Work's been busy. I mean really busy, lately. Being swamped is a good feeling but in a bad way. I like not having to watch the clock, but I hate realizing that the day is done and my work hasn't begun.
A lot of it is busy work, but some of it is actually very interesting design work. I think what's interesting is that I'm actually interested--in something. Genuinely keen to prove myself and learn more. That's not in the slackers handbook--I'm a bit out of my element. I'm a performer. Yes. I'm just not used to caring about my performance. Fresh.
Heading to the Jerz tomorrow with Luckey to pick up my red and gold outfit for Mom's wedding. Hope it looks right with the tailoring--they have to add a whole extra slab of material to fit the mighty bosom!
March 31, 2006
March 30, 2006
Food Bar
Taurean, Dino, and I went to Food Bar in Chelsea for our weekly Thursday night dinner. Taurean decided he needed to do some shopping at Bang Bang afterwards, so we escorted him to the store--mostly to protect him from getting stolen. He's rather paranoid that the pretty gay boys want him--Dino and I are less convinced but we humor him.
The food at Food Bar was average, the Ambercrombie model-esque waiter completely flaked on Dino's order: sea bass. I guess you should know better than to order fish in Chelsea. My Zentini (green tea liquer and vodka) was strong, Taurean's twist on it involved gin, sprite, and sugar in a highball glass--much better bet.
As Taurean and I wove our way to the 2/3 a soothsayer pronounced "You have a face for a commercial. Next week is the week." We promptly popped into a corner store whence Taurean bought lotto tickets, I should have but didn't. It's not luck that I need--it's love. Though I suppose luck in love would be helpful.
The food at Food Bar was average, the Ambercrombie model-esque waiter completely flaked on Dino's order: sea bass. I guess you should know better than to order fish in Chelsea. My Zentini (green tea liquer and vodka) was strong, Taurean's twist on it involved gin, sprite, and sugar in a highball glass--much better bet.
As Taurean and I wove our way to the 2/3 a soothsayer pronounced "You have a face for a commercial. Next week is the week." We promptly popped into a corner store whence Taurean bought lotto tickets, I should have but didn't. It's not luck that I need--it's love. Though I suppose luck in love would be helpful.
Hamptons House
I'm at that point in my life when I can actually afford a summer share in the hamptons. A quarter share, mind you, but a share nonetheless. The process of finding the right fit is another matter altogether. It needs to be affordable, close to the Jitney stop and the town. The people in the house NEED to be young, single, professional, and attractive. Most houses are split 50/50 or so they claim.
Special K and Karen are going to join me on this adventure but the task of finding the house falls on me which is a fair bit of pressure since we can't very well go outt and see it before hand. But it's that time of year when the meet and greets are underway--after all you want to know which 30 people you will drunkenly spend the summer weekends with at the Hamptons.
Special K and Karen are going to join me on this adventure but the task of finding the house falls on me which is a fair bit of pressure since we can't very well go outt and see it before hand. But it's that time of year when the meet and greets are underway--after all you want to know which 30 people you will drunkenly spend the summer weekends with at the Hamptons.
March 28, 2006
The March Installment of THE V SAGA
So, ignoring V was a futile endeavor. He caught me unawares at work. I picked up without a glance at the mighty caller ID and there was his voice. MY cheery work greeting left me no out, "Hi. It's (me) at the (German) Bank!" grrr. wily!
We talked for an hour and a half in which time he impressed upon me that my success of hiding an emotion from him could only be likened to Luckey's inability to hold back a tail wag when I come home from work. sigh. Foiled again.
On my way home from Smoke on Sunday night, I called V and an unusual picking up of the phone was his reaction. Charmed. We made some small talk, but I did finally put it on the line. In a rather bush beating manner, I expressed that while I didn't expect him to return to me--Lord knows I've asked and reneged--or even have the audacity to hope for renewal that it was time we got to a place where he didn't punish me for the choices of the past. I recognize full well that my actions have consequences and them I will face, but if he loves me--really loves me--then he knows I love him back. Really. Truly. Forever this time.
He didn't want to talk about it and none of his cards were revealed. He did, catering to my utterly unclear circumnavigation of the matter, insist that I had gotten over this type of inclination in the past--the fleeting fancy would pass. I know there is no way to assure him it won't...only time. And time I am willing to give...so the wait continues.
We talked for an hour and a half in which time he impressed upon me that my success of hiding an emotion from him could only be likened to Luckey's inability to hold back a tail wag when I come home from work. sigh. Foiled again.
On my way home from Smoke on Sunday night, I called V and an unusual picking up of the phone was his reaction. Charmed. We made some small talk, but I did finally put it on the line. In a rather bush beating manner, I expressed that while I didn't expect him to return to me--Lord knows I've asked and reneged--or even have the audacity to hope for renewal that it was time we got to a place where he didn't punish me for the choices of the past. I recognize full well that my actions have consequences and them I will face, but if he loves me--really loves me--then he knows I love him back. Really. Truly. Forever this time.
He didn't want to talk about it and none of his cards were revealed. He did, catering to my utterly unclear circumnavigation of the matter, insist that I had gotten over this type of inclination in the past--the fleeting fancy would pass. I know there is no way to assure him it won't...only time. And time I am willing to give...so the wait continues.
March 27, 2006
Piano Man
Whilst at Smoke last night, I met Matt Ray. Read all about his famous exploits on his site. He had on adorable, black geeky glasses which I'm a true sucker for and an aura of humility that belied his 33 years--14 of which have been professional.
His babyface and boyish demeanor endeared him to me instantly. At the close of his first set with Deana Leonhart, I walked up to the bar (not just to close out the tab but also to speak to him) and applauded his finesse with the ivory keys. He took me to be a player at which point I foolishly mentioned that I played the harp when in reality I put my lips together and blow on occassion, which DOES not constitute any level of profiency especially when talking to a successful, professional musician--the likes of Matt Ray. Now, I'm embarrassed!
In order to be a true groupie he told me I had to come watch him play again. So I'll be heading to the Rainbow Room on Friday to watch his fingers make magic again as rich people get their groove on the revolving dance floor. He's genuinely modest and the richness of his demeanor makes me want him as my musical best friend.
His babyface and boyish demeanor endeared him to me instantly. At the close of his first set with Deana Leonhart, I walked up to the bar (not just to close out the tab but also to speak to him) and applauded his finesse with the ivory keys. He took me to be a player at which point I foolishly mentioned that I played the harp when in reality I put my lips together and blow on occassion, which DOES not constitute any level of profiency especially when talking to a successful, professional musician--the likes of Matt Ray. Now, I'm embarrassed!
In order to be a true groupie he told me I had to come watch him play again. So I'll be heading to the Rainbow Room on Friday to watch his fingers make magic again as rich people get their groove on the revolving dance floor. He's genuinely modest and the richness of his demeanor makes me want him as my musical best friend.
UN Peacemaker
I've always known that people had interesting jobs. Some of those jobs are even important. In my Mediation class of my Basic Practicum on Conflict Resolution and Mediation this weekend, I met an Australian computer engineer/chiropractor turned lawyer who is studying Public Administration. He took a fancy to me.
Frequently presenting me with an orange to awaken my sleep-deprived brain and inviting me to lunch on both days of the session. He informed me last night at Smoke that my unique $1 ring had intrigued him. He said there were many pretty girls in New York (me being one of them) but few had impressed him as I had. I'm entirely unsure as to what I could have done to be as impressive as he made me out to sound, but a compliment when directed to me is not wasted. So my coy smile gave way to a polite "Thank you" and a humble head bob.
He's a towering chap, probably at least 6'3" but he's not a skinny boy. He's most definitely a man. A man with smart glasses, kind eyes, and hair closely shaved to hide the lack of it. I'm not one to swoon at an accent, but I found less charming than his accent the reality that he asked me to repeat myself a few too many times to allow the conversation to flow at a pace I enjoy. Patience never was my virtue.
The whole time I was out with him all I could think was he'd be a great double date to go on with Jo and Evan. And I'm seeing him again next week just so I can get to a point where it won't seem odd for us to go out and get a drink with Jo and Evan.
I'm not sure I can see past V right now, but if you can't have a crush it's still nice to be someone's crush.
Frequently presenting me with an orange to awaken my sleep-deprived brain and inviting me to lunch on both days of the session. He informed me last night at Smoke that my unique $1 ring had intrigued him. He said there were many pretty girls in New York (me being one of them) but few had impressed him as I had. I'm entirely unsure as to what I could have done to be as impressive as he made me out to sound, but a compliment when directed to me is not wasted. So my coy smile gave way to a polite "Thank you" and a humble head bob.
He's a towering chap, probably at least 6'3" but he's not a skinny boy. He's most definitely a man. A man with smart glasses, kind eyes, and hair closely shaved to hide the lack of it. I'm not one to swoon at an accent, but I found less charming than his accent the reality that he asked me to repeat myself a few too many times to allow the conversation to flow at a pace I enjoy. Patience never was my virtue.
The whole time I was out with him all I could think was he'd be a great double date to go on with Jo and Evan. And I'm seeing him again next week just so I can get to a point where it won't seem odd for us to go out and get a drink with Jo and Evan.
I'm not sure I can see past V right now, but if you can't have a crush it's still nice to be someone's crush.
March 24, 2006
Breathing Room
I haven't had a second to breathe today...it's been go go go go since I got here at an admittedly late 9:15am, especially since I'm rushing to class at 3:15pm to get all the way UP to Columbia.
My procrastinating ways have hit the top wrung on a steep, iron ladder. I missed this weekend class last semester (twice) and once this semester--this is my LAST shot to take it or it gets pushed BACK to summer term. I have weeekend classes the last two weekends in April as well--I hope the sunshine and warmer climate propel me to ATTEND those. Pushing back classes seem great at the time but really screw you over in reality--especially when you enroll for new classes willy-nilly with no regard for the incompletes from semesters of yore.
