here are my favorite books:
1. girlfriend in a coma by douglas coupland
say your girlfriend goes into a coma, and years pass, all sorts of incidents which i really don't want to reveal, and then the world ends. what would you do? really?
2. atlas of the human heart by ariel gore
ariel gore's memoir is everything i wished i could have been when i was younger but i was too wussy to be. she travels around the world, and for sure, i'll be rereading that before my trip.
3. requiem for a dream by hubert selby, jr.
i wrote my mfa thesis (critical) on selby. i became obsessed with him, reading and rereading his books, listening to the requiem soundtrack while writing this paper. this is his best. sad, yes, but amazing writing. amazing.
and a shout out to my coworker libby schmais. she's an awesome writer, and funny! at times one might think "oh it's another chick lit book" but no, it's much better. to put it on the same level as the devil wears prada...no, libby is much better. in real life, libby is very funny, listens to my crazy stories, shakes her head, makes me feel young. her protagonists are often researchers, searching for love, searching for self, and they're just terrific. i love libby's books, honestly, not just 'cause i work with her. when i interviewed for the job, my boss told me about libby's book. when i read her books--first from the library, later i bought them--i didn't tell libby in case i didn't like her books. but i LOVED them! funny, involving, a book that keeps you up late at night.
to buy her books, click here: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/search-handle-form/104-5394787-2560715
28 February 2005
26 February 2005
like dorothy from the wizard of oz
do you ever seem to feel like everything is in black and white, not in color? and then all of the sudden something flashes--a couple softly kissing, a girl jumping into the sky screaming YES, the sight of an old friend laughing at your sight...
and i wonder how it was i got stuck in this black and white, and how i can get out?
the everyday can see so dreary, yet comparitively, i'm truly lucky...
and i wonder how it was i got stuck in this black and white, and how i can get out?
the everyday can see so dreary, yet comparitively, i'm truly lucky...
if i wasn't me...
i was thinking before, if i was a gay man (which i feel closer to than anyone; girls fall in love and leave you, boys want to get in yr pants, even if yr in love with someone else!), i would totally be into bears and hard-bodied gay men. yum!
i seriously think gay men are more attractive than most straight guys!
i seriously think gay men are more attractive than most straight guys!
25 February 2005
loving you
i'm posting this. you'll probably never read this, but someone should.
i miss you.
i miss fighting over whose turn it is to do the dishes, how much hair from my cat is everywhere, i miss me grabbing all the sheets and you being grumpy about it. i miss everything about you.
long distance doesn’t even touch what used to be us. everything is rush—you miss new york than you’ll ever speak of, instead eating out with a frenzy, burmese, pan-asian, yaffa café, dojo’s, who knows what else. you run to your best friend’s house at 10pm, promise to be back soon. i wake up at 4am to an empty bed.
still i miss you.
but this has me wondering: what if that specific night, i stayed on the phone with d longer, or maybe you came over and i told you later, or i went back to my room to stretch and read victorian novels or dye my hair pink or purple or whatever i felt like? what if i didn’t go to your room, to experience that kiss which transformed me, transformed us, made me gasp: omigod, i think i’m in love with my best friend. would it have happened another day?
and is there love at first sight? all of my loves started as friendships; one relationship i had started with an infatuation with dark black hair combined with clear blue eyes: hottness, the radicatz would say (yes, two Ts). that started physical; we never got too deep. (we were in high school, what can i say?)
and you see these matching websites, have you noticed all of the couples that got married did it like three months after they met each other? desperate? i don’t know, you tell me. physical looks are nothing to base a relationship on. it’s the mind, and the feeling you get. but, of course, you do need chemistry.
falling asleep
like some airplane crash
you drive a little longer
so you don’t have to wake me up (inara george)
and thinking of you, so far yet always so close in my heart, i realize, some things are out of our control. and i think there is no way at all to be separated from you. distance, yes, we get in a fight and we go into our own worlds. but i think with love, we are too close.
i miss you.
i miss fighting over whose turn it is to do the dishes, how much hair from my cat is everywhere, i miss me grabbing all the sheets and you being grumpy about it. i miss everything about you.
long distance doesn’t even touch what used to be us. everything is rush—you miss new york than you’ll ever speak of, instead eating out with a frenzy, burmese, pan-asian, yaffa café, dojo’s, who knows what else. you run to your best friend’s house at 10pm, promise to be back soon. i wake up at 4am to an empty bed.
