"new yorkers are actually quite friendly"

on monday night, while waiting inside the C/E 50th St station, someone asked me how to transfer to the uptown train (you can't.). i told him you had to go out and he was all pissed b/c he didn't have an unlimited card and then he'd have to pay to re-enter on the other side. i was cozy in my little spot, writing a letter to v and waiting for laura, but said, "i'll take you, i have an unlimited." he was very happy, proceeding to ask me out for a drink instead of waiting in the subway and asking, "how does it feel to be a saint?" the suffering folks, the suffering is a lot more intense than you'd think.

we walked around for a bit in the freezing cold, trying to find the entrance (at this rate, he should have just waited for another train downtown to catch the uptown one) and talking. he asked me out again for a drink but i told him really, laura would be here soon and i had to head over to china club. he told me his name, kissed me on the cheek, and i swiped him in. i felt like he wanted to ask me for his number but i simply brightly smiled and waved.

at china club, i met these three irish guys in line. we had a great conversation, and they told me about their st. patty's day experience ("completely different in ireland! no one drinks like that or wears green!") and one of them told me during their week in nyc, they've had 210 pints of beer. woah.

i went in, hung out with charlie and adam and natalia and laura in the vip section, but left to talk with them. they were loads of fun and told me, "everyone says new yorkers are mean, rude. they definitely aren't. they're friendly. so friendly." i'm glad to have inserted my little friendly energy into their trip.

a lot of people think it's impossible to meet people in new york city. while sex and the city was a tv show, it was based on reality--i constantly meet people in nyc on the train, on the street, at a bar, in line for the loo--we love to talk. in crisis--forgetaboutit. we're all best friends. during the transit strike (not to mention the blackout and other similiar dramas; i was in grad school during 9/11 but i heard it was the same), everyone bonded together to bitch abt how selfish the transit workers were and how it was freezing cold and hurting their businesses and how horrid it was. yup, we like to talk and complain and talk about how two-year-old that wouldn't stop crying when it realized mommy had to walk to work. that sort of thing. we're rude, we have our busy lives, but we'll make time to make new friends, have a conversation, often hoping it will blossom into a relationship. i.e., "i met my husband while waiting for the stupid train one night. the train was messed up and we barely noticed."

quote of the day

"she didn't care about her other dogs, and all of the sudden, she's the mother teresa of canines."

--my dad about my aunt

and the neighborhood's going down

yesterday, a surveyor was on my street. in light of all of the construction on franklin, i asked the surveyor, "please don't tell me you're going to rip up half my street and put it under construction for the next year."

he told me, no, they weren't going to. with relief, i started to walk away, and then asked him, "what are you doing?"

"we're putting up a big apartment building. right here," he said gesturing at the area across the street from me. great. my rents will rise, and that will be even worse construction.

i need to get out of greenpoint.

coming home, alone and tipsy

i had this totally crazy night. this guy wanted the radical cheerleaders to perform at this club, and it was such a hassle but he kept begging, and finally we cheered, with mics, which sucked as no one could hear anything. we beat it after our performance and headed to prvada, a snotty expensive bar where less than one drink got me drunk. i'm pathetic.

i ran into this friend of my friend's whatever (not boyfriend, but it's slowly becoming that) and he was with his girlfriend. when this guy p and i had met two weeks ago he said something to my friend's whatever about me, and i barely remembered him but p apparently liked me. i was like, okay, whatever. today however, p had his gf. j was saying i could make out with him when his gf was around and i was like, "no way, that's bad karma." i won't do that.

besides, i'm waiting for antonio.

the virgin suicides

i remember reading the virgin suicides when i was in high school, selecting the book because of the titilating title. i remember being blown away by the incredible story, rereading it, adoring celia for her fearlessness, lux for her sexiness, and knowing they escaped the lifes they loathed. i escaped the life i loathed by living; they did it by dying.

