Love's Philosophy
--Percy Bysshe Shelley
The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of Heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle -
Why not I with thine?
See the mountains kiss high Heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea -
What are all these kissings worth
If thou kiss not me?
Sonnet XLIII
--Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, -I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
[somewhere i have never travelled]
-- ee cummings
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously) her first rose
or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands
November 11, 2008
November 10, 2008
Happiness
"When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us." -
-- Helen Keller
"Time you enjoy wasting, was not wasted."
-- John Lennon
"Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go."
-- Oscar Wilde
"Three grand essentials to happiness in this life are something to do, something to love, and something to hope for."
-- Joseph Addison
"Happiness in not a state to arrive at, but a manner of travelling." -
-- Margaret Lee Runbeck
-- Helen Keller
"Time you enjoy wasting, was not wasted."
-- John Lennon
"Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go."
-- Oscar Wilde
"Three grand essentials to happiness in this life are something to do, something to love, and something to hope for."
-- Joseph Addison
"Happiness in not a state to arrive at, but a manner of travelling." -
-- Margaret Lee Runbeck
Siddharth Anand
Do you believe, in what you see
do you believe in reality
do you believe in the sun that’s bright
do you believe in the stars in the night
Do you believe in the birds that fly
do you believe in clouds and the sky
do you believe in wind that flows
do you believe in moon that glows
do you believe in light
Do you believe the spoken word
do you believe the things you’ve heard
do you believe in the final answer
do you believe in the swirling dancer
Do you believe in sound and sight
do you believe in moments bright
do you believe in taste and touch
do you believe that much
Do you believe in the soul inside
do you believe in ecstasy and delight
do you believe in glory and god
do you believe in that thought
Do you believe in the sky above
do you believe in love
Do you believe in the heaven and the earth
do you believe in death and birth
do you believe in life
open your eyes with hope within
open the door, let light reach in
if you believe, then you'll win
do you believe in reality
do you believe in the sun that’s bright
do you believe in the stars in the night
Do you believe in the birds that fly
do you believe in clouds and the sky
do you believe in wind that flows
do you believe in moon that glows
do you believe in light
Do you believe the spoken word
do you believe the things you’ve heard
do you believe in the final answer
do you believe in the swirling dancer
Do you believe in sound and sight
do you believe in moments bright
do you believe in taste and touch
do you believe that much
Do you believe in the soul inside
do you believe in ecstasy and delight
do you believe in glory and god
do you believe in that thought
Do you believe in the sky above
do you believe in love
Do you believe in the heaven and the earth
do you believe in death and birth
do you believe in life
open your eyes with hope within
open the door, let light reach in
if you believe, then you'll win
Emily Dickinson
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
November 5, 2008
Drying Tears
The thumbprint on my Heart
Is Evidence of Blame
Ache that dulls with Time
Awakened once Again.
How hard can I Cry?
How long will I try
to fix a FOREVER
undone by one?
Sad songs resonate
filling the recesses
cracking the pretenses
Echoing past patterns.
Caring is my cross/burden
The abuser-survivor
Contradictions @ Broken
My solo intersection.
Is Evidence of Blame
Ache that dulls with Time
Awakened once Again.
How hard can I Cry?
How long will I try
to fix a FOREVER
undone by one?
Sad songs resonate
filling the recesses
cracking the pretenses
Echoing past patterns.
Caring is my cross/burden
The abuser-survivor
Contradictions @ Broken
My solo intersection.
He Won!
There was a big part of me that just didn't believe it would happen. That is could happen NOW....Barack Obama--Mr. President.
I could hear the celebration from my basement abode. The cheering wafted down from Harlem wrapping my block in a cocoon of hope.
At first McCain's speech seemed bordering on racist to my sensitized ears. I mean could he have used the work black more often? Bringing up BTWash to make his point that 100 years have seen blacks go from scrappy invites to ruling the house itself. Is there any REAL need to STATE the obvious. It's one of those backhanded compliments I hate. I'm stunned he didn't break out the Bell Curve and start reading passages explaining how blacks with their inferior intellect compensated for by their superior atheleticism ought to be darn proud of this great victory!
What's next...Caribou Barbie calling it the BLACK House?
ON the flip side, Obama didn't bring up race at all. He focused on his family (wonder what kind of pup will inhabit the Big House--wonder if it will be a white pup?), 106 year old Ann Nixon Cooper in ATL, and the slogan that has shaped American History and I can only hope it will continue to do so under his leadership: We Can. NONE of this I think I can business...We Can. Simple.
I clearly see the difference in agendas--it's not lost on me--the lizard wanting to seem gracious despite his loss but asserting with clarity the blackness of the new president and the victor focusing on a "we-opic" vision ensuring his constituents don't other him in his future efforts to determine the trajectory of our governmental process.
I could hear the celebration from my basement abode. The cheering wafted down from Harlem wrapping my block in a cocoon of hope.
At first McCain's speech seemed bordering on racist to my sensitized ears. I mean could he have used the work black more often? Bringing up BTWash to make his point that 100 years have seen blacks go from scrappy invites to ruling the house itself. Is there any REAL need to STATE the obvious. It's one of those backhanded compliments I hate. I'm stunned he didn't break out the Bell Curve and start reading passages explaining how blacks with their inferior intellect compensated for by their superior atheleticism ought to be darn proud of this great victory!
What's next...Caribou Barbie calling it the BLACK House?
ON the flip side, Obama didn't bring up race at all. He focused on his family (wonder what kind of pup will inhabit the Big House--wonder if it will be a white pup?), 106 year old Ann Nixon Cooper in ATL, and the slogan that has shaped American History and I can only hope it will continue to do so under his leadership: We Can. NONE of this I think I can business...We Can. Simple.
I clearly see the difference in agendas--it's not lost on me--the lizard wanting to seem gracious despite his loss but asserting with clarity the blackness of the new president and the victor focusing on a "we-opic" vision ensuring his constituents don't other him in his future efforts to determine the trajectory of our governmental process.
November 3, 2008
Labour of Love--Frente
Oh am i fooling you?
Do you fall for it all
Or do you just see right through?
Are you as cool as you believe?
Are you playing hard?
Are you waiting just to quietly clock my card?
Are you waiting for a moment to leave?
I don't know how i bent what you said
To what i believe you meant
I don't know anything at all
I'm standing in the push and shove
And i'm just within the rescue
Of the labour of your love
I can't do anything but fall
A-fall, a-fall-fall-fall
Why do i feel like i can never find you?
Why do i feel like i'm the only survivor?
Why am i thinking of -
You and me and the labour of love?
One chance, one shot
That's all anybody ever got
Newborn still warm
Naked in the rush hour
Dancing in my gutter
And if you want to find me
Call me, i'll be far from
The cars and guitars and
Everybody
Why do i feel like i can never find you?
Why do i feel like i'm the only survivor?
Why am i thinking of -
You and me and the labour of love?
And i never knew before
But i feel like a child in a cold, cold war
So strong, so tough
Sitting in suburbia, waiting for the wind up
And i don't want to dance
I just want to jump from the prison of circumstance
Why am i thinking of -
You and me and the labour of love?
Why do i feel like i can never find you?
Why do i feel like i'm the only survivor?
Why am i thinking of -
You and me and the labour of love?
I've loved this Aussie guitarist girly girl since 1997 when I first heard this song at Cornell. Love it. Love rediscovering it.
Do you fall for it all
Or do you just see right through?
Are you as cool as you believe?
Are you playing hard?
Are you waiting just to quietly clock my card?
Are you waiting for a moment to leave?
I don't know how i bent what you said
To what i believe you meant
I don't know anything at all
I'm standing in the push and shove
And i'm just within the rescue
Of the labour of your love
I can't do anything but fall
A-fall, a-fall-fall-fall
Why do i feel like i can never find you?
Why do i feel like i'm the only survivor?
Why am i thinking of -
You and me and the labour of love?
One chance, one shot
That's all anybody ever got
Newborn still warm
Naked in the rush hour
Dancing in my gutter
And if you want to find me
Call me, i'll be far from
The cars and guitars and
Everybody
Why do i feel like i can never find you?
Why do i feel like i'm the only survivor?
Why am i thinking of -
You and me and the labour of love?
And i never knew before
But i feel like a child in a cold, cold war
So strong, so tough
Sitting in suburbia, waiting for the wind up
And i don't want to dance
I just want to jump from the prison of circumstance
Why am i thinking of -
You and me and the labour of love?
Why do i feel like i can never find you?
Why do i feel like i'm the only survivor?
Why am i thinking of -
You and me and the labour of love?
I've loved this Aussie guitarist girly girl since 1997 when I first heard this song at Cornell. Love it. Love rediscovering it.
November 1, 2008
28
I went to see the Banksy exhibit in the West Village on my birthday after dessert at Sweet Revenge which is where I went after family dinner at Pastsis.
October 29, 2008
Vote Now!
Unlike the average blogger pushing Obama and aching for change, I'm looking for some feedback on whether or not I'm over reacting to an incident that took place earlier this month.
October 16, 2008
10:45pm
Friendly phone call from an ex I hadn't spoken to in over 2 weeks.
HE mentions my upcoming birthday and tells me he has TWO presents for me which he doesn't want to give me until my ACTUAL birthday.
11:55pm
Drunk ex appears at my doorstep.
We take the dogs for a walk in the park.
We keep drinking.
HE asks if he can take my folks and I to Pastis. I say nothing.
HE mentions my birthday again.
October 17, 2008
8:45am
Ex goes to work.
I sleep in.
October 18, 2008
No calls/texts/e-mails from said Ex. None.
October 28, 2008
2:14pm
Text from Ex: Wanna grab some dinner/drinks?
5:55pm
Voicemail: Hey! It's me. Just calling to see how you're doing. Want to get some dinner or drinks (pause) tonight? Give me a call back. Thanks.
October 29, 2008
I'm livid.
Questions:
1.How wrong is it for him to BRING up my birthday less than 24 hours BEFORE my birthday (make a big deal of it) then NOT communicate with me until 10 days AFTER my birthday (making no mention whatsoever of said birthday)?
2. Should I even bother calling him back? I mean...what's the point. Clearly he doesn't think he did anything wrong, so what's the point of bringing up how hurt I am by his inconsiderate, selfish, rude behavior.
3. If we are supposed to be friends, how could he possibly treat me this way? Before you even pose the question would I react as extremely if a friend of mine did this as opposed to an ex, the answer is HELL yes. In fact, I'd be calling them up and screaming at them. But the reality is that he didn't forget, he TOLD me he wanted to do something and then completely DISREGARDED me on my special day. WTF?
Oh yeah, Vote for Obama. Go 4 Change!
October 16, 2008
10:45pm
Friendly phone call from an ex I hadn't spoken to in over 2 weeks.
HE mentions my upcoming birthday and tells me he has TWO presents for me which he doesn't want to give me until my ACTUAL birthday.
11:55pm
Drunk ex appears at my doorstep.
We take the dogs for a walk in the park.
We keep drinking.
HE asks if he can take my folks and I to Pastis. I say nothing.
HE mentions my birthday again.
October 17, 2008
8:45am
Ex goes to work.
I sleep in.
October 18, 2008
No calls/texts/e-mails from said Ex. None.
October 28, 2008
2:14pm
Text from Ex: Wanna grab some dinner/drinks?
5:55pm
Voicemail: Hey! It's me. Just calling to see how you're doing. Want to get some dinner or drinks (pause) tonight? Give me a call back. Thanks.
October 29, 2008
I'm livid.
Questions:
1.How wrong is it for him to BRING up my birthday less than 24 hours BEFORE my birthday (make a big deal of it) then NOT communicate with me until 10 days AFTER my birthday (making no mention whatsoever of said birthday)?
2. Should I even bother calling him back? I mean...what's the point. Clearly he doesn't think he did anything wrong, so what's the point of bringing up how hurt I am by his inconsiderate, selfish, rude behavior.
3. If we are supposed to be friends, how could he possibly treat me this way? Before you even pose the question would I react as extremely if a friend of mine did this as opposed to an ex, the answer is HELL yes. In fact, I'd be calling them up and screaming at them. But the reality is that he didn't forget, he TOLD me he wanted to do something and then completely DISREGARDED me on my special day. WTF?
Oh yeah, Vote for Obama. Go 4 Change!
October 19, 2008
I roared in my 20s!
Yesterday was my 28th birthday.
I woke up at 7am, crammed for the Psych GRE and was perplexed by the full 6 train steaming downtown. Took the test from 9-11:30am at the Silver Center at NYU. Fingers crossed for a good score in 6 weeks. I can never tell how these things go. A poor judge of self-performance. Hrumph.
Took the pups to Central Park for the annual Country Dog Fair--sponsored this year by Rachel Ray's Nutrish--where my Mom and her husband joined me for a few hours.
My mother was kind enough to bring me the flu shot which she administered herself. Happy Birthday to me.
We went to dinner at Pastis where my mom was drunk off one Gin Punch--anything in a martini glass will do her in. I had a few Dark and Stormies and felt nothing. The steak frites were fabulous.