Trace and I caught Beyond Honor at Village East Cinema last night. There's a visual on FGM *female genital mutilation* that I am unable to erase. The movie was terrific in its ability to make ME (the jaded) squirm. There were points I covered my eyes and dared not peek between my fingers for lack of intestine-shredding implements in close reach. I finally understood why EVERY guy sputters when he sees another dude get kicked/hit in the balls. Oh me. Oh my!
I can't say the ending blew me away (pun intended) but I found it necessary which is a rarity in the realm of triteness.
I am thankful for my intact clitoris today! What about you? (obviously that question only applies if you HAVE one!)
My procrastinating ways have hit the top wrung on a steep, iron ladder. I missed this weekend class last semester (twice) and once this semester--this is my LAST shot to take it or it gets pushed BACK to summer term. I have weeekend classes the last two weekends in April as well--I hope the sunshine and warmer climate propel me to ATTEND those. Pushing back classes seem great at the time but really screw you over in reality--especially when you enroll for new classes willy-nilly with no regard for the incompletes from semesters of yore.
Trace and I caught Beyond Honor at Village East Cinema last night. There's a visual on FGM *female genital mutilation* that I am unable to erase. The movie was terrific in its ability to make ME (the jaded) squirm. There were points I covered my eyes and dared not peek between my fingers for lack of intestine-shredding implements in close reach. I finally understood why EVERY guy sputters when he sees another dude get kicked/hit in the balls. Oh me. Oh my!
I can't say the ending blew me away (pun intended) but I found it necessary which is a rarity in the realm of triteness.
I am thankful for my intact clitoris today! What about you? (obviously that question only applies if you HAVE one!)
March 23, 2006
Congrats Robin Z
One of my co-workers went on maternity leave last Friday. She delivered a 7lb. 11 oz. baby boy this morning at 2am. This e-mail is dedicated to Nathan Tyler Backpack! Welcome to the World.
When I heard the news, I was genuinely happy for Robin. I'm not a fan of the baby nor do I support the industry of women that make them--but I have the utmost respect for mothers, particularly my own--all her neuroses included. I'm putting this up here as a contrast to my personal views. In supporting a woman's right to choose--I support this woman for having the baby she always wanted. I don't want kids, but I sure am happy that people that do are having them and loving them and raising them to be my future boyfriends a la The Graduate.
When I heard the news, I was genuinely happy for Robin. I'm not a fan of the baby nor do I support the industry of women that make them--but I have the utmost respect for mothers, particularly my own--all her neuroses included. I'm putting this up here as a contrast to my personal views. In supporting a woman's right to choose--I support this woman for having the baby she always wanted. I don't want kids, but I sure am happy that people that do are having them and loving them and raising them to be my future boyfriends a la The Graduate.
Nobody Cares...SHUT THE HELL UP!
I'm on the phone with a client, speaking in my most sacchrine of voices and clicking in the loudest possible manner with absolute silence greeting his monotone monologue, I want to reach into the phone and staple his mouth shut.
How can someone be SO UTTERLY clueless as to the level of boredom they are subjecting their audience to? Dear Lordy. The whole enterprise makes me wish I was deaf.
How can someone be SO UTTERLY clueless as to the level of boredom they are subjecting their audience to? Dear Lordy. The whole enterprise makes me wish I was deaf.
I'm a grown-up
I interviewed a man whose work history dated further back than my lifespan today. Suffice to say, it was awkward. He laughed at all my jokes and we discussed the nuances of training and adult learning in theories across cultures--specifically Asian vs. American. I think it may have been more awkward for him than me, but there is no way of telling. I couldn't get past his Parkinsons' resembling tremors and the extreme slow and redundant manner of speech.
March 22, 2006
Anew
So, my nights consist of watching Netflix, knitting, and petting the puppy. Riveting, I know!
What I realize is that I need new friends. All mine are "married"--the quotes indicate that the law may disagree with me, but for all intents and purposes, they are a lost to me. Plus, in all truth none of those girls really burst with party spirit--even in college, most of them preferred a quiet night in to boozing at the pubs: a function of athleticism and/or a Protestant work ethic--both of which missed me entirely.
If birds of a feather flock together, does this mean I have to find a new flock altogether?
Case and point, Lauren sent a mass e-mail last night with a 50-point list of reasons to tell they are NOT in college anymore and about 75% of them pertained to drinking. Let me tell you, except for 4-5 things on that list, I still HAPPILY do all those things. I think it's my unapologetic admission of this that separates me from the rest of them.
I knew this day would come, I just figured it would align with "baby-making", apparently I was wrong. So, the quest to make new friends is in full effect. Couple that with my prospective move, it's a whole new life I'm making for myself--and Luckey, of course.
Before you throw me a pity party, I do have a few single friends left like Tommy, Rani, Gary, and Special K--but they aren't likely to be available simultaneously and either money/work or desire hold them back from going out half as much as I do.
Notice, I'm not complaining about being single--I'm whining about not having anyone to play with. For an only child, I still shun my company whenever possible. I like having a posse--a group to chill with and hit a museum, a pub, a gallery, a movie, a play, a wine tasting, a bookstore, a grocey store, or a lecture. Now, I'm not recommending we storm an aisle at Gristede's, but I like to have a pool of people to select from when choosing how I spend my one-on-one fun time. So, having a boyfriend would only begin to solve that problem....he'd be ONE person added to the pool, but it is fast shrinking. It used to be at a healthy 20-25 at any given time, but now it's dwindled down to a 4-5 not counting all the couples, which it's hard to count.
Unlike, Ditha I'm not a fan of playing third wheel. I'm not that kinda of gal. If I can't flirt with the dude, his purpose in sharing my airspace is lost on me. I admit it. I'm not saying there aren't guys, I have little to no attraction to--there are--but there is not weirdness because I've already hooked-up with them or I think of them in the "brother" context (which makes hooking up with them unthinkable and truthfully a bit disgusting-Incest is NOT best!). Maybe it's my own territorial issues when it comes to men or maybe it's that I just need a harem of gay boyfriends, but I don't see a reason to split one man's attention--especially with someone who OWNS him. Where is the fun in that? I repeat I'm just not that kinda gal.
What I realize is that I need new friends. All mine are "married"--the quotes indicate that the law may disagree with me, but for all intents and purposes, they are a lost to me. Plus, in all truth none of those girls really burst with party spirit--even in college, most of them preferred a quiet night in to boozing at the pubs: a function of athleticism and/or a Protestant work ethic--both of which missed me entirely.
If birds of a feather flock together, does this mean I have to find a new flock altogether?
Case and point, Lauren sent a mass e-mail last night with a 50-point list of reasons to tell they are NOT in college anymore and about 75% of them pertained to drinking. Let me tell you, except for 4-5 things on that list, I still HAPPILY do all those things. I think it's my unapologetic admission of this that separates me from the rest of them.
I knew this day would come, I just figured it would align with "baby-making", apparently I was wrong. So, the quest to make new friends is in full effect. Couple that with my prospective move, it's a whole new life I'm making for myself--and Luckey, of course.
Before you throw me a pity party, I do have a few single friends left like Tommy, Rani, Gary, and Special K--but they aren't likely to be available simultaneously and either money/work or desire hold them back from going out half as much as I do.
Notice, I'm not complaining about being single--I'm whining about not having anyone to play with. For an only child, I still shun my company whenever possible. I like having a posse--a group to chill with and hit a museum, a pub, a gallery, a movie, a play, a wine tasting, a bookstore, a grocey store, or a lecture. Now, I'm not recommending we storm an aisle at Gristede's, but I like to have a pool of people to select from when choosing how I spend my one-on-one fun time. So, having a boyfriend would only begin to solve that problem....he'd be ONE person added to the pool, but it is fast shrinking. It used to be at a healthy 20-25 at any given time, but now it's dwindled down to a 4-5 not counting all the couples, which it's hard to count.
Unlike, Ditha I'm not a fan of playing third wheel. I'm not that kinda of gal. If I can't flirt with the dude, his purpose in sharing my airspace is lost on me. I admit it. I'm not saying there aren't guys, I have little to no attraction to--there are--but there is not weirdness because I've already hooked-up with them or I think of them in the "brother" context (which makes hooking up with them unthinkable and truthfully a bit disgusting-Incest is NOT best!). Maybe it's my own territorial issues when it comes to men or maybe it's that I just need a harem of gay boyfriends, but I don't see a reason to split one man's attention--especially with someone who OWNS him. Where is the fun in that? I repeat I'm just not that kinda gal.
Act of Defiance
Yesterday, I took Luckey to puppy school. He's getting really good. He has the sit command down pat. Now if we could only work on Heel and NO BITING (aka Leave it!). He's been so good about his wee wee pad, he even ambled over and popped on it this morning, but all that was undone when he PEED on the other end of the kitchen floor--far from the wee wee pad. WHY? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT LUCKEY?????
March 21, 2006
Quote of the Day
Life is a parade. Some march. Some watch.
--Jack Morton
I can't get over how simple that is. How true. I sure love quotes.
I'm the kinda gal that would buy a book of quotes before I bought anything but Proust.
If you know any good ones, please post!
--Jack Morton
I can't get over how simple that is. How true. I sure love quotes.
I'm the kinda gal that would buy a book of quotes before I bought anything but Proust.
If you know any good ones, please post!
Is that an 8-track?
Riding the 5 downtown this morning at 7:42am, I spied a man with cane and what appeared to resemble an 8-track...upon closer examiniation I realized it was just an OLD-school cassette player. That's right folks, some people still have them and USE them.
Where would you even go about buying cassette tapes these days?
I mean records have that sexy,retro-chic thing going on...which makes them vintage and pack some pizzazz on the resale front, but is a cassette old school enough?