fast-forward to my junior year of college, to my internship at zoetrope: all-story. the short story publication associated with francis ford coppola (he was the founding editor) had photos of the coppola wine and various movies, including the virgin suicides. there was a lot of hype about the movie, but i never saw it, for whatever reason i know not now.

now tonight, in 2006, before heading out, i had two hours, so i watched it. in between applying a thick lucious layer of eyeliner, trying on various skirts and tops (and unsure of the one i am currently wearing), i watched it. and was blown away with the beauty of the script, of how it was fairly true to the book. and i love sofia coppola's films again.

we all yearn for something more. we do this in different ways: by looking back over our shoulder at our regrets and wishing we could change the past; by consistently obsessing over the future, hoping and wishing. we need to live in the present and try to put forth our yearning into reality.

amalfi: i miss traveling

where i am going

moments before i thought i would be spiraling into the world of late night clubbing, relentless flirting, jobs that meant nothing, i found a job that looks like it will be a career. i think they'll be cool with my traveling addiction. i already decided i want to take all my vacation days in nov or dec, and see if i can work from wherever i am traveling too--hopefully someplace in argentina or brazil or chile or peru--all places i am drawn to.

that said, i have two weeks left to flit and fly; tonight, performing with laura at a club (cheering) and then maybe au bar. mon there's a party for charlie at china club, and then there's heaps of shopping i am to get to and...

so i think it may be possible to have a job that's rad!

decisions

so i have been bad abt updating this blog. however, some good news: i got a fantastic job as a librarian for this rad women's nonprofit! i'm super excited, and i even negotiated my salary; my job now wanted to give me more hours and if i worked ft at my current job, i'd get paid more...so i was able to negotiate a higher salary. but, yay, i can't wait!

i'm listening to the evita soundtrack (with madonna and antonio banderas) and if antonio were here in my apartment, i'd have sex with him immediately. sorry, t.

t and i also didn't break up. we are, however, going to see other people, whatever that means. i suppose that means i can have sex with antonio banderas, but it's highly unlikely he's coming to greenpoint today.

my grandma's dog has cancer and is predicted to only live another month or so.

i gained weight.

people from my old life--or, rather, years ago, have started contacting me again. it's strange the way time makes you realize how you've changed.

oh, there's the buzzer. i believe it's antonio. ciao!

only in brooklyn

the other day, while cooling down after a speed workout, i saw that the street had just been covered in tar. the previous day i ran across the street through wet tar and spent the rest of my run trying to scrape the tar off my sneakers.

"excuse me, how do i cross if i don't want to muck my sneakers up with tar?"

the construction workers paused, laughed, and being to gesticulate.

"wait! hop on!" said a passing older man--by older i mean probably in his sixties.

i hopped on his back and the construction workers laughed as he brought me to the other side. i thanked him profusely.

"so is that how people are crossing the street?" a woman asked me.

dancing away the wednesdays

last night i went to le souk to see my friend gal dj. le souk is an awesome east village bar--no, bar is too weak a word, but club is too strong (maybe if we lived in kansas we'd consider this a club but in nyc, it's too small), and louge gives forth the idea that we are just sitting around, drinking, listening to some dj while talking politics. le souk has big hookah pipes were people smoke (and yes, people smoke cigs there too, :( ), amazing food, great decour, two floors, a big bed to lounge in, and an amazing drummer who beat along to the music. it was fantastic. i danced a lot (in my librarian clothes, no less).

one guy started dancing with him and i'm feeling pretty solitary so i mostly ignored him. then he lifted up his shirt, flexing his stomach muscles, and suddenly i realized he's gay. i have a gay magnet in me; if a men approaches me it is because he is gay (90% of the time). like when jessica told me to talk to someone on friday night, the one man i picked is a gay archivist living in greenpoint. i was tipsy so i didn't realize it until halfway through our conversation that he is gay, and he was so cool. it's not like i'm looking for someone right now. (keeping my fingers crossed for things to work out with t, but if it does not, i am not dating anyone for a while. a long while. i will always have love for t in my heart.) an albanian plumber hit on me, and he said, "i fix your leaks. do you have any leaks?" i said, "actually, yes, my bathtub is leaking and my super is being lame and not coming over." he said nothing, then asked me for the eighth time what i wanted to drink, and i told him for the eighth time i wasn't drinking anything else that evening. gal gave me some of his drink tickets earlier and i was done. i don't need to drink to have fun--plus i'm starting to train more seriously in my running so i don't want to be drunk if i have to do a speed workout.

at nearly three i realized i should get home and said goodbye to gal. the dancefloor was packed, people were smoking from the hookahs, and the bouncer winked at me. i realized that this is my new york city, my life, and i'm happy in it. it's not perfect, but it's my life, and i'm doing okay with it right now.

international women's day/anniversary of my grandfather's death

i've already received two emails for international women's day, which is a great day, but i am more focused on the fact that is the third anniversary of my grandfather's death. i remember being at target and missing a call from my mother; "oh, i'll call her later." i'm glad i did because when she reached me and calmly told me the news, i had a bit of a breakdown, falling on the floor and crying hysterically. i somehow remember being in my old apartment (my old roommate and i were in the process of moving from a small apt on the 2nd floor to a larger one on the 3rd) and crying, crying, crying to kika and marie. i flew home for the funeral and was in a state of shock. he was the first person close to me to die. having little experience with death, and not having yet the buddhist nonattachment, i was unable to death with it in a mature way. i spent the entire funeral and wake crying, being of little comfort to my grandmother. we sat holding hands crying.

perhaps because of this, i feel crappy. i don't feel like going to le souk tonight to listen to music, to get tea with a friend or a drink, or going to work. i know i must continue, but i miss him even now, three years later.

t and i are breaking up but death is so permanent. if i wanted to, i could possibly rekindle things and work things out, even if it is 10 years from now. i could fly from the small south american island where i would be living to the great barrier reef, steal him away from his new girlfriend, make passionate love, and get back together. but when someone is dead, there is no chance to see them again. it is over. it frightens me. what happens when you die? i don't know. i don't believe in heaven or anything specifically; i'd like there to be more than your body turning to ashes or packed in a box in the ground to be later eaten by worms. maybe reincarnation; that makes the most sense to me. but honestly, i'm not sure.

what do you think? where is my grandpa now?

international women's day/anniversary of my grandfather's death

i've already received two emails for international women's day, which is a great day, but i am more focused on the fact that is the third anniversary of my grandfather's death. i remember being at target and missing a call from my mother; "oh, i'll call her later." i'm glad i did because when she reached me and calmly told me the news, i had a bit of a breakdown, falling on the floor and crying hysterically. i somehow remember being in my old apartment (my old roommate and i were in the process of moving from a small apt on the 2nd floor to a larger one on the 3rd) and crying, crying, crying to kika and marie. i flew home for the funeral and was in a state of shock. he was the first person close to me to die. having little experience with death, and not having yet the buddhist nonattachment, i was unable to death with it in a mature way. i spent the entire funeral and wake crying, being of little comfort to my grandmother. we sat holding hands crying.

perhaps because of this, i feel crappy. i don't feel like going to le souk tonight to listen to music, to get tea with a friend or a drink, or going to work. i know i must continue, but i miss him even now, three years later.

t and i are breaking up but death is so permanent. if i wanted to, i could possibly rekindle things and work things out, even if it is 10 years from now. i could fly from the small south american island where i would be living to the great barrier reef, steal him away from his new girlfriend, make passionate love, and get back together. but when someone is dead, there is no chance to see them again. it is over. it frightens me. what happens when you die? i don't know. i don't believe in heaven or anything specifically; i'd like there to be more than your body turning to ashes or packed in a box in the ground to be later eaten by worms. maybe reincarnation; that makes the most sense to me. but honestly, i'm not sure.

what do you think? where is my grandpa now?

In Erinnerung an “Dutch”

It is the third anniversary of my paternal grandfather's death. I miss my Grandpa. I wrote this after he died, unable to control my grief.

When he left us, I was at the gym, talking with an acquaintance about writing: prose, poetry, screenplays. I was struggling with bicep curls and lat pull downs. My grandpa was in my heart but I didn’t realize that was the only place he could ever live.

Grandma said it was 3:30. I never got to say goodbye.

Everybody deals with death. I’m twenty-three and had all my grandparents until exactly one week ago. That’s pretty lucky. Almost unrealistic. As if I didn’t know how to live because I never dealt with death. My first funeral and wake. I can’t comprehend death, I’m only twenty-three.

“Where should I send the flowers? Where are they having the wake?”

Me: “Why do they call it a wake?” Nobody is awake; at least not the person you are trying to remember. The rest of us look like we’re in a bad dream.

Lunar. His name on the moon. Lunar module. Mond. Luna. Moon.

You try to grow up but find out that when you’re twenty-three at a funeral, you’re the youngest one. Still. Always. Still the baby. “This is my granddaughter.” “This is my daughter.” “This is my little cousin.” “This is my niece.” So I can’t help but behave like that. Cry. Cry. Refuse to deal with the situation like an adult. I try to hold back my tears but I’m not so good. “Keep strong, no one likes to see tears.” But I thought crying is okay. A way to say you’re sad.

“I’ve been to eight funerals and I’m twenty-one.” “My family’s huge. I’ve been to funerals since before I knew what was going on.” “You’re so lucky. Lucky.”

No one feels lucky at a funeral.

I’m not sure how to act. How do you act when someone you love passes, someone you love to hug and give a kiss on the cheek to, someone that you always will assume being the same: wearing a short-sleeved button down plaid shirt, slowly shuffling to the pour another cup of coffee, showing my dad something in the Daily News and talking about the latest events in the world. Reading his newspapers and flipping the channels faster than he takes breaths?

Grandpa, you’re not supposed to go yet! Please, come back. You’re supposed to be at my wedding.

But he’s not. He’s in a box. Cement, I think. Pretty engravings. Silver. I wonder what he’s wearing. A blue jacket, my mother said. Those shoes with the holes in it that he’d never take off? Or did they put some painful tight dress shoes that he had but never wore because they hurt his feet?

I miss my grandpa. Grandpa!

My grandma said he’d never take the wedding ring off. She forgot to give it to the funeral home, so I wore it on my pinky until we got to the funeral home. It was big, way too big. I missed my grandpa. This was the ring he wore every day. The funeral director took it and promised to put it on. I wonder if they ever did.

I can’t think of my grandpa in that box. Lying there. They turned the casket away so my grandma couldn’t open it. But he wasn’t in there, he’s not. I keep thinking he’s going to be in the big easy chair with the paper and channel surfing. I keep thinking of Grandpa with his Russell Stover chocolates and yelling at me for dropping their dog nine years ago. I miss my grandpa. I want him back.

I never got to say goodbye. No, he’s not in that box. I miss my grandpa. He couldn’t hear me the past few years and it was hard to have a conversation but he still smiled when he saw me, even when he was in the hospital, completely out of it, recognizing no one, he would smile at me and ask me how the weather is in Colorado/New Paltz/Brooklyn. Why isn’t he sitting in the den with the bills, talking with my dad in the gruff German voice, calling me sunshine and mispronouncing my name as “Squirrel” and my sister’s name as “Militia?” Where is he?

“That’s not a way for a person to live.” Yes, but I still want to say goodbye.

“Our Father, Who Art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy name…” Is that the way to say goodbye? I want a hug. Goodbye Grandpa. I miss you. I love you. Goodbye.

orzechowe and other interesting things

my friend rosa was here and i miss her already. i like having other people around, and i'm excited for when my ozzie friend alex visits at the end of april. cherry blossoms and spring in the air! i can't wait! if only t lived with me...

the breakup thing is a bit strange. "i thought you broke up," j said to me, wanting me to be in the single club. we're breaking up, but t needs to come to nyc to talk abt it. i have a clue what will happen: i'll play my sad ipod playlist, we'll talk, we'll cry, we'll make love (or so i hope), we'll talk, we'll fight, we'll cry....and then he'll probably leave. it scares me to think of my house without him here. without him everywhere in my life. i don't see how it could work otherwise. perhaps we could just live in a fantasy world and continue, but that's not fair to either of us. i just want someone here, in my arms every night, making dinner with me. i love living alone, but living with t would be magical. i must swallow this bitter pill. i must do positive things. i must continue onward.