After I sent the fam ferry-ward, I skipped my way to Sweet Revenge where Jo bought me a celebratory Crimson cupcake (their take on the red velvet cupcake with cinnamon to boot) and a glass of white. We then moseyed to the Banksy exhibit--creepy but cool--then slipped into One if by Land, Two if by Sea (OIBLTIBS). The motif reminded me of Candela--wonder if that restaurant still sits in Union Square? I'd forgotten that the only other time I'd been to OIBLTIBS was a romantic dinner with Z circa 2004.
We had one last drink at the Washington Square Hotel--where, in 2006, I first met Jo's former cohabitator who cheated on her in the wake of her father's death--we spent a moment being nostalgic both grateful to have moved past that stage.
I arrived at my abode at 1:30am to watch a DVR-ed episode of Law & Order: SVU before going to bed: officially 28 going on 29.
This is the first birthday I've ended sober in the past decade...am I growing up?
I woke up at 7am, crammed for the Psych GRE and was perplexed by the full 6 train steaming downtown. Took the test from 9-11:30am at the Silver Center at NYU. Fingers crossed for a good score in 6 weeks. I can never tell how these things go. A poor judge of self-performance. Hrumph.
Took the pups to Central Park for the annual Country Dog Fair--sponsored this year by Rachel Ray's Nutrish--where my Mom and her husband joined me for a few hours.
My mother was kind enough to bring me the flu shot which she administered herself. Happy Birthday to me.
We went to dinner at Pastis where my mom was drunk off one Gin Punch--anything in a martini glass will do her in. I had a few Dark and Stormies and felt nothing. The steak frites were fabulous.
After I sent the fam ferry-ward, I skipped my way to Sweet Revenge where Jo bought me a celebratory Crimson cupcake (their take on the red velvet cupcake with cinnamon to boot) and a glass of white. We then moseyed to the Banksy exhibit--creepy but cool--then slipped into One if by Land, Two if by Sea (OIBLTIBS). The motif reminded me of Candela--wonder if that restaurant still sits in Union Square? I'd forgotten that the only other time I'd been to OIBLTIBS was a romantic dinner with Z circa 2004.
We had one last drink at the Washington Square Hotel--where, in 2006, I first met Jo's former cohabitator who cheated on her in the wake of her father's death--we spent a moment being nostalgic both grateful to have moved past that stage.
I arrived at my abode at 1:30am to watch a DVR-ed episode of Law & Order: SVU before going to bed: officially 28 going on 29.
This is the first birthday I've ended sober in the past decade...am I growing up?
October 16, 2008
October 13, 2008
Bye Bye Boarder
It is with a heavy heart that I write this post.
My boarder just texted me:
Hey! I'm on the plane. C u soon then...I hope I have the couch next time I'm in NY. haha. Take care!
It was bittersweet.
This is the first time I've really lived alone despite the fact that D'Souza moved out in May. I was away in the Hamptons in a full house most of the summer. Then the boarder moved in on September 2 when I got back to the city.
Sniffle and wail.
Well, guess I better get cracking on that Psych GRE prep I've been procrastinating on.
My boarder just texted me:
Hey! I'm on the plane. C u soon then...I hope I have the couch next time I'm in NY. haha. Take care!
It was bittersweet.
This is the first time I've really lived alone despite the fact that D'Souza moved out in May. I was away in the Hamptons in a full house most of the summer. Then the boarder moved in on September 2 when I got back to the city.
Sniffle and wail.
Well, guess I better get cracking on that Psych GRE prep I've been procrastinating on.
October 9, 2008
Summer Spoons
A few nights ago Taurean collected me from Joan of Arc Middle School where I'd completed my REACH mentor training and we ambled up Central Park West and across Central Park North till we arrived at my abode in SpaHa where the boarder, his British bud, and my white pups greeted us.
Along the way Mr. Spoons, a loquacious man, eloquently and heart wrenchingly explained to me his emotional mistreatment of Summer, his fiancee, over the duration of their relationship. I listened. I interjected on occassion. Mostly, I just listened. Hearing him extol her virtues made me realize that such men were still among us.
Of course, there are two sides to every tale and Summer's version is tinged with self-loathing brought on by the beating her self-esteem has taken as a result of his seemingly conditional love for her. But during my walk there was only his side of the story and in that side there were no conditions...just love.
Their relationship has seen its share of ups and downs but their willingness to continually renew their commitment to each other has kept them together. I marvel at that.
In my early relationships, I fled in lieu of fighting and in my more recent entanglements I fought to the point of the other fleeing...perhaps the ying to my yang is out there, but at this point I fret for the apparent foolishness of that statement.
Along the way Mr. Spoons, a loquacious man, eloquently and heart wrenchingly explained to me his emotional mistreatment of Summer, his fiancee, over the duration of their relationship. I listened. I interjected on occassion. Mostly, I just listened. Hearing him extol her virtues made me realize that such men were still among us.
Of course, there are two sides to every tale and Summer's version is tinged with self-loathing brought on by the beating her self-esteem has taken as a result of his seemingly conditional love for her. But during my walk there was only his side of the story and in that side there were no conditions...just love.
Their relationship has seen its share of ups and downs but their willingness to continually renew their commitment to each other has kept them together. I marvel at that.
In my early relationships, I fled in lieu of fighting and in my more recent entanglements I fought to the point of the other fleeing...perhaps the ying to my yang is out there, but at this point I fret for the apparent foolishness of that statement.
Cycle 7
With another birthday looming I've decided to adopt the reality TV formula of defining my chronological life in NYC.
Cycle 1 - 2002 (Pilot)
Welcome to NY!
Drinking, dancing, Banker chasing, Happy Hour racing, Starting and Quitting Job I
Cycle 2 - 2003
Tea, Moved Uptown, Single Girl, Startup: Meetup, Traveling through India, Back to School: NYU
Cycle 3 - 2004
NYC Boyfriend, Cape Cod with Mom, Orlando with the Man, Cross Country Girls Roadtrip (DC-LA), Quit NYU, Corporate Grind II
Cycle 4 - 2005
Grad School Take 2: Columbia, Heartbreak 1, Bank Job I, Napa Valley, Single Again
Cycle 5 - 2006
Luckey, Bank II, Moved Downtown: Living with Boys, Unemployment, Quit Columbia, Eastern European Expedition
Cycle 6 - 2007
FOB Boyfriend, Non-profit stint, Cohabitation in SpaHa, Puppy II: Vegas, Contract Legal Job, Life's a Grind
Cycle 7 - 2008
Another Bank-esque Job, SF Visit, Judy the Jeep, Entrepreneurial Effort: Hamptons, Heartbreak II, Briefly Boarding, Volunteerism, Research: Performing and Participating, Career Chosen: Psychologist, Chick Lit Book Club, Part-time Jobs, Flying Solo
TO COME:
Cycle 8 - 2009 (Series Finale)
Visiting family in India
Down-sizing possessions--Driving Judy into the Sunset with Pups
Move AWAY from NYC--Last Tea
Starting Doctoral Study in Clinical Psychology: Full-time Student
Cycle 1 - 2002 (Pilot)
Welcome to NY!
Drinking, dancing, Banker chasing, Happy Hour racing, Starting and Quitting Job I
Cycle 2 - 2003
Tea, Moved Uptown, Single Girl, Startup: Meetup, Traveling through India, Back to School: NYU
Cycle 3 - 2004
NYC Boyfriend, Cape Cod with Mom, Orlando with the Man, Cross Country Girls Roadtrip (DC-LA), Quit NYU, Corporate Grind II
Cycle 4 - 2005
Grad School Take 2: Columbia, Heartbreak 1, Bank Job I, Napa Valley, Single Again
Cycle 5 - 2006
Luckey, Bank II, Moved Downtown: Living with Boys, Unemployment, Quit Columbia, Eastern European Expedition
Cycle 6 - 2007
FOB Boyfriend, Non-profit stint, Cohabitation in SpaHa, Puppy II: Vegas, Contract Legal Job, Life's a Grind
Cycle 7 - 2008
Another Bank-esque Job, SF Visit, Judy the Jeep, Entrepreneurial Effort: Hamptons, Heartbreak II, Briefly Boarding, Volunteerism, Research: Performing and Participating, Career Chosen: Psychologist, Chick Lit Book Club, Part-time Jobs, Flying Solo
TO COME:
Cycle 8 - 2009 (Series Finale)
Visiting family in India
Down-sizing possessions--Driving Judy into the Sunset with Pups
Move AWAY from NYC--Last Tea
Starting Doctoral Study in Clinical Psychology: Full-time Student
Boarder Boards
Last week my boarder informed me that he would be heading back to Karachi, Pakistan on Monday, October 13. I was happy to hear I'd have the place to myself again and sad to note that my weekly non-taxed supplemental income of $125 would soon be a thing of the past.
Before his departure the boarder's childhood friend, a physician from Britain, is staying with us for a week. They spent last weekend and the early part of this week on a road trip to DC via Philly.
Additionally, my Chi-town gal pal is coming to town tomorrow for an NYC weekend...talk about a full 480sq feet.
Good thing we're all adequately brown--everyone is aware of the cramped living and no one finds it odd enough to warrant complaint.
The above statement is only one of the many reasons I don't date white men. Try explaining to one of them why not a shudder to be found at the reality of such close quarters among friends. I call it hospitality without boundaries--kinda like doctors without borders.
Before his departure the boarder's childhood friend, a physician from Britain, is staying with us for a week. They spent last weekend and the early part of this week on a road trip to DC via Philly.
Additionally, my Chi-town gal pal is coming to town tomorrow for an NYC weekend...talk about a full 480sq feet.
Good thing we're all adequately brown--everyone is aware of the cramped living and no one finds it odd enough to warrant complaint.
The above statement is only one of the many reasons I don't date white men. Try explaining to one of them why not a shudder to be found at the reality of such close quarters among friends. I call it hospitality without boundaries--kinda like doctors without borders.
Testees
I've seen ads for a new TV show called Testees a few times now--more accurately I've skipped by them thanks to DVR--and realized that I could qualify to join the ranks of these people.
I'm currently participating in TWO paid research studies:
New York Presbyterian Hospital in Washington Heights
The study is focused on the effect of low-dose birth control on women between 21-30.
8 visits pay a total of $390 over 3 months
Rockefeller University on the Upper East Side
Smell research coinciding with ovulation to discern if a certain pheromone is more potent than others.
4 visits pay out at $220 over 4 months
Testee, indeed!
I'm currently participating in TWO paid research studies:
New York Presbyterian Hospital in Washington Heights
The study is focused on the effect of low-dose birth control on women between 21-30.
8 visits pay a total of $390 over 3 months
Rockefeller University on the Upper East Side
Smell research coinciding with ovulation to discern if a certain pheromone is more potent than others.
4 visits pay out at $220 over 4 months
Testee, indeed!
October 6, 2008
Dating Sucks
Saturday night, I went out with a Jersey-raised, Kanada (Indian), only kid who graduated from Cornell and chooses to live in Jersey City among the FOBS on the grounds that he enjoys having a car and thinks NYC rent is too ridiculous.
Yes. Despite the above statement I went out with him.
We met for a drink at The Other Room at 7:30pm as my original pick, Absolutely 4th had closed. I didn't think much of him making me pick the place but it should have been a sign that he knew nothing. Our first exchange was him extolling the virtues and importance of preparedness in life as opposed to my free-spirited stance on living life for the moment. He went up to get a drink not realizing the spot was cash only and promptly ran out of the joint to get cash without notifying me of any of these proceedings. Two points.
He told me he didn't drink wine and when I requested either a Reisling or Sauvingnon Blanc and he returned with the Reisling, I knew it was because he found that varietal easier to pronounce in my absence. Three points.
After a seemingly blah drink, he suggested dinner and asked again that I pick the place. In the name of politeness and to take the pressure off his city ignorance I proceeded to select a cheap Sri Lankan joint on 1st Ave. As we walked across town, he wouldn't admit to not enjoying the walk and complained as we walked past 6th Ave. "We're leaving the place with all the people. Where are we going?" Sigh. Two points.
Once we arrived at Sigiri at 10:04pm, we chit-chatted for a while and he revealed that he's only dated 2 women in his life and each of those had only lasted a few months. Five points.
He balked at my mom's divorce followed by her marriage to the white man and her utter lack of interest in the culinary arts. Five points.
He also explained that he really didn't enjoy drinking and would never go out on a Tuesday evening for a beer as it was a worknight. Nine points.
He also mentioned that his parents, strict vegetarians, actually prepare his meals which he picks up weekly. Nine points.
At that point I should have just excused myself and gone home....but there was the matter of the check--which we split. Ten points.
Post dinner, we walked down 8th St. then down 6th Ave. and across Houston and came to a stop in front of the carcass of Senor Swanky's because I refused to pick the THIRD place of the evening and he had no idea where we should go. I also didn't want to spend any more time with this provincial prude from poverty town.
Standing and making conversation got boring till he insulted me at which point, I actually smiled turned on my heel and walked east to the 6 without turning back. His grand total of 45 points on the suck-0-meter of bad dating isn't overwhelming. I've been on worse dates and I'm sure there are plenty of dates that are much worse than this one, but the fact remains it was a lousy date.
