 years, we're going to have a society of technologically savvy adults who can program any shit they think of, but don't know how to communicate face-to-face and have no idea how to cuddle their babies. I'm worried. Our society is evolving at such a rapid pace that I wonder if our minds can keep up. One day, this gap is going to be so intense that we fall apart. What will the world be like then?
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Car Grease and Perfume, Hairy Dolls and Printer Paper
Today was quite a day at work.
First off, Marie was in an amazing mood and we had our most fun day yet, goofing off on the walk home and making silly jokes. We had to stop by the parking garage in order to pick up something and the workers were supposed to bring the car up from the deep down below where it's parked. However, it wasn't on the upper level but they told us we just needed to go down a little and it was right there. Marie was like, "I'll just go down and get it, real fast," and since I've never been there, I asked, "Wait, are you sure you can go alone? Where is it?" Both she and the worker replied that it was right below and was totally okay, and since I was holding my stuff and Marie's amazingly heavy books (I refuse to carry her backpack for her, but sometimes I carry a few of the books because it really is too heavy...even a few books made my arms hurt!), I figured it was fine.
Well, ten minutes later, Marie finally appears with car grease stains all over her school uniform. Apparently she went down many levels and had to squeeze between three cars to even get to hers. When we got home, she called her mom, who was very upset with the garage men and wanted to speak to me about the situation. When she found out I let Marie go alone, she got a little angry and said, "That is not a safe place for children to go alone! They have to climb over lifts and everything!" (Which wasn't true, but I totally see her point.) I explained the situation, that I was given the impression by both Marie and the worker that it was safe and quick, and apologized for my role in all of it. She was very nice, telling me it wasn't my fault, and that she was going to "call the garage and give them a piece of my mind." And, "Could you please put stain remover on those clothes? I have no idea how we're going to get it out and her new uniforms aren't coming for another week!"
The next hour was me scrubbing grease stains out of a skirt, while Marie, thankfully, zipped through her homework. But when she was taking a break and I was still scrubbing, she got an idea in her head that their adorable dog needed to smell better, and that her mom's perfume was just the remedy. All the way from the laundry room across the house I could smell the overwhelming odor of fake flowers, so I knew something was up and walked to the living room. I was struck with an immediate headache from the amount of perfume she had sprayed, and while she was explaining just why this had happened, the dog started licking herself! Marie flipped out, worried that her dog would get sick from ingesting perfume, and scrubbed her fur with a wet washcloth. But even later that night when I took the pup out for a walk, she still smelled like gross fake flowers.
Despite these stressors, Marie was in awesome spirits and we honestly had a really good time together. Once she finished up the work, we went to this really fun store and picked out a present for her friend's upcoming bday party. I was looking through these funny dolls called "Ugly Dolls," and came across an octopus with little threads on his head and chin. I picked it off the rack when Marie came over, so I told her I was thinking about giving it to my boyfriend. She started squealing, "Because he's so hairy!" So I got it, and then when I called him later to arrange plans for meeting up that night (he came to visit me!!!!), she took the phone and rambled to him about how I got him an ugly doll because I thought he was ugly and the doll had hair because he has too much hair and hee hee hee hee hee! Dave's a good man.
Anyway, Angela came home later after sports practice practice and we all ate soup and sandwiches (I am now a PRO at making grilled cheese sandwiches). Marie has introduced me to popcorn with salsa, which is actually very yummy, so we had a bit of that, too. Then Linda came home and didn't bring up the grease, so I was in the clear.
But in the clear for only a minute. After putting Marie to bed, she asked me, "Did you remember to pick up the printer paper? I have to do some more work from my home office tonight."
SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT! She asked me to get paper four days ago (I run errands and do the shopping for the family) and I totally forgot. So, I spent the next 25 minutes running around the Upper East Side with my boyfriend who had come to greet me after work, having no idea he walked into a crisis and would be racing all around with his girlfriend who was freaking out. We went to five stores, three which were closed and two that didn't have it. I kept exclaiming that I was too spacey, and why did this have to happen the same day as the grease?
When I got back to the house and explained my empty hands, Linda was a little annoyed but really sweet about it and appreciative I had put in effort, even if it was a little late. I scavenged the house and came up with enough paper for her to complete the work left for the night, and promised an armload for the next day. But you know what? She smiled, cracked a joke about it, and told me not to worry. Turns out, my Upper East Side employer is more chilled out than me!
And it also turns out that my boyfriend didn't care, either. He made fun of me as we walked through Central Park, pointing out the tops of beautiful buildings we could see above the trees. A raccoon ran down a tree trunk beside us, the autumn leaves trickled onto our heads, the full moon shone brightly on the path in front of us, and I started giggling, just from happiness.
Oh New York, New York.
First off, Marie was in an amazing mood and we had our most fun day yet, goofing off on the walk home and making silly jokes. We had to stop by the parking garage in order to pick up something and the workers were supposed to bring the car up from the deep down below where it's parked. However, it wasn't on the upper level but they told us we just needed to go down a little and it was right there. Marie was like, "I'll just go down and get it, real fast," and since I've never been there, I asked, "Wait, are you sure you can go alone? Where is it?" Both she and the worker replied that it was right below and was totally okay, and since I was holding my stuff and Marie's amazingly heavy books (I refuse to carry her backpack for her, but sometimes I carry a few of the books because it really is too heavy...even a few books made my arms hurt!), I figured it was fine.