still i miss you.
but this has me wondering: what if that specific night, i stayed on the phone with d longer, or maybe you came over and i told you later, or i went back to my room to stretch and read victorian novels or dye my hair pink or purple or whatever i felt like? what if i didn’t go to your room, to experience that kiss which transformed me, transformed us, made me gasp: omigod, i think i’m in love with my best friend. would it have happened another day?
and is there love at first sight? all of my loves started as friendships; one relationship i had started with an infatuation with dark black hair combined with clear blue eyes: hottness, the radicatz would say (yes, two Ts). that started physical; we never got too deep. (we were in high school, what can i say?)
and you see these matching websites, have you noticed all of the couples that got married did it like three months after they met each other? desperate? i don’t know, you tell me. physical looks are nothing to base a relationship on. it’s the mind, and the feeling you get. but, of course, you do need chemistry.
falling asleep
like some airplane crash
you drive a little longer
so you don’t have to wake me up (inara george)
and thinking of you, so far yet always so close in my heart, i realize, some things are out of our control. and i think there is no way at all to be separated from you. distance, yes, we get in a fight and we go into our own worlds. but i think with love, we are too close.
i am not corporate
clearly i am not suited for this world of corporatisms. here i am at
work, wearing a long black jean skirt (showing off my hips rather
nicely, i might add), a tank top, and tights. i took off my boots
because there is a problem with the heat. i am the hippie at a
corporation, walking around in my tights, shelving magazines,
padding around, softly, softly, softly...
till i'm out
work, wearing a long black jean skirt (showing off my hips rather
nicely, i might add), a tank top, and tights. i took off my boots
because there is a problem with the heat. i am the hippie at a
corporation, walking around in my tights, shelving magazines,
padding around, softly, softly, softly...
till i'm out
corporate lifestyle sucks
clearly i am not suited for this world of corporatisms. here i am at
work, wearing a long black jean skirt (showing off my hips rather
nicely, i might add), a tank top, and tights. i took off my boots
because there is a problem with the heat. i am the hippie at a
corporation, walking around in my tights, shelving magazines,
padding around, softly, softly, softly...
till i'm out.
work, wearing a long black jean skirt (showing off my hips rather
nicely, i might add), a tank top, and tights. i took off my boots
because there is a problem with the heat. i am the hippie at a
corporation, walking around in my tights, shelving magazines,
padding around, softly, softly, softly...
till i'm out.
corporate lifestyle sucks
clearly i am not suited for this world of corporatisms. here i am at
work, wearing a long black jean skirt (showing off my hips rather
nicely, i might add), a tank top, and tights. i took off my boots
because there is a problem with the heat. i am the hippie at a
corporation, walking around in my tights, shelving magazines,
padding around, softly, softly, softly...
till i'm out.
work, wearing a long black jean skirt (showing off my hips rather
nicely, i might add), a tank top, and tights. i took off my boots
because there is a problem with the heat. i am the hippie at a
corporation, walking around in my tights, shelving magazines,
padding around, softly, softly, softly...
till i'm out.
20 February 2005
not wanting to leave
i love my little apartment. recently, i got a rug, some new throws and pillows, a new bookshelf, even a vacuum. if my weekends are fairly free (like this one), i do my errands and brunches and school assignments, and then spend the rest of the time IN and full a part of my apartment. i am constantly arranging things, getting rid of things i do not need (the new york city curse), relaxing in my futon. the new bookshelf has forced me to nerdily examine my books (even deem which is acceptable for selling on amazon) and i am really loving my apartment. it feels so cozy. i never want to leave.
of course in new york city, you visit a friend’s apartment, and you crave the neighborhood (“a little café just underneath the apartment, with the park within spitting distance!”), you crave the decor (“simple white with bold red—gorgeous!”), you crave the aparment (“what an amazing deal! for so much space, and look at the slopes in the walls, and the character this apartment has!”). and lately, i’m really loving my apartment.
i have a great community at yoga and the health food store, know a lot of the people in my neighborhood, am friends with the guys below me, and LOVE my apartment—the walls MY FAMILY and I painted, the stuff i worked so hard to find, the furniture from my parents, from relatives’ basements, from ikea. i love everything being so cozy, and i don’t want to give up the lease.