Dating sucks just as much as I recall.
Yes. Despite the above statement I went out with him.
We met for a drink at The Other Room at 7:30pm as my original pick, Absolutely 4th had closed. I didn't think much of him making me pick the place but it should have been a sign that he knew nothing. Our first exchange was him extolling the virtues and importance of preparedness in life as opposed to my free-spirited stance on living life for the moment. He went up to get a drink not realizing the spot was cash only and promptly ran out of the joint to get cash without notifying me of any of these proceedings. Two points.
He told me he didn't drink wine and when I requested either a Reisling or Sauvingnon Blanc and he returned with the Reisling, I knew it was because he found that varietal easier to pronounce in my absence. Three points.
After a seemingly blah drink, he suggested dinner and asked again that I pick the place. In the name of politeness and to take the pressure off his city ignorance I proceeded to select a cheap Sri Lankan joint on 1st Ave. As we walked across town, he wouldn't admit to not enjoying the walk and complained as we walked past 6th Ave. "We're leaving the place with all the people. Where are we going?" Sigh. Two points.
Once we arrived at Sigiri at 10:04pm, we chit-chatted for a while and he revealed that he's only dated 2 women in his life and each of those had only lasted a few months. Five points.
He balked at my mom's divorce followed by her marriage to the white man and her utter lack of interest in the culinary arts. Five points.
He also explained that he really didn't enjoy drinking and would never go out on a Tuesday evening for a beer as it was a worknight. Nine points.
He also mentioned that his parents, strict vegetarians, actually prepare his meals which he picks up weekly. Nine points.
At that point I should have just excused myself and gone home....but there was the matter of the check--which we split. Ten points.
Post dinner, we walked down 8th St. then down 6th Ave. and across Houston and came to a stop in front of the carcass of Senor Swanky's because I refused to pick the THIRD place of the evening and he had no idea where we should go. I also didn't want to spend any more time with this provincial prude from poverty town.
Standing and making conversation got boring till he insulted me at which point, I actually smiled turned on my heel and walked east to the 6 without turning back. His grand total of 45 points on the suck-0-meter of bad dating isn't overwhelming. I've been on worse dates and I'm sure there are plenty of dates that are much worse than this one, but the fact remains it was a lousy date.
Dating sucks just as much as I recall.
Foosball Plant
Crazy Cooper Union Kids....steam energy infused plant life in recycled foosball tables on St. Marks.
October 5, 2008
September 29, 2008
Headstones by the Highway
I was driving along Rt. 23 in NJ towards the lakehouse where my mom now lives when I pulled over to capture this set of headstones beside the highway.
I'm not clear if they are for sale or serve as a memorial--no signs were visible. It was near a Fedex and UPS drop off box--no strip mall.
September 28, 2008
Whatever You Like (T.I)
I said you can have whatever you like
I said you can have whatever you like
Yeahhh
[Chorus]
Stacks on deck
Patron on ice
We can pop bottles all night
And baby you can have whatever you like
I said, You can have whatever you like
Yeahhh
Late night sex, so wet and so tight
I gas up the jet for you tonight
And baby you can go wherever you like
I said, You can go wherever you like
Yeahhh
[Verse 1]
Anytime you want to
Pick and telephone, you
Know it ain't nothing,
Drop a couple stacks on you
Want it you can get it, my dear
Five million dollar homes
Drop Bentley's, I swear - yeahh
I want your body, need your body
Long as you got me, you won't need nobody
You want it I got it, go get it I buy it
Tell them other broke niggas be quiet
[Chorus]
Stacks on deck
Patron on ice
We can pop bottles all night
And baby you can have whatever you like
I said, You can have whatever you like
Yeahhh
Late night sex so wet and so tight
I gas up the jet for you tonight
And baby you can go wherever you like
I said, You can go wherever you like
Yeahhh
[Verse 2]
Shawty you the hottest
Love the way you drop it
Brain so good, coulda sworn you went to college
100K deposits
Vacations in the tropics
Everybody know it ain't trickin' if you got it
And you ain't never ever gotta go in your wallet
Long as I got rubberband banks in my pocket
Five, six rides with rims and a body kit
You ain't gotta downgrade
You can get what I get
My chick can have she want
Can go to any store, buy any bag she want
I know you ain't never had a man like that
To buy you anything your heart desire's like that
I want your body, need your body
Long as you got me you won't need nobody
You want it, I got it
Go get it, I buy it
Tell them other broke niggas bequiet
[Chorus]
Stacks on deck
Patron on ice
We can pop bottles all night
And baby you can have whatever you like
I said, You can have whatever you like
Yeahhh
Late night sex so wet and so tight
I gas up the jet for you tonight
And baby you can go wherever you like
I said, You can go wherever you like
Yeahhh
I'm talkin' big boy rides
And big boy ice
Let me put this big boy in your life
The thing get so wet, and hit so right
Let me put this big boy in your life, that's right
I want your body, need your body
Long as you got me you won't need nobody
You want it, I got it
Go get it, I buy it
Tell them other broke niggas bequiet
[Chorus]
Stacks on deck
Patron on ice
We can pop bottles all night
And baby you can have whatever you like
I said, You can have whatever you like
Yeahhh
Late night sex, so wet and so tight
I gas up the jet for you tonight
And baby you can go wherever you like
I said, You can go wherever you like
Yeahhh
I said you can have whatever you like
Yeahhh
[Chorus]
Stacks on deck
Patron on ice
We can pop bottles all night
And baby you can have whatever you like
I said, You can have whatever you like
Yeahhh
Late night sex, so wet and so tight
I gas up the jet for you tonight
And baby you can go wherever you like
I said, You can go wherever you like
Yeahhh
[Verse 1]
Anytime you want to
Pick and telephone, you
Know it ain't nothing,
Drop a couple stacks on you
Want it you can get it, my dear
Five million dollar homes
Drop Bentley's, I swear - yeahh
I want your body, need your body
Long as you got me, you won't need nobody
You want it I got it, go get it I buy it
Tell them other broke niggas be quiet
[Chorus]
Stacks on deck
Patron on ice
We can pop bottles all night
And baby you can have whatever you like
I said, You can have whatever you like
Yeahhh
Late night sex so wet and so tight
I gas up the jet for you tonight
And baby you can go wherever you like
I said, You can go wherever you like
Yeahhh
[Verse 2]
Shawty you the hottest
Love the way you drop it
Brain so good, coulda sworn you went to college
100K deposits
Vacations in the tropics
Everybody know it ain't trickin' if you got it
And you ain't never ever gotta go in your wallet
Long as I got rubberband banks in my pocket
Five, six rides with rims and a body kit
You ain't gotta downgrade
You can get what I get
My chick can have she want
Can go to any store, buy any bag she want
I know you ain't never had a man like that
To buy you anything your heart desire's like that
I want your body, need your body
Long as you got me you won't need nobody
You want it, I got it
Go get it, I buy it
Tell them other broke niggas bequiet
[Chorus]
Stacks on deck
Patron on ice
We can pop bottles all night
And baby you can have whatever you like
I said, You can have whatever you like
Yeahhh
Late night sex so wet and so tight
I gas up the jet for you tonight
And baby you can go wherever you like
I said, You can go wherever you like
Yeahhh
I'm talkin' big boy rides
And big boy ice
Let me put this big boy in your life
The thing get so wet, and hit so right
Let me put this big boy in your life, that's right
I want your body, need your body
Long as you got me you won't need nobody
You want it, I got it
Go get it, I buy it
Tell them other broke niggas bequiet
[Chorus]
Stacks on deck
Patron on ice
We can pop bottles all night
And baby you can have whatever you like
I said, You can have whatever you like
Yeahhh
Late night sex, so wet and so tight
I gas up the jet for you tonight
And baby you can go wherever you like
I said, You can go wherever you like
Yeahhh
Miss Independent (NeYo)
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah
Ooh is something about
Just something about the way she move
I can't figure it out
It's something about her
Say, ooh is something about
Kinda woman that want you but don't need you
Hey, I can't figure it out
It's something about her
'Cause she walk like a boss
Talk like a boss
Manicure nails just set the pedicure off
She's fly effortlessly
And she move like a boss
Do what a boss
Do, she got me thinking about getting involved
That's the kinda girl I need (oh)
She got her own thing
That's why I love her
Miss independent
Won't you come and spend a little time
She got her own thing
That's why I love her
Miss independent
Ooh, the way you shine
Miss independent
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah (ohh)
Ooh there's something about
Kinda woman that can do for herself
I look at her and it makes me proud
There's something about her
Something, ooh, so sexy about
Kinda woman that don't even need my help
She said she got it, she got it (she said she got it, she got it)
No doubt, there's something about her (there's something about her)
'Cause she work like a boss
Play like a boss
Car and the crib she 'bout to pay 'em both off
And her bills are payed on time, yeah
She made for a boss
Only a boss
Anything less she telling them to get lost
That's the girl that's on my mind
She got her own thing
That's why I love her
Miss independent
Won't you come and spend a little time
She got her own thing
That's why I love her
Miss independent
Ooh, the way you shine
Miss independent
Her favorite thing to say, don't worry I got it
And everything she got best believe she bought it
She gon' steal my heart ain't no doubt about it, girl
You're everything I need, said you're everything I need
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah
She's got her own thing (ooohooohhoh)
That's why I love her (that's why I love her, oh ohh)
Miss independent (independent)
Won't you come and spend a little time (ohh)
She's got her own thing (she got, she got)
That's why I love her (that's why I love that girl)
Miss independent (ohh ohh)
Ooh, the way you shine
Miss independent
Miss independent
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah
Ooh is something about
Just something about the way she move
I can't figure it out
It's something about her
Say, ooh is something about
Kinda woman that want you but don't need you
Hey, I can't figure it out
It's something about her
'Cause she walk like a boss
Talk like a boss
Manicure nails just set the pedicure off
She's fly effortlessly
And she move like a boss
Do what a boss
Do, she got me thinking about getting involved
That's the kinda girl I need (oh)
She got her own thing
That's why I love her
Miss independent
Won't you come and spend a little time
She got her own thing
That's why I love her
Miss independent
Ooh, the way you shine
Miss independent
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah (ohh)
Ooh there's something about
Kinda woman that can do for herself
I look at her and it makes me proud
There's something about her
Something, ooh, so sexy about
Kinda woman that don't even need my help
She said she got it, she got it (she said she got it, she got it)
No doubt, there's something about her (there's something about her)
'Cause she work like a boss
Play like a boss
Car and the crib she 'bout to pay 'em both off
And her bills are payed on time, yeah
She made for a boss
Only a boss
Anything less she telling them to get lost
That's the girl that's on my mind
She got her own thing
That's why I love her
Miss independent
Won't you come and spend a little time
She got her own thing
That's why I love her
Miss independent
Ooh, the way you shine
Miss independent
Her favorite thing to say, don't worry I got it
And everything she got best believe she bought it
She gon' steal my heart ain't no doubt about it, girl
You're everything I need, said you're everything I need
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah
She's got her own thing (ooohooohhoh)
That's why I love her (that's why I love her, oh ohh)
Miss independent (independent)
Won't you come and spend a little time (ohh)
She's got her own thing (she got, she got)
That's why I love her (that's why I love that girl)
Miss independent (ohh ohh)
Ooh, the way you shine
Miss independent
Miss independent
Saturday Night Fever
Since my triumphant return from the Hamptons, I haven't done much on the weekends due to my abject poverty and the need to settle into city life firmly.
Yesterday I drove out to NJ to get Judy's tires rotated, had lunch with my mom and her husband at Rt. 23 Buffet--don't even ask--, stopped for a timed 1-hour date in JC, and parked in front of Lolita on the LES for LitQuake with Z and the Levar Channel minion (and his photographer wife) he bosses. I missed the actual reading due to my pitstop in Newport but made up for it by imbibing enough $3 G&Ts to catch up to the slow-drinking crew.
We ambled over to Congee Village for dinner--the wait gave us a chance to drink a few Lychee Martinis and sit on lacquered, hand-shaped seats carved out of tree stumps. Over a steaming table of Soup dumplings, Singapore Mei Fun, Chicken in black bean sauce, Shrimp with Salt & Garlic, and Mushroom Tofu-ness we learned about the couple's Music Club (I was invited to join given my brilliant music category: songs with girls names). The way the club works is that each month a category is chosen (i.e. break-up, president names, cheese, etc.) and each member sends the curator (this couple) their song which is burned on a CD and distributed to all members of the club. Cool, right?
Then we walked up 1st Ave. to International Bar. The wife brought down their brown, 25lb, Boston Terrier--Jack--Z and I pet, cooed at, and generally fawned over him. Dogs in bars on Saturday nights: another reason I love the East Village. We called it an early night at 1am but the evening was terrific.
Met new people, checked out new food all the while eating good food and drinking cheap, yummy drinks. I really really needed it.