"you let go, and i let go too." --lauryn hill

things

instead of utilizing my only day off, i wasted much of the day. i ran a race, then made plans to go out, then decided not to, then called various friends. then t called and it was incredibly emotional. basically he understands our relationship is pointless as it can never go anywhere as our living situation makes it impossible. he is sad but he would never end it himself because he loves you. i am ending it because i love both him and i--and this relationship is painful and harmful to my well-being. all i want to do is sit in his arms, kissing him, because that's all i want--but we have no future. he needs to be somewhere that is not new york and i know i am not ready to leave new york. "you are such a bitch! leave new york for love," i can hear some irrational web surfer saying. i can't. when living in boulder, i sank into a very deep depression, and went to therapy for many months--almost a year. my therapist finally diagnosed me as having "environmentally-related depression" and said she was confident that when i moved back to nyc i would be fine. and she was right. i am much happier than i was in boulder--there i would walk around as if i were a zombie. here i am full of energy that i draw from the city of the world. i love new york. if i moved someplace else, i'd slowly resent trevor. i'm also part of so much here. the greenpoint community. my yoga community. my radical cheerleading/activist community. my many friends. i love my life here in new york. the only thing that makes it not perfect is t is not here. even though my life situation is not perfect, when t is here i feel happy, whole. i hate that it has to end, but know that six and a half years must end. the longer we drag this on, the worse and harder it will be. my only hope is a miracle--t finding a good job for him in nyc. and i'll leave nyc eventually, i'm just not ready yet. maybe in two years, if he is devoted to me like i want us to be, and living here, i will move wherever it is he wants to go--within reason. luckily, the bible belt is not known for its marine biology jobs. but that is merely a fantasy. soon i will truly be, as trish say, carrie bradshaw.

Lyrics to Lauryn Hill's The Ex Factor

This song really seems to capture what I'm feeling right now.

Lauryn Hill
The Ex Factor

It could all be so simple
But you'd rather make it hard
Loving you is like a battle
And we both end up with scars
Tell me, who I have to be
To get some reciprocity
No one loves you more than me
And no one ever will

Is this just a silly game
That forces you to act this way
Forces you to scream my name
Then pretend that you can't stay
Tell me, who I have to be
To get some reciprocity
No one loves you more than me
And no one ever will

Hook:
No matter how I think we grow
You always seem to let me know
It ain't workin'
It ain't workin'
And when I try to walk away
You'd hurt yourself to make me stay
This is crazy
This is crazy

I keep letting you back in
How can I explain myself
As painful as this thing has been
I just can't be with no one else
See I know what we got to do
You let go and I'll let go too
'Cause no one's hurt me more than you
And no one ever will

Repeat Hook

Care for me, care for me
You said you care for me

There for me, there for me
Said you'd be there for me

Cry for me, cry for me
You said you'd die for me

Give to me, give to me
Why won't you live for me
(Repeat)

Dalai Lama Quote

"According to my experience, it is clear that if each individual makes an effort then he or she can change."

tonight

the sadness and reality of the fact that t and i are breaking up has hit me: more than anything i want things to be resolved but as time goes on, i am accepting our fate and realizing our dreams of living together, loving each other, will never happen. we are two separate people and our link has been broken long ago. i know the only way we will be together is if he changes his ways, which i know he won't, so i am trying to move on. my heart will not let me but my mind is telling me, "cherie, if you love yourself, you've got to let this go."

george bernard shaw quote

"A reasonable woman adapts to the world. An unreasonable woman makes the world adapt to her."