Giddyup kiddies, I used to own a tape player with requisite mix tapes to boot. In fact, when I was in India during COLLEGE (banished as I was for my brief semester of academic probation which led to "the semester which shall not be named" when I "dropped my basket") V made me a mix tape with spoken word attached and mailed it all the way to The Hind....those were the days of yore--Summer of 1999!
Where would you even go about buying cassette tapes these days?
I mean records have that sexy,retro-chic thing going on...which makes them vintage and pack some pizzazz on the resale front, but is a cassette old school enough?
Giddyup kiddies, I used to own a tape player with requisite mix tapes to boot. In fact, when I was in India during COLLEGE (banished as I was for my brief semester of academic probation which led to "the semester which shall not be named" when I "dropped my basket") V made me a mix tape with spoken word attached and mailed it all the way to The Hind....those were the days of yore--Summer of 1999!
March 20, 2006
Livin' La Vida Sola
Ditha e-mailed me from India this morning to say she might not be back for another six months. She made profuse apologies for being a delinquent roomie and suggested I move as per my May 16th self-imposed guidelines. Her tone was apologetic as always.
I'm relieved. I'd been considering branching out on my own. It's high time I lived on my own. Supporting yourself never seems self-sufficient, when you have a built-in buddy. Plus, I won't ever be ALONE again--I have Luckey.
So the hunt is on for a studio south of 14th Street that I can afford and will fit all my shoes. Seems daunting and impossible, but affordable housing may be a potential lead. There may be some middle income housing I'd just make the cut to be considered for and if that panned out--I'd be GOLDEN. East Village, here I come!
I'm relieved. I'd been considering branching out on my own. It's high time I lived on my own. Supporting yourself never seems self-sufficient, when you have a built-in buddy. Plus, I won't ever be ALONE again--I have Luckey.
So the hunt is on for a studio south of 14th Street that I can afford and will fit all my shoes. Seems daunting and impossible, but affordable housing may be a potential lead. There may be some middle income housing I'd just make the cut to be considered for and if that panned out--I'd be GOLDEN. East Village, here I come!
Recap of the Weekend
Friday
St. Patty's Day madness was tame, tame tame. Hit up 6s & 8s on the Lower East Side, dropped by 99 Allen twice for the 5 for $1 dumpling deal (incidentally their hot & sour soup is some of the best around for $1), then landed up at The Other Room since Fiddlesticks was charging a cover and if there is one thing I DO NOT DO--It is pay a cover to pay exborbitant drink prices.
Saturday
Woke up early for a weekend at 9:40am.
Finally watched my Netflix movie--Kama Sutra--which was amazing. Not just for the generous heapings of erotica but the rich cinematography and passionate acting. I think it may be one of my favorite films after the intial viewing.
Hit up yoga at Laughing Lotus. Got the weekly Jamba Juice kick--really enjoyed the Mango Mantra. Did some groceries which included a generous amount of fruit if not vegetables. The requisite Campbell's soup packets, avacaodoes and habaneros to make fresh guac when the whim hits, marshmallows, and sliced mushrooms for my quesadillas fix.
Trixie (an old high school friend I reconnected with when I rode the train in from Summit to Penn Station a few weeks ago) had her 25th b'day party in Brooklyn. Tracey joined me on the L-train to Graham Ave. I knit her a hat with a cute flower on it, which she showcased her love for by wearing all night long. $5 mixed drinks made the trip well worth it. I didn't stay long...but it was my first time meeting her long-term, live-in boyfriend who incidentally went to high school with us but I had never met. She had a crush on him back then--sometimes those get realized well into your "real life".
Sunday
Thought about going to church. Didn't.
Knit Jo a hat with the requisite flower (giving her the option to undo it by securing it with a safety pin in lieu of darning it on).
Watched Saathiya which Ditha had purchased on her last Indian Invasion, found it utterly lacking in the masala I like in my masala flicks to be imbued with.
Spent all day with Luckey, napping intermittently--playing--coaxing to perform on command. He's completed trained to pee on his wee wee pad, we continue to work on proper placement on poop.
Didn't pay bills. Didn't clean. Didn't read. Didn't blog. Considered all of them at least twice.
St. Patty's Day madness was tame, tame tame. Hit up 6s & 8s on the Lower East Side, dropped by 99 Allen twice for the 5 for $1 dumpling deal (incidentally their hot & sour soup is some of the best around for $1), then landed up at The Other Room since Fiddlesticks was charging a cover and if there is one thing I DO NOT DO--It is pay a cover to pay exborbitant drink prices.
Saturday
Woke up early for a weekend at 9:40am.
Finally watched my Netflix movie--Kama Sutra--which was amazing. Not just for the generous heapings of erotica but the rich cinematography and passionate acting. I think it may be one of my favorite films after the intial viewing.
Hit up yoga at Laughing Lotus. Got the weekly Jamba Juice kick--really enjoyed the Mango Mantra. Did some groceries which included a generous amount of fruit if not vegetables. The requisite Campbell's soup packets, avacaodoes and habaneros to make fresh guac when the whim hits, marshmallows, and sliced mushrooms for my quesadillas fix.
Trixie (an old high school friend I reconnected with when I rode the train in from Summit to Penn Station a few weeks ago) had her 25th b'day party in Brooklyn. Tracey joined me on the L-train to Graham Ave. I knit her a hat with a cute flower on it, which she showcased her love for by wearing all night long. $5 mixed drinks made the trip well worth it. I didn't stay long...but it was my first time meeting her long-term, live-in boyfriend who incidentally went to high school with us but I had never met. She had a crush on him back then--sometimes those get realized well into your "real life".
Sunday
Thought about going to church. Didn't.
Knit Jo a hat with the requisite flower (giving her the option to undo it by securing it with a safety pin in lieu of darning it on).
Watched Saathiya which Ditha had purchased on her last Indian Invasion, found it utterly lacking in the masala I like in my masala flicks to be imbued with.
Spent all day with Luckey, napping intermittently--playing--coaxing to perform on command. He's completed trained to pee on his wee wee pad, we continue to work on proper placement on poop.
Didn't pay bills. Didn't clean. Didn't read. Didn't blog. Considered all of them at least twice.
March 17, 2006
Return of Jaylin
Jaylin and I ended up IMing last night--after months of not talking. We're having dinner next week--maybe.
It's a strange coincidence. I was just thinking to myself that I had NO ONE to drunk dial tonight in my St. Patty's celebratory stupor. V and I aren't speaking. I am no longer interested in any contact with the last boyfriend. Sk8ter boi and I left it on rocky terms--he wasn't too thrilled at my miniscule attention span and general flaking on tentative plans.
This is the first time in my post-pubertal life that I'm lacking in the crush department. Not a boy of interest for MILES. I've heard women call this feeling empowerment. I've heard women complain of loneliness. It's not that I'm ambivalent, I guess nonchalance is my state. I'm not sure what to make of it. It's been this way for a few months now and I can't say I mind it terribly but I can't say I can envision this going on indefinitely either. I guess, just with getting over a break-up (it takes time), I wish I knew how long this would last too.
I feel ready to start something up again. Nothing too serious, but I've never been one to keep it at the requisite level of casual either--so what is there for the middle ground, even-keeled girl with a dash of crazy?
I'm not a commitphobe per se, but I wouldn't describe myself as the woman who seeks it out. It's about monogamy to me and I learned the hard way that monogamy and committment are not synonyms! Jo calls it a MSP (monogamous sex partner)--I'd like to take it a step farther, make it personal a la 50-cent "Before I be your buddy in bed, let me be your best friend!"
It's a strange coincidence. I was just thinking to myself that I had NO ONE to drunk dial tonight in my St. Patty's celebratory stupor. V and I aren't speaking. I am no longer interested in any contact with the last boyfriend. Sk8ter boi and I left it on rocky terms--he wasn't too thrilled at my miniscule attention span and general flaking on tentative plans.
This is the first time in my post-pubertal life that I'm lacking in the crush department. Not a boy of interest for MILES. I've heard women call this feeling empowerment. I've heard women complain of loneliness. It's not that I'm ambivalent, I guess nonchalance is my state. I'm not sure what to make of it. It's been this way for a few months now and I can't say I mind it terribly but I can't say I can envision this going on indefinitely either. I guess, just with getting over a break-up (it takes time), I wish I knew how long this would last too.
I feel ready to start something up again. Nothing too serious, but I've never been one to keep it at the requisite level of casual either--so what is there for the middle ground, even-keeled girl with a dash of crazy?
I'm not a commitphobe per se, but I wouldn't describe myself as the woman who seeks it out. It's about monogamy to me and I learned the hard way that monogamy and committment are not synonyms! Jo calls it a MSP (monogamous sex partner)--I'd like to take it a step farther, make it personal a la 50-cent "Before I be your buddy in bed, let me be your best friend!"
No knots in knitting!
I learned to knit a flower and a leaf, separately, in knitting 103 last night. The leaf is an easy endeavor--roughly 5 minutes and I can make you a fistful of them. The flower, however, took me two FULL hours to create. My tiny, New York bred, Chinese instructor using her needles as wand flicked hers into existence. She's a freshman at The New School studying Art Management with an emphasis on Dance. The things kids these days get into--riveting.
My incessant whining led to her giving me her flower to take home. So now, two hats can be bestowed with flowers and perhaps a patchwork of leaves can grace the gray clutch I built. I need to find lining for that bag--the garment district should sell bright green or red silky satin interiors. I'm not at all sure how to proceed with negotiating prices on that--I hardly have a bulk order to place.
My incessant whining led to her giving me her flower to take home. So now, two hats can be bestowed with flowers and perhaps a patchwork of leaves can grace the gray clutch I built. I need to find lining for that bag--the garment district should sell bright green or red silky satin interiors. I'm not at all sure how to proceed with negotiating prices on that--I hardly have a bulk order to place.