Yesterday I drove out to NJ to get Judy's tires rotated, had lunch with my mom and her husband at Rt. 23 Buffet--don't even ask--, stopped for a timed 1-hour date in JC, and parked in front of Lolita on the LES for LitQuake with Z and the Levar Channel minion (and his photographer wife) he bosses. I missed the actual reading due to my pitstop in Newport but made up for it by imbibing enough $3 G&Ts to catch up to the slow-drinking crew.
We ambled over to Congee Village for dinner--the wait gave us a chance to drink a few Lychee Martinis and sit on lacquered, hand-shaped seats carved out of tree stumps. Over a steaming table of Soup dumplings, Singapore Mei Fun, Chicken in black bean sauce, Shrimp with Salt & Garlic, and Mushroom Tofu-ness we learned about the couple's Music Club (I was invited to join given my brilliant music category: songs with girls names). The way the club works is that each month a category is chosen (i.e. break-up, president names, cheese, etc.) and each member sends the curator (this couple) their song which is burned on a CD and distributed to all members of the club. Cool, right?
Then we walked up 1st Ave. to International Bar. The wife brought down their brown, 25lb, Boston Terrier--Jack--Z and I pet, cooed at, and generally fawned over him. Dogs in bars on Saturday nights: another reason I love the East Village. We called it an early night at 1am but the evening was terrific.
Met new people, checked out new food all the while eating good food and drinking cheap, yummy drinks. I really really needed it.
Sweet Schedule
An overdue update!
I have settled on the pseudo-celeb assistantship (PCA)on the UES in addition to the test prep center job (TPC) in Chelsea. In addition to my free labor at the social psych lab at Columbia's Public Health spot in Washington Heights, I've been accepted as a mentor with the REACH program on the UWS. My fingers are crossed for an amazing clinical research opportunity (CRO)* coding and interviewing at Bellevue--hoping to hear back this week. I'm training with the SAVI program at Mt. Sinai and hope to work on shift a week once I complete my 40 hours.
Due to this new schedule I'm hoping the ladies of Tea (LoT) will allow me to move our weekly meetings to the end of the week.
So my weekly schedule looks pretty much like this:
M 11-4 PCA 5-10 TPC
T 11-5 Lab 6-7:30 REACH
W 11-4 PCA 5-10 TPC
H 10-4 Lab 5-10 TPC
F 11-4 PCA 4:30-6 CRO* 7-10 Tea
6pm-8am SAVI
S 11-4 CRO* or Lab or TPC
I have settled on the pseudo-celeb assistantship (PCA)on the UES in addition to the test prep center job (TPC) in Chelsea. In addition to my free labor at the social psych lab at Columbia's Public Health spot in Washington Heights, I've been accepted as a mentor with the REACH program on the UWS. My fingers are crossed for an amazing clinical research opportunity (CRO)* coding and interviewing at Bellevue--hoping to hear back this week. I'm training with the SAVI program at Mt. Sinai and hope to work on shift a week once I complete my 40 hours.
Due to this new schedule I'm hoping the ladies of Tea (LoT) will allow me to move our weekly meetings to the end of the week.
So my weekly schedule looks pretty much like this:
M 11-4 PCA 5-10 TPC
T 11-5 Lab 6-7:30 REACH
W 11-4 PCA 5-10 TPC
H 10-4 Lab 5-10 TPC
F 11-4 PCA 4:30-6 CRO* 7-10 Tea
6pm-8am SAVI
S 11-4 CRO* or Lab or TPC
September 21, 2008
Vegas is 1
Today is Vegas's 1st birthday.
To Vegas:
So much has happened in my life this past year--most of it hasn't been that great--but the addition of you has been the highlight. You barked, chewed, clawed, and whined your way into my heart.
Your crazy escape artist stunts constantly make me wonder if we should have waited to name you--we would have gone with Houdini. You give new meaning to the question, "What's in a name?"
Unlike Luckey, you never nipped at my toes but you can't bear to be left alone and bark non-stop in my absence. You also damage everything you can sink your puppy teeth into. That irksome behavior however doesn't compare to the fact that you will mark (aka pee) on anything that is newly added to pre-existing space: this includes laundry bags, grocery bags, trash bags, and travel bags.
You always throw up in th car. I don't know if it's just the way I drive of it you just suffer from motion sickness, but it truly hampers Luckey and my vagabond nature--so you get left behind for the greater good more often than not. But I always regret leaving you when I come home to the havoc you've wrecked.
Just when I am at my wit's end with you, you sense it, so you climb tamely into my lap and vigorously lick my face. It's the kind of apology even a hardass like me can't resist. Your eyes are always curious, your face forever upturned, if not for your devil antics you'd be an angel.
I've learned a lot about the kind of person I am through you. Unlike Luckey you try my patience and I've learned that I have it in me to wait it out and handle these annoyances with grace and poise. You've shown me a patient side of myself I would never have believed existed.
I miss you when you are gone. I notice your absence when I'm alone with Luckey. I think he revels in that time without you but I feel a void which your unpredictable behavior unfalteringly fulfills without fail.
You're the Ying to our Yang. In your difference from us, you complete this family that we've become. I love you.
Happy Birthday, Vaygee!
Love,
Mama
To Vegas:
So much has happened in my life this past year--most of it hasn't been that great--but the addition of you has been the highlight. You barked, chewed, clawed, and whined your way into my heart.
Your crazy escape artist stunts constantly make me wonder if we should have waited to name you--we would have gone with Houdini. You give new meaning to the question, "What's in a name?"
Unlike Luckey, you never nipped at my toes but you can't bear to be left alone and bark non-stop in my absence. You also damage everything you can sink your puppy teeth into. That irksome behavior however doesn't compare to the fact that you will mark (aka pee) on anything that is newly added to pre-existing space: this includes laundry bags, grocery bags, trash bags, and travel bags.
You always throw up in th car. I don't know if it's just the way I drive of it you just suffer from motion sickness, but it truly hampers Luckey and my vagabond nature--so you get left behind for the greater good more often than not. But I always regret leaving you when I come home to the havoc you've wrecked.
Just when I am at my wit's end with you, you sense it, so you climb tamely into my lap and vigorously lick my face. It's the kind of apology even a hardass like me can't resist. Your eyes are always curious, your face forever upturned, if not for your devil antics you'd be an angel.
I've learned a lot about the kind of person I am through you. Unlike Luckey you try my patience and I've learned that I have it in me to wait it out and handle these annoyances with grace and poise. You've shown me a patient side of myself I would never have believed existed.
I miss you when you are gone. I notice your absence when I'm alone with Luckey. I think he revels in that time without you but I feel a void which your unpredictable behavior unfalteringly fulfills without fail.
You're the Ying to our Yang. In your difference from us, you complete this family that we've become. I love you.
Happy Birthday, Vaygee!
Love,
Mama
September 16, 2008
Job Shopping
Since I've job hopped my entire adult life, I am seriously job shopping this final go around. I intend to hold onto whatever job I get through the next academic year. That's right, I'm settling down--well my version of it, anyway.
Here is the part-time line-up as it currently stands:
1. Assistant to a legit TV B-lister (as per IMDB)in her UES home office primarily focused on her non-profit venture. Cleared the interview--my trial day is Thursday.
2. Corporate Short-Term Rental Manager at Furnished Quarters serving as a point person to corporate relocators. Interview Thursday.
3. SURF Progam Coordinator at Columbia University--managing the Science Undergrad Research Fellowship in the Biology department under Dr. Alice Heicklen. Interviewed on Friday, but I have a feeling I didn't make the cut.
4. Columbia Business School Executive Education Conference Planner. Phone interview in 15 minutes, followed by an official interview on Friday at Columbia. This job involves 3 weeks on-site in CT facilitating a conference and only runs through November 2008.
5. Real Estate Assistant at an UES boutique: showing properties, returning phone calls and e-mails as well as assisting brokers. Interview Friday.
6. SCORES (not the strip club) Poetry Teacher for an after-school program in Harlem for 3-5 graders. Interview Friday.
7. Manhattan Review Academic Program Coordinator: Liaising with international students and professors with Ivy PhDs in developing tailored classes for GMAT prep. No interview yet, but I'm hopeful!
Here is the part-time line-up as it currently stands:
1. Assistant to a legit TV B-lister (as per IMDB)in her UES home office primarily focused on her non-profit venture. Cleared the interview--my trial day is Thursday.
2. Corporate Short-Term Rental Manager at Furnished Quarters serving as a point person to corporate relocators. Interview Thursday.
3. SURF Progam Coordinator at Columbia University--managing the Science Undergrad Research Fellowship in the Biology department under Dr. Alice Heicklen. Interviewed on Friday, but I have a feeling I didn't make the cut.
4. Columbia Business School Executive Education Conference Planner. Phone interview in 15 minutes, followed by an official interview on Friday at Columbia. This job involves 3 weeks on-site in CT facilitating a conference and only runs through November 2008.
5. Real Estate Assistant at an UES boutique: showing properties, returning phone calls and e-mails as well as assisting brokers. Interview Friday.
6. SCORES (not the strip club) Poetry Teacher for an after-school program in Harlem for 3-5 graders. Interview Friday.
7. Manhattan Review Academic Program Coordinator: Liaising with international students and professors with Ivy PhDs in developing tailored classes for GMAT prep. No interview yet, but I'm hopeful!
September 11, 2008
Photo Taker-Outer
I just got home from a photo taking frolic in Central Park with A. He looks a lot like V and he laughs at everything I say--I haven't decided if that's endearing or annoying.
While we were walking and snapping pictures of everything from trees to ducks to lovers in Strawberry Fields, I fell silent and he sidled up to me and said, "What are you thinking?"
I almost burst into tears....it's been so long since anyone asked me what I was thinking--too long. This perfect stranger not only cared to know what I was thinking but in our brief time together sensed that my silence was a sign that something was amiss.
Thankfully I didn't weep but sighed and continued chirping about the green water and light in the trees...he let it go, but I'm still thinking about that.
Not once in my time with D'Souza did he EVER ask me what I was thinking...it doesn't really matter whether if it was because he didn't care of because he thought he knew...but not once...in over a year...not once.
While we were walking and snapping pictures of everything from trees to ducks to lovers in Strawberry Fields, I fell silent and he sidled up to me and said, "What are you thinking?"
I almost burst into tears....it's been so long since anyone asked me what I was thinking--too long. This perfect stranger not only cared to know what I was thinking but in our brief time together sensed that my silence was a sign that something was amiss.
Thankfully I didn't weep but sighed and continued chirping about the green water and light in the trees...he let it go, but I'm still thinking about that.
Not once in my time with D'Souza did he EVER ask me what I was thinking...it doesn't really matter whether if it was because he didn't care of because he thought he knew...but not once...in over a year...not once.
September 10, 2008
An Academic Love Story
I'm at the lab and it's my first time here by myself. The "lab" is a two-bedroom, two-bathroom former medical/dental student dormitory. Some floors still function as dorm apartments.
It's VERY spacious for a dorm apartment but essentially that's what it is. The kitchen has been converted into a study with metallic filing cabinets and an arcane, academic desk and non-ergonomic chairs. The living room is now an airy conference room with mismatched conference chairs and wooden dining chairs drenched in the western sun with a view of the GW bridge. Within the long school table that serves at the conference table, I discovered a yellowed dissertation typed on a word processor dating back to 1989. The master bedroom is the professor's office: it is filled with psych manuals, journals, graduate textbooks, and assorted other literature. He has no photos in his office except a piece of paper celebrating the life and work of Dr. BD in a clear plastic frame--a lovely bushy browed, slim, academic seated in her office with her salt and pepper hair frizzing at the ends and a her hands clasped in her pencil-skirted lap atop legs crossed at the ankles.
The invitation reads: "You are invited to attend the celebration of 40 years of Sociomedical Research at Columbia University. Please join us on Wednesday, January 31, 2008 to honor our second Department Chair, Dr. BD who served from 1978-1982. Her husband and co-author will speak briefly."
Drs. D published much of their research jointly and it appears that he tirelessly carried on their work after her passing--I speculate it was sometime in 1982. He still wears a plain wedding band loosely on his left hand. A soft-spoken man who goes to the Columbia pool every afternoon from 12:30-1:30pm, it's hard to imagine him living a life outside this dorm-lab yet he led one. Undoubtedly one filled with love, a love perhaps even deeper than his love of learning and research. I don't think he ever remarried.
I doubt he has children or grandchildren but I'm not sure. In my version of his story, he has neither, just his research and us, his lowly assistants.
This story is real. This happens in real life. Real people fall so completely in love with each others shared interests, values, and life goals that their two lives really do converge into one full life.
Not that you need another to complete you (a la Jerry McGuire) but it is possible to achieve this romantic steeple albeit for a pair of academics. It happens.
It's VERY spacious for a dorm apartment but essentially that's what it is. The kitchen has been converted into a study with metallic filing cabinets and an arcane, academic desk and non-ergonomic chairs. The living room is now an airy conference room with mismatched conference chairs and wooden dining chairs drenched in the western sun with a view of the GW bridge. Within the long school table that serves at the conference table, I discovered a yellowed dissertation typed on a word processor dating back to 1989. The master bedroom is the professor's office: it is filled with psych manuals, journals, graduate textbooks, and assorted other literature. He has no photos in his office except a piece of paper celebrating the life and work of Dr. BD in a clear plastic frame--a lovely bushy browed, slim, academic seated in her office with her salt and pepper hair frizzing at the ends and a her hands clasped in her pencil-skirted lap atop legs crossed at the ankles.