i should, i suppose. i’d have to worry about someone subletting my apartment, and if they would be trustworthy. and what if they fucked something up? and what if my landlord won’t let me or finds out if i don’t tell him? i also would be coming back straight into a lease of $975 (assuming my landlord doesn’t raise the rent!) and what if i don’t have a job right away—or what if i get a job and can’t afford my rent? after my trip, i won’t exactly have my savings to dip into. also, what if trevor decides to grace me with his presence here in new york city by moving back in with me. that would be WONDERFUL, but i don’t know how long we could stay here. i’m sure we could manage—i could leave some stuff in boxes at my parents’ house or in storage (one closet just for me is a nightmare!), and we’d have to have stuff in storage, but i don’t know if t would want to do that again.
i guess i’m just hopeless about decisions, and perhaps you, dear reader, can offer me some suggestions. i do want to live near prospect park, and after my trip, i could afford to sublet or share an apartment, but i want to live alone. t not knowing what he plans on doing is also confusing. if he tells me he is staying at his job for two years, well, i honestly don’t know if i could deal with that relationship. it is too fucking painful.
in the meantime, while i attempt to make this difficult decision (which needs to be made in the next month and a half, if not sooner), i will enjoy living here, and make the most of my cute greenpoint apartment.
best of all, i can see some stars here.
of course in new york city, you visit a friend’s apartment, and you crave the neighborhood (“a little café just underneath the apartment, with the park within spitting distance!”), you crave the decor (“simple white with bold red—gorgeous!”), you crave the aparment (“what an amazing deal! for so much space, and look at the slopes in the walls, and the character this apartment has!”). and lately, i’m really loving my apartment.
i have a great community at yoga and the health food store, know a lot of the people in my neighborhood, am friends with the guys below me, and LOVE my apartment—the walls MY FAMILY and I painted, the stuff i worked so hard to find, the furniture from my parents, from relatives’ basements, from ikea. i love everything being so cozy, and i don’t want to give up the lease.
i should, i suppose. i’d have to worry about someone subletting my apartment, and if they would be trustworthy. and what if they fucked something up? and what if my landlord won’t let me or finds out if i don’t tell him? i also would be coming back straight into a lease of $975 (assuming my landlord doesn’t raise the rent!) and what if i don’t have a job right away—or what if i get a job and can’t afford my rent? after my trip, i won’t exactly have my savings to dip into. also, what if trevor decides to grace me with his presence here in new york city by moving back in with me. that would be WONDERFUL, but i don’t know how long we could stay here. i’m sure we could manage—i could leave some stuff in boxes at my parents’ house or in storage (one closet just for me is a nightmare!), and we’d have to have stuff in storage, but i don’t know if t would want to do that again.
i guess i’m just hopeless about decisions, and perhaps you, dear reader, can offer me some suggestions. i do want to live near prospect park, and after my trip, i could afford to sublet or share an apartment, but i want to live alone. t not knowing what he plans on doing is also confusing. if he tells me he is staying at his job for two years, well, i honestly don’t know if i could deal with that relationship. it is too fucking painful.
in the meantime, while i attempt to make this difficult decision (which needs to be made in the next month and a half, if not sooner), i will enjoy living here, and make the most of my cute greenpoint apartment.
best of all, i can see some stars here.
19 February 2005
mess
when we were little, we made up a song abt my messy sister, to the tune of "she's a maneater." it went
something like this,
"who-a, here she comes,
watch out, boy, she'll mess your room up,
who-a here she comes,
she's meliss-a!"
tonight my apt is super messy. i got a new bookshelf (i heart mom and dad, and ikea) and have been rearranging my books. thank goddess i love alone, so no one will tease me. here are my sections in my library:
in the bedroom:
journals
poetry
douglas coupland
hubert selby, jr.
library books
in the south bookshelf:
general fiction, alphabetized
women's health section
personal manuscripts (by moi)
running
cookbooks
radical cheerleading archives
in the new ikea bookshelves:
anthologies
literary magazines
books i haven't read yet (i want to read these but am always so busy, and library books have due dates...damn, i just need to freakin read the book lissy gave me for xmas already!)