St. Patty's Day
Apparently the famed Saint Patrick's Day parade on 5th Avenue is run by the Catholic church (albeit on the public street)and therefore prohibits Irish queers from marching under their rainbow flag. I had no idea. I learned this factoid via flyer when Taurean, Dino, and I had dinner in Chelsea earlier this week.
Incidentally, said Irish gay folk have meetings on the second Saturday of every month at the LGBT Center. Just the place to meet my future gay boyfriend...though not being queer or Irish, I'm not certain if I'd be welcome. Won't know if I don't try, I suppose.
Today is the #1 Drinking Holiday as per MSNBC. I plan to take great advantage of the fact that it falls on a Friday. Starting the night at 6's & 8's and moving up to Fiddlesticks to wrap. Not too Irish, but I'm not entirely a pub kinda gal. Brilliantly, let the camera I've been toting all week at home--today would have been the perfect opportunity to take some scandalous photos.
Oy Vey! Incidentally, Purim is ranked 5th on the Drinking Holiday list--to my genuine surprise. Go Jews! See, it's not just guilt, there is eating--drinking--and merry-making too.
Incidentally, said Irish gay folk have meetings on the second Saturday of every month at the LGBT Center. Just the place to meet my future gay boyfriend...though not being queer or Irish, I'm not certain if I'd be welcome. Won't know if I don't try, I suppose.
Today is the #1 Drinking Holiday as per MSNBC. I plan to take great advantage of the fact that it falls on a Friday. Starting the night at 6's & 8's and moving up to Fiddlesticks to wrap. Not too Irish, but I'm not entirely a pub kinda gal. Brilliantly, let the camera I've been toting all week at home--today would have been the perfect opportunity to take some scandalous photos.
Oy Vey! Incidentally, Purim is ranked 5th on the Drinking Holiday list--to my genuine surprise. Go Jews! See, it's not just guilt, there is eating--drinking--and merry-making too.
March 16, 2006
Vicious Law 103--IF it can go wrong, IT will!
It's not even 10am and I've been at work for 3 hours already.
Everything that could potentially go wrong in those three hours has gone wrong. As if being awake before 7am wasn't punishment enough, the validation that you are incompetent before that hour is unnecessary and somewhat cruel. Don't prove me right, fate! Just leave me be. Live and let live.
I had a class to set up. Along with not having access to the floor it is scheduled to run on, the materials were spiral bound instead of the requisite soft binding. The room was a mess from the meeting prior--yesterday, no doubt. The LCD projector was set up by AV but ceased working conveniently before the class started. AV was missing from the scene after multiple calls and pages to their special 911 line. None of the participants had arrived at 8:45am for the 8:30am session; turns out the learning management system had failed to send a reminder. The reminder that was sent three days prior, in lieu of the day before, listed the wrong room. After fruitlessly phoning everyone on the list--only to get their voicemail--and e-mailing them in hopes they were blackberry-clad, I realized that it was all a moot point with the projector not working.
Finally, as I walked up the stairs from the training rooms--the light of God shone in from the glass encasement that is my daily prison, showcasing a glorious model turned actor wearing a set of magnificient white wings a la Victoria Secret.
Everything that could potentially go wrong in those three hours has gone wrong. As if being awake before 7am wasn't punishment enough, the validation that you are incompetent before that hour is unnecessary and somewhat cruel. Don't prove me right, fate! Just leave me be. Live and let live.
I had a class to set up. Along with not having access to the floor it is scheduled to run on, the materials were spiral bound instead of the requisite soft binding. The room was a mess from the meeting prior--yesterday, no doubt. The LCD projector was set up by AV but ceased working conveniently before the class started. AV was missing from the scene after multiple calls and pages to their special 911 line. None of the participants had arrived at 8:45am for the 8:30am session; turns out the learning management system had failed to send a reminder. The reminder that was sent three days prior, in lieu of the day before, listed the wrong room. After fruitlessly phoning everyone on the list--only to get their voicemail--and e-mailing them in hopes they were blackberry-clad, I realized that it was all a moot point with the projector not working.
Finally, as I walked up the stairs from the training rooms--the light of God shone in from the glass encasement that is my daily prison, showcasing a glorious model turned actor wearing a set of magnificient white wings a la Victoria Secret.
March 15, 2006
Like the Average American Marriage
my time with V has come to an end.
We were friends for a solid 3.5 months before we started dating. We stayed monogamously together for another 3.5 years. After we broke up, despite the ups and downs and general torment of staying close to your ex--we've managed a strong friendship for 3.5 years, but today after 7.25 years of togetherness in varying measure, it's over.
The time has come and gone for this inevitable end...and it was rather anti-climactic, but in truth it's been long overdue. It wasn't anything he said, but it was in all the ways he said it. V always had a knack for delivery--a purpose I dare not mimic. I say and he does. It's the way we've always been. And thus we end. With me saying goodbye and him standing by the door with his fingers firmly on the knob.
As I delete his number from my phone, the realization like a few others before him sets in...this ritual is mitigated by the reality that these digits are seared into my memory--years of dialing cannot be undone by a mere "Erase", but it's a start. Like one other number I've forgotten and another I haven't dialed in a good long while, this remembrance too shall pass and with it an era will close. The Era that was Mine and V's!
To quote one of my fave lines from one of my fave bollywood masala flicks--Hum Tum.
"Hamaree koee kahani nahi hai. Bus The End hai. The End!"
Loose translation: "We don't have a(ny) story. Just the end. The End!"
We were friends for a solid 3.5 months before we started dating. We stayed monogamously together for another 3.5 years. After we broke up, despite the ups and downs and general torment of staying close to your ex--we've managed a strong friendship for 3.5 years, but today after 7.25 years of togetherness in varying measure, it's over.
The time has come and gone for this inevitable end...and it was rather anti-climactic, but in truth it's been long overdue. It wasn't anything he said, but it was in all the ways he said it. V always had a knack for delivery--a purpose I dare not mimic. I say and he does. It's the way we've always been. And thus we end. With me saying goodbye and him standing by the door with his fingers firmly on the knob.
As I delete his number from my phone, the realization like a few others before him sets in...this ritual is mitigated by the reality that these digits are seared into my memory--years of dialing cannot be undone by a mere "Erase", but it's a start. Like one other number I've forgotten and another I haven't dialed in a good long while, this remembrance too shall pass and with it an era will close. The Era that was Mine and V's!
To quote one of my fave lines from one of my fave bollywood masala flicks--Hum Tum.
"Hamaree koee kahani nahi hai. Bus The End hai. The End!"
Loose translation: "We don't have a(ny) story. Just the end. The End!"
Brown Wedding
Vikram Chatwal is living my life. This article gives you a sense of what it means to get married in India. Not so much what the marriage means but the pomp and circumstance surrouding ceremony. Guests at the Chatwal-Sachdev wedding included Bill Clinton, the Prime Minister of India, Shahrukh Khan, and assorted other rich folk flown in from the US and London.
It's hard to feel bad for Vikram even if his father arranged his marriage. Sant Chatwal chose a 25-year old Indian model (Priya Sachdev) with a degree from the London School of Economics for his 34-year old, Wharton MBA graduate son. Not to mention the decadent lifestyle his father has afforded Vikram thus far: his private apartment in the Trump Building facing the Park in Manhattan with his own chef and an Aston Martin at his disposal. I guess that's what happens when you grow up in an Upper East Side penthouse and your father owns 12 hotels in Manhattan.
Indian Standard Time (IST involves running roughly 2 hours late, particularly to important events) exists because Indian events are always a production--a LONG production. There is no incentive to be on time, since you will be there FOREVER and a day.
It's hard to feel bad for Vikram even if his father arranged his marriage. Sant Chatwal chose a 25-year old Indian model (Priya Sachdev) with a degree from the London School of Economics for his 34-year old, Wharton MBA graduate son. Not to mention the decadent lifestyle his father has afforded Vikram thus far: his private apartment in the Trump Building facing the Park in Manhattan with his own chef and an Aston Martin at his disposal. I guess that's what happens when you grow up in an Upper East Side penthouse and your father owns 12 hotels in Manhattan.
Indian Standard Time (IST involves running roughly 2 hours late, particularly to important events) exists because Indian events are always a production--a LONG production. There is no incentive to be on time, since you will be there FOREVER and a day.
March 14, 2006
Some people doodle...I rhyme
Sifting through the many supplies in my drawer at work, I came across these musings from a meeting I sat through in the fall...
Untitled
stare as I might
into the bright light
I don't see you...
Undone
Plucking the pebbles
Off the Sandy Shore
I remember us then,
wish we were there, once more!
Unless
Sitting on the dock of the bay
I don't care what they say.
I love you, come what may!
Just love me back, okay?
Un-real
Strike a pose
Fingers around a rose
You moved close
I stood on tip toes
We were nose to nose
My breath froze
The world slowed
Untitled
stare as I might
into the bright light
I don't see you...
Undone
Plucking the pebbles
Off the Sandy Shore
I remember us then,
wish we were there, once more!
Unless
Sitting on the dock of the bay
I don't care what they say.
I love you, come what may!
Just love me back, okay?
Un-real
Strike a pose
Fingers around a rose
You moved close
I stood on tip toes
We were nose to nose
My breath froze
The world slowed
Hot Guy....Blah Girl
Riding the 4 (or was it the 5?) train down from 86th Street this morning, I saw a sight that is not oft seen: a gorgeous (by all human standards) guy with a very average looking girl (dark roots in her blonde hair, imperfect nose job, small--square--teeth a la Invisalign).