The invitation reads: "You are invited to attend the celebration of 40 years of Sociomedical Research at Columbia University. Please join us on Wednesday, January 31, 2008 to honor our second Department Chair, Dr. BD who served from 1978-1982. Her husband and co-author will speak briefly."
Drs. D published much of their research jointly and it appears that he tirelessly carried on their work after her passing--I speculate it was sometime in 1982. He still wears a plain wedding band loosely on his left hand. A soft-spoken man who goes to the Columbia pool every afternoon from 12:30-1:30pm, it's hard to imagine him living a life outside this dorm-lab yet he led one. Undoubtedly one filled with love, a love perhaps even deeper than his love of learning and research. I don't think he ever remarried.
I doubt he has children or grandchildren but I'm not sure. In my version of his story, he has neither, just his research and us, his lowly assistants.
This story is real. This happens in real life. Real people fall so completely in love with each others shared interests, values, and life goals that their two lives really do converge into one full life.
Not that you need another to complete you (a la Jerry McGuire) but it is possible to achieve this romantic steeple albeit for a pair of academics. It happens.
September 9, 2008
Enemy of the Day: Con Ed
This morning I awoke not to the pitter patter of rain but the banging on my door. Alright, there was also the pitter patter of rain. I decided to ignore it in the hopes it would go away but then my fan went off and I realized my power was out.
The boarder had awakened thanks to my barking babies and the banging on the door continued.
Con Ed men in uniform stood before me, clipboard in hand, informing me that I did not have a valid account with them. Wiping the sleep out of my eye, fear gripped me, had I not paid my bill. As consciousness seeped in, I realized that I had set up my Con Ed bill to auto-pay and the company dutifully removed funds from my account on a monthly basis. Of course, the conservationist that I am, I had gone paperless so I had no bills to show for any of this and in the name of e-organization I always deleted my paid bills. Clearly the 16-digit account number was hardly at the tip of my tongue.
Thankfully, the Con Edders contacted the mothership who informed them that I did indeed have an account and dutifully paid my bills but for the wrong apartment.
Wait just one cotton-picking minute, so for the last 15 months I've been paying somone ELSE's electric BILL. WTF?
I'm not ordinarily a litigious person but let's back up a minute: instant replay!
Men come banging on my door at 11am on a weekday.
They turn off my electricity.
They accuse me of not having an account which gives them the right to deprive me of light, air, and sound.
Then upon realizing that I have an account in good standing, they inform me that this account did not pertain to MY abode but someone else's.
Are we in America? Can I sue them?
The boarder had awakened thanks to my barking babies and the banging on the door continued.
Con Ed men in uniform stood before me, clipboard in hand, informing me that I did not have a valid account with them. Wiping the sleep out of my eye, fear gripped me, had I not paid my bill. As consciousness seeped in, I realized that I had set up my Con Ed bill to auto-pay and the company dutifully removed funds from my account on a monthly basis. Of course, the conservationist that I am, I had gone paperless so I had no bills to show for any of this and in the name of e-organization I always deleted my paid bills. Clearly the 16-digit account number was hardly at the tip of my tongue.
Thankfully, the Con Edders contacted the mothership who informed them that I did indeed have an account and dutifully paid my bills but for the wrong apartment.
Wait just one cotton-picking minute, so for the last 15 months I've been paying somone ELSE's electric BILL. WTF?
I'm not ordinarily a litigious person but let's back up a minute: instant replay!
Men come banging on my door at 11am on a weekday.
They turn off my electricity.
They accuse me of not having an account which gives them the right to deprive me of light, air, and sound.
Then upon realizing that I have an account in good standing, they inform me that this account did not pertain to MY abode but someone else's.
Are we in America? Can I sue them?
September 8, 2008
September 6, 2008
Desi Chick Lit
The newly popular fiction genre--chick lit--has a sub-section filled with emerging south-asian authors. These women span the spectrum from ultra-conservative to crunchy hippies in their musings on life and love.
I had two such books thrust upon me by a former colleauge from my law firm recruitment days (just a year ago but feels like a lifetime). We had lunch at Chipotle on friday and afterwards I escorted her back to her office where she pilfered an academic desk calendar for me from supplies and handed me a stack of paperbacks. She sure reads a fair amount of chick-lit given the five books she unloaded on me. For a Peruvian immigrant who attended Columbia University, she has a penchant for south-asian fiction or perhaps she is just a voracious reader given her hour-long daily commute from Forrest Hills to Grand Central.
I sped read through the first entitled "Invisible Lives" belittling the rudimentary writing style and bemoaning the sari metaphor but devouring the plot. I'm looking forward to an evening of "Goddess for Hire" which I can only hope swings some style into the typically overdone topography. Like Bollywood films, south-asian authors tend to overflow with wordy interludes instead of creating snarky dialogue.
Part of my gripe lies in my inability to create such a convoluted yet formulaic tale of my own. It seems that despite my basic writing style, I could easily craft a piece that would match the level of fetishized easterness required to get such a novel published. Yet my ideas never make their way to paper and I sit here sans manuscript complaining about women who, if nothing else, had the dedication to write a whole damn story out of the ideas rattling in their heads.
I had two such books thrust upon me by a former colleauge from my law firm recruitment days (just a year ago but feels like a lifetime). We had lunch at Chipotle on friday and afterwards I escorted her back to her office where she pilfered an academic desk calendar for me from supplies and handed me a stack of paperbacks. She sure reads a fair amount of chick-lit given the five books she unloaded on me. For a Peruvian immigrant who attended Columbia University, she has a penchant for south-asian fiction or perhaps she is just a voracious reader given her hour-long daily commute from Forrest Hills to Grand Central.
I sped read through the first entitled "Invisible Lives" belittling the rudimentary writing style and bemoaning the sari metaphor but devouring the plot. I'm looking forward to an evening of "Goddess for Hire" which I can only hope swings some style into the typically overdone topography. Like Bollywood films, south-asian authors tend to overflow with wordy interludes instead of creating snarky dialogue.
Part of my gripe lies in my inability to create such a convoluted yet formulaic tale of my own. It seems that despite my basic writing style, I could easily craft a piece that would match the level of fetishized easterness required to get such a novel published. Yet my ideas never make their way to paper and I sit here sans manuscript complaining about women who, if nothing else, had the dedication to write a whole damn story out of the ideas rattling in their heads.
New York State Psychiatric Institute at Columbia University
I secured a coveted research project at the New York State Psychiatric Institute at Columbua University that begins on Monday.
My volunteer position as a rater involves watching pre-recorded narratives of people who recently suffered from stressful life events in an effort to develop a more economical measure than the one that currently exists. Basically providing inter-rater reliability for the research being done.
My hope is to secure a stellar letter of recommendation for graduate school from this position which will more than make up for the fact that I will be spending 18hrs/wk in an unpaid work setting. What better practice for my future life as a doctoral student in clinical psychology?
My volunteer position as a rater involves watching pre-recorded narratives of people who recently suffered from stressful life events in an effort to develop a more economical measure than the one that currently exists. Basically providing inter-rater reliability for the research being done.
My hope is to secure a stellar letter of recommendation for graduate school from this position which will more than make up for the fact that I will be spending 18hrs/wk in an unpaid work setting. What better practice for my future life as a doctoral student in clinical psychology?
Boarder
Upon my return from the Hamptons, I realized that despite the relative inexpense my rent imposes (as opposed to the greater Manhattan population) the figure remains oppressive to the officially unemployed.
So the lemonade I've made with these life's lemons involves a boarder. A person who lives in my living room on a paid, weekly basis.
His name is Rahul Karahi. He's very international but Pakistani by upbringing. As an internet starter-upper he is working on building capital for his website that caters to litigants seeking litigators in class action suits. Currently he is also working on another site that will enable indie film-makers to secure brand marketing and sponsorship from Fortune 500 retailers.
The diminutive nature of my abode combined with the reality that south-asians have a lower expectation of privacy has led to a fairly amenable living arrangement. He sleeps on the couch in my 17x6, fully furnished living room and I get help with the rent. Beats working but puts a damper on socializing...just as well since I need to focus full force on my Ph.D applications.
Not to mention, my lazy ass needs motivation to get out of bed and into the world. Having a constant home presence pushed me to actually get out of the apartment and into the many city activities I procrastinate on participating in.
So the lemonade I've made with these life's lemons involves a boarder. A person who lives in my living room on a paid, weekly basis.
His name is Rahul Karahi. He's very international but Pakistani by upbringing. As an internet starter-upper he is working on building capital for his website that caters to litigants seeking litigators in class action suits. Currently he is also working on another site that will enable indie film-makers to secure brand marketing and sponsorship from Fortune 500 retailers.
The diminutive nature of my abode combined with the reality that south-asians have a lower expectation of privacy has led to a fairly amenable living arrangement. He sleeps on the couch in my 17x6, fully furnished living room and I get help with the rent. Beats working but puts a damper on socializing...just as well since I need to focus full force on my Ph.D applications.
Not to mention, my lazy ass needs motivation to get out of bed and into the world. Having a constant home presence pushed me to actually get out of the apartment and into the many city activities I procrastinate on participating in.
Hindi Conversation Partner
I met Lila mid-day yesterday.
I had responded to her post on CL for a Hindi conversation partner. She married her radiology resident husband last year and moved from Chicago to Long Island via Manhattan and needed to polish up her Hindi before embarking on a journey to India this Christmas to meet his extended family on the outskirts of Aurangabad.
In my desire to keep a firm hold on my Hindi, I thought it would be great for us to work together towards polishing the language of our people. She's Gujurati so her struggles were that of a native Italian learning Spanish--a fight to realize that the similarities in grammar don't extend to vocubulary.
We were supposed to meet at Cafe Cluny but felt it too fancy and walked over to a quaint coffee shop on Jane St. where she had the coconut lime sorbet and I enojoyed a mango cardommon sorbet.
She was impeccably dressed in grey, lightweight pants, a black, lace camisole carefully hidden under a sharp black vest with deep, faux-croc, purple heels and chandelier earrings. Her make-up was smoky for day with the kohl lining smudged at the edges of her large, almond eyes. Her grey-green colored contacts glinted as she gesticulated gracefully telling me her life story. She had that generic Gujurati bone structure: slight in height, light in weight, and the propensity for thickness in the middle.
I felt dowdy beside her in my careless white tee atop a black skirt lined in sweatpant material with a cursory ruffle to dress it up. Even Anthropologie flip flops on gold-painted toes felt uber casual. My thick rimmed, I'm-a-grad-student glasses perched high on my nose, void of earrrings or jewlery I easily doubled her in size but halved her in style. I don't often find myself drawing these superficial comparisions but something in the humid air made me realize that where I sweat buckets she doesn't so much as perspire. Ah the curse of my south-indian heritage. My people didn't crunch numbers but worked in the fields and filled their bellies with the rice that grows in the paddies.
She was my age. She worked in finance. She was married. She wanted children. She lived in Long Island. She missed her mid-western family and elements of her single life. She was unlike me in almost every way but our tangible Indian hue and desire to communicate in the tongue of our ancestors.
I had responded to her post on CL for a Hindi conversation partner. She married her radiology resident husband last year and moved from Chicago to Long Island via Manhattan and needed to polish up her Hindi before embarking on a journey to India this Christmas to meet his extended family on the outskirts of Aurangabad.
In my desire to keep a firm hold on my Hindi, I thought it would be great for us to work together towards polishing the language of our people. She's Gujurati so her struggles were that of a native Italian learning Spanish--a fight to realize that the similarities in grammar don't extend to vocubulary.
We were supposed to meet at Cafe Cluny but felt it too fancy and walked over to a quaint coffee shop on Jane St. where she had the coconut lime sorbet and I enojoyed a mango cardommon sorbet.
She was impeccably dressed in grey, lightweight pants, a black, lace camisole carefully hidden under a sharp black vest with deep, faux-croc, purple heels and chandelier earrings. Her make-up was smoky for day with the kohl lining smudged at the edges of her large, almond eyes. Her grey-green colored contacts glinted as she gesticulated gracefully telling me her life story. She had that generic Gujurati bone structure: slight in height, light in weight, and the propensity for thickness in the middle.
I felt dowdy beside her in my careless white tee atop a black skirt lined in sweatpant material with a cursory ruffle to dress it up. Even Anthropologie flip flops on gold-painted toes felt uber casual. My thick rimmed, I'm-a-grad-student glasses perched high on my nose, void of earrrings or jewlery I easily doubled her in size but halved her in style. I don't often find myself drawing these superficial comparisions but something in the humid air made me realize that where I sweat buckets she doesn't so much as perspire. Ah the curse of my south-indian heritage. My people didn't crunch numbers but worked in the fields and filled their bellies with the rice that grows in the paddies.