photo albums
library school text books and professional library books
yoga books
fiction/writer's guides
coffee table books
writer's reference: writer's market type books, name book
general reference: dictionary, thesaurus, stylebooks, spanish-english dictionary
next to the futon are a stack of europe books i have been flipping through; behind the tv are books i am attempting to sell on amazon (seller name cheriecat should you want to buy an library texts or other random books); in the closet are literary journals i am going to bring to CO for venessa in april.
i love words. i love books, i couldn't live without them. this summer, it will be hard. if i bring my pocket pc, i'll read 'war and peace' and other long books via project gutenberg http://promo.net/pg/
until then, i am surrounded by books. i seek solace in libraries. when people ask how did i know i would be a librarian, i know it is because i have always returned to libraries for comfort, for books to help me through my crisises, for books to learn and books to explore myself.
READ!
something like this,
"who-a, here she comes,
watch out, boy, she'll mess your room up,
who-a here she comes,
she's meliss-a!"
tonight my apt is super messy. i got a new bookshelf (i heart mom and dad, and ikea) and have been rearranging my books. thank goddess i love alone, so no one will tease me. here are my sections in my library:
in the bedroom:
journals
poetry
douglas coupland
hubert selby, jr.
library books
in the south bookshelf:
general fiction, alphabetized
women's health section
personal manuscripts (by moi)
running
cookbooks
radical cheerleading archives
in the new ikea bookshelves:
anthologies
literary magazines
books i haven't read yet (i want to read these but am always so busy, and library books have due dates...damn, i just need to freakin read the book lissy gave me for xmas already!)
photo albums
library school text books and professional library books
yoga books
fiction/writer's guides
coffee table books
writer's reference: writer's market type books, name book
general reference: dictionary, thesaurus, stylebooks, spanish-english dictionary
next to the futon are a stack of europe books i have been flipping through; behind the tv are books i am attempting to sell on amazon (seller name cheriecat should you want to buy an library texts or other random books); in the closet are literary journals i am going to bring to CO for venessa in april.
i love words. i love books, i couldn't live without them. this summer, it will be hard. if i bring my pocket pc, i'll read 'war and peace' and other long books via project gutenberg http://promo.net/pg/
until then, i am surrounded by books. i seek solace in libraries. when people ask how did i know i would be a librarian, i know it is because i have always returned to libraries for comfort, for books to help me through my crisises, for books to learn and books to explore myself.
READ!
mind the gap
we're gonna sweat
burn some calories
get wet
drop our salaries
if you want the world's best diet
try to eat when you can't buy it
join a sweatshop, it's a snap
support your sweatshop
shop at GAP!
burn some calories
get wet
drop our salaries
if you want the world's best diet
try to eat when you can't buy it
join a sweatshop, it's a snap
support your sweatshop
shop at GAP!
activists do not recycle
i'm a huge recycler. i'm the only one in my bldg who puts all her scraps of paper into a clear plastic bag, to be recycled by the city. i recycle everything i can.
but have you ever noticed that you go to protests, etc, and sometimes you get flyers printed on non-recyclable brightly colored paper. um, you care abt the earth and our world, yet why are you printing it on nonrecyclable paper? does anyone have any ideas on things you can do with non-recyclable paper?
but have you ever noticed that you go to protests, etc, and sometimes you get flyers printed on non-recyclable brightly colored paper. um, you care abt the earth and our world, yet why are you printing it on nonrecyclable paper? does anyone have any ideas on things you can do with non-recyclable paper?
17 February 2005
my disco...
I went to the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, and had a great time. The displays were museum-quality, with many interactive elements. The best (and biggest) display was the disco one. It was in a separate room, with high ceilings and glass walls on two sides. It was fantastic—clothing that the disco divas wore (including the Saturday Night Fever white suit), tvs playing different things, disco music, a disco ball (surprise!), photos, newspapers, gay disco music (I always knew the Village People were gay!), and listening stations. Yay for Blondie! I began watching one of the videos, captivated by it for many minutes. People my age, and younger, and older, dancing, doing drugs, having the best time of their lives.
“Wow, how cool…I wish I lived in the seventies.” (Of course, women have come a long way, even in those thirty years.) Thinking of political activism, promiscuous sex, crazy dance parties…wow, what a time. Of course the fashion was AWFUL. My parents lived during the seventies, could have been at disco clubs, but they were nerds. (They also had to work for everything, pay for school themselves, etc—so I am very proud of them for that.) The only thing my dad embodied of the disco era was the bad clothes—he was very good in that category. Did I ever mention that to my mom’s prom he wore black pants with brown shoes? My mother hasn’t forgiven him for that one yet.