Now it is hardly remarkable to see the opposite: gorgeous women date psuedo UN-attractive men all the time. Some argue the uggos (ugly men) have money, others argue that women being less visual and more tactile and/or emotional have a different meter for judging attractiveness which surpasses the physical. I won't take sides on this--I think they both hold true, just depends on the woman and her circumstance.
That said, the HOT guy on the subway had that perfect dark-hair, spiked high and a six o'clock shadow hovering on his pale face. He had on "perfect" fit jeans and a black pin-stripe jacket. His blue eyes twinkled and he didn't look freshly awakened like most of the other riders. He represents "the look" that I love oh-so much. It's less in the blue eyes and fair skin and more in the spiky hair, scruffy face, and jeans/jacket combo...hubba hubba hello.
Now it is hardly remarkable to see the opposite: gorgeous women date psuedo UN-attractive men all the time. Some argue the uggos (ugly men) have money, others argue that women being less visual and more tactile and/or emotional have a different meter for judging attractiveness which surpasses the physical. I won't take sides on this--I think they both hold true, just depends on the woman and her circumstance.
That said, the HOT guy on the subway had that perfect dark-hair, spiked high and a six o'clock shadow hovering on his pale face. He had on "perfect" fit jeans and a black pin-stripe jacket. His blue eyes twinkled and he didn't look freshly awakened like most of the other riders. He represents "the look" that I love oh-so much. It's less in the blue eyes and fair skin and more in the spiky hair, scruffy face, and jeans/jacket combo...hubba hubba hello.
March 13, 2006
3/10-12
This weekend was an exercise in single self-renewal...particularly Saturday.
Friday
Rosie joined me at Knit NY to pick out yarn for a hat I will soon have completed for her. I got my bubble tea fix and hopped the bus across town to meet Tommy. He had comped tickets for the Capoeira show at The Joyce Theater. It was a show rich in sinuous movements by rippling, tanned bodies exuding a youth and vigor Brazil is positively stereotyped of possessing. Following the show, we meant to drink ourselves silly at Earth NYC again, but in lieu of repeating last weekend we left after two free drinks a pop. Complimentary vodka bar or not, that many Indians in one bar is just too much for me plus the fear of running into fedora from last weekend was too high. I meant to call him back, but the inclination to hit send on my phone wasn't high enough. Got home right around midnight. Played with Luckey, knitted for a bit, and went promptly to bed.
Saturday
Called Shiv for our planned brunch, but he was in a stupor with guests sprawled over his apartment, sleeping off Friday night. We talked for 45 minutes and he promised we were ON for Sunday. Ah, bankers!
I mosied over to Yoga at Laughing Lotus having missed the first class in the Beginner series (given my killer hangover last week), I was nervous. Ran into Tommy and Danny (his eventual brother-in-law) at Modell's as I was purchasing my yoga mat...we meant to have some Jamba Juice, but the line (15 people, no exaggeration) and lateness of the hour given my 3pm class in Flatiron ruined my chances.
Yoga was fine. Being late to yoga is a mistake I will not make again. In the packed class, people are not quick to move their mats and make room for a brown girl fresh off the Upper East Side. Given my heritage, I was not outstanding. But the constant encouragement and soothing tones the yogini bestowed upon me, ballooned within to form an instant love for this meditative state with health benefits.
I ambled up to 42nd Street and joined the long line of Jamba Juice drinkers. My Aloha Pineapple is not what I'd expected though I continue to marvel at how much 16 oz. can fill me.
Luckey was thrilled to see me, but I didn't take him for the walk I've wanted to...collapsing instead before my TV. Nothing was on and Kama Sutra went un-watched--so glad I downgraded to ONE rental on Netflix! I made some guacamole--from scratch--ate and slept the evening away.
Sunday
I woke up at 10am refreshed...having spent 15 hours in a lounging state of affairs, I was ready for brunch. Shiv called as planned and I made my way to Chelsea only to be told that he had encountered a "work emergency"--a brief tour of his glorious apartment and a quick cab ride uptown was all my old friend could offer me. How old we've grown? His profuse apologies were unfounded, but I was happy to see him living his dream. I hadn't caught him on a good day--but I know this is what he wanted five years ago--to see him get it is the joy only a friend can show.
I joined Lauren, Tauren, Summer, and a married couple for the Whitney Biennial. It was sub-par to say the least...but my favorite piece is housed in this museum's permanent collection--Georgia O'Keefe's Summer Days (which I have fondly nicknamed "Afterlife"). I also enjoy the Hopper collection on dispaly on the top floor.
Lauren stopped by to meet Luckey. He quickly won her over with his fear of all things reflective, leaning cautiously near mirrors and my shiny, black outdoor grill.
Jo and Evan joined Luckey and I for a fine dinner of plum tomatoes with guacomole and goat cheese, mushroom and cheese quesadillas, and vegetarian lasagne. The strawberries and cannolis they brought were an apt closing. Evan's broccoli allergy didn't act up--worried as I was for his health and well-being. Luckey was the proud recipient of a purple, stuffed bunny; cheese-flavored bone, and a long-handled toothbrush. We had a lovely evening playing with the pet, flipping through my puppy book and discussing the merits of frienemies. I loaned them Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle since their lives had thus far been deprived of this joy.
After they left, Luckey and I watched Grey's Anatomy and I finished reading Collages by Anais Nin. I can't get enough of her. Onto Little Birds this morning for my subway ride to the financial district.
So another weekend wraps...this week is choc-ful of tea, puppy obedience school, dinner with Dino and Taurean, Knitting with Carrie, and some St. Patty's Day debauchery.
Incidentally, here is the update on my Post date: New Photo!
Friday
Rosie joined me at Knit NY to pick out yarn for a hat I will soon have completed for her. I got my bubble tea fix and hopped the bus across town to meet Tommy. He had comped tickets for the Capoeira show at The Joyce Theater. It was a show rich in sinuous movements by rippling, tanned bodies exuding a youth and vigor Brazil is positively stereotyped of possessing. Following the show, we meant to drink ourselves silly at Earth NYC again, but in lieu of repeating last weekend we left after two free drinks a pop. Complimentary vodka bar or not, that many Indians in one bar is just too much for me plus the fear of running into fedora from last weekend was too high. I meant to call him back, but the inclination to hit send on my phone wasn't high enough. Got home right around midnight. Played with Luckey, knitted for a bit, and went promptly to bed.
Saturday
Called Shiv for our planned brunch, but he was in a stupor with guests sprawled over his apartment, sleeping off Friday night. We talked for 45 minutes and he promised we were ON for Sunday. Ah, bankers!
I mosied over to Yoga at Laughing Lotus having missed the first class in the Beginner series (given my killer hangover last week), I was nervous. Ran into Tommy and Danny (his eventual brother-in-law) at Modell's as I was purchasing my yoga mat...we meant to have some Jamba Juice, but the line (15 people, no exaggeration) and lateness of the hour given my 3pm class in Flatiron ruined my chances.
Yoga was fine. Being late to yoga is a mistake I will not make again. In the packed class, people are not quick to move their mats and make room for a brown girl fresh off the Upper East Side. Given my heritage, I was not outstanding. But the constant encouragement and soothing tones the yogini bestowed upon me, ballooned within to form an instant love for this meditative state with health benefits.
I ambled up to 42nd Street and joined the long line of Jamba Juice drinkers. My Aloha Pineapple is not what I'd expected though I continue to marvel at how much 16 oz. can fill me.
Luckey was thrilled to see me, but I didn't take him for the walk I've wanted to...collapsing instead before my TV. Nothing was on and Kama Sutra went un-watched--so glad I downgraded to ONE rental on Netflix! I made some guacamole--from scratch--ate and slept the evening away.
Sunday
I woke up at 10am refreshed...having spent 15 hours in a lounging state of affairs, I was ready for brunch. Shiv called as planned and I made my way to Chelsea only to be told that he had encountered a "work emergency"--a brief tour of his glorious apartment and a quick cab ride uptown was all my old friend could offer me. How old we've grown? His profuse apologies were unfounded, but I was happy to see him living his dream. I hadn't caught him on a good day--but I know this is what he wanted five years ago--to see him get it is the joy only a friend can show.
I joined Lauren, Tauren, Summer, and a married couple for the Whitney Biennial. It was sub-par to say the least...but my favorite piece is housed in this museum's permanent collection--Georgia O'Keefe's Summer Days (which I have fondly nicknamed "Afterlife"). I also enjoy the Hopper collection on dispaly on the top floor.
Lauren stopped by to meet Luckey. He quickly won her over with his fear of all things reflective, leaning cautiously near mirrors and my shiny, black outdoor grill.
Jo and Evan joined Luckey and I for a fine dinner of plum tomatoes with guacomole and goat cheese, mushroom and cheese quesadillas, and vegetarian lasagne. The strawberries and cannolis they brought were an apt closing. Evan's broccoli allergy didn't act up--worried as I was for his health and well-being. Luckey was the proud recipient of a purple, stuffed bunny; cheese-flavored bone, and a long-handled toothbrush. We had a lovely evening playing with the pet, flipping through my puppy book and discussing the merits of frienemies. I loaned them Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle since their lives had thus far been deprived of this joy.
After they left, Luckey and I watched Grey's Anatomy and I finished reading Collages by Anais Nin. I can't get enough of her. Onto Little Birds this morning for my subway ride to the financial district.
So another weekend wraps...this week is choc-ful of tea, puppy obedience school, dinner with Dino and Taurean, Knitting with Carrie, and some St. Patty's Day debauchery.
Incidentally, here is the update on my Post date: New Photo!
March 10, 2006
Meeting the Boyfriend
Jo introduced me to her new boyfriend, Evan, last night...officially. She set up a drink thing at Washington Square Hotel and we sat and talked for hours about nothing--but we covered everything.