She was my age. She worked in finance. She was married. She wanted children. She lived in Long Island. She missed her mid-western family and elements of her single life. She was unlike me in almost every way but our tangible Indian hue and desire to communicate in the tongue of our ancestors.
Sweet SAVI
Today, I had my interview for the Sexual Assuault and Violence Intervention program at Mt. Sinai. I spent three hours filling out forms, watching the HIPAA video, and participating in a group interview which focused on role playing as well as posing uncomfortable personal questions. The 40 hours of training to follow over several full day weekends will prepare us for monthly 8-hour on-call shifts at 10 hospitals in Manhattan and Queens to serve as advocates for the survivors of intimate sexual violence and assault.
One of my former colleagues at Pfizer Animal Health recognized me and I surprised myself by not fully recognizing her. Even now, I know I knew her but my trusty name/face recognition are faulty in pinpointing past interactions. How can this be?
After the interview, I stepped into the pouring rain. The kind of rain that they create for Bollywood films where heroines in white saris run through the hills bemoaning the loss of their lovers to death, family dissent, and outright theivery. I walked slowly sans umbrella letting the pulse of the storm drip into my bones.
I felt my ornate flip flops sliding and clutched my large, white tote bag closer to my chest. I wondered if this was the Lord's way of bemoaning my loss of control over the good life he'd given me. I was borm with many blessings; I've squandered them. Perhaps it's not all irrevocable but time has been lost and in the accelerated pace of the frenetic desi life I'm behind. Oh so far behind schedule (pronounce it shed-duel for increased Indian effect)--
One of my former colleagues at Pfizer Animal Health recognized me and I surprised myself by not fully recognizing her. Even now, I know I knew her but my trusty name/face recognition are faulty in pinpointing past interactions. How can this be?
After the interview, I stepped into the pouring rain. The kind of rain that they create for Bollywood films where heroines in white saris run through the hills bemoaning the loss of their lovers to death, family dissent, and outright theivery. I walked slowly sans umbrella letting the pulse of the storm drip into my bones.
I felt my ornate flip flops sliding and clutched my large, white tote bag closer to my chest. I wondered if this was the Lord's way of bemoaning my loss of control over the good life he'd given me. I was borm with many blessings; I've squandered them. Perhaps it's not all irrevocable but time has been lost and in the accelerated pace of the frenetic desi life I'm behind. Oh so far behind schedule (pronounce it shed-duel for increased Indian effect)--
Vicious with the Elderly
Last night, I was at the Village Nursing Home with a group of like-minded New Yorkers who volunteer with NYCares. I give props to the organization and kudos to all the volunteers who devote precious man hours serving in soup kitchens, visiting the elderly, teaching children to do things, preparing ex-convicts for jobs, working with animals, and planting flowers.
I have been involved for a year or so now, but this September I've signed up for four unique events, the first of which was spending two hours on a Friday evening with the geriatric residents suffering from dementia who live on W. 12th on Hudson.
Once you get over the clinical surroundings and sterile smell mixed with bedpan refuse post Jell-O enjoyment, it hits you hard that these wheelchair bound people have few visitors. The lucky few who can form sentences are still fairly incoherent, the others just sit and stare off into space.
My visit was with Beatrice--a grey-haired fashionista toting a black and white purse featuring Heidi Klum--she had no idea who was on her bag. She wore clips in her wispy hair and bright green earrings. She approached me to help her re-affix one of these lovely green stones that had fallen off her right ear. I did so and for the rest of the evening she kept telling everyone who passed how much I had helped her. It made me wonder if anyone had been kind to her in recent days.
In addition to the elderly, the volunteers were a hodge-podge. I was particuarly moved by a young, unmarried Indian couple who'd moved to NJ 6 months ago from India. Their joint volunteerism touched me. It affected me more than being there with these people whose lives had wittled down to this.
It made me marvel at how far I had fallen in my romantic leanings when I had dreamed of a life with D'Souza--a man who scoffs at the notion of volunteerism and prefers to write a check or ten to any organization named after a Saint. But here, just before me were two FOBS in love, showing love for drooling old people in a smelly home in the West Village.
I have been involved for a year or so now, but this September I've signed up for four unique events, the first of which was spending two hours on a Friday evening with the geriatric residents suffering from dementia who live on W. 12th on Hudson.
Once you get over the clinical surroundings and sterile smell mixed with bedpan refuse post Jell-O enjoyment, it hits you hard that these wheelchair bound people have few visitors. The lucky few who can form sentences are still fairly incoherent, the others just sit and stare off into space.
My visit was with Beatrice--a grey-haired fashionista toting a black and white purse featuring Heidi Klum--she had no idea who was on her bag. She wore clips in her wispy hair and bright green earrings. She approached me to help her re-affix one of these lovely green stones that had fallen off her right ear. I did so and for the rest of the evening she kept telling everyone who passed how much I had helped her. It made me wonder if anyone had been kind to her in recent days.
In addition to the elderly, the volunteers were a hodge-podge. I was particuarly moved by a young, unmarried Indian couple who'd moved to NJ 6 months ago from India. Their joint volunteerism touched me. It affected me more than being there with these people whose lives had wittled down to this.
It made me marvel at how far I had fallen in my romantic leanings when I had dreamed of a life with D'Souza--a man who scoffs at the notion of volunteerism and prefers to write a check or ten to any organization named after a Saint. But here, just before me were two FOBS in love, showing love for drooling old people in a smelly home in the West Village.
End of Summer
Labor day is the unofficial end of summer. School's back in session and even if you don't live life on an academic calendar there is an element of ending harkened by Fall.
As a child of the Fall (Oct. b'day and such), I've always looked fondly on the season post heat...dig the colors, enjoy the back-to-school frenzy, and above all look forward to a little bit of new routine establishment but this year I'm less than enthused.
My Hamptons entreprenuerial effort has ended. There were some events but I wouldn't term it eventful in the grand scheme of summer. I didn't make any money but I did get to spend a whole summer unemployed and living in the Hamptons--so can that really be measured in $?
As a child of the Fall (Oct. b'day and such), I've always looked fondly on the season post heat...dig the colors, enjoy the back-to-school frenzy, and above all look forward to a little bit of new routine establishment but this year I'm less than enthused.
My Hamptons entreprenuerial effort has ended. There were some events but I wouldn't term it eventful in the grand scheme of summer. I didn't make any money but I did get to spend a whole summer unemployed and living in the Hamptons--so can that really be measured in $?
August 21, 2008
August 14, 2008
No Cure for Loneliness
Sometimes I cry and there are so many reasons why I don't know which of them is responsible for these set of tears. Other times I lay still and hold my breath--hold it till it hurts--hold it till it burns. Not every day, not even every other day, but the days that I don't smile I'm not sure if I ever will again.
Inside me there is an emptiness, a loneliness, one that is unfilled even in the happiest of times. One that cripples me on days I miss living. The sun shines and the mooon rises but I stay unmoved--unchanged by the course of time past. How many days and months I've lost this way, I've lost count. There was a time I knew. There was an odometer for my solitude but it broke along the way. It melted away with my spirit; my ability to fulfill any given day's true potential.
Inside me there is an emptiness, a loneliness, one that is unfilled even in the happiest of times. One that cripples me on days I miss living. The sun shines and the mooon rises but I stay unmoved--unchanged by the course of time past. How many days and months I've lost this way, I've lost count. There was a time I knew. There was an odometer for my solitude but it broke along the way. It melted away with my spirit; my ability to fulfill any given day's true potential.
Over and Over Again
Fresh gashes on my Heart
Every day we're Apart
Why do you Vilify?
Each tear from my Eye.
Remember--
when life was measured in "Always!"
The hours of Humidity
Entangled in Ecstacy
Above loss and Apathy
Refrain, please, Remain
Some more on love's Train
Every day we're Apart
Why do you Vilify?
Each tear from my Eye.
Remember--
when life was measured in "Always!"
The hours of Humidity
Entangled in Ecstacy
Above loss and Apathy
Refrain, please, Remain
Some more on love's Train
August 9, 2008
Koala Vegas & Luckey Cushion
Vegas, The Koala Puppy, perched on a tree while I smile and shake my head--near E. 98th Street in Central Park. Photo courtesy of Zayan on my camera phone.
Luckey managed to sandwich himself in between all the cushions at my Mom's house to maximize his comfort while the rest of us watched TV.
August 8, 2008
New York Magazine Website--SWEET
Luckey and I have made it as big as we possibly can.
Checks us out on the New York Magazine website!
Guess Getty Images is a bit hit in the internet image community.
Checks us out on the New York Magazine website!
Guess Getty Images is a bit hit in the internet image community.
August 6, 2008
Moo Mobile
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Li, CLui, Tommy, Stu, and I hit up the Sunburnt Cow on Ave. C for brunch. The line was insane so the guy sent us over to Bondi Road on Rivington on the Moo Mobile.
I wish I had a photo of the inside of this Scooby Doo-esque mode of transport. Take my word for the plush, velvet, polka dotted blue/push-pin seats in the spacious van circa 1972.
Li, CLui, Tommy, Stu, and I hit up the Sunburnt Cow on Ave. C for brunch. The line was insane so the guy sent us over to Bondi Road on Rivington on the Moo Mobile.
I wish I had a photo of the inside of this Scooby Doo-esque mode of transport. Take my word for the plush, velvet, polka dotted blue/push-pin seats in the spacious van circa 1972.
3 Little Pigs
I saw these three little peeking into one of the random boutiques on Little West 12th Street on Thursday last week when Li Chen was in town. We went to Brass Monkey, Revel, The Little Inn, and Garden of Ono on a MePa bar crawl I set up.
Park-ing
Tonight, I went to the Conservatory Garden with Zayan and my dogs. It was his first time there. It was his first time meeting Vegas. It was his first time in my apartment. It was my first time in Central Park after nightfall.
I met him at Best Cellars at 6:15pm. We tasted some wine--purchased a bottle of blush and a bottle of pinot grigio--before moving up to Gourmet Garage. I picked up Salute and Pepper-crusted goat cheese as well as an assortment of olives (for him) with Genoa Salame and Proscuitto to go with a fresh baguette. A bar of Belgian milk chocolate for dessert while he watched the dogs.
We walked over to the garden where we unwrapped food and drink beneath the luxurious Italian wisteria of the middle garden. We started with the blush while the dogs ran and barked below us. We saw a raccoon emerge and climb up the ivy covered trellis. We talked about nothing and everything. We ate cheese, meat, and bread while extolling the European way of life.
The fountain shut itself off at 7:45pm when the park guard announced the place was closing down--after all sunset was at 8:05pm. Then we moseyed over to the field at E. 102nd St...laid out the blanket I'd brought along and popped open the white wine as we unwrapped what was left of the feast. We talked about getting older. We talked about the future. Loving New York and leaving New York. Believing in each other and believing in tomorrow. Missing yesterday and knowing it was today. We sat there till well after dark. Many owners with unleashed dogs went by--mine socialized with some of them. We sat. We lay. We were.
It was a good night...beneath the watchful eye of Mt. Sinai. It was very New York with an ex.
I met him at Best Cellars at 6:15pm. We tasted some wine--purchased a bottle of blush and a bottle of pinot grigio--before moving up to Gourmet Garage. I picked up Salute and Pepper-crusted goat cheese as well as an assortment of olives (for him) with Genoa Salame and Proscuitto to go with a fresh baguette. A bar of Belgian milk chocolate for dessert while he watched the dogs.
We walked over to the garden where we unwrapped food and drink beneath the luxurious Italian wisteria of the middle garden. We started with the blush while the dogs ran and barked below us. We saw a raccoon emerge and climb up the ivy covered trellis. We talked about nothing and everything. We ate cheese, meat, and bread while extolling the European way of life.
The fountain shut itself off at 7:45pm when the park guard announced the place was closing down--after all sunset was at 8:05pm. Then we moseyed over to the field at E. 102nd St...laid out the blanket I'd brought along and popped open the white wine as we unwrapped what was left of the feast. We talked about getting older. We talked about the future. Loving New York and leaving New York. Believing in each other and believing in tomorrow. Missing yesterday and knowing it was today. We sat there till well after dark. Many owners with unleashed dogs went by--mine socialized with some of them. We sat. We lay. We were.
It was a good night...beneath the watchful eye of Mt. Sinai. It was very New York with an ex.
Houdini
D'Souza and I have long joked that Vegas is Houdini reincarnated as a fluffy whie pup. This has never been more true than yesterday.
Luckey and I went downtown to check out The Falls--whilst a nice guy from Getty Images photographed us going about our "Staycation".
D recently installed an AC in my apartment but instead of investing in actual unit siding from Home Depot we opted for a piece of flimsy folder and scotch tape to close the big gap left by the relative shortness of the AC to the width of the window.
I thought nothing of any of this as Luckey and I jauntily set off at noon yesterday. We had a fine time and even picked up some 5 for $1 dumplings from Chinatown as we returned Uptown. As I turned the bend on 102 Street, I heard high-pitched barking which sounded a lot like Vegas but I dimissed as just another pup on the premises. Lo and behold, as I ambled down the block the barking grew louder and I looked into my small courtyard to see my small dog sitting beside the black gate scratching the front door to my apartment and barking his little puppy head off.