Then I remembered my raver days, my club days. Dancing till after dawn, parties in the middle of the woods in upstate New York, clubs where drag queens went into bathroom stalls two at a time, clubs where because I didn’t do drugs—well, I was the oddity. He-llo, I don’t need them, I’d say. And I didn’t. Swirling on the stage at Tunnel, dancing on the speakers at god knows how many parties, meeting people—oh the people—girls from Long Island, from Germany, boys in the army, high school dropouts, I met so many people. Impromptu parties where we lived or didn’t, making a mess, laughing and not caring; running around the city like we owned it. And we did—in our minds.
Now I’m 26, working full-time at a blah corporate job—just till late May, understand—and struggling to keep up with my school work, and plan a trip, and every so often, WRITE, run, play with kitty, speak with friends, radical cheerlead…and I miss that old me. I miss the girl who would jump up on the stage at a club, dance like an idiot, in some pretty shocking (slutty?) outfits. I miss dancing all night long, stinking like everything in the world as we’d leave the clubs, eating at diners afterwards, talking philosophically about the world…and to sleep through the day. I miss the fun. I miss it badly.
I don’t want those days back—I was looking for love then (even though I didn’t realize it) and I am madly in love…but I don’t want my time to be over. I want some more fun. Some more me. Some less ‘daily bullshit of life.’
Growing up can really suck.
See you in Ibiza.
“Wow, how cool…I wish I lived in the seventies.” (Of course, women have come a long way, even in those thirty years.) Thinking of political activism, promiscuous sex, crazy dance parties…wow, what a time. Of course the fashion was AWFUL. My parents lived during the seventies, could have been at disco clubs, but they were nerds. (They also had to work for everything, pay for school themselves, etc—so I am very proud of them for that.) The only thing my dad embodied of the disco era was the bad clothes—he was very good in that category. Did I ever mention that to my mom’s prom he wore black pants with brown shoes? My mother hasn’t forgiven him for that one yet.
Then I remembered my raver days, my club days. Dancing till after dawn, parties in the middle of the woods in upstate New York, clubs where drag queens went into bathroom stalls two at a time, clubs where because I didn’t do drugs—well, I was the oddity. He-llo, I don’t need them, I’d say. And I didn’t. Swirling on the stage at Tunnel, dancing on the speakers at god knows how many parties, meeting people—oh the people—girls from Long Island, from Germany, boys in the army, high school dropouts, I met so many people. Impromptu parties where we lived or didn’t, making a mess, laughing and not caring; running around the city like we owned it. And we did—in our minds.
Now I’m 26, working full-time at a blah corporate job—just till late May, understand—and struggling to keep up with my school work, and plan a trip, and every so often, WRITE, run, play with kitty, speak with friends, radical cheerlead…and I miss that old me. I miss the girl who would jump up on the stage at a club, dance like an idiot, in some pretty shocking (slutty?) outfits. I miss dancing all night long, stinking like everything in the world as we’d leave the clubs, eating at diners afterwards, talking philosophically about the world…and to sleep through the day. I miss the fun. I miss it badly.
I don’t want those days back—I was looking for love then (even though I didn’t realize it) and I am madly in love…but I don’t want my time to be over. I want some more fun. Some more me. Some less ‘daily bullshit of life.’
Growing up can really suck.
See you in Ibiza.
15 February 2005
311 is great in theory
here in new york city we have this great-sounding thing called 311. wondering if alternate-side parking is in effect? want to complain about a landlord being chintzy with the rent? want to complain about trucks idling their engines? call 311...and you probably won't get the problem solved. you'll learn about alternate-side parking. but there are five streetlights on my block, and FOUR of them are out...scary at night. trev won't even park there. i have been calling 311 since SEPTEMBER and still the lights are out (at that point, only two of the lights were out). i have complained abt the buses on my block idling their engines...never solved. a pain in the butt....
it's none of your business
let me start this off by saying i am in love. i am so in love i cannot possibly see my life without the person i love--yet i do not center my world around this person, but rather, see how they highlight each beautiful moment. like cooking dinner can turn into a beautiful experience, whether there is lovemaking or not on the kitchen table. you slice the onions (i hate onions) and i wash the dishes (who likes washing dishes?).
but i do not want to hear other people nagging me. i am starting to have married friends or friends who are getting married (go rachelle with your beachhouse wedding!) and they are usually (but not always fine). it's the questions i can't stand.