Well, ten minutes later, Marie finally appears with car grease stains all over her school uniform. Apparently she went down many levels and had to squeeze between three cars to even get to hers. When we got home, she called her mom, who was very upset with the garage men and wanted to speak to me about the situation. When she found out I let Marie go alone, she got a little angry and said, "That is not a safe place for children to go alone! They have to climb over lifts and everything!" (Which wasn't true, but I totally see her point.) I explained the situation, that I was given the impression by both Marie and the worker that it was safe and quick, and apologized for my role in all of it. She was very nice, telling me it wasn't my fault, and that she was going to "call the garage and give them a piece of my mind." And, "Could you please put stain remover on those clothes? I have no idea how we're going to get it out and her new uniforms aren't coming for another week!"
The next hour was me scrubbing grease stains out of a skirt, while Marie, thankfully, zipped through her homework. But when she was taking a break and I was still scrubbing, she got an idea in her head that their adorable dog needed to smell better, and that her mom's perfume was just the remedy. All the way from the laundry room across the house I could smell the overwhelming odor of fake flowers, so I knew something was up and walked to the living room. I was struck with an immediate headache from the amount of perfume she had sprayed, and while she was explaining just why this had happened, the dog started licking herself! Marie flipped out, worried that her dog would get sick from ingesting perfume, and scrubbed her fur with a wet washcloth. But even later that night when I took the pup out for a walk, she still smelled like gross fake flowers.
Despite these stressors, Marie was in awesome spirits and we honestly had a really good time together. Once she finished up the work, we went to this really fun store and picked out a present for her friend's upcoming bday party. I was looking through these funny dolls called "Ugly Dolls," and came across an octopus with little threads on his head and chin. I picked it off the rack when Marie came over, so I told her I was thinking about giving it to my boyfriend. She started squealing, "Because he's so hairy!" So I got it, and then when I called him later to arrange plans for meeting up that night (he came to visit me!!!!), she took the phone and rambled to him about how I got him an ugly doll because I thought he was ugly and the doll had hair because he has too much hair and hee hee hee hee hee! Dave's a good man.
Anyway, Angela came home later after sports practice practice and we all ate soup and sandwiches (I am now a PRO at making grilled cheese sandwiches). Marie has introduced me to popcorn with salsa, which is actually very yummy, so we had a bit of that, too. Then Linda came home and didn't bring up the grease, so I was in the clear.
But in the clear for only a minute. After putting Marie to bed, she asked me, "Did you remember to pick up the printer paper? I have to do some more work from my home office tonight."
SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT! She asked me to get paper four days ago (I run errands and do the shopping for the family) and I totally forgot. So, I spent the next 25 minutes running around the Upper East Side with my boyfriend who had come to greet me after work, having no idea he walked into a crisis and would be racing all around with his girlfriend who was freaking out. We went to five stores, three which were closed and two that didn't have it. I kept exclaiming that I was too spacey, and why did this have to happen the same day as the grease?
When I got back to the house and explained my empty hands, Linda was a little annoyed but really sweet about it and appreciative I had put in effort, even if it was a little late. I scavenged the house and came up with enough paper for her to complete the work left for the night, and promised an armload for the next day. But you know what? She smiled, cracked a joke about it, and told me not to worry. Turns out, my Upper East Side employer is more chilled out than me!
And it also turns out that my boyfriend didn't care, either. He made fun of me as we walked through Central Park, pointing out the tops of beautiful buildings we could see above the trees. A raccoon ran down a tree trunk beside us, the autumn leaves trickled onto our heads, the full moon shone brightly on the path in front of us, and I started giggling, just from happiness.
Oh New York, New York.
Monday, September 24, 2007
The Job
I figured more news about the job is long overdue, so here it comes.
Marie, the youngest, and I are both trying hard to figure each other out, and so far have established that we definitely like each other but sometimes have trouble communicating. Meaning, a lot of times she argues and refuses to do her homework and I have to be jerk-nanny. I've tried various techniques with her but have yet to find the perfect one. However, the more she gets to know me, the more comfortable she feels, the more she listens, and the more fun we have together.
The oldest girl, who I'll call Angela, is quite the opposite; very laid-back, a little shy and quiet at first. But she's so much fun! She randomly busts out in song, or shares totally out there ideas the very moment they pop into her head. Example... "I just thought of a good line. But it would have to be about a blind woman. Here it is, 'She lost her sight, but she still has vision.' Like, you could put that in the thingie that you write when a person dies. That would be a good thing to say about someone. Or, you could make it a song lyric."
Though Angela definitely gets annoyed, mostly she thinks her sister's dramatics are funny. The two of them sometimes remind me of one intenso young lady (me) and her laid-back older brother who laughed at her. Overall, they enjoy each other's company and very much like one another, but would never be caught saying that in public.
Interesting story from so far:
Marie left a book at school that she needed for homework, but the assignment wasn't due for two more days so I told her we'd just get the book the next day. She was upset about a lot of other things going on and took it out through an explosion of tears about how she HAD to go back and get this book and I was being SO unfair and mean and she was going to have A TON of homework the next day and to think of having to put this off until then, how could I do that to her? Talking about it now makes me laugh, but she has this way of saying things that grinds on me in the moment; I'm learning how to be more patient!
So anyway, she rolled her eyes at me and kept insulting me util I turned my meanie voice on. I told her she could be mad all she wanted but she could not disrespect me, and it honestly stopped her dead in her tracks. I don't think a nanny has ever said that to her before. She rolled her eyes, stomped back to the table and didn't speak to me for THIRTY MINUTES.