Alarmed, I rushed down the few black steps leading to the gate unlocked it and plucked him up off the ground--shaken by the thought that he could easily have been stolen for parts if not the whole. YIKES! He could have been taken just to silence the irksome barks. How long had he been sitting out there?
I couldn't believe he jumped from my bed onto the window sill and clawed his way out through the folder then dropped 2.5 feet through the black bars on my window into the filthy courtyard. My neighborhood is not known for its cleanliness or respect for public/private property--people routinely throw stuff down into my diminutive outdoor space. Sigh.
Luckey would never have done any such thing had I left him home alone. Now I'm petrified to leave Vegas unattended--what if he embarks on anothe stunt like this but isn't so lucky. Crazy animal.
Luckey and I went downtown to check out The Falls--whilst a nice guy from Getty Images photographed us going about our "Staycation".
D recently installed an AC in my apartment but instead of investing in actual unit siding from Home Depot we opted for a piece of flimsy folder and scotch tape to close the big gap left by the relative shortness of the AC to the width of the window.
I thought nothing of any of this as Luckey and I jauntily set off at noon yesterday. We had a fine time and even picked up some 5 for $1 dumplings from Chinatown as we returned Uptown. As I turned the bend on 102 Street, I heard high-pitched barking which sounded a lot like Vegas but I dimissed as just another pup on the premises. Lo and behold, as I ambled down the block the barking grew louder and I looked into my small courtyard to see my small dog sitting beside the black gate scratching the front door to my apartment and barking his little puppy head off.
Alarmed, I rushed down the few black steps leading to the gate unlocked it and plucked him up off the ground--shaken by the thought that he could easily have been stolen for parts if not the whole. YIKES! He could have been taken just to silence the irksome barks. How long had he been sitting out there?
I couldn't believe he jumped from my bed onto the window sill and clawed his way out through the folder then dropped 2.5 feet through the black bars on my window into the filthy courtyard. My neighborhood is not known for its cleanliness or respect for public/private property--people routinely throw stuff down into my diminutive outdoor space. Sigh.
Luckey would never have done any such thing had I left him home alone. Now I'm petrified to leave Vegas unattended--what if he embarks on anothe stunt like this but isn't so lucky. Crazy animal.
Bryant Park HBO Movie Festival
Every year I look forward to summer in New York primarily because Monday nights shift from tea to Bryant Park for the HBO Movie Festival.
This year I have not been to a single film--a sympton of my romance with Manhattan trickling down to nothing. I'm that suitor who has sidled past courtship into the comfortable but boring role of live-in lover...I take without giving, indulge without appreciating, and generally survive where I was once thriving.
What happened? How did we get here? My main Man has lot his luster...really, I'm the one that changed. Swear as I did I couldn't possibly get over this mega-metropolis I think that's just what happened this summer. The slow faling out of love has become a firmly out of love status.
What city can possibly measure up to NYC? Where do I go from here?
______________________________________________________________________
In an effort to reconcile I've e-mailed the tea girls--we will be catching The Candidate starring Robert Redford in Bryant Park next Monday (8/11)--I'll be raising my plastic cup full of white wine to the city while I get very sleepy.
This year I have not been to a single film--a sympton of my romance with Manhattan trickling down to nothing. I'm that suitor who has sidled past courtship into the comfortable but boring role of live-in lover...I take without giving, indulge without appreciating, and generally survive where I was once thriving.
What happened? How did we get here? My main Man has lot his luster...really, I'm the one that changed. Swear as I did I couldn't possibly get over this mega-metropolis I think that's just what happened this summer. The slow faling out of love has become a firmly out of love status.
What city can possibly measure up to NYC? Where do I go from here?
______________________________________________________________________
In an effort to reconcile I've e-mailed the tea girls--we will be catching The Candidate starring Robert Redford in Bryant Park next Monday (8/11)--I'll be raising my plastic cup full of white wine to the city while I get very sleepy.
July 29, 2008
Eleanor
I have wantted to live at 45 Wall in FiDi for many years--yet she eludes me. 
Please appreciate the "Gone in 60 Seconds" reference, people.
Please appreciate the "Gone in 60 Seconds" reference, people.
July 27, 2008
July 25, 2008
Lion Love
This display of lion love made me wonder if my pups would recognize me a year after I released them into the wild. I'd drop 'em in Malta, of course, they wouldn't last an hour in Africa.
I'm totally in love with this video right now.
Do you think Ace and John are gay? Does Harrods sell lion cubs?
I know it was 1969 but a giant dept. store in London sellling a lion cub to a gay couple...really? Not to mention a lion cub living in London...double really?
July 24, 2008
Hampton Honey
The moniker bestowed on me by Zayan on the card attached to the silver wine bag that held my fave vodka when he came out to the house on June 27 has stuck in my head...
Shouldn't it be Hamptons Honey?
I'm not suggesting it's an apt title but I like it. A lot.
Don't worry this isn't a relapse in the making--trust me--
As we sat at Birdie's last week scarfing down fried chicken and eviscerating one another's love lives--me more so than him--I felt a twinge of sorrow at the loss of any romantic inclination towards Z. Now, I realize this is a good thing but for so long I had believed that he was the one for me and perhaps I would know the flame that burned eternal in my dealings with him. This is just not so. Despite the positive mental health factor, it's a romantic rumination that's been ruined.
Combine this reality with my tepid temperament towards D'Souza, I'm burning through exes. I, as someone who has always prided herself on maintaining good post-relationship dealings, suddenly find myself in the shoes of the masses--longing to cut off all ties to these people and generally pretend they never happened to me. Alright, so that's a bit extreme but it's not wholly inaccurate. My version of letting go has been to hold a long thick string tied to the ex's wrist and stand behind a pressurized NYC wall. I'm contemplating dropping the string and leaving the apartment.
Wow. Is that personal growth? Is that maturity? Or is it just "that I've been dating for 10 years and my hair hurts"?
Shouldn't it be Hamptons Honey?
I'm not suggesting it's an apt title but I like it. A lot.
Don't worry this isn't a relapse in the making--trust me--
As we sat at Birdie's last week scarfing down fried chicken and eviscerating one another's love lives--me more so than him--I felt a twinge of sorrow at the loss of any romantic inclination towards Z. Now, I realize this is a good thing but for so long I had believed that he was the one for me and perhaps I would know the flame that burned eternal in my dealings with him. This is just not so. Despite the positive mental health factor, it's a romantic rumination that's been ruined.
Combine this reality with my tepid temperament towards D'Souza, I'm burning through exes. I, as someone who has always prided herself on maintaining good post-relationship dealings, suddenly find myself in the shoes of the masses--longing to cut off all ties to these people and generally pretend they never happened to me. Alright, so that's a bit extreme but it's not wholly inaccurate. My version of letting go has been to hold a long thick string tied to the ex's wrist and stand behind a pressurized NYC wall. I'm contemplating dropping the string and leaving the apartment.
Wow. Is that personal growth? Is that maturity? Or is it just "that I've been dating for 10 years and my hair hurts"?
July 21, 2008
D'Souza Delivers
D'Souza came out this weekend.
11:45am-5:45pm Saturday
Spent the day in the poool drinking beer and making runs to King Kullen for food.
The dogs got pushed in--damn D'souza--so he put them on some floats so they could dry off without getting disgusting from jumping around the sand.
He drove off in a huff after injuring his toe.
10:00am-9:34pm Sunday
I collected him from the Hampton Bays train station bright and early.
We drove to Babylon where his car had broken down so he could get AAA to tow it.
Spent an hour or so at the ocean beach drinking beer out of a cooler and watching white people tan.
Drove out to DuckWalk's winery in Water Mill for a tasting before they closed at 5:30pm then booked it home to grill some delicious chorizos for dinner.
Popped open some champagne and dove in the pool before warming up in the hottub--so we had to jump back in the pool to cool down.
Then I deposited him at the train station so he could head home to Jersey City.
11:45am-5:45pm Saturday
Spent the day in the poool drinking beer and making runs to King Kullen for food.
The dogs got pushed in--damn D'souza--so he put them on some floats so they could dry off without getting disgusting from jumping around the sand.
He drove off in a huff after injuring his toe.
10:00am-9:34pm Sunday
I collected him from the Hampton Bays train station bright and early.
We drove to Babylon where his car had broken down so he could get AAA to tow it.
Spent an hour or so at the ocean beach drinking beer out of a cooler and watching white people tan.
Drove out to DuckWalk's winery in Water Mill for a tasting before they closed at 5:30pm then booked it home to grill some delicious chorizos for dinner.
Popped open some champagne and dove in the pool before warming up in the hottub--so we had to jump back in the pool to cool down.
Then I deposited him at the train station so he could head home to Jersey City.
Beach Bum (15 summers strong)
At the ocean beach yesterday, I spied this old school wooden Jeep--made Judy look young--sporting beach permits from 1994 to 2008...there is an owner who LOVES this particular beach in East Quogue.
July 14, 2008
Vulnerability--I suck at it--
This is my fault. I should never have pushed the Hamptons on you.
I foolishly spent all year waiting for this beautiful dream of spending weekends in Hampton Bays with you. Ever since we picked that house I've been waiting for the summer to start so we could really enjoy ourselves again.
When I realized I would only have one chance to make all my anticipation a reality I started daydreaming about spending a lazy afternoon on the beach drinking out of our cooler--jumping in the ocean then drying off long enough to build a sandcastle WITH YOU....taking a trip to the vineyard and sampling an assortment of Long Island wine WITH YOU....dancing under the stars at The Drift (a deck on the ocean) pulsing with mainstream music WITH YOU...swimming in the pool as the sun rises after stewing in the hottub with everyone who was in the house this weekend---young, relaxed, hopeful, fun--WITH YOU.
I just thought this would be my one chance to be on vacation WITH YOU. My one last good memory so I could always look back on our relationship as a happy time...a time that ended as wonderfully as it had begun.
I don't deserve that. Thank you for making sure I don't get that...thank you for not being sorry. Thank you for not making it up to me. Thank you for ensuring that I get just how much we are over because I'm don't deserve to have one lousy weekend with you at the beach...carefree, happy....feeling like that girl I used to be when we met. I'm not her. She's just a memory. She's the only memory I have any right to have. That's what I deserve...thank you for making sure I get what I deserve.
I foolishly spent all year waiting for this beautiful dream of spending weekends in Hampton Bays with you. Ever since we picked that house I've been waiting for the summer to start so we could really enjoy ourselves again.
When I realized I would only have one chance to make all my anticipation a reality I started daydreaming about spending a lazy afternoon on the beach drinking out of our cooler--jumping in the ocean then drying off long enough to build a sandcastle WITH YOU....taking a trip to the vineyard and sampling an assortment of Long Island wine WITH YOU....dancing under the stars at The Drift (a deck on the ocean) pulsing with mainstream music WITH YOU...swimming in the pool as the sun rises after stewing in the hottub with everyone who was in the house this weekend---young, relaxed, hopeful, fun--WITH YOU.
I just thought this would be my one chance to be on vacation WITH YOU. My one last good memory so I could always look back on our relationship as a happy time...a time that ended as wonderfully as it had begun.
I don't deserve that. Thank you for making sure I don't get that...thank you for not being sorry. Thank you for not making it up to me. Thank you for ensuring that I get just how much we are over because I'm don't deserve to have one lousy weekend with you at the beach...carefree, happy....feeling like that girl I used to be when we met. I'm not her. She's just a memory. She's the only memory I have any right to have. That's what I deserve...thank you for making sure I get what I deserve.
July 13, 2008
Dissing D'Souza
Last night, D'Souza dissapointed me more than any man has ever disappointed me.
The primary reason for this is that I let him. I gave him that power over me. A regret that I will carry with me. A lesson I would have learned earlier in life had I been trusting enough to showcase my vulnerability to a man--the way women are willing and able, nay expected to.
The secondary reason is that he had promised to come out to the Hamptons this weekend and he did not come. A promise he made through NO prompting of mine roughly 3weeks ago with the added assurance that he would take off on Friday so we could drive up on Thursday and truly enjoy a relaxing yet party heavy weekend of debauchery and general beach fun.
As things develop this was a gradual letdown which in so many ways isn't any better than a sudden drop. Thursday night he sang me a song of the quarter ending which signals long nights of work for him. I hadn't actually expected him to take Friday off but he then assured me that he would find a way to spend 24 consecutive hours in the Hamptons with me this weekend. So when he called me at 9:34pm last night to tell me he wasn't coming out this weekend I was crushed.
I was crushed the way a little girl whose parents share joint custody is crushed when her father doesn't show up...it doesn't really matter that he's often not shown up...this time she had believed it would be different. This time she put on a new dress and braided her hair with pink ribbons and scrubbed her face extra hard and sat on her mother's stoop holding the bear her father had given her last Christmas waiting...hoping...believing....needing him to show up. So, when he didn't come she cried. She cried with a force of a punctured artery squirting jets of fresh fluid with pressure unrelenting. She cried till her whole face was red. She cried till her sobs were soundless. She cried for herself and all the little girls who sat on stoops waiting...waiting for dads that never came. Believing in things they were too young to stop believing in....crying with a bitterness they should have been too inexperienced to convey accurately.