"when are you getting married?"
as if that's any of your business.
and if things are going bad in your relationship, or you had a fight:
"maybe you should see other people. you don't want to lock yrself with one person."
and what if i do?
and if you aren't dating anyone at all, or if you just broke up with someone, everyone starts nagging you about how you need to start dating. um, i think i know my life best!
the worst is the whole children question. i do not want or like children. most children make me want to slap them. (except my coworker does have 2 adorable daughters.) t and i decided no children ever b/c i told him i wouldn't want a boy, and if i found out it was a boy, i'd have an abortion. i mean, maybe i wouldn't, but i don't want kids anyway! so then once you get married, it's:
"when are you going to start having kids???"
actually, now that you mention it, we were waiting for your blessing.
and then, after you have one,
"when are you going to have another?'
and another, and another, and "when are you planning on stopping?"
my main thought is, if you don't know me really freakin well, well, don't ask. no, my aunt doesn't know me well enough. my best friends and sister can ask me these questions. it can be awkward for both of us. if you're really curious, be creative and you'll find out the answer.
but i do not want to hear other people nagging me. i am starting to have married friends or friends who are getting married (go rachelle with your beachhouse wedding!) and they are usually (but not always fine). it's the questions i can't stand.
"when are you getting married?"
as if that's any of your business.
and if things are going bad in your relationship, or you had a fight:
"maybe you should see other people. you don't want to lock yrself with one person."
and what if i do?
and if you aren't dating anyone at all, or if you just broke up with someone, everyone starts nagging you about how you need to start dating. um, i think i know my life best!
the worst is the whole children question. i do not want or like children. most children make me want to slap them. (except my coworker does have 2 adorable daughters.) t and i decided no children ever b/c i told him i wouldn't want a boy, and if i found out it was a boy, i'd have an abortion. i mean, maybe i wouldn't, but i don't want kids anyway! so then once you get married, it's:
"when are you going to start having kids???"
actually, now that you mention it, we were waiting for your blessing.
and then, after you have one,
"when are you going to have another?'
and another, and another, and "when are you planning on stopping?"
my main thought is, if you don't know me really freakin well, well, don't ask. no, my aunt doesn't know me well enough. my best friends and sister can ask me these questions. it can be awkward for both of us. if you're really curious, be creative and you'll find out the answer.
14 February 2005
my beautiful home
my lease is up in may, and i have not decided what i plan on doing. traveling makes it seem easier to give up my apt, but i don't think i'll be able to afford living alone. t is uncertain of his plans, and if he is to move bk to ny (which i *hope* he does come late autumn/winter, as i miss him like crazy and affording an apt is extremely difficult for a librarian!). but that is something that will work itself out later on.
i love my apt. i love the shelves, the character of the greenpoint apartment, the pretty paint on the walls, the curtains, feeling at home. i love going to jason and mark's to procrastinate homework or asking them to help me with something in my apartment or offering them some muffins that i just baked. i love shopping at the garden, buying organic produce around my neighbors, and all the people that work there, saying hello to me, knowing who i am. i love the guys in the pizzeria shouting, "hello miss!" as i walk past. i love the feeling of comfort, of being in a warm and welcoming community. i love neighbors saying hello and the librarians asking me how i am when they see me on the bus and knowing that i am in a wonderful community.
what i don't love is the annoyance of the G train, the not-so-great places to run in, the trucks and buses idling in my street--can we say summertime is one big asthma attack? if you want to sublet my apt this summer and watch my kitty, i'm down with that. 975$ a month in nyc--hell yeah!
but i'm not at all good with decisions. i'll just think abt this one for the next few months. i don't think i can afford anything even remotely as nice without t.
but of course, the niceness comes from within, along with creativity and love.
i love my apt. i love the shelves, the character of the greenpoint apartment, the pretty paint on the walls, the curtains, feeling at home. i love going to jason and mark's to procrastinate homework or asking them to help me with something in my apartment or offering them some muffins that i just baked. i love shopping at the garden, buying organic produce around my neighbors, and all the people that work there, saying hello to me, knowing who i am. i love the guys in the pizzeria shouting, "hello miss!" as i walk past. i love the feeling of comfort, of being in a warm and welcoming community. i love neighbors saying hello and the librarians asking me how i am when they see me on the bus and knowing that i am in a wonderful community.