Thirty minutes! What the hell do you do as a nanny when your child of only two weeks DOESN'T SPEAK TO YOU? I tried various phrases, all the way from, "I'm sorry that the situation upset you so much, and we can talk about going back for your book, but only if you're ready to talk calmly about it," to "Marie, are you ready to talk?" to "Marie?" to "What number are you working on now?" Finally I accepted the silence but had no idea what to do. I waited 15 more minutes and then out of the blue, she asked me a question and the next few hours were the best we'd had yet.
An Angela highlight:
I was telling Angela about the bag I wanted to buy (the one I mentioned in my first post) and how it was sold out, and she told me about this website called etsy.com, where artists post all their work and buyers can buy directly from the artists through paypal or whatever. So she spent half an hour picking out all these awesome bags and made a wish list of ten of them, then the two of us spent another 20 minutes discussing and eliminating until I chose this awesome, green corduroy bag with a black alligator on the outside. The website is awesome, I love my bag, and I got paid for this entire experience.
So, I'm liking it a lot so far. Linda is very sweet to me, pays really well, and often expresses her appreciation of me and my work. She's a genuinely nice woman. And, I've befriended one of the other nannies! We had a wild night out this past weekend, and are planning a more chilled out night together soon. I have such a friend crush on her!
Overall, I'm very happy. I view the difficult parts as a project for me, and I'm challenging myself to take everything in stride instead of getting worked up or stressed out. I think that with time we will all have much easier days.
Or, at least, I hope so!
Marie, the youngest, and I are both trying hard to figure each other out, and so far have established that we definitely like each other but sometimes have trouble communicating. Meaning, a lot of times she argues and refuses to do her homework and I have to be jerk-nanny. I've tried various techniques with her but have yet to find the perfect one. However, the more she gets to know me, the more comfortable she feels, the more she listens, and the more fun we have together.
The oldest girl, who I'll call Angela, is quite the opposite; very laid-back, a little shy and quiet at first. But she's so much fun! She randomly busts out in song, or shares totally out there ideas the very moment they pop into her head. Example... "I just thought of a good line. But it would have to be about a blind woman. Here it is, 'She lost her sight, but she still has vision.' Like, you could put that in the thingie that you write when a person dies. That would be a good thing to say about someone. Or, you could make it a song lyric."
Though Angela definitely gets annoyed, mostly she thinks her sister's dramatics are funny. The two of them sometimes remind me of one intenso young lady (me) and her laid-back older brother who laughed at her. Overall, they enjoy each other's company and very much like one another, but would never be caught saying that in public.
Interesting story from so far:
Marie left a book at school that she needed for homework, but the assignment wasn't due for two more days so I told her we'd just get the book the next day. She was upset about a lot of other things going on and took it out through an explosion of tears about how she HAD to go back and get this book and I was being SO unfair and mean and she was going to have A TON of homework the next day and to think of having to put this off until then, how could I do that to her? Talking about it now makes me laugh, but she has this way of saying things that grinds on me in the moment; I'm learning how to be more patient!
So anyway, she rolled her eyes at me and kept insulting me util I turned my meanie voice on. I told her she could be mad all she wanted but she could not disrespect me, and it honestly stopped her dead in her tracks. I don't think a nanny has ever said that to her before. She rolled her eyes, stomped back to the table and didn't speak to me for THIRTY MINUTES.
Thirty minutes! What the hell do you do as a nanny when your child of only two weeks DOESN'T SPEAK TO YOU? I tried various phrases, all the way from, "I'm sorry that the situation upset you so much, and we can talk about going back for your book, but only if you're ready to talk calmly about it," to "Marie, are you ready to talk?" to "Marie?" to "What number are you working on now?" Finally I accepted the silence but had no idea what to do. I waited 15 more minutes and then out of the blue, she asked me a question and the next few hours were the best we'd had yet.
An Angela highlight:
I was telling Angela about the bag I wanted to buy (the one I mentioned in my first post) and how it was sold out, and she told me about this website called etsy.com, where artists post all their work and buyers can buy directly from the artists through paypal or whatever. So she spent half an hour picking out all these awesome bags and made a wish list of ten of them, then the two of us spent another 20 minutes discussing and eliminating until I chose this awesome, green corduroy bag with a black alligator on the outside. The website is awesome, I love my bag, and I got paid for this entire experience.
So, I'm liking it a lot so far. Linda is very sweet to me, pays really well, and often expresses her appreciation of me and my work. She's a genuinely nice woman. And, I've befriended one of the other nannies! We had a wild night out this past weekend, and are planning a more chilled out night together soon. I have such a friend crush on her!
Overall, I'm very happy. I view the difficult parts as a project for me, and I'm challenging myself to take everything in stride instead of getting worked up or stressed out. I think that with time we will all have much easier days.
Or, at least, I hope so!
Friday, September 21, 2007
Frida Bat the Slinkster Cat
I would like to give a shout out to Frida Bat the Slinkster Cat, my beautiful cat who might just be the coolest pet in the world.
A brief history, for those of you unfamiliar:
Frida was found as a 3-month-old kitten, stranded in the streets of Allston, Mass, with an injured paw that she couldn't walk on. The founder took her to a shelter in Brighton, where I fell in love at first sight when I saw her as a 5-month-old. When I picked her up off the ground, she curled up immediately into my arms and chest, and purred. We were a pair.
I brought her to my house in Cambridge, where I debated at length about her name while watching her bat around my bobby pins, shred my shoelaces, and aggressively shove her head into my hand for some lovin'. The name I settled on comes from Frida Kahlo, Weetzie Bat (the main character in one of my favorite books), and Weetzie's dog, Slinkster Dog. It fit her well, and we quickly fell in absolute love.
However, as I got busier and was around less, Frida got a little bit snottier. Whenever I would come home after a weekend away, she would run when I tried to pick her up, but then stop further away from me and look back like she wanted me to come pet her. But then when I would advance toward her, she would run away and do the same thing again, making me chase her all around the house. Finally, she would jump onto my bed after the chase, squint her eyes and purr, purr, purr when I started to pet her.
She's a very strange kitty; she has tons of little quirks. She's scared of unfamiliar people, but totally bold and bossy with unfamiliar cats. Once she has decided to let a new person in, for a while they can't be seen together in front of me. I.e., my roommate is one of Frida's "let in" but for the first month of this letting in, whenever I walked into a room where Liz and Frida were cuddling, the cat would run away and start doing something else as if she had been doing that other thing all along. It's kind of hilarious, but I wonder what she's thinking.
Frida also has an incredibly long, loud and detailed process of covering up her pee and poop and then cleaning her paws in the litter box. It's so long and loud that it wakes me up at night and I sometimes have to throw something at the box to scare her out of it, or else she'd go on for 10 minutes. And she's wildly curious. As she's getting older (but still young...only 1 1/2 years as of October!), her curiosity is overpowering her fear of people as she's checking out everything. And you can tell by her face that there's a ton going on inside that almost-human head of hers; she is quite expressive.
Frida also is an athlete. She's an enormous cat with a huge frame, long legs and big paws. She can jump from the floor to the top of a 7-drawer-dresser, run speedily over and under whatever obstacles, and twist around to chase things. However, this past week she went above and beyond any expectations one could have of a cat.
In my room, I recently installed an Ikea, steel-framed loft bed. I was concerned that she wouldn't know how to get up it, so I put a shelf by my dresser and the dresser by the bed, like stairs for her. Then I carried her up the ladder with me and cuddled a bit, and she loved it! It's like our little clubhouse. Later, she figured out how to jump to the dresser and then down (completely ignoring the shelf), and how to reverse it to get back up. But the second night, I heard the creaking of the bed and then a thud. I looked down and Frida was sitting by the ladder with her little ears perked up. I laid back in bed but then felt it shake and heard it creak again, so I sat up, and saw my cat's paws and head pop up over the side of the bed. She had climbed up the ladder.
This ladder has six, steel rungs leading up to the rickety bed that's over 5 1/2' tall, and shakes whenever it's being climbed. But Frida has perfected it; now, this is her preferred method for getting up to bed. I've watched her from the bed and from the floor, and it's pretty incredible. She puts her front paws around a rung above her, then pushes with her hind legs so that she jumps and catches herself a bit higher. After a week of practice, she's so fast that she just scrambles right up. It's pretty great - my cat freakin' climbs the ladder to our loft bed!
So, I fear I've already established myself as a weirdo cat lady, but will retain some kind of dignity and stop rambling about her now.
Meow!
A brief history, for those of you unfamiliar:
Frida was found as a 3-month-old kitten, stranded in the streets of Allston, Mass, with an injured paw that she couldn't walk on. The founder took her to a shelter in Brighton, where I fell in love at first sight when I saw her as a 5-month-old. When I picked her up off the ground, she curled up immediately into my arms and chest, and purred. We were a pair.
I brought her to my house in Cambridge, where I debated at length about her name while watching her bat around my bobby pins, shred my shoelaces, and aggressively shove her head into my hand for some lovin'. The name I settled on comes from Frida Kahlo, Weetzie Bat (the main character in one of my favorite books), and Weetzie's dog, Slinkster Dog. It fit her well, and we quickly fell in absolute love.
However, as I got busier and was around less, Frida got a little bit snottier. Whenever I would come home after a weekend away, she would run when I tried to pick her up, but then stop further away from me and look back like she wanted me to come pet her. But then when I would advance toward her, she would run away and do the same thing again, making me chase her all around the house. Finally, she would jump onto my bed after the chase, squint her eyes and purr, purr, purr when I started to pet her.
She's a very strange kitty; she has tons of little quirks. She's scared of unfamiliar people, but totally bold and bossy with unfamiliar cats. Once she has decided to let a new person in, for a while they can't be seen together in front of me. I.e., my roommate is one of Frida's "let in" but for the first month of this letting in, whenever I walked into a room where Liz and Frida were cuddling, the cat would run away and start doing something else as if she had been doing that other thing all along. It's kind of hilarious, but I wonder what she's thinking.
Frida also has an incredibly long, loud and detailed process of covering up her pee and poop and then cleaning her paws in the litter box. It's so long and loud that it wakes me up at night and I sometimes have to throw something at the box to scare her out of it, or else she'd go on for 10 minutes. And she's wildly curious. As she's getting older (but still young...only 1 1/2 years as of October!), her curiosity is overpowering her fear of people as she's checking out everything. And you can tell by her face that there's a ton going on inside that almost-human head of hers; she is quite expressive.
Frida also is an athlete. She's an enormous cat with a huge frame, long legs and big paws. She can jump from the floor to the top of a 7-drawer-dresser, run speedily over and under whatever obstacles, and twist around to chase things. However, this past week she went above and beyond any expectations one could have of a cat.
In my room, I recently installed an Ikea, steel-framed loft bed. I was concerned that she wouldn't know how to get up it, so I put a shelf by my dresser and the dresser by the bed, like stairs for her. Then I carried her up the ladder with me and cuddled a bit, and she loved it! It's like our little clubhouse. Later, she figured out how to jump to the dresser and then down (completely ignoring the shelf), and how to reverse it to get back up. But the second night, I heard the creaking of the bed and then a thud. I looked down and Frida was sitting by the ladder with her little ears perked up. I laid back in bed but then felt it shake and heard it creak again, so I sat up, and saw my cat's paws and head pop up over the side of the bed. She had climbed up the ladder.