They have this easy way about them. In the time I have known her, I have not seen her so happy. I've never seen her so peaceful. That is a credit to Evan. I e-mailed her today to say that I was proud of her for coming this long way.
I've never managed to be happy and at peace in a romantic relationship. I've been happy and I've been peaceful but to achieve these possibly consecutive planes simultaneously is a feat that defies me.
Thus, I am single.
A bit of background on Jo. She tends not to let people in. She's fiercely independent at the cost of sacrificing the interdependence good relationships breed for the fear of developing an unhealthy co-dependence that rob your indepedence. She is also intense. By intense I mean passionate plus. That plus is a floating term, that ephemeral something that cannot be pinned to specific definitions and captured in the web of categorical meaning. As a writer, I think this intensity is what makes her good, keeps her strong and gives her the fire to create.
I can't say seeing them gave me hope. And I won't say they embody everything I want in a relationship, but I do think that they work. To each their own, I always say...but these two--well, I don't mind being their third wheel. And that is a credit to them.
They have this easy way about them. In the time I have known her, I have not seen her so happy. I've never seen her so peaceful. That is a credit to Evan. I e-mailed her today to say that I was proud of her for coming this long way.
I've never managed to be happy and at peace in a romantic relationship. I've been happy and I've been peaceful but to achieve these possibly consecutive planes simultaneously is a feat that defies me.
Thus, I am single.
A bit of background on Jo. She tends not to let people in. She's fiercely independent at the cost of sacrificing the interdependence good relationships breed for the fear of developing an unhealthy co-dependence that rob your indepedence. She is also intense. By intense I mean passionate plus. That plus is a floating term, that ephemeral something that cannot be pinned to specific definitions and captured in the web of categorical meaning. As a writer, I think this intensity is what makes her good, keeps her strong and gives her the fire to create.
I can't say seeing them gave me hope. And I won't say they embody everything I want in a relationship, but I do think that they work. To each their own, I always say...but these two--well, I don't mind being their third wheel. And that is a credit to them.
BFF
I had dinner with Dino and Taurean at Southwest NY last night. I haven't seen Dino in nearly a year, but when I did see him--it was as if time has not passed at all. We had no news to exchange, though so much has changed. He's perm at his temp job...I'm a the German Bank. The girlfriend of his roomie is as crazy as ever and my roomie is shooting movies in India.
What hasn't changed is that we are both single and till there is something new to report on that front the consistent hello goes like this:
"Where have you been darling?"
"Missing you, my dear. Working hard?"
"Working smart. I miss you more."
"What's new?"
"Not much. You?"
"Same old."
"I'm so happy to see you."
"I'm so glad we're doing this."
"We have to stop putting so much time and space between us."
"Word!"
Don't even ask about the goodbyes, they are longer and far more frivolous than the hello. Taurean humors us. We share inappropriate deatils of our private lives, no judgements. But the frenetic bouts of laugher are sobered by Tauren's sage advice--he's always teling us, slackers, to shape up. Inspiration is his gift.
Dino and I are like children on daddy's day off. We oogle other people's food, order $6 juice, and snicker as Taurean rambles about deep, thought-provoking issues that bring us to maturity.
Later, as we stand shoulder to shoulder (admittedly, I'm at chest level at best on those two)--I can't believe how far we've come. Just five years ago we were sitting on M-level shirking our responsibility at our second fit of Organic Chemistry. We were the future doctors of America then...who are we now? I venture to say we still don't know but I like to think we are a lot farther along.
What hasn't changed is that we are both single and till there is something new to report on that front the consistent hello goes like this:
"Where have you been darling?"
"Missing you, my dear. Working hard?"
"Working smart. I miss you more."
"What's new?"
"Not much. You?"
"Same old."
"I'm so happy to see you."
"I'm so glad we're doing this."
"We have to stop putting so much time and space between us."
"Word!"
Don't even ask about the goodbyes, they are longer and far more frivolous than the hello. Taurean humors us. We share inappropriate deatils of our private lives, no judgements. But the frenetic bouts of laugher are sobered by Tauren's sage advice--he's always teling us, slackers, to shape up. Inspiration is his gift.
Dino and I are like children on daddy's day off. We oogle other people's food, order $6 juice, and snicker as Taurean rambles about deep, thought-provoking issues that bring us to maturity.
Later, as we stand shoulder to shoulder (admittedly, I'm at chest level at best on those two)--I can't believe how far we've come. Just five years ago we were sitting on M-level shirking our responsibility at our second fit of Organic Chemistry. We were the future doctors of America then...who are we now? I venture to say we still don't know but I like to think we are a lot farther along.
March 9, 2006
Life Without Curry
It's officially been a full week since I had curry. I am alive. I have definitely been eating less..and I can only hope that my stomach is shrinking. Not just visibly but also in its capacity. C'mon JC--I'm giving up curry, give me a lil' something to be happy about.
Last night at Klong with Rosie, I had to resist the urge to order the Panang or Massam Curry. The Spicy Basil Noodles were my savior. I splurged and went for the Thai Sweet Iced Tea and even skipped my stop at THE teahouse on the way home--having missed tea this week, the stop would have been justified--but I quelled that need.
I always mean to try new things, it's just that I cannot get myself to reinvent the wheel of yumminess--why take a chance when I have a guarantee.
Last night at Klong with Rosie, I had to resist the urge to order the Panang or Massam Curry. The Spicy Basil Noodles were my savior. I splurged and went for the Thai Sweet Iced Tea and even skipped my stop at THE teahouse on the way home--having missed tea this week, the stop would have been justified--but I quelled that need.
I always mean to try new things, it's just that I cannot get myself to reinvent the wheel of yumminess--why take a chance when I have a guarantee.
Scarf
Carrie couldn't make it to knitting last night, so I was left to fend for myself against the Level II knitters who are far more intense than the Level I kids.
I was knitting along in Level I...I even practiced by making an extra hat at home, but Level II knocked me out of the running for star knitter.
I was, by far, the worst in my class of three. The instructor kept having to slow down to focus on my needs and help me with mistakes. Part of the problem--I was casting on wrong!
This is an egregious error. Casting ON is the process by which you initially secure the yarn to the needle forming the very base of your project. It is critical to get this foundation correct as it affects the quality of your end product.
The Level II instructor was friendly and chatty, while I was quiet and focused--trying my hardest to get it right. She called me a "perfectionist" at one point and "incredibly patient" at another--giving credence to the fact that you can meet someone and get the EXACT opposite read from their visage as it related to the core of who they actually are.
Suffice to say, my Level I instructor for all her prowess as a knitter was not a great teacher. While I didn't enjoy the good-natured ribbing my Level II instructor doled generously to me, I learned how to knit--and do it RIGHT! Thanks, Sarah.
Now that I can knit and purl (described as "the opposite of knitting")--the world of yarn is my paint. I can create, create, create. The needle's the limit.
Knitting is quickly becoming an all-consuming habit. I never thought at 25--I would be the girl who raced home to knit and play with her puppy. Then again, I never thought I'd be patient enough to knit or caring enough have a dog. The benefit of setting low expectations is that you're always pleasantly surprised when you exceed them.
I was knitting along in Level I...I even practiced by making an extra hat at home, but Level II knocked me out of the running for star knitter.
I was, by far, the worst in my class of three. The instructor kept having to slow down to focus on my needs and help me with mistakes. Part of the problem--I was casting on wrong!
This is an egregious error. Casting ON is the process by which you initially secure the yarn to the needle forming the very base of your project. It is critical to get this foundation correct as it affects the quality of your end product.
The Level II instructor was friendly and chatty, while I was quiet and focused--trying my hardest to get it right. She called me a "perfectionist" at one point and "incredibly patient" at another--giving credence to the fact that you can meet someone and get the EXACT opposite read from their visage as it related to the core of who they actually are.
Suffice to say, my Level I instructor for all her prowess as a knitter was not a great teacher. While I didn't enjoy the good-natured ribbing my Level II instructor doled generously to me, I learned how to knit--and do it RIGHT! Thanks, Sarah.
Now that I can knit and purl (described as "the opposite of knitting")--the world of yarn is my paint. I can create, create, create. The needle's the limit.
Knitting is quickly becoming an all-consuming habit. I never thought at 25--I would be the girl who raced home to knit and play with her puppy. Then again, I never thought I'd be patient enough to knit or caring enough have a dog. The benefit of setting low expectations is that you're always pleasantly surprised when you exceed them.
March 8, 2006
8-Letter Words
When singular, it is an 8-letter word that has a B somewhere within it. When pluralized, the "s" precedes the B.
Another singular 8-letter word that has ONLY one vowel in it.
"y" counts as a vowel.
Post answers at will!
Another singular 8-letter word that has ONLY one vowel in it.
"y" counts as a vowel.
Post answers at will!
March 7, 2006
I *heart* Luckey!
In all seriousness, biases aside, isn't he just the CUTEST dog in the history of mankind across all time? He's on Puppy Wars Much to my chagrin, he's only won 56% of the votes. Just not fair! Thanks for turning me into a competitive, crazed non-show dog owner, TOMMY!!!!!What really gets me are his eyes. I actually had a stranger tell me that we look alike. I'm not sure I see it--maybe the eyes (that's Ditha's take on it!). Mostly old Upper East Side grannies stop me to ask about him and coo in glee--I've been regaled with stories of their dogs as well. At 5 months he's a dream--model behavior, considering he's a puppy. We made a little progress in obedience school today. My dog trainer actually recognized me from the Post. That's the first time I've felt like a celebrity. It was awesome!
Ditha loves his nose the best. I remain partial to his big, baby boy eyes. SO cute. There was a boy at puppy obedience with his gf and their beautiful golden retriever who couldn't get over how adorable and teeny Luckey was. Sammy, the retriever, frequently tries to chomp on Luckey--most likely mistaking him for one of her stuffed toys at home...proving once again that size matters. I've been asked if he's a toy (as in the variety of dog) but he's not to my knowledge.