what i don't love is the annoyance of the G train, the not-so-great places to run in, the trucks and buses idling in my street--can we say summertime is one big asthma attack? if you want to sublet my apt this summer and watch my kitty, i'm down with that. 975$ a month in nyc--hell yeah!
but i'm not at all good with decisions. i'll just think abt this one for the next few months. i don't think i can afford anything even remotely as nice without t.
but of course, the niceness comes from within, along with creativity and love.
12 February 2005
la la la la saturday
went out last night for a rad ref mtg, wandered around with l, drank too much with t. i keep pretending it's spring--purple tights and a summer skirt are not keeping me warm. remind me to change into some cords. tomorrow i have a 15k to run; after, t and i are going to explore the gates in central park.
but why am i blabbing? my cat is checking me out, seeing if i am secretly made of cat food. school is overwhelming. i am having a hard time finding meaning in my ordinary 9to5--so i drift. and drift. and explore and open up.
welcome to the winter of the winter, the summer of my heart.
but why am i blabbing? my cat is checking me out, seeing if i am secretly made of cat food. school is overwhelming. i am having a hard time finding meaning in my ordinary 9to5--so i drift. and drift. and explore and open up.
welcome to the winter of the winter, the summer of my heart.
10 February 2005
the kindness of strangers in new york city
i have been reading all these travel books, and they talk about how europeans are friendly like no americans. and i've been excited, thinking of conversations with a greek woman in a market, and an italian man on a crowded sweltering street, and sharing intimate secrets across the table at a french cafe with someone i met barely 5 minutes ago. but recently i have had some terrific conversations with strangers in new york city.
when i was taking the 345 am bus to dc on sun, the man next to me asked to take his picture in front of the marquee. i obliged, and as his english wasn't the greatest, he asked me what was going on (regarding baggage, etc, there was a lot of confusion). on the bus he sat next to me. he was visiting from sri lanka, and told me that he found americans so friendly. i couldn't believe it. we ended up talking during the ride, when i wasn't sleeping. when we got off the bus, he gave me his card and we wished each other luck. we had talked about the tsunami, about languages, about traveling, about ourselves, about his children.
last night i was taking the train back from my parents' house. leaving the lirr, i got into the elevator with an awesome woman--she had long dreads of green and other colors, and we talked in the elevator, and the entire train ride. she's an amazing woman, we had an intimate conversation and barely knew each other. she's a musician, and goes by bitch, so watch out for her. after i leave, i felt elated, having learned about communes in italy and interesting facts about her life.
i met this people so briefly, but am so grateful for their brief presence. now go talk to a stranger, and maybe you'll be surprised, especially if you are a new yorker.
when i was taking the 345 am bus to dc on sun, the man next to me asked to take his picture in front of the marquee. i obliged, and as his english wasn't the greatest, he asked me what was going on (regarding baggage, etc, there was a lot of confusion). on the bus he sat next to me. he was visiting from sri lanka, and told me that he found americans so friendly. i couldn't believe it. we ended up talking during the ride, when i wasn't sleeping. when we got off the bus, he gave me his card and we wished each other luck. we had talked about the tsunami, about languages, about traveling, about ourselves, about his children.
last night i was taking the train back from my parents' house. leaving the lirr, i got into the elevator with an awesome woman--she had long dreads of green and other colors, and we talked in the elevator, and the entire train ride. she's an amazing woman, we had an intimate conversation and barely knew each other. she's a musician, and goes by bitch, so watch out for her. after i leave, i felt elated, having learned about communes in italy and interesting facts about her life.
i met this people so briefly, but am so grateful for their brief presence. now go talk to a stranger, and maybe you'll be surprised, especially if you are a new yorker.