This ladder has six, steel rungs leading up to the rickety bed that's over 5 1/2' tall, and shakes whenever it's being climbed. But Frida has perfected it; now, this is her preferred method for getting up to bed. I've watched her from the bed and from the floor, and it's pretty incredible. She puts her front paws around a rung above her, then pushes with her hind legs so that she jumps and catches herself a bit higher. After a week of practice, she's so fast that she just scrambles right up. It's pretty great - my cat freakin' climbs the ladder to our loft bed!
So, I fear I've already established myself as a weirdo cat lady, but will retain some kind of dignity and stop rambling about her now.
Meow!
Monday, September 17, 2007
The Purchase of Cloth
I had a big realization as I was unpacking during these past few days that the majority of my wardrobe is not at all work appropriate. So, I went on a bit of a shopping spree. And damn, was it fun! For the first time ever, I have extra money to spend on things. And to think I'm working far less now than I did this summer, but making far more! After serious financial difficulty, it feels really nice to not stress out about money.
However, I am by no means a rich woman. Let's not forget about the student loans and dental debts, or the savings account that really should have more than its current (and measly) $3. So when I go on shopping sprees, it's not like I go to expensive stores or little boutiques. It's more like Forever 21, Filene's Basement, Old Navy and the like. But these have always been my stores, and I've always been quick to criticize the woman that spends hundreds of dollars on a single dress. In fact, in my previous blog entry I commented on the ridiculousness of spending tons of money on one article of clothing. But, after a recent experience shopping at one of the above stores, my opinions on such matters have begun to change.
So, I was rifling through a rack of purple-y sweater dresses at Forever 21 and couldn't find my size. I was mumbling to myself, almost at the end and empty-handed, when I came upon one that was missing its price tag. I pulled the collar out to examine the inside tag and saw the "S" I was hoping for. But then I looked a little further down and, below the ever-handy washing instructions, read the words, "Made in Indonesia."
I paused, but then unhooked it and tried it on to find a perfect fit. I felt kind of shitty as I waited in line, wondering what kid in Indonesia worked last week for some unfair, small amount of change to make my fun, flirty sweater dress. I paid for it, stuffed it in the bag and stepped outside, only to be swallowed up by the lively atmosphere of Union Square that quickly switched my mental focus from child labor and underpaid workers to my exciting life in NYC.
There were men dressed in togas, handing out tubs of Greek yogurt. There were Chinese tourists rambling in Mandarin and taking tons of photos. There were college students lounging in the grass, smoking cigarettes (imagine myself as an 18-year-old coming to college here!). Then I stopped and watched some incredibly talented street musicians, a brass band jammin' out on the sidewalk. They were eight black men with dance moves to die for, wailing on their trumpets, trombones, baritones and tuba (I've never seen a person play such a large instrument while moving around in such a smooth, sexy way before). As I walked down the subway stairs, their bouncy tune faded out and the sounds of cellos accompanied by a hand drum faded in. A young quartet with three cello-ists and a djembe-ist were playing in the main walkway. Further below them as I navigated through the underground maze, I saw a tap-dancer working her magic. Then I got on the subway, looked down at the bag I had set in my lap, and remembered.
When I got home, I looked at the tags of my other recent purchases and discovered that lots of my clothes are Made in Cambodia, Thailand, El Salvador, etc. Those women with money and egos spend hundreds of dollars on a dress and then brag to others about the name of their designer. But you know what? Those women actually know the name of the person that designed their dress. And chances are, they know who sewed them, too. Which means that these women who I so heavily criticize know exactly who makes their clothing and where it's made. They know who designed it, and they probably know where the material comes from, too. I don't even know where to begin looking in order to find out who sewed my sweater dress from Forever 21. Or my long-sleeved tee from Old Navy. Or my skirt from Filene's Basement.
So here's my dilemma: I don't have enough money to buy one-of-a-kind clothes in one-of-a-kind, designer shops. I barely have enough money to buy the clothes I need for work from Indonesian sweatshops. And like I said, I'm making more money now than I've ever made. But throw in all my expenses (let's not even get started on health insurance), and I definitely don't have the bucks for boutiques. And if I did buy a $400 dress, would I feel good about it? It seems like a lot of money that could go toward a lot of other causes. And, in ways, it feels a little materialistic and silly to focus so much energy on who and what type and where. It's just clothing!
So that brings me to the second dilemma: should I rag on myself for happily getting distracted from these issues? For wearing these affordable clothes to the amazing jazz festival that's currently happening in Williamsburg, and not thinking about anything but the amazing jazz music? For accepting compliments with a smile from cute little hipsters on my "adorable sweater?" There's a line somewhere between living my life and worrying about others' lives.
But it hurts to read headlines about the increasing civilian death toll in Iraq, or the brutality behind the diamond business, or the latest refugee camp set up outside of Sudan. The hurt makes me want to do something, but I don't know what that something is. Nor do I know if I can even do it.
But you know what else? The hurt also sometimes encourages me to just stop reading the headlines and go on about my happy life. Which clearly isn't the right answer. But nor is it right to continually brood and worry. Where, oh where, is this elusive line?
Aside from these worries, which is just part of being American these days (or should be, at least), I am in love with New York City. I am happier and happier each day. I feel like every corner I turn is a new discovery. I love walking down the street and hearing five different languages and seeing five hundred different styles of clothing. I love passing from one live musician to the next, just on my walk to the subway. I love learning about high society and the amazingly intense pressures that come along with being a working, single mother in the midst of it. I love that I can sit at a bar and analyze the live sound with my drink-maker ("too crackly" we all decided). I love that I come home and talk about art with my new apartment mates while searching for the escapee kitty (who was found, thankfully). It's a stimulating, exciting, adventurous ride here, and I am happily and completely ridin' it.
However, I am by no means a rich woman. Let's not forget about the student loans and dental debts, or the savings account that really should have more than its current (and measly) $3. So when I go on shopping sprees, it's not like I go to expensive stores or little boutiques. It's more like Forever 21, Filene's Basement, Old Navy and the like. But these have always been my stores, and I've always been quick to criticize the woman that spends hundreds of dollars on a single dress. In fact, in my previous blog entry I commented on the ridiculousness of spending tons of money on one article of clothing. But, after a recent experience shopping at one of the above stores, my opinions on such matters have begun to change.
So, I was rifling through a rack of purple-y sweater dresses at Forever 21 and couldn't find my size. I was mumbling to myself, almost at the end and empty-handed, when I came upon one that was missing its price tag. I pulled the collar out to examine the inside tag and saw the "S" I was hoping for. But then I looked a little further down and, below the ever-handy washing instructions, read the words, "Made in Indonesia."
I paused, but then unhooked it and tried it on to find a perfect fit. I felt kind of shitty as I waited in line, wondering what kid in Indonesia worked last week for some unfair, small amount of change to make my fun, flirty sweater dress. I paid for it, stuffed it in the bag and stepped outside, only to be swallowed up by the lively atmosphere of Union Square that quickly switched my mental focus from child labor and underpaid workers to my exciting life in NYC.
There were men dressed in togas, handing out tubs of Greek yogurt. There were Chinese tourists rambling in Mandarin and taking tons of photos. There were college students lounging in the grass, smoking cigarettes (imagine myself as an 18-year-old coming to college here!). Then I stopped and watched some incredibly talented street musicians, a brass band jammin' out on the sidewalk. They were eight black men with dance moves to die for, wailing on their trumpets, trombones, baritones and tuba (I've never seen a person play such a large instrument while moving around in such a smooth, sexy way before). As I walked down the subway stairs, their bouncy tune faded out and the sounds of cellos accompanied by a hand drum faded in. A young quartet with three cello-ists and a djembe-ist were playing in the main walkway. Further below them as I navigated through the underground maze, I saw a tap-dancer working her magic. Then I got on the subway, looked down at the bag I had set in my lap, and remembered.
When I got home, I looked at the tags of my other recent purchases and discovered that lots of my clothes are Made in Cambodia, Thailand, El Salvador, etc. Those women with money and egos spend hundreds of dollars on a dress and then brag to others about the name of their designer. But you know what? Those women actually know the name of the person that designed their dress. And chances are, they know who sewed them, too. Which means that these women who I so heavily criticize know exactly who makes their clothing and where it's made. They know who designed it, and they probably know where the material comes from, too. I don't even know where to begin looking in order to find out who sewed my sweater dress from Forever 21. Or my long-sleeved tee from Old Navy. Or my skirt from Filene's Basement.
So here's my dilemma: I don't have enough money to buy one-of-a-kind clothes in one-of-a-kind, designer shops. I barely have enough money to buy the clothes I need for work from Indonesian sweatshops. And like I said, I'm making more money now than I've ever made. But throw in all my expenses (let's not even get started on health insurance), and I definitely don't have the bucks for boutiques. And if I did buy a $400 dress, would I feel good about it? It seems like a lot of money that could go toward a lot of other causes. And, in ways, it feels a little materialistic and silly to focus so much energy on who and what type and where. It's just clothing!
So that brings me to the second dilemma: should I rag on myself for happily getting distracted from these issues? For wearing these affordable clothes to the amazing jazz festival that's currently happening in Williamsburg, and not thinking about anything but the amazing jazz music? For accepting compliments with a smile from cute little hipsters on my "adorable sweater?" There's a line somewhere between living my life and worrying about others' lives.
But it hurts to read headlines about the increasing civilian death toll in Iraq, or the brutality behind the diamond business, or the latest refugee camp set up outside of Sudan. The hurt makes me want to do something, but I don't know what that something is. Nor do I know if I can even do it.
But you know what else? The hurt also sometimes encourages me to just stop reading the headlines and go on about my happy life. Which clearly isn't the right answer. But nor is it right to continually brood and worry. Where, oh where, is this elusive line?
Aside from these worries, which is just part of being American these days (or should be, at least), I am in love with New York City. I am happier and happier each day. I feel like every corner I turn is a new discovery. I love walking down the street and hearing five different languages and seeing five hundred different styles of clothing. I love passing from one live musician to the next, just on my walk to the subway. I love learning about high society and the amazingly intense pressures that come along with being a working, single mother in the midst of it. I love that I can sit at a bar and analyze the live sound with my drink-maker ("too crackly" we all decided). I love that I come home and talk about art with my new apartment mates while searching for the escapee kitty (who was found, thankfully). It's a stimulating, exciting, adventurous ride here, and I am happily and completely ridin' it.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Midtown Madness
Good grief I do not like midtown Manhattan one bit. I actually like ritzy Park Ave more than Herald Square or Madison Square Gardens or Times Square or any of those. And "Fashion Ave" is just scary. First off, it's wrong for any street to be better known as Fashion Avenue than its actual name. Secondly, there are far too many people there. Thirdly, it smells bad. And fourthly, it's the mecca of corporate chain stores. I was overwhelmed. And not in a good way, like when I'm walking through Williamsburg and I see tons of clubs and I wanna check 'em out but I just can't remember all their names and locations (nor do I have enough money). But bad overwhelmed, like shit, my heart is racing and I have to poo and there are people everywhere and THAT CABBIE ALMOST RAN OVER MY TOES!
So why did I venture to such parts? The culprit: Taylor, my beautiful blonde friend who invited me to lunch at midtown hell where she has to work every freakin' day. We met up for sushi and though it was wonderful to see her, arriving early to scope out the area was not smart. I was charged $4 for a cup of Dannon yogurt (I was misled to believe it was a bowl of yogurt with fresh fruit!!) and $2 for a small glass of really bad iced coffee. Then I got yelled at for not crossing the street as soon as the stop hand turned to the little walking man. Then I bumped into someone and, while apologizing, bumped into someone else. Then I decided that I needed a cigarette, but you know what? A pack of Marlboro's costs $7! No one ever needs a cigarette that badly. And damn those cab drivers are vicious. They don't care at all about the feet of pedestrians who are rightfully crossing in a supposedly safe crosswalk.
So anyway, I found peace inside the 4-story Old Navy, mainly just because it was smaller and more contained than the outside insanity (though it did bother me that being inside an Old Navy made me feel better...I guess I felt calmer just 'cause it was familiar). I found a few cheap and work appropriate shirts, since my long-sleeved tees with thumb holes and Goodwill tees from the boys section don't quite meet Park Ave standards. Then I finally found the blonde bombshell herself and was instantly calmed by her soothing voice inflection and the serene sushi bar she picked. I made a bee-line for the subway upon parting ways, and that was that.
Yet somehow I committed myself to weekly lunches with Mama Tay. Perhaps they'll be postponed during Christmas season.
After this lunch date, I went back uptown to pick up the youngest girl, who from now on I will refer to as Marie. Her adorable friend came home with us and they hung out until it was time to hail a cab and hit up gymnastics lessons. I walked home after dropping them off and explored 90th St, all the way from York back to Park. It's actually kind of pretty, and fun to peek into the windows of all the crazy boutiques and try to imagine my house looking as frumpy as some of the furniture store displays. Or to picture myself in a $900 designer dress. I'd prolly drop ketchup on it or something the first day.
Oh, which reminds me that not only did they charge me $4 for that damn yogurt, but when I opened the top, a bit of pink goo jumped onto my shirt! That's strike three for the Tick Tock Diner!
Anyway, we're all getting ready for bed now because I have to wake up at 6:30 to escort Marie to school. Yup, that's right, I'm already doing overnights. Monday was my very first day, and Tuesday night was my very first overnight. Their mom, who I'll call Linda, had a last minute meeting come up in London so I'm here from Tues afternoon until tomorrow evening. It feels a little nuts, but at least Linda is very appreciative and thankful and paying me extra.
What a first week! Or a first few days rather! And I totally forgot to mention the craziness that erupted in my apartment when all these workers showed up to install everything at the same time and the landlord was mean to me so I yelled at him. I don't think he appreciated it but he's at least been nicer to me since.
And lastly, I highly recommend the book, "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time." I just finished it today and it's a great story while also providing a one-of-a-kind and very accurate look into the life of an autistic child. Well done, Mr. Mark Haddon. When I'm a famous author, I'll invite you to my parties.
So why did I venture to such parts? The culprit: Taylor, my beautiful blonde friend who invited me to lunch at midtown hell where she has to work every freakin' day. We met up for sushi and though it was wonderful to see her, arriving early to scope out the area was not smart. I was charged $4 for a cup of Dannon yogurt (I was misled to believe it was a bowl of yogurt with fresh fruit!!) and $2 for a small glass of really bad iced coffee. Then I got yelled at for not crossing the street as soon as the stop hand turned to the little walking man. Then I bumped into someone and, while apologizing, bumped into someone else. Then I decided that I needed a cigarette, but you know what? A pack of Marlboro's costs $7! No one ever needs a cigarette that badly. And damn those cab drivers are vicious. They don't care at all about the feet of pedestrians who are rightfully crossing in a supposedly safe crosswalk.
So anyway, I found peace inside the 4-story Old Navy, mainly just because it was smaller and more contained than the outside insanity (though it did bother me that being inside an Old Navy made me feel better...I guess I felt calmer just 'cause it was familiar). I found a few cheap and work appropriate shirts, since my long-sleeved tees with thumb holes and Goodwill tees from the boys section don't quite meet Park Ave standards. Then I finally found the blonde bombshell herself and was instantly calmed by her soothing voice inflection and the serene sushi bar she picked. I made a bee-line for the subway upon parting ways, and that was that.
Yet somehow I committed myself to weekly lunches with Mama Tay. Perhaps they'll be postponed during Christmas season.
After this lunch date, I went back uptown to pick up the youngest girl, who from now on I will refer to as Marie. Her adorable friend came home with us and they hung out until it was time to hail a cab and hit up gymnastics lessons. I walked home after dropping them off and explored 90th St, all the way from York back to Park. It's actually kind of pretty, and fun to peek into the windows of all the crazy boutiques and try to imagine my house looking as frumpy as some of the furniture store displays. Or to picture myself in a $900 designer dress. I'd prolly drop ketchup on it or something the first day.
Oh, which reminds me that not only did they charge me $4 for that damn yogurt, but when I opened the top, a bit of pink goo jumped onto my shirt! That's strike three for the Tick Tock Diner!
Anyway, we're all getting ready for bed now because I have to wake up at 6:30 to escort Marie to school. Yup, that's right, I'm already doing overnights. Monday was my very first day, and Tuesday night was my very first overnight. Their mom, who I'll call Linda, had a last minute meeting come up in London so I'm here from Tues afternoon until tomorrow evening. It feels a little nuts, but at least Linda is very appreciative and thankful and paying me extra.