Hat maker, hat maker
I've been knitting hats. My first hat I presented to Ditha as she departed yesterday for her Telugu TV movie shoot in Hyderabad, India. She will have NO practical use for a gray, wool hat in the Hind--but at least she will travel to the airport in a hand-knit head covering. By the time she returns in May, I hope no hats of the warming variety will be required.
Yesterday, I made Tommy a hat to replace his gangsta green hat which is mysteriously missing. It wasn't me! No, really Tom-it wasn't me! It's an apt thank you for the Capoeria show he's taking me to on Friday. The perks of working at an Artists Credit Union abound.
I'm going to knit Tracey an orange hat tonight. I'm hoping to add a cute little flower on hers as soon as I learn how to crochet!
This was the item I learned to make at my Knitting 101 class at Knit New York last week.
I will go back tomorrow for Knitting 102. My fingers are crossed in the hopes that we will be trained to create a multi-colored scarf this week.
Yesterday, I made Tommy a hat to replace his gangsta green hat which is mysteriously missing. It wasn't me! No, really Tom-it wasn't me! It's an apt thank you for the Capoeria show he's taking me to on Friday. The perks of working at an Artists Credit Union abound.
I'm going to knit Tracey an orange hat tonight. I'm hoping to add a cute little flower on hers as soon as I learn how to crochet!
This was the item I learned to make at my Knitting 101 class at Knit New York last week.
I will go back tomorrow for Knitting 102. My fingers are crossed in the hopes that we will be trained to create a multi-colored scarf this week.
March 6, 2006
Earth NYC
Friday nights are Out of Control at Earth NYC! Tommy, Karen, Ditha, Gary and I took full advantage of the no cover, complimentary open bar from 9pm-11pm.
Typical "velvet rope syndrome" prevailed. The bouncer asked if we were on a list or there for a private party--when we got inside the space was desolate--I practically saw haystacks rolling past the gorgeous Indian cushioned interior.
The waitress was incredibly rude. We sat at a "Reserved" table since there were exactly 4 people in the 300 person space when we arrived. We acquiesed to her request that "food must be ordered to sit down"...Ditha and I oogling the Chicken Manchurian and Tommy looking sheepisly on. Once our food was out, she brought us our check, informing us that we need to pay up and move out of the seats. Why? There wasn't a soul in sight.
20% gratuity had been tacked on to our party of three, which I didn't protest but I drew a friendly arrow from "additional tip" to the following comment:
"Perhaps if the service had been acceptable, I would have considered an additional tip."
The waitress promptly began the all-night process of sucking up to me. She offered us an open table near the door. It was chilly so she raced off to turn up the heat--not that I think this was even possible without making the other people in the place too warm. She brought me drinks from the open bar--sometimes two at a time, to match my drinking at open bar events. Tommy refused to drink anything she brought for fear that she may have spit in it--or worse! I mean, how much worse could she do between the bar and our table?
At the end of the evening I wrote her this note on the last check--Ditha craftily slid my credit card out of the pocket in the receipt and paid with cash, now that she's a Tollywood hotshot she's PAYING for me!--
"Caroline has been a delight. She met needs before we could process having them. Having waited tables in the past, I know this is a mark of a great server. Thanks, C!"
On Larry and Tommy's dare, I casually ambled over to a nervous, Asian boy dressed in requisite plaid sweater vest--chatted him up and learned that his name was "Eddie". Shortly after I ambled back to my table to collect on the $5 reward, a posse of Asian girls had swarmed around him, accepting him as their own--no brown girls allowed. It's amazing how one woman's attention will breed the envy of women previously uninterested. Human nature!
It was a debaucherous evening. A charming black man in a fedora approached me and offered his number. I smiled coyly but withdrew. I'm not calling you brotha...you can call me if you want to--providing him with my digits, slyly. He's been texting and I'm not sure the interest extends past his hat.
There were some Indian boys who came to America for college but stayed on--I even ended up smoking a cigarrette (which I NEVER do) since my company was delighting them to such a degree--then we danced and danced and danced.
Typical "velvet rope syndrome" prevailed. The bouncer asked if we were on a list or there for a private party--when we got inside the space was desolate--I practically saw haystacks rolling past the gorgeous Indian cushioned interior.
The waitress was incredibly rude. We sat at a "Reserved" table since there were exactly 4 people in the 300 person space when we arrived. We acquiesed to her request that "food must be ordered to sit down"...Ditha and I oogling the Chicken Manchurian and Tommy looking sheepisly on. Once our food was out, she brought us our check, informing us that we need to pay up and move out of the seats. Why? There wasn't a soul in sight.
20% gratuity had been tacked on to our party of three, which I didn't protest but I drew a friendly arrow from "additional tip" to the following comment:
"Perhaps if the service had been acceptable, I would have considered an additional tip."
The waitress promptly began the all-night process of sucking up to me. She offered us an open table near the door. It was chilly so she raced off to turn up the heat--not that I think this was even possible without making the other people in the place too warm. She brought me drinks from the open bar--sometimes two at a time, to match my drinking at open bar events. Tommy refused to drink anything she brought for fear that she may have spit in it--or worse! I mean, how much worse could she do between the bar and our table?
At the end of the evening I wrote her this note on the last check--Ditha craftily slid my credit card out of the pocket in the receipt and paid with cash, now that she's a Tollywood hotshot she's PAYING for me!--
"Caroline has been a delight. She met needs before we could process having them. Having waited tables in the past, I know this is a mark of a great server. Thanks, C!"
On Larry and Tommy's dare, I casually ambled over to a nervous, Asian boy dressed in requisite plaid sweater vest--chatted him up and learned that his name was "Eddie". Shortly after I ambled back to my table to collect on the $5 reward, a posse of Asian girls had swarmed around him, accepting him as their own--no brown girls allowed. It's amazing how one woman's attention will breed the envy of women previously uninterested. Human nature!
It was a debaucherous evening. A charming black man in a fedora approached me and offered his number. I smiled coyly but withdrew. I'm not calling you brotha...you can call me if you want to--providing him with my digits, slyly. He's been texting and I'm not sure the interest extends past his hat.
There were some Indian boys who came to America for college but stayed on--I even ended up smoking a cigarrette (which I NEVER do) since my company was delighting them to such a degree--then we danced and danced and danced.
Dinner Party
Summer, Taurean, Tommy, Gary, and Special K were over on Saturday for a little dinner party at my aparment. Luckey had a blast with the number of toes available for chomping.
I made a mean lasagne, albeit a bit dry, and my virgin effort at garlic bread was successful. Tommy had come over the night prior to make chocolate mousse--really not as difficult to make considering the delicacy it is--he even came over early to help me (make!) the guacamole. Li's recipe was put to full effect.
Ditha, my roomie, came home to a sleepy bunch who were wrapping up a midnight viewing of my Netflixed Mississippi Masala. Denzel was FINE when he was young. Though his acting in Training Day is unbeatable. At 2am, all the guests were gone and I was tuckered out too.
Luckey who had been freshly groomed and is a bit too shaven for anyone's taste, still has the cutest little face and it made me happy to tuck him into his crate and climb into bed alone.
I made a mean lasagne, albeit a bit dry, and my virgin effort at garlic bread was successful. Tommy had come over the night prior to make chocolate mousse--really not as difficult to make considering the delicacy it is--he even came over early to help me (make!) the guacamole. Li's recipe was put to full effect.
Ditha, my roomie, came home to a sleepy bunch who were wrapping up a midnight viewing of my Netflixed Mississippi Masala. Denzel was FINE when he was young. Though his acting in Training Day is unbeatable. At 2am, all the guests were gone and I was tuckered out too.
Luckey who had been freshly groomed and is a bit too shaven for anyone's taste, still has the cutest little face and it made me happy to tuck him into his crate and climb into bed alone.
In the Post Again!
I went out with Arnold on Sunday night on the NY Post dime at The Blue Water Grill. The story to be posted in the next day or two--keep checking back on their site. He was much better looking in person. But there was no chemistry. He had an interesting life story--beginning on a vineyard in Hungary, traipising through Australia and landing up in Brooklyn. He confirmed that I truly am not a fan of accents.
I rushed home for Grey's Anatomy, completely forgetting the Oscars were taking the place of McDreamy. Well, that tells you the caliber of the date. But a bottle of wine, two passion fruit cosmos, and $20/glass Hungarian dessert wine later I was ready to go home to Luckey.
I rushed home for Grey's Anatomy, completely forgetting the Oscars were taking the place of McDreamy. Well, that tells you the caliber of the date. But a bottle of wine, two passion fruit cosmos, and $20/glass Hungarian dessert wine later I was ready to go home to Luckey.
March 3, 2006
Direct Quote
Tracey calls me up this afternoon and repeats a quote she's currently marveling about. I always find amusement and genuine delight in the elements that come together to create a marvel.
"Life's a trick. Act like a magician."
This begs the question: Is life a trick? Do you act like a magician?
"Life's a trick. Act like a magician."
This begs the question: Is life a trick? Do you act like a magician?
I won't share
With Family and Friends:
1. Toothbrush/Tongue Cleaner
2. Underwear
3. Roll-on deodorant
4. Razor
5. Handkerchief
Add to that list with acquaintances and strangers, I won't share:
6. Towel
7. Socks
8. Hairbrush
9. Bed (including linens and pillows)
10.Lollipop (Ring pop, gum--mid chew)
What wouldn't you share?
1. Toothbrush/Tongue Cleaner
2. Underwear
3. Roll-on deodorant
4. Razor
5. Handkerchief
Add to that list with acquaintances and strangers, I won't share:
6. Towel
7. Socks
8. Hairbrush
9. Bed (including linens and pillows)
10.Lollipop (Ring pop, gum--mid chew)
What wouldn't you share?
March 2, 2006
She's Me!
She can kill with a smile
She can wound with her eyes
She can ruin your faith with her casual lies
And she only reveals what she wants you to see
She hides like a child
But she's always a woman to me
She can lead you to live
She can take your or leave you
She can ask for the truth
But she'll never believe you
And she'll take what you give her as long as it's free
She steals like a thief
But she's always a woman to me
CHORUS
Oh-she takes care of herself
She can wait if she wants
She's ahead of her time
Oh-and she never gives out
And she never gives in
She just changes her mind
She will promise you more
Than the Garden of Eden
Then she'll carelessly cut you
And laugh while you're bleedin'
But she'll bring out the best
And the worst you can be
Blame it all on yourself
Cause she's always a woman to me
CHORUS
She is frequently kind
And she's suddenly cruel
She can do as she pleases
She's nobody's fool
But she can't be convicted
She's earned her degree
And the most she will do
Is throw shadows at you
But she's always a woman to me
The other day I was asked to name the song/lyrics that were my theme. Immediately I recalled this song playing on repeat on my freshman year roomie's boombox. Yes, this is it--This is me! Thanks, Billy Joel.
She can wound with her eyes
She can ruin your faith with her casual lies
And she only reveals what she wants you to see
She hides like a child
But she's always a woman to me
She can lead you to live
She can take your or leave you
She can ask for the truth
But she'll never believe you
And she'll take what you give her as long as it's free
She steals like a thief
But she's always a woman to me
CHORUS
Oh-she takes care of herself
She can wait if she wants
She's ahead of her time
Oh-and she never gives out
And she never gives in
She just changes her mind
She will promise you more
Than the Garden of Eden
Then she'll carelessly cut you
And laugh while you're bleedin'
But she'll bring out the best
And the worst you can be
Blame it all on yourself
Cause she's always a woman to me
CHORUS
She is frequently kind
And she's suddenly cruel
She can do as she pleases
She's nobody's fool
But she can't be convicted
She's earned her degree
And the most she will do
Is throw shadows at you
But she's always a woman to me
The other day I was asked to name the song/lyrics that were my theme. Immediately I recalled this song playing on repeat on my freshman year roomie's boombox. Yes, this is it--This is me! Thanks, Billy Joel.
Sage Advice
I e-mailed my mom the link to Dooce's post on Laura Hirschman, timely in that my mother had just informed me of Hirschman's ramblings on working mothers just the week prior. We have big talks on car rides (this is our tradition). She launched on this topic while I was a captive audience in her soccer mom mobile, when I joined her for a pre-wedding shopping extravaganza in Edison (the Jackson Heights of New Jersey, India Town). Click THIS to read what my mom is reacting to in her e-mail to me this morning, pasted below.
My darling Child,
Thanks for that Blog. You are so right, I don't think I could cut and paste the link.
I think I want my daughter to make choices that she wants. I was blessed to have a Dad and Mom, who gave me the freedom to make a good living for us,without having to worry about who was watching you when I was doing my residencies. They gave me the chances to help us get a good life, given that my situation needed me to be a mother and a provider. The fact of the matter is our ability to make the right choices, given our circumstances. Women should be educated and be able to help with finances, should the circumstances arise.
There is no single formula that fits us all.
We all make the choices that we have to live with.
May God give you the ability to make good choices in the future, while right now you get the skills necessary for any choice that you eventually will want to make.
Love,
Mamma
My darling Child,
Thanks for that Blog. You are so right, I don't think I could cut and paste the link.
I think I want my daughter to make choices that she wants. I was blessed to have a Dad and Mom, who gave me the freedom to make a good living for us,without having to worry about who was watching you when I was doing my residencies. They gave me the chances to help us get a good life, given that my situation needed me to be a mother and a provider. The fact of the matter is our ability to make the right choices, given our circumstances. Women should be educated and be able to help with finances, should the circumstances arise.
There is no single formula that fits us all.
We all make the choices that we have to live with.
May God give you the ability to make good choices in the future, while right now you get the skills necessary for any choice that you eventually will want to make.
Love,
Mamma
March 1, 2006
Lent: Ash Wednesday
In the name of all that is good I am giving up curry for Lent.
I'm entirely unsure of what I will eat for the next 40 days and 40 nights, but curry will not be it. For anyone who knows me, I eat curry a minimum of four days a week. That's right, folks--it is the STAPLE of this Indian's diet.
It was between curry and alcohol so it's amazing that curry lost. But I am more of a lush than a glutton and this is the self-awareness I've found today. The somber truth that St. Patty's Day falls within the parameters of Lent as well as the reality that tonight I'm hosting a corporate promotion event with an open bar--best not to break your lenten resolution on Ash Wednesday itself.
It could have been caffeine, but I may very well lose my job if it was caffeine so in the interest of self-preservation that got x-nayed. Not to mention the grande mocha frappuccino staring at me at this very moment. Tsk tsk!
I'm not Catholic, but growing up I always bore the Ash on my forehead with pride. Since moving to America in 1992 this has not been the case, branded as I am, passively, by the color of my skin choosing not to actively brand myself with the Godly mark. The reality is that I haven't been as close to God instead moving close to all things secular--puberty on. But this year, this lapsed Protestant who enjoys Mass (Catholic service), plans to head over to St. Patty's in the PM to bear the ashen mark for the short subway ride home to the UES.
Have to set an example for the dog, after all.
I'm entirely unsure of what I will eat for the next 40 days and 40 nights, but curry will not be it. For anyone who knows me, I eat curry a minimum of four days a week. That's right, folks--it is the STAPLE of this Indian's diet.
It was between curry and alcohol so it's amazing that curry lost. But I am more of a lush than a glutton and this is the self-awareness I've found today. The somber truth that St. Patty's Day falls within the parameters of Lent as well as the reality that tonight I'm hosting a corporate promotion event with an open bar--best not to break your lenten resolution on Ash Wednesday itself.
It could have been caffeine, but I may very well lose my job if it was caffeine so in the interest of self-preservation that got x-nayed. Not to mention the grande mocha frappuccino staring at me at this very moment. Tsk tsk!
I'm not Catholic, but growing up I always bore the Ash on my forehead with pride. Since moving to America in 1992 this has not been the case, branded as I am, passively, by the color of my skin choosing not to actively brand myself with the Godly mark. The reality is that I haven't been as close to God instead moving close to all things secular--puberty on. But this year, this lapsed Protestant who enjoys Mass (Catholic service), plans to head over to St. Patty's in the PM to bear the ashen mark for the short subway ride home to the UES.
Have to set an example for the dog, after all.
Tribeca
I got to leave work this morning to check out a restaurant for an event we're having this evening. Whilst in Tribeca*, where the restaurant is located, I realized that I wanted to move there. On my wee budget that is an impossibility at the current time--but all that it means to be New York is embodied in Tribeca. Not the village, but Tribeca. The amazing architecture and chic shops aside, the very air down there exudes sophistication.
I passed by Urban Archeaology which is soon to be my favorite store--well, just as soon as I can afford a place which affords itself a claw-footed bathtub. Located on the same block as Tribeca Grill**, this warehouse space had that classy New York vibe that stores in other cities beg to encapsulate but fail or even if they succeed, they just aren't in NEW YORK.
*Tribeca--TRIangle BElow CAnal
**Tribeca Grill is famed for its co-ownership by the legendary actor Rober DeNiro. Who is incidentally married to a not-at-all famous African American woman. Go DeNiro.
I passed by Urban Archeaology which is soon to be my favorite store--well, just as soon as I can afford a place which affords itself a claw-footed bathtub. Located on the same block as Tribeca Grill**, this warehouse space had that classy New York vibe that stores in other cities beg to encapsulate but fail or even if they succeed, they just aren't in NEW YORK.
*Tribeca--TRIangle BElow CAnal
**Tribeca Grill is famed for its co-ownership by the legendary actor Rober DeNiro. Who is incidentally married to a not-at-all famous African American woman. Go DeNiro.
Corporate Celebrity
I'm not sure if this happens at all companies or just the Fortune 100 ones, but since that is the entireity of my corporate experience I am forced to make generalizations based on that sample about corporations at large.
That disclaimer done, I will move to the point of this post:
Climbing the corporate ladder has many benefits, the least of which is the pay increase--but for a praise-driven fiend like myself, it is the celebrity status that senior management exudes that is the true driver. This said, it is the likes of me that allow for this celebrity status subscription of regular Joe's who've hit it big in business. But the truth is, I'm a blase version of the true hero worshippers who idolize their bosses or their bosses' bosses. The role model factor aside, the truth is that these people weild power or at the least authority--which are not one as the same, I took a whole class on this topic at TC--which is extremely attractive. When one is a people influencer it is the varition of these critical variables that make the upwardly mobile, truly mobile.
It's an interesting and diminished way to get to the profession of prestige umpteen models and actors strive for from the greater public. But in a large global organization acquiring real visibility is a feat and a treat!
That disclaimer done, I will move to the point of this post:
Climbing the corporate ladder has many benefits, the least of which is the pay increase--but for a praise-driven fiend like myself, it is the celebrity status that senior management exudes that is the true driver. This said, it is the likes of me that allow for this celebrity status subscription of regular Joe's who've hit it big in business. But the truth is, I'm a blase version of the true hero worshippers who idolize their bosses or their bosses' bosses. The role model factor aside, the truth is that these people weild power or at the least authority--which are not one as the same, I took a whole class on this topic at TC--which is extremely attractive. When one is a people influencer it is the varition of these critical variables that make the upwardly mobile, truly mobile.
It's an interesting and diminished way to get to the profession of prestige umpteen models and actors strive for from the greater public. But in a large global organization acquiring real visibility is a feat and a treat!
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