05 February 2005
i love tomie depaola
so today i was supposed to run a race. i get out of the subway at 103rd st, and see t called me. we're chatting as i'm walking to central park. i notice there's no other runners. (usually, when i exit the subway station, i meet and walk with runners.) i don't pay this mind, continue listening to t bitch abt his job's craziness. and then i pull out my little race thing--and see it's tomorrow, when i'll be in dc. wtf?! so i registered for and paid for a race that is taking place tomorrow. DUH! i catch the 6 back downtown and head for LI to see my parents.
we go to my mom's school, where we pore over children's books for my class in literature in children & adolescence. i am revisiting my childhood. i LOVE peter spier. i LOVE toad and frog. i LOVE millions of cats. i LOVE these books. and of course, tomie depaola--i LOVE him.
now you probably remember him of strega nona--which i love, and of course, dopey big anthony. but if you haven't ever read oliver button is a sissy, well, you need to read it.
oliver button is a cute little boy who likes to draw, paint, dance, act--and his father always wants him to play ball (which he's bad at). bullies at school taunt him, writing "oliver button is a sissy" on the wall at their school. he performs in the school talent show, a tap dance, and gets the recognition he deserves. SO happy!
for boys, it's so negative if they are artists or not very masculine. i never have dated very masculine boys--the boys i dated always were presumed to be gay (by my mother) or were the closest thing to gay i could get. (i prefer gay men to straight men any day of the week. and girls are great too, but in my life, i have few straight male friends. what's always good is the ones who are mysterious abt their sexuality, and you are constantly wondering--not like it's any of your business, just to see if yr gaydar is working properly.) i like the sensitive type, like oliver button.
anyway, so i would date oliver button if he wasn't, like, 7 years old or something. but he's great. you should read him if you haven't. go to yr local library (yay!) or even a bookstore and read it--it won't take you five minutes, but is totally worth reading. so cute.
we go to my mom's school, where we pore over children's books for my class in literature in children & adolescence. i am revisiting my childhood. i LOVE peter spier. i LOVE toad and frog. i LOVE millions of cats. i LOVE these books. and of course, tomie depaola--i LOVE him.
now you probably remember him of strega nona--which i love, and of course, dopey big anthony. but if you haven't ever read oliver button is a sissy, well, you need to read it.
oliver button is a cute little boy who likes to draw, paint, dance, act--and his father always wants him to play ball (which he's bad at). bullies at school taunt him, writing "oliver button is a sissy" on the wall at their school. he performs in the school talent show, a tap dance, and gets the recognition he deserves. SO happy!
for boys, it's so negative if they are artists or not very masculine. i never have dated very masculine boys--the boys i dated always were presumed to be gay (by my mother) or were the closest thing to gay i could get. (i prefer gay men to straight men any day of the week. and girls are great too, but in my life, i have few straight male friends. what's always good is the ones who are mysterious abt their sexuality, and you are constantly wondering--not like it's any of your business, just to see if yr gaydar is working properly.) i like the sensitive type, like oliver button.
anyway, so i would date oliver button if he wasn't, like, 7 years old or something. but he's great. you should read him if you haven't. go to yr local library (yay!) or even a bookstore and read it--it won't take you five minutes, but is totally worth reading. so cute.
02 February 2005
bad dreams
i've been having some pretty bad and freaky dreams lately. two nights ago, i dreamt i was on leonard st in greenpoint (i remember that clearly for some reason; well i know it was greenpoint and it felt like it was leonard st, now that i think of it) and this small helicopter/plane thingy kept crashing into this one house, and we were gathered on the street, watching it, suffering. it reminded me of the way a fly will be stuck in your apartment and keep diving forward into different parts of the window. but this aircraft was only going up. so scary. i hated looking up all yesterday.
today i had a dream that i got sick of luna (i must admit, she's been freakin annoying lately!) and went to union square (which was close to my apt, wherever it was in my dream) and left her there b/c i figured, she's cute, someone will want her. i missed her (after a week, a few days??? ) and then i found her and brought her home. when i woke up, luna was here. i love my cat and i wouldn't leave her in the street. sure, she's obsessed with eating, maybe a tad chubby, but she's cute, she's my luna, and i'm not getting rid of her.
today i had a dream that i got sick of luna (i must admit, she's been freakin annoying lately!) and went to union square (which was close to my apt, wherever it was in my dream) and left her there b/c i figured, she's cute, someone will want her. i missed her (after a week, a few days??? ) and then i found her and brought her home. when i woke up, luna was here. i love my cat and i wouldn't leave her in the street. sure, she's obsessed with eating, maybe a tad chubby, but she's cute, she's my luna, and i'm not getting rid of her.
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