What a first week! Or a first few days rather! And I totally forgot to mention the craziness that erupted in my apartment when all these workers showed up to install everything at the same time and the landlord was mean to me so I yelled at him. I don't think he appreciated it but he's at least been nicer to me since.
And lastly, I highly recommend the book, "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time." I just finished it today and it's a great story while also providing a one-of-a-kind and very accurate look into the life of an autistic child. Well done, Mr. Mark Haddon. When I'm a famous author, I'll invite you to my parties.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Day 3 as a New Yorker
I'm sitting in a cozy coffee shop with old fashioned shelves full of old fashioned books, and lovely, upbeat jazz music dancing out of the speakers. I'm envious of all the outfits being worn around me; I definitely need to step up the fashion. First purchase will be a tote bag big enough for my laptop that has black silhouettes of birds and tree limbs, currently hanging from a silver hook down the street at a store called the Minimarket. It's $28, and I feel like that's splurging. My thrifty tendencies will definitely be shocked by the adjustment to NY prices.
Life is so different in just a few days, yet it feels weirdly comfortable. Taking the subway that once scared me shitless (um, once meaning only two years ago), transferring at Union Square to the 4/5/6 to go nanny on the Upper East Side. What a different life those people live! My parents will be so confused when I tell them the stories of 10-year-olds with Iphones, birthday parties at rented out laser tag mazes, and all the teeny tiny dogs sticking out of thousand dollar Gucci bags. It seems as if everyone on the Upper East side has a ridiculously small dog!
Fortunately, the family I'm working with is quite nice, and more down-to-earth than the others. And they have a very cute, medium-sized dog. The mother is sweet and appreciative of me, and the kids fun and silly. I'm caring for two girls, a pre-teen (or tween?) and a freshman in high school. Quite a large leap from the baby I cared for in Boston! But I like it, and it's an interesting opportunity for a close-up look at the life of Mannahattanites without subjecting myself to the whims of crazy mothers. And wow are they crazy. After one day, I already feel inducted into the "Nannies for Rich New Yorkers" club, having met a few during pick-up at the super fancy private Catholic school. One nanny was frantically handing out party invitations, another complaining about her pay being docked in order to purchase said Iphone for the child. It's indeed an interesting job!
My apartment is located two blocks from the center of Hipsterville, also known as the Bedford L stop. I walk around slightly in wonder, with open eyes and absolute delight at the amount of strange people, fun clubs and weirdo restaurants I pass. Then I remember that I'm in the land of hip and hipsters aren't wide-eyed, so I try to turn my looks of glee into looks of uber coolness. Usually I fail and end up laughing at my own ridiculousness. I wonder if I fit in or if it's obvious I'm from Mt. Washington, KY! Not that I completely care. I'll admit that I care a bit, but more than anything it's a fun game to dress up as Miss Hip and see if I can pull it off successfully. And I do like me some vintage clothes.
I think about lying by a bonfire on my friend's horse farm as a bored, 15-year-old in KY, wondering how the hell I would ever get out of my drugged-up town. Never dreaming New York, this mysterious city I saw in the movies that seemed so terrifyingly large and, according to my United Baptist parents, so naughty and sinful, would be my home one day. To all high schoolers out there: I swear it gets better.
Life is so different in just a few days, yet it feels weirdly comfortable. Taking the subway that once scared me shitless (um, once meaning only two years ago), transferring at Union Square to the 4/5/6 to go nanny on the Upper East Side. What a different life those people live! My parents will be so confused when I tell them the stories of 10-year-olds with Iphones, birthday parties at rented out laser tag mazes, and all the teeny tiny dogs sticking out of thousand dollar Gucci bags. It seems as if everyone on the Upper East side has a ridiculously small dog!
Fortunately, the family I'm working with is quite nice, and more down-to-earth than the others. And they have a very cute, medium-sized dog. The mother is sweet and appreciative of me, and the kids fun and silly. I'm caring for two girls, a pre-teen (or tween?) and a freshman in high school. Quite a large leap from the baby I cared for in Boston! But I like it, and it's an interesting opportunity for a close-up look at the life of Mannahattanites without subjecting myself to the whims of crazy mothers. And wow are they crazy. After one day, I already feel inducted into the "Nannies for Rich New Yorkers" club, having met a few during pick-up at the super fancy private Catholic school. One nanny was frantically handing out party invitations, another complaining about her pay being docked in order to purchase said Iphone for the child. It's indeed an interesting job!
My apartment is located two blocks from the center of Hipsterville, also known as the Bedford L stop. I walk around slightly in wonder, with open eyes and absolute delight at the amount of strange people, fun clubs and weirdo restaurants I pass. Then I remember that I'm in the land of hip and hipsters aren't wide-eyed, so I try to turn my looks of glee into looks of uber coolness. Usually I fail and end up laughing at my own ridiculousness. I wonder if I fit in or if it's obvious I'm from Mt. Washington, KY! Not that I completely care. I'll admit that I care a bit, but more than anything it's a fun game to dress up as Miss Hip and see if I can pull it off successfully. And I do like me some vintage clothes.
I think about lying by a bonfire on my friend's horse farm as a bored, 15-year-old in KY, wondering how the hell I would ever get out of my drugged-up town. Never dreaming New York, this mysterious city I saw in the movies that seemed so terrifyingly large and, according to my United Baptist parents, so naughty and sinful, would be my home one day. To all high schoolers out there: I swear it gets better.
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