So getting back to the point--D'Souza didn't show up. Not only did he not show up he dared to issue the following brilliant statements to a distraught ME:
"Can we talk about this tomorrow? I'm tired and I need to get some sleep."
Again...this was at 9:34pm on Saturday night.
"We broke up. Would you be this upset if any other friend of yours cancelled on you at the last minute?"
Um. Yes. I would be. It's discourteous, selfish, inconsiderate, and unkind. I would not just be upset I would sling much more serious epithets in their direction and proceed to not speak to them for weeks on end.
"I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll come out next weekend. I've already taken Friday off."
His solution is to make me ANOTHER promise to come out when it is convenient for him (without consulting me if that would work for me! After all how much does that matter--it's ALL about HIM) despite having told me that THIS weekend was convenient for him. Plus I know for a fact that he'll have to drive his sister back up to Ithaca next weekend to renew her lease. Unlike him I listen. I pay attention. I remember dates and general timelines.
"I'm here on an H1B visa. I don't have the luxury of quitting my job and sitting on my ass like some people."
Well, you had the opportunity to file for a green card. So I'm sorry this excuse just doesn't hold water. Not to mention, do you really think couching an insult directed at me given the circumstances is a good idea?
The primary reason for this is that I let him. I gave him that power over me. A regret that I will carry with me. A lesson I would have learned earlier in life had I been trusting enough to showcase my vulnerability to a man--the way women are willing and able, nay expected to.
The secondary reason is that he had promised to come out to the Hamptons this weekend and he did not come. A promise he made through NO prompting of mine roughly 3weeks ago with the added assurance that he would take off on Friday so we could drive up on Thursday and truly enjoy a relaxing yet party heavy weekend of debauchery and general beach fun.
As things develop this was a gradual letdown which in so many ways isn't any better than a sudden drop. Thursday night he sang me a song of the quarter ending which signals long nights of work for him. I hadn't actually expected him to take Friday off but he then assured me that he would find a way to spend 24 consecutive hours in the Hamptons with me this weekend. So when he called me at 9:34pm last night to tell me he wasn't coming out this weekend I was crushed.
I was crushed the way a little girl whose parents share joint custody is crushed when her father doesn't show up...it doesn't really matter that he's often not shown up...this time she had believed it would be different. This time she put on a new dress and braided her hair with pink ribbons and scrubbed her face extra hard and sat on her mother's stoop holding the bear her father had given her last Christmas waiting...hoping...believing....needing him to show up. So, when he didn't come she cried. She cried with a force of a punctured artery squirting jets of fresh fluid with pressure unrelenting. She cried till her whole face was red. She cried till her sobs were soundless. She cried for herself and all the little girls who sat on stoops waiting...waiting for dads that never came. Believing in things they were too young to stop believing in....crying with a bitterness they should have been too inexperienced to convey accurately.
So getting back to the point--D'Souza didn't show up. Not only did he not show up he dared to issue the following brilliant statements to a distraught ME:
"Can we talk about this tomorrow? I'm tired and I need to get some sleep."
Again...this was at 9:34pm on Saturday night.
"We broke up. Would you be this upset if any other friend of yours cancelled on you at the last minute?"
Um. Yes. I would be. It's discourteous, selfish, inconsiderate, and unkind. I would not just be upset I would sling much more serious epithets in their direction and proceed to not speak to them for weeks on end.
"I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll come out next weekend. I've already taken Friday off."
His solution is to make me ANOTHER promise to come out when it is convenient for him (without consulting me if that would work for me! After all how much does that matter--it's ALL about HIM) despite having told me that THIS weekend was convenient for him. Plus I know for a fact that he'll have to drive his sister back up to Ithaca next weekend to renew her lease. Unlike him I listen. I pay attention. I remember dates and general timelines.
"I'm here on an H1B visa. I don't have the luxury of quitting my job and sitting on my ass like some people."
Well, you had the opportunity to file for a green card. So I'm sorry this excuse just doesn't hold water. Not to mention, do you really think couching an insult directed at me given the circumstances is a good idea?
July 11, 2008
Arty Party Recap
Stella, Jani and I tromped about 25th Street between 10th and 11th Avenues today from 5pm-7pm viewing a variety of art openings. These receptions feature free wine, beer, and occassionally vodka...today I sampled all three at the seven galleries I perused.
Jani favored Science as Muse at the SVA student group show.
Stella voted for Teri Garland's Southern Discomforts complete with Klansman and families bearing the emblematic "White Power" t-shirts.
I was ambivalent till we climbed into a padded freight elevator at 555 W. 25th Street in what appeared to be an upscale apartment building--clearly a multi-use property--custom fitted with elevator doors that close like an alligator's jaws. As if the ride wasn't awesome enough a series of dark/disturbing Asian child inspired imagery donned the white walls. The post below highlights my favorites--most frightening visages.
Above is a Beetle Juice reminiscent room with a large David Copperfield style crystal filled with water exerting centrifugal force in the middle amplifying the dizzying effect of the small space. Ack!
July 6, 2008
Vegas on a Grassy Knoll
Here is a photograph of Vegas taken by a professional pet photographer--Sarah Sleiding--on a grassy knoll just West of 5th Ave. in Central Park on 96th St. 
July 5, 2008
Disposable Grill
This weekend I have a few kosher folks in the house who refused to cook on my gentile grill...here is their "disposable" grill.
July 4, 2008
My First Sand Castle
Last weekend Jo photographed Zayan assisting me to build my first sand castle--a little late in life--but better late than never. That's just too many cliches even for me...
July 3, 2008
Gay Burst
Riding the LIRR from Jamaica to Hampton Bays this morning/afternoon I witnessed my first official gay burst!
There was a pair of screaming children sitting directly behind me--kicking my seat and generally causing a ruckus. Their mother did not just skip chastizing them she in fact encouraged their unruly behavior by applauding their verbal abilities. Their colored nanny who was sitting across the aisle from mother and children was moritified but clearly enjoying her "ride off".
In front of me sat a charming gay man--proudly carrying a rainbow bag and wearing some very gay shades--who hit his breaking point at Patchogue and WENT off at the mom. He started by merely lifting himself from his seat and walking over to inform the mother that she needed to keep her kids quiet. To which the definition of WASP mother responded "No entiendo ingles, mi amor!" This inflamed the flamer as we had ALL heard her cooing to her offspring in the American English we speak so freely.
He hotly retorted, "Either you can shut them up or I will."
To which she stood up outraged and spit out, "Excuse, what did you just say?"
He smirked, "Wait. I thought you didn't speak English!"
She merely stared at him fish-mouthed as he continued to dig into her.
"I'm not the only one that's had this ride ruined by those screaming children. If you can't control your kids maybe you should consider driving out next time or perhaps not sugaring them up before exposing the rest of us to them."
She kept yelling at him...till he finally got off the train and threw one last insult, "I'm glad I said something even if I was almost at my stop. You're a bitch!"
I wanted to shout a mighty, "Amen!" but I didn't. COWARD, I know!
The rest of the passengers turned on him as soon he left throwing the mother conciliatory glances and open apologies like:
"What's his problem!"
"Children will be children"
"He was getting off, why did he make such a big deal."
OMFG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There was a pair of screaming children sitting directly behind me--kicking my seat and generally causing a ruckus. Their mother did not just skip chastizing them she in fact encouraged their unruly behavior by applauding their verbal abilities. Their colored nanny who was sitting across the aisle from mother and children was moritified but clearly enjoying her "ride off".
In front of me sat a charming gay man--proudly carrying a rainbow bag and wearing some very gay shades--who hit his breaking point at Patchogue and WENT off at the mom. He started by merely lifting himself from his seat and walking over to inform the mother that she needed to keep her kids quiet. To which the definition of WASP mother responded "No entiendo ingles, mi amor!" This inflamed the flamer as we had ALL heard her cooing to her offspring in the American English we speak so freely.
He hotly retorted, "Either you can shut them up or I will."
To which she stood up outraged and spit out, "Excuse, what did you just say?"
He smirked, "Wait. I thought you didn't speak English!"
She merely stared at him fish-mouthed as he continued to dig into her.
"I'm not the only one that's had this ride ruined by those screaming children. If you can't control your kids maybe you should consider driving out next time or perhaps not sugaring them up before exposing the rest of us to them."
She kept yelling at him...till he finally got off the train and threw one last insult, "I'm glad I said something even if I was almost at my stop. You're a bitch!"
I wanted to shout a mighty, "Amen!" but I didn't. COWARD, I know!
The rest of the passengers turned on him as soon he left throwing the mother conciliatory glances and open apologies like:
"What's his problem!"
"Children will be children"
"He was getting off, why did he make such a big deal."
OMFG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Parkside Apple
Today, I made my way to the Apple store across from the southeast corner of Central Park to give my iPod a much needed perk.
Ever since I got my Juke last Thanksgiving I haven't used my Nano at all. Last week when I tried plugging in a variety of headphones into the little MP3 player no sounds were to be heard. Boo.
Upon Zayan's recommendation, I took the adorable music maker to the mothership in the hopes of reviving its ability to make noise. The kind gentleman whose apple branded nametag proclaimed him "Peter" simply pulled out some white headphones from his pants pocket, plugged them into my system, and voila! MUSIC! Peter let me keep the 'phones for free. Imagine!
Beth Hart's LA Song came pouring out...
That was the song I listened to on repeat during my exile semester from college (Fall 1999) when I got the boot (ac pro) from good old Johnny Hop. Sad times. Times spent in my 1992 grey Mazda Protege driving on Rt. 10 at absurd hours--blasting Z100 and crying intermittently. Not a high point. But a point nonetheless...a point from which I redeemed myself.
I once again feel like I'm at such a point in my life. The collapse of a live-in situation, the absence of a real job, and live in a basement studio in East Harlem...nowhere to go but up. So it's time to pull up those bootstraps and get to climbing out of the deep hole I've dug my heels into.
That's how I'm making '08 Great...by preparing to Get Mine in '09!
Ever since I got my Juke last Thanksgiving I haven't used my Nano at all. Last week when I tried plugging in a variety of headphones into the little MP3 player no sounds were to be heard. Boo.
Upon Zayan's recommendation, I took the adorable music maker to the mothership in the hopes of reviving its ability to make noise. The kind gentleman whose apple branded nametag proclaimed him "Peter" simply pulled out some white headphones from his pants pocket, plugged them into my system, and voila! MUSIC! Peter let me keep the 'phones for free. Imagine!
Beth Hart's LA Song came pouring out...
That was the song I listened to on repeat during my exile semester from college (Fall 1999) when I got the boot (ac pro) from good old Johnny Hop. Sad times. Times spent in my 1992 grey Mazda Protege driving on Rt. 10 at absurd hours--blasting Z100 and crying intermittently. Not a high point. But a point nonetheless...a point from which I redeemed myself.
I once again feel like I'm at such a point in my life. The collapse of a live-in situation, the absence of a real job, and live in a basement studio in East Harlem...nowhere to go but up. So it's time to pull up those bootstraps and get to climbing out of the deep hole I've dug my heels into.
That's how I'm making '08 Great...by preparing to Get Mine in '09!
Inertia
That's probably a good way of describing my life these past six years...
I've long held that 2008 would be a significant year in my life.
Of course, my reasoning had been that I'd have met the man with whom I would spend the rest of my life, achieved a modicum of professional success, and purchased my own sliver of NYC real estate. None of those things have come to pass as yet but if I can escape the big sleep that would be the achievement of this lifetime.
I've long held that 2008 would be a significant year in my life.
Of course, my reasoning had been that I'd have met the man with whom I would spend the rest of my life, achieved a modicum of professional success, and purchased my own sliver of NYC real estate. None of those things have come to pass as yet but if I can escape the big sleep that would be the achievement of this lifetime.
July 1, 2008
2008: Third Quarter Resolutions
1. Stop sleeping with the ex.
2. Study and ace the GRE.
3. Select a new job.
4. Stay the course on the Hamptons House.
5. Stick to walking the dogs daily.
6. Sip in lieu of chugging
7. Swim as often as possible while the summer and Hamptons oblige.
8. Steer clear of dating this season.
9. Spend more time with my family.
10. Seek out new experiences: people, events, performances, etc.
2. Study and ace the GRE.
3. Select a new job.
4. Stay the course on the Hamptons House.
5. Stick to walking the dogs daily.
6. Sip in lieu of chugging
7. Swim as often as possible while the summer and Hamptons oblige.
8. Steer clear of dating this season.
9. Spend more time with my family.
10. Seek out new experiences: people, events, performances, etc.
Seen on the Street
Walking across 99th Street between Lexington and Park Avenune about 2 hours ago, the dogs and I spotted this tiny sparrow sitting on the street. She (ok, it might be a he--I have no idea) did not budge when Vegas sidled up to her and sniffed at her diminutive head. Luckey showed no interest in her but took a generous lap into her tiny water cup. She let me get pretty close to snap this shot on my camera phone.
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