my weekend of booties and snow

so this weekend was a little crazy, and definitely fun. bootsnall was having a travel meetup in new york city, so it began friday night at a dive bar fairly close to my job called rudy's. after kicking everyone out of hte library, i headed over there. i needed to catch up with the amount of alcohol they consumed, so quickly tipped back one lovely drink, but in very good spirits.

i met so many wonderful people, and it's awesome that these are people i communicated with for months and/or years over travel message boards, so it was mentioned how i hated paris, and the crappy stage of my relationship, and my job as a librarian. after drinking and getting to know each other, we hopped the W train down to 8th street, and headed to the st mark's ale house, where we (surprise) drank more. it was awesome to talk with people and learn more about who they are and where we are going next. i'm hoping my next trip is western asia, but it could be latin america. we'll see. some people went to sleep, some people went to drink, some people went to dance. i went home and slept as i had to work the next day.

work was work. some of the booties walked across the brooklyn bridge, while i did inventory on videos. after i came home, tracy ann (who was staying with me, along with nerokerr) cracked open a bottle of wine. we left as the snow flurried around us, and headed to the st mark's ale house. we drank and chilled there, and betty gave out our "all access passes" with everyone's names on them--but names were quickly learnt (except, in a moment of alcohol-induced stupor, someone might call you something else!).

after drinking, we headed to yaffa cafe for dinner. laura was coming and i ran outside to meet her, inadvertently dropped my mobile phone. i realized it, and everyone went on to yaffa, while i searched up and down st mark's place, in the bar, everywhere. i called my phone but to no avail. i felt sad, and rachel told me she also lost her phone in a cab the other night but was hopeful it would turn up in the lost and found on monday.

we ate dinner. we drank wine. we headed over to the union bar and grill on park b/t 17th and 18th, a fairly nice and chill place. we took it over at 8pm, drinking entirely too much (note to all: do not mix jaager shots with beer and vodka. no! no sickness!), dancing. anytime i danced, steve or mes would pull out their cameras to film it, shouting, "librarian gone wild." this was the theme for everything i did that night. i ended up dancing with a parisian guy who lives in the east village. fueled by vodka, i shouted, "i HATE paris!" i danced with him until he (drunker than i) slipped on his back. i collapsed laughing and his friend accused me of pushing him. i took the opportunity to get away from him. before i knew it, i was also being seduced by an italian guy. "i LOVE italy! i love the food! i love the people! i love it! i love it !" he was from sicily and we talked about italy and then he tried to kiss me. "italian men are so aggressive," i shouted as jillian rescued me.

at some point, (captain) steve and i decided to get married--in ten years time. he threw out the date june 5--my birthday--but in 10 years. he told everyone we were waiting 4 years for our first kiss. handholding in a year. we're taking it slow, especially b/c of t--who seems to be drifting further and further away from me lately. steve and i were joking, but it was good fun and i def would love it if he would move to nyc. then he could teach rachel how to fly and i could go running with him. i called my mom on tracy's phone, asking her to call verizon. verizon turned my service off. two hours later, she called me back saying someone had found my phone and called my dad. i was so psyched. celebration! tip that glass back. we danced more, with shouts of "librarian gone wild" every time i seemed to get up. three girls squeezed into the bathroom stall next to betty (i was waiting) saying "i need to wipe my vagina" and her friend saying, "shhh! other people are here," and the peer saying, "but she has a vagina too!" jillian rounded all of us up--all of us who were still on the move--and we headed to a dive bar in the east village.

joey--from fla--seemed happy at the snow--and we were all cold. some ad guy tried to pick me up, not knowing that my future husband was nearby. husband--please, people, this is a joke. i'm not going back on my anti-marriage stance. i'm not anti-marriage, i'm just anti-marriage with three kids in the suburbs is the only way to live lifestyle choice. the people who look down on free spirit travelers like us. at some point, we migrated into cabs taking us back to our respective sleeping locations.we slept. the next day, i went and met my cell phone savoir--not to be confused with nerokerr aka jason aka jesus. (he looks like jesus and at one point, someone said, "christ on a cracker!" making us all laughing hysterically and jason is also called jesus, and jillian's handle is crackerjillian.) after, i sipped chai at my favorite cafe while writing a letter to my favorite friend (you know who you are!), and then met up with steve for "our first date" (which i paid for, but he paid for dinner, so it was dutch) at my favorite indian place. we ate a lot, got free tea and ice cream and soup, and i love love love living in nyc and the international community--from my israeli cell phone savoir to the drunken italian and french men to the indian servers chatting with me--i love that about new york. i am not going anywhere anytime soon. after finishing, steve and i headed to fao schwartz, where we played with toys (inc a ken doll that seemed to have an erection wearing only boxer shorts) and baby dolls scarily lifelike but luckily silent (jillian and i: "we want a siamese indonesia baby. where are they?"). after, we headed to central park to play in the snow and take photos. drinking champagne and jaager shots were also involved. beautiful. the snow was no longer coming down, but everything was so beautiful.

after, we headed down to dojo's (i swear, i never hang out on st mark's pl this much!) and ate and talked. rachel found out her cell phone had been used to call columbia 12 times!!! we ate and talked and then watched the olympics, commenting on hot snowboarders and yummy spandex speedskating suits among other things. boston bill, erik, rachel, steve, and i left together to go our separate ways. going home, i felt lonely, and missed all my travel buddies already. i love bootsnall more than ever.

library patron

a patron comes into the library, and goes up to the librarian. (he has called me before "my favorite librarian." bonus points for using the proper term "librarian" over the popular term "lie-berr-ee-ann.")

patron: so, what do you do for fun? besides when you're in the library?
(apparently, working is fun for me--i like my job, but it's not what i do for fun!)

me: nothing. this is fun. i never leave the library because it's so great.

patron: really? wow. you love your job.

me: (bursting into laughter) no! i have a life. i don't spend all my time here.

patron: (looking confused) oh. (goes and sits down to study)

record-setting blizzard in brokeback central park

this weekend, new york city received the most snow it ever had since they have been keeping tabs on the weather--almost 27 inches! crazy. this weekend of all weekends, bootnsall decided to have a new york city meet up, with people flying from cali, michigan, florida, ohio to talk about traveling, drink a lot, drink some more, eat some more, and oh yeah, drink. so the snow blizzard meant everyone got to stay in new york city an extra day.

yesterday we all went to central park--which many others did. it was just beautiful. people were skiing, snowboarding, sledding, having snowball fights, walking. we jumped around in the snow, threw snowballs at each other, took photos.

today of course, there's piles of slush in every crosswalk, brown snow, yellow snow, grey snow, black snow, and occasionally, white snow. the beauty is gone but luckily, i recorded what was beautiful yesterday with my camera in the freezing cold temperatures of new york city yesterday.

a conversation between richard and i more than once....

me:
(walking by central park, the haven of running for new yorkers)
oh, i would love to live around here. imagine being so close to the park.
(ignoring snotty rich people and expensive rent and the fact that i never hang out north of 28th street)

richard:
oh, i hate it. like a cemetary. i would never want to live here. once, i visited a friend who lived up here, and i looked out the window: the buildings reminded me of tombstones. ugly!

i heart ginzy

Fourth Floor, Dawn, Up All Night Writing Letters

Pigeons shake their wings on the copper church roof out my window across the street, a bird perched on the cross surveys the city's blue-grey clouds. Larry Rivers 'll come at 10 AM and take my picture. I'm taking your picture, pigeons. I'm writing you down, Dawn. I'm immortalizing your exhaust, Avenue A bus. O Thought, now you'll have to think the same thing forever! Allen Ginsberg

all married people don't suck

apologies in case i offended any married suburban people: all of you don't suck. my point is not that living married with children in the suburbs is a kind of death, but it is not for me. i am speaking my piece because i am frustrated with constantly being questioned about why i'm not married, how come i don't want kids, that sort of thing. my ideal would be to live someplace, travel for a while, work and live, travel...i don't see kids as part of my future (i suppose i can tolerate being an aunt, and i will like kika's and mccormick's babies) but i don't want you asking about why my belly is so flat. frankly, why don't you worry about your life and i'll handle mine.

p.s.
if you can be married and still sending links to hot australian bikini ads for men, you are totally cool, even if you did live in a housing complex with a name like "the whistling winds" and wear an apron--and if you are gay, even better! hah!

love shouldn't be for you

i hate when people are arrogant in their love and we's. they shouldn't be allowed to fall in love.

like, can you talk abt yrself instead of "we" "us" "my fiancee" "my boyfriend"

my throwup bucket.

marriage + kids + home = suburban death

i've noticed friends and friends of friends who are simply boring me to tears while being self-righteous about my single and free life.

question: "when are you getting married?"
answer: "none of your fucking business. and why do i need to get married? so i can get caught up in exciting discussions like which formula is the best to use?"

i have friends who are married living in little condos and houses that are replicas of each other, absorbed in their work and "making our marriage work" and waxing their cars and shopping at wal-mart and feeling giddy with two glasses of wine at dinner. that's the first step.

the second step is when they have children. i have two pregnant friends right now who are seemingly normal and i don't think they'll become the lunatics i despise so much. in fact, i know that they will always be cool. i have heard horror stories about this but i am holding out for them because i love them dearly. but i know people who have children. they can't go anywhere without talking about their children. they worry when they are away from them, they constantly discuss their children (as if i fucking care? i know you don't care about my cat so i keep that to myself, but i love my cat a lot and i don't bore you with how she is liking her new litter and the really cute way in which she sips water). library school was dreadful; the mothers were clueless on their identity and would simply cite their children's preference for specific books, as if that decided whether a book is a caldecott winner or not. parents: do us a favor--SHUT UP.

the house step is slightly different. it can become before or after the second step. you can be normal, like my old coworker libby, and look at heaps of different apartments. but then, libby lives in brooklyn and is cool. no, i'm talking about the people who move out to the land of backyards, strip malls, and even good old fashioned malls themselves! they talk about school systems, playgrounds, suvs, washing machines. they talk about grout, about their gutters and leaf-covered lawns, about stock options and mortgages. as if i care? shut up and move someplace exciting, like new york city. but wait, we don't want boring people here.

question: "when are you going to get married to t? you've been together for seven years."
answer: "none of your fucking business. i'm perfectly happy living my single new york city life."

there was a time when i thought about marriage, but i don't feel like i need it so desperately. i love t, but we have a very free relationship in many ways. last night i went out with one of my oldest friends, rachelle, and dressed up in a tiny tube top, bubble wrap and sparkley pants for a party where i drank, danced, and met so many people. the "normal" couples wore jeans, held hands tightly, and looked uncomfortable at the freedom of the singletons on the dance floor. t probably doesn't think of me as single but when he is not around i feel like i am (although i do not behave badly!) with different men approaching me. instead, i use these experiences as a way of learning about new people. i danced with a former londoner and also, an actor who taped empty milk cartons to his entire body. with loud music, glitter and confetti everywhere, drunken kisses, vodka shots from a watergun, it was a night to stay out until last call and sway your way home with a walk filled with conversation about nearly everything.

i'm not in a rush for anything. and if i do get married, i am not rushing out to book a hall, make my friends dress in identical hideous dresses, spend heaps of money. what i'd love to do really is hop several planes to a remote south pacific island and do something totally romantic and fun. or go to brazil and dance drunkenly in the streets of rio. something fucking tradition. tradition is nice but there is no fucking way i will becoming wife to some man. i am me, i am free, and i am having a fucking brilliant time.

enjoy your suburban death; i'll keep my comments to myself (on here) and be polite to your face. now won't you do the same?

models

so at work some of the fashion forecasting services books are on my desk, and before putting them back behind the reference desk, i started randomly flipping through them to see how unstylish i will be in the spring. however, what caught my eye was the models.

the models, of course, are sickeningly thin, and some of them are seriously gross in their thinness. their thin faces are often not even pretty, but merely used as an easel for the designers to relay their products.

but their faces: their faces are so blank. they never can smile, always staring straight ahead into space. their eyes are indifferent, yet filled with intensity, and perhaps even anger. their eyes are giving almost a dirty look, a glare, a "you waste my time move" look, a "you aren't even worth my time" look. and it's sad because i think fashion is very beautiful but the model culture doesn't make it that way.

models and drugs

in high school, we were always in awe of kate moss. "she drinks, smokes cigs, eats what she wants, and she's still so thin," i remember a friend saying with envy in her voice. probably all the coke meant she ate once a week so i'm guessing that's how she stayed so thin. but now the fact that she has done coke is all over the place with photographs to prove it. h&m dropped moss as their model, and london authorities had a "talk" with her. how come if i was caught with heaps of coke i would be arrested and if kate moss or another celebrity is caught it's rehab and "oh poor kate, she just didn't know what she was getting into"? oh please. i'm sick of special treatment for celebrities.

photo published on why go

A photo of mine of a grass-covered roof in Norway was published on Why Go and I'm totally psyched. To see it, click here.

Two of my other photos will also be published on there over the next few weeks. Keep on checking it.

Greenpoint: Just on a Run

While I was on my five-mile run this morning, I saw way more than a normal person might see in an entire day in their neighborhood. In the first mile, I saw two similiar sights, yet one was laughable, and the other disturbing.
First I saw an older mother/grandmother/maternal figure dragging along a screaming and shrieking child having a tantrum who obviously didn't want to go to school. The woman was talking in Polish to the child who was clutching onto anything that passed, including a chain link fence and a brick wall, and had to be pried from these to be moved on. "Just wait," I wanted to say, "Until you have to work and pay your rent. Then you'll really be crying." Instead I ran on.
On the next block, another woman was also walking her small child to school. This one was clearly an American hipster, with a black bob and the standard thick black ugly glasses. She was telling her child that all of the cars were mean and that is why they were not stopping to let them cross.
This disturbed me because the changes to Greenpoint have been quite strong already. After Williamsburg became the new East Village but with way suckier people and uglier apartments and more pollution (although Jenny once claimed she wanted to move to Williamsburg, Brooklyn, to get away from the pollution of Manhattan!), the rents started climbing and the hipsters who sat around making "art" (there's a reason I put art in quotes) and letting their parents pay their rent (a former coworker at D. told me he's the only person in his building who works) started realizing even that barista job at the local cafe wouldn't pay their bills, they came over to Greenpoint. Thus, our rents rose, and sucky people moved in.
But what if we became another Park Slope? That thought is scary. I like Park Slope, and it used to be a lot cooler. However, it appears an alien species of moms have moved in with their designer strollers and sixty dollar haircuts for one-year-olds and letting their child have tantrums in libraries ("Oh, he needs to cry it out!" or "I am not giving him any more attention! Tough love! Too bad if people want quiet in a library!") and passing up smaller coffeeshops for the ubiquitous Starbucks ("That independent cafe once asked me to take my child outside for his cry after I had ignored his shrieking for twenty minutes! The nerve!"). The hipsters are bad enough but if Greenpoint becomes Park Slope, well, I'll just have to find a way to afford moving back to the East Village.

searching, search, searching

i've spent the night listening to cafe del mar and ani difranco, sending out resumes and wishing i were curled up in bed with luna and a book, and oh yeah, t would be nice too--but he's never one to hang out in bed--more like sleep in bed, but he doesn't chill like i do. i found this really rad job--and it would be superrad if i got it, and rachelle got the position there she's applying for, and we could go to work together--or just work together, that would rock--and i spent an hour working on my cover letter and i totally lost it. i was so pissed and tried to recreate it but was so spent i only worked on it for 15 minutes and i think it's okay. i hope they hire me.
i like my job, but it's not perfect, and more importantly, it is not paying my bills. i'm doing odd jobs this coming weekend, and am checking craigslist for more random jobs but it's mostly escort jobs and be a jewish egg donor and haul concrete sort of jobs. i wish there was something easier. i think i'm going to propose writing an article on ultra music festival for bna and see if they like it and if they do, use it as an excuse to take time off for wherever i'm working then. but now, now i need to focus on finding something to pay my bills because my time is running out.

ani difranco FUEL lyrics

Sometimes a song just hits you and you can't stop listening to it and it seems to make so much sense...well ani has been haunting me a bit lately and here are two songs that i adore.

"Fuel"

They were digging a new foudation in Manhattan
And they discovered a slave cemetary there
May their souls rest easy
Now that lynching is frowned upon
And we've moved on to the electric chair
And I wonder who's gonna be president, tweedle dum or tweedle dummer?
And who's gonna have the big blockbuster box office this summer?
How about we put up a wall between houses and the highway
And you can go your way, and I can go my may

Except all the radios agree with all the tvs
And all the magazines agree with all the radios
And I keep hearing that same damn song everywhere I go
Maybe I should put a bucket over my head
And a marshmallow in each ear
And stumble around for
Another dumb-numb waiting for another hit song to appear

People used to make records
As in a record of an event
The event of people playing music in a room
Now everything is cross-marketing
Its about sunglasses and shoes
Or guns and drugs
You choose
We got it rehashed
We got it half-assed
We're digging up all the graves
And we're spitting on the past
And you can choose between the colors
Of the lipstick on the whores
Cause we know the difference between
The font of 20% more
And the font of teriakiyi
You tell me
How does it... make you feel?

You tell me
What's ... real?
And they say that alcoholics are always alcoholics
Even when they're as dry as my lips for years
Even when they're stranded on a small desert island
With no place within 2,000 miles to buy beer
And I wonder
Is he different?
Is he different?
Has he changed? what's he about?..
Or is he just a liar with nothing to lie about?

Am I headed for the same brick wall
Is there anything I can do about
Anything at all?
Except go back to that corner in Manhattan
And dig deeper, dig deeper this time
Down beneath the impossible pain of our history
Beneath unknown bones
Beneath the bedrock of the mystery
Beneath the sewage systems and the PATH train
Beneath the cobblestones and the water mains
Beneath the traffic of friendships and street deals
Beneath the screeching of kamikaze cab wheels
Beneath everything I can think of to think about
Beneath it all, beneath all get out
Beneath the good and the kind and the stupid and the cruel
There's a fire just waiting for fuel

There's a fire just waiting for fuel
There's a fire just waiting for fuel
There's a fire just waiting for fuel
There's a fire just waiting for fuel
There's a fire just waiting for fuel
There's a fire just waiting for fuel
There's a fire just waiting for fuel
There's a fire just waiting for fuel
There's a fire just waiting for fuel
There's a fire just waiting for fuel
There's a fire just waiting for fuel
There's a fire just waiting for fuel
There's a fire just waiting for fuel
"Both Hands"

I am walking
out in the rain
and I am listening to the low moan
of the dial tone again
and I am getting
nowhere with you
and I can't let it go
and I can't get through...
the old woman behind the pink curtains
and the closed door
on the first floor
she's listening through the air shaft
to see how long our swan song can last
and both hands
now use both hands
oh, no don't close your eyes
I am writing
graffitti on your body
I am drawing the story of
how hard we tried
I am watching your chest rise and fall
like the tides of my life,
and the rest of it all
and your bones have been my bedframe
and your flesh has been my pillow
I am waiting for sleep
to offer up the deep
with both hands
in eachother's shadows we grew less and less tall
and eventually our theories couldn't explain it all
and I'm recording our history now on the bedroom wall
and eventually the landlord will come
and paint over it all
and I am walking
out in the rain
and I am listening to the low moan of the dial tone again
and I am getting nowhere with you
and I can't let it go
and I can't get though
So now use both hands
please use both hands
oh, no don't close your eyes
I am writing graffitti on your body
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried
hard we tried
how hard we tried

what's happening...

i think i'm going to start subscribing to the nytimes weekend papers. i
usually get up early enough to snag it before whoever steals it. my
dad's friend said there are parts of the classifieds (section 4a or
something like that) that aren't online, so i suppose that should be a
reason. i also like reading the international news, and it's easier to scan
headlines and read the lead in the paper as opposed to the internet.
right now, on the nytimes website, i'm reading an article about religious
missionaries in africa
(http://www.nytimes.com/2006/01/29/magazine/29missionaries.html?emc=eta1)
and am also in the midst of bret easton elli's new book LUNAR
PARK--being in europe i missed the hype of its release--and it's very bizarre.

t left nyc today and i feel lonely already. i know when i get home and
it's just luna to greet me, that hole in my heart will ache again, and
i will look around the space of my 1br apt and think, "it's so empty."
love makes it impossible to think outside of cliches. i've included a photo of him with a stray cat in greece. isn't he sweet? both the cat and t.

i mentioned wanting to do the peace corps to my mom, more of, "when i
do the peace corps..." and she was like, "wha?" it's something i've
wanted to do since i first learned about it in high school social studies.

i finally finished cataloging that big pile of books and it's nice to
chill out with a book at work for a bit. one of the perks of being a
librarian, except when people interrupt me.

the workstudies ignoring patrons to work on their schoolwork is really
pissing me off. oh well, some things never change.

Library Land!

At the small college library I work in, we require students to sign in
as they enter so we can keep track of patron statistics. The more
people in the library, the more it looks like we are useful, the more money
we get. People seem to have such hostility towards signing in.

"I signed in this morning when I got here!" Yes, but it's now seven
thirty pm.

Another problem we seem to have is people don't understand where they
should sign. It is basically a grid of boxes, with the times at the top,
so you sign your initials (some people like to sign their entire name,
which takes up several boxes across various times, or the best, is to
sign the time: 6:35) in the column that corresponds with the hour of the
time that it is. Nearly everyone requires the assistance of the
librarian or a workstudy with how to sign in. And when we don't pay attention,
they sign in at whatever box they want. Then, when people who think
they understand how to sign in come in, they get confused at what to do
and how to do it. It drives me nuts: sign your initials in the box under
the proper time column. Apparently, it's a lot harder than it looks.

That Time of The Month

First off, I am not apologizing. This is a little rant on men's reactions to the natural monthly menses of women. "Gross!" "Ew!" "I am not reading anymore of this blog right now!" Fine. But I just wanted to say I am pissed at how men act revolted at a perfectly natural and painful and inconvenient process when they should be:

1. Happy they don't have to deal with it each month
2. Supportive of us
3. Take care of us

I'm not asking all men to drop everything they have, but if I'm complaining, "I have cramps," making me feel like I'm disgusting is not the thing to do. Cramps are when my uterine walls are trying to rid itself of the layer. It's incredibly painful--I have called in sick because of it--and debilitating to many at times. And PMS--don't blame my bitchy mood on PMS. I can be a real bitch at times and I can get in a shitty mood--like when I don't have enough to pay my rent and I get three bills in the mail the same day, or if some asshole sexually harasses me--that doesn't necessarily mean I have PMS. But if I do get PMS (which I usually don't) leave me alone so I can chill out and relax. Don't make fun of me, of all things. Why do certain men think it is hilarious to tease us and blame all of our negative comments on PMS?

what i want to do

i like my job; i really do. i just want something that pays a bit more and is full-time with all the lovely bennies that typically surround a full-time job, like sick and holiday and vacation pay--wouldn't that be nice? but today i was working on a fantastic black history month display and really loving what i do--which is to reach out to people and provide them with information.

along the windowsill, i created a display of books relating to black history, and i created a bulletin board for black history month. the workstudies helped me with this part; e is making a photo collage of photos i picked out and c made the banner. i found all these rad quotes and wrote an article about the 1968 olympic black power salute that shocked many but was quite amazing and brave. thank you, runners.

but i need to travel. it's not i WANT to travel, but i honestly feel like i need to. i need to see new places and i have a list of places i want to get to. t doesn't understand, my family doesn't understand, non-travellers don't understand: i MUST travel, i must get out there and see the world.

my mother bought me a calendar with photos of italy for xmas. it has to be the ugliest calendar i have ever seen; i resorted to pasting photos i printed out from my trip over the photos. italy is beautiful, my italy; this photographer's italy is ugly.

so i want to knit. i want to practice my spanish. i want to learn basic russian and tibetan. i want to run. i want to write. instead of wanting, i must begin doing.

my life right now

things are so crazy right now. this week has been nuts. so far, i have:

• had one of the workstudy students freak out at me for no reason and shout at me and treat me with no respect; he was thoroughly scolded later after he calmed down
  
• had t visit me and feel like a day has passed
• went to the dr for my sinus infection (still feel lousy)
• watched one workstudy spill hot cocoa on another work study's laptops (the laptop is not working and the one who spilled the cocoa has to buy a new one)
• got a 3 hour $300 haircut for free
• had my cat scratch me down my belly
• pay my bills, and my rent, and feel my stomach turn at the pitifully small amount in my bank account
• work on a black history display with the aforementioned disrespectful workstudy student who finally today produced a border of the bulletin board
• feel my cheeks burn when t cursed out a host when their restaurant was closed

and assorted other things.

sinusitis

my last semester of college, i got a bad case of sinusitis. it has unfortunately returned. it includes exhaustion (i would sleep 12 hours, wake up, go for a run, then come home to take a nap), a constant need to blow my nose, lethargy, headaches, dizziness, and nausea (this time it hasn't really been an issue; last time all i could stomach was rice chex, and as a result, i lost almost ten pounds. people said, "wow you lost weight, you look great," and all i could think was, "i'm so hungry but i'm so nauseas. ugh." i ended up quitting cross-country mid-season because it was simply too much. my coach was a constant asshole to me and didn't believe that i was sick...

so it's happening again. i don't even what to bother going to the doctor last time because it didn't help. (once, they did this thing where they cleaned out my nostrils and i smelled nyc like ever before...after leaving my doctor's i was immediately assaulted by the scent of hot dogs permeating the street and it was SO intense! little else really helped.) i'm using tiger balm, taking tylenol cold & sinus, sleeping lots. but my run this morning was ruined and it was the first one that has been like that. i wanted to do an hour, but could only eke out a 44:35 minute run and felt rather lethargic. and i'm too late for yoga now so i think i'll sit and do some slogans now.

how can songs take you back so much?

every time i hear superchunk's "detroit has a skyline too" i think of my ex because he once put it on a mix tape for me. i think of our bizarre romance, our sad breakup (him driving me home, putting on the smiths "because we have to listen to this right now," forever ruining my love of the smiths), and of the yearning lyrics of this song and it makes you think, wow, i had so much with that one person, who is so far, doing i have no clue what, and still, i have this song to take me back. walking down the street, cooking dinner, taking a shower--whenever it comes on, i'll always think of him. music takes you back to specific points--like that rave where you were dancing on the speakers, or that time you had a fight, or the belly lyrics ("stick your finger in your eye, that's the only way you cry") came true during a fight with darcy in high school. music is so important to me.

Lyrics to Superchunk's "Detroit Has a Skyline Too"
(from Here's Where the Strings Come In, and also, an acoustic version on Cup of Sand)

As soon as I got home
Reached for the phone
Drank my sleep from a can
Playing tracks 6 and 7, again and again

I had a crush
Nothing works out
Well, I had faith
Could not have known; don't even say it.

Meet me again, maybe one mile high
Meet me again, and I won't flake this time
Meet me again, Maybe a year from now
Meet me again, I think we both remember how

There was no architect designed this veiw
He could not have known about you
Mousey homes, catacombs
Detroit has a skyline, too
Detroit has a skyline, too

I had a crush
Nothing works out
Well, I had faith
Could not have known; don't even say it

Meet me again, maybe one mile high
Meet me again, and I won't flake this time
Meet me again, Maybe a year from now
Meet me again, I think we both remember how, I think we both remember how

how can songs take you back so much?

every time i hear superchunk's "detroit has a skyline too" i think of my ex because he once put it on a mix tape for me. i think of our bizarre romance, our sad breakup (him driving me home, putting on the smiths "because we have to listen to this right now," forever ruining my love of the smiths), and of the yearning lyrics of this song and it makes you think, wow, i had so much with that one person, who is so far, doing i have no clue what, and still, i have this song to take me back. walking down the street, cooking dinner, taking a shower--whenever it comes on, i'll always think of him. music takes you back to specific points--like that rave where you were dancing on the speakers, or that time you had a fight, or the belly lyrics ("stick your finger in your eye, that's the only way you cry") came true during a fight with darcy in high school. music is so important to me.

Lyrics to Superchunk's "Detroit Has a Skyline Too"
(from Here's Where the Strings Come In, and also, an acoustic version on Cup of Sand)

As soon as I got home
Reached for the phone
Drank my sleep from a can
Playing tracks 6 and 7, again and again

I had a crush
Nothing works out
Well, I had faith
Could not have known; don't even say it.

Meet me again, maybe one mile high
Meet me again, and I won't flake this time
Meet me again, Maybe a year from now
Meet me again, I think we both remember how

There was no architect designed this veiw
He could not have known about you
Mousey homes, catacombs
Detroit has a skyline, too
Detroit has a skyline, too

I had a crush
Nothing works out
Well, I had faith
Could not have known; don't even say it

Meet me again, maybe one mile high
Meet me again, and I won't flake this time
Meet me again, Maybe a year from now
Meet me again, I think we both remember how, I think we both remember how

Zora Neale Hurston Quote

I have been in Sorrow's kitchen and licked out all the pots. Then I have stood on the peaky mountain wrapped in rainbows, with a harp and sword in my hands.

stalemate

i feel as if my life is a stalemate with little glimmers of hope popping out every so often. i wouldn't go as far as saying i'm depresed, but i'm just merely gliding along, looking for something good. here are some reasons why:

• last wed, a job i had that i thought would continue until feb (i was filling in for someone while they were sick), told me, "make sure you fill out your timesheet for the rest of the week because tomorrow is your last day." shocked, i said, "it is?" so now i'm working only one job, barely enough to pay my rent.
• that same day, my other librarian job decided to increase my hours--so i'll be working 26 1/2 hours each week--and six days a week. more than ever, i realize i need to get out--soon, and find something that pays me decently.
• with the lack of one job, i can not afford my rent. i will have to borrow money from my parents.
• the person i love is far away, and will probably always be far away.
• i haven't been writing as i should, and have knitting a huge cape that will probably not be done until july.

i know i need to just snap out of it, so i am not allowing myself to focus on the bad. instead, i'm being productive with my extra time--i did a huge pile of ironing today, have been cleaning my house, reading, looking for a job. yeah, it sucks right now, but it will get better. my dad always says, "it will work out in the end," and it always does. i also found an article in the current american libraries (which i'm sending to you, v, and i ripped the article out so you won't see it, but if you want to, i can copy it for you!) about working with the peace corps setting up libraries around the world--and that was the job that appealed to me more than any tenure-track position at an nyc college. so i'm going to keep on doing what i'm doing and it will work out in the end. for now, it's a bit of a stalemate, but it won't go on like this forever.

hotel rwanda

Rachelle and I watched Hotel Rwanda last night, and I'm re-watching it again as Rachelle interpretted things for me as it went on--she studied conflict, international relations, peace process, the UN, etc, so she knew a lot about what went on in this movie and the entire Rwanda conflict, and our chatting about that and other assorted things prevented me from seeing each and every scene. It was so powerful and upsetting. Paul, a manager of a four-star international hotel, is a Hutu, and shelters his Tutsi wife, children, friends, family, and other refugees in his hotel by bribing the Hutus who wanted to murder the Tutsis. His doing so saves the lives of over 1200 people. It is a powerful and heart-breaking movie, especially as it is TRUE--based on a true storey, true events that happened.

I couldn't sleep at all last night b/c I had the images of the slaughtered people and the killers in my head and I kept waking up and dreaming of them and it was awful. And I feel so privileged with my white skin in my relatively safe NYC apt. One dream I had I was in Rwanda (helping the Tutsis) and I was so nervous I was going to get in trouble and killed by the Hutsis and at the end something bad was abt to happen (I was hiding something) but I woke up. And at one point, this nervous Tutsi woman and her child were sleeping in the same refuge house as me and when I went to sleep she was there and when I woke up she was gone--they had taken her away to be killed. It was so real and so horrid.

But this happened in 1994--I was only 14 years old. I was running track and memorizing lines in school plays and studying school and oh yeah, I heard of Rwanda, but I didn't know what was happening. And I feel guilty for not realizing about this sooner, about this genocide. But I am glad there are movies like this to tell us the true story. And you hear about Tom Cruise and bullshit movies and I think, "Damn, I am glad there are real movies being made." Even if it hurts, the truth needs to be told.

i love

i love the really intense look my cat gives me when she wants to eat. it's just a major stare down, with her eyes all big and hungry and it makes me want to run over and feed her immediately, even if she just ate. luckily i'm geting good at restraining and she's down to a normal-sized cat. meow!

if you are gonna look at me, i am gonna get a prize

When I was running today, I felt consumed with depression about money and my job situation and my whole life. It's like, when you grow up you think you'll be like your parents, but things are so different. As if I would graduate college, find myself propelled into a fascinating career, maybe go to grad school, work at the same wonderful job, get married, buy a house, have kids (this part is def out of the picture now!), do fascinating things like change your child's diapers and drink white wine with dinner. and now i'm 26, and i will probably have to borrow money from my parents to pay my rent, and i can't find a job full-time permanent doing what i'm doing, and i feel so depressed, like a failure. i've been dating someone for six years who can't bear to be living in the same state, much less get married, and the only exciting thing in my future is the possibility of getting another cat. and that i can't even afford and luna would probably claw its eyes out. and really, all i want to do is travel.
so i'm thinking all this as i'm running, getting sick of men old enough to be my grandfather checking me out, thinking, you should pay me to look at me, getting the old bikini kill song "tell me so" in my head.


Take out a piece of paper
Put your name up in the corner
Take out a piece of paper
Write everything down
Then you can read it back to me
And maybe you can hurt me
You can read it back to me
Maybe you could know something
About me
About me
If you are gonna look at me
I am gonna get a prize
If you are gonna look at me
I am gonna get a prize
If you are gonna look at me
I am gonna get a prize
Oh tell me so
I wanna know
Oh tell me so
I wanna know
And don’t stall
Tell me now
Oh shower stall
And I fell down, down
Down down down
If you are gonna look at me
I am gonna get a prize
If you are gonna look at me
I am gonna get a prize
If you are gonna look at me
I am gonna get a prize
Oh tell me so

overheard on the train

obviously gay guy: it's happening again. my eye is TOTALLY twitching.
his friend: no, i don't see anythinig. are you sure?
ogg: i'm sure. i can feel it. i can feel it but no one can see it. it's twitching.
hf: i don't see it.
ogg: it's not my eyeball, it's here. (he presses the skin of his eyelids, just below the eye and above)
(i'm trying not to laugh but i can't help it. i'm getting hysterical)
ogg: this is SO gross.
hf: yeah, i just don't see it.
ogg: it is so disturbing. (he presses his eye. i laugh.) this happens to shelia too, and no one else can see. only it's half of her face.
(i'm hysterically laughing now, because ogg is so theatrical.)
hf: what a drag.
ogg: yeah. my eye is still twitching.

a few reminders of europe this morning

i was looking at my calendar for january 22nd (i'm having a meeting) and noticed that the sunday was the 23. then i realized, oh it's a european calendar (trev bought me a small "cats of greece" calendar in, not surprisingly, greece)--mon-sun.

then, i realized my rice milk was bad (yuck, yuck, yuck, i am probably going to go back to milk which i love so much and rice milk, it's edible but that's about it) and the other one i had was warm...so i'm drinking cereal with warm milk. and i expected to want to gag but almost immediately after my first bite i thought, "europe." (in many countries they buy cartons of milk which are often unrefrigerated. other americans also complained, and i must admit, i think refrigerated milk is a much tastier idea!)

so even if i barely have enough money to buy my metrocard, i can still remember my travels. little days stand out--i though of my time where i went out for an elegant dinner alone in florence and drank one of the small carafes of wine (2 or 3 euro!) and then laughing my way home alone, thinking, oh, how i do love italy!

the manhattanite--stay away 'cause i live in brooklyn!

the dreaded manhattanite, straight of a sex in the city episode. you know he/she grew up in iowa, someplace completely dreadful, and to erase all memories of that, swear they are truly a new yorker, "i'd never move out of manhattan. queens. god. you've got to be kidding me. brooklyn!? isn't that by the bronx?" they seem to think that brooklyn is as far as connecticut. granted, growing up in long island, i have that jersey prejudice (although i must admit, i fell in love with two jerseyites, who both broke my heart, which is probably why i continue to avoid jersey!), but brooklyn, hello, i am a block and a half from the east river! i can see when there is traffic on the fdr (and it makes me glad i'm not on it!).

i used to be, "i'm never leaving manhattan." but when my boyfriend's grandmother passed away and he (with his brothers) inherited her house, i got to live in brooklyn rent free for nearly a year. having an entire house (four floors, including an attic, and a back yard, and a washing machine!) made me crave space, unlike the slovenly filth that i lived in when i was crammed into an east village apartment, or rather, very long space with a toilet, some furniture, two sinks and a shower. yup, the stove only worked some of the time, and the refrigerator was the size of the one i had in my dorm room in college. i'm glad to be beyond those days. i still miss it, i miss being near enough to walk to things, and being close to home...but at the same time, i prize my space and i love the distance i have from the tourists.

but i'm not supposed to be blathering about me. i'm annoyed at those people who are obsessed with hating the boroughs ("that's not even new york as far as i'm concerned.") and prizing their closets they call home. one guy i met was amazed; "you can afford a one bedroom?" yes, for slightly more than what he pays to share a small bedroom with another man (um, as far as i'm concerned, once you're past college years, you only share a bedroom with someone you are sleeping with, unless maybe it's your sister and she is broke and needs a place to stay or something like that) and was trying to get me excited by telling me how between his loft bed and the ceiling, there was maybe a foot and a half and how it can get really cramped during sex. um, yeah, i think i'll pass on that one.

so what is it? why are you so fearful of brooklyn? really, my commute to work, i hate to break it to you, it's probably the same as yours. in fact, it might even be shorter. *gasp* and even if it's not, i'm paying a lot cheaper rent for a lot more space and a lot less people...i'm so glad when i go running on the streets around here, i am not dodging crowds, but rather, dodging hipsters with poodles and polish ladies screeching in polish at me. yep, fun.

at the fertility clinic

desperate for money, i pondered donating my eggs. i went to an informational session today (no commitment and i don't know if i will end up doing it at all) at a fertility clinic. you get 8k if they end up taking your eggs, and they match you up with a donor--and it is very anonymous. all the women there were with either their mothers or husbands. the husbands went in with the wives, the mothers with the daughters. it was quite unusual, and i felt awkward with my ponytail and backpack (i had a huge stack of books to return to nypl!) and no one looked at me. i scrawled away on the questionaire in the waiting room, feeling nothing, writing down, not thinking.

Quote from Amelie

Without you today's emtoions would be the scurf of yesterday.
--Hipoloto

the marathon is only 11 months away

as i went on my morning run, i thought, "the marathon is only eleven months away!" most people know that "the marathon" means "the nyc marathon" which is the biggest marathon in the world! it's the one you want to win. it's not easy by any means (and yes, there are "easy marathons"-- i mean an easy course, with lots of downhills, or relatively flat) with five bridges, but the crowds--the people--it makes you want to run forever...not! i remember after finishing, being so exhausted but unable to sit. the way they arrange the finish, there is a mile before you can exit the park, and i so badly wanted to sit down with some food and just nap. i had to walk and then finally got my stuff, found my family, and felt tears in my eyes because i had accomplished an incredible feat. just getting over a bad bout of asthma, i am slowly building back up my miles. my goal is to be running 5 miles a day by the end of the month; i'd like to have the strength to be doing speed workouts by june. i'll keep you updated on my progress, as i am running strong!

missing traveling

ooooooooooooh i went to whole foods and got greek yogurt--one with honey, one without. they were quite pricey--$2 as opposed to less than 1 euro--but the memories of it will bring me back to the night in ios where t got a cheese pie, i got a yogurt, and we ate our after-clubbing food with the sun already up.

i am your librarian, not your sex goddess

frankly, i'm getting a little annoyed at my male patrons hitting on me. not all of them, but there are too many male patrons--from professors to students to prospective students. at work, i'm focused on work, thus not dressed to meet the love of my life. (and just in case you are interested, i've found the love of my life, unless of course, we break up tomorrow because he tells me he's moving back in just another six months and can't even remember the name of that city where i live--"the big one...i know it's big...ummm, it's a borough...ummm...." but no, we're fine.) anyway, i'm cataloging videos and dvds and trying to provide reference support and assistance. i can't teach you how to find academic materials online if you are staring at my ass or i can't tell you who freud is if you are asking me if i want to get dinner with you or i can't help but be annoyed after you ask me out because you heard me only seconds earlier saying "i love you sweetie" on the phone, and telling my workstudy that my partner is so great...and really, i'm not here for you to gawk at, for you to have your sex-in-the-stacks fantasy fulfilled. to me honey, that is old news.

leave those dishes in the sink...

i recant my earlier bitchfest. i wore a sweater my mother gave me out to meet alexis (although it was quite warm at the bars we were at and i took it off to hang out in a thinner shirt) and met her at her manhattan hostel. i met alexis in austria, and we went out to two different bars where we drank, chatted, had a laugh, celebrity-sighted, talked about sex and the city, talked about new york. and i think, yeah, my work situation is not the greatest, and one of my jobs could end tomorrow, but i'm getting paid, i have family who could pay my rent for me (on a loan basis, see; there are no millionaires or even wealthy people in my family!) a bit, and i forsee no danger in one of my jobs so i'll at least have those 20 hours of work a week coming in...and now, with vodka in my blood (not much, i don't even feel drunk now), yummy fresh mozzerella, sliced tomato, and fresh basil pizza in my belly, i'm ready for sleep! goodnight!

a grey new year

so far, 2006 has been a very ugly, nasty, grey year. yesterday it was grey and ugly. t and i slept off our fun new year's (we drank two bottles of wine at a house party, where we kissed in the new year, then met some friends at a bar) until noon, then grabbed some brunch. t spent much of the day on the computer looking at a laptop to buy, while i wrote a letter, did a bit of reading, thought about doing some editing. i feel like a sloth as i rarely write, and with my asthma giving me trouble, haven't run in ages. towards the end of the evening, after dinner, we spent hours on the futon, cuddling and talking: something i miss more than anything else. i miss his everday presence.

t left early this a.m., at 5am, and i slept till nearly 9. i did some shopping for foodstuffs, then went to my parents' house. i'm still pretty unhappy with everything, seeing as they basically send "since your brother is a crazy asshole we will fuck you and your sister over on xmas since he needs us more than you two need us," esp as i worked hard knitting scarves, baking, etc., and i felt my whole visit was rather awkward and insincere. maybe i don't want to be friends with my parents; i felt like a stranger and kept to myself. there is a family party tomorrow but i have mad shit to do and doubt i'll get there. and it's pissing rain. my mother gave me xmas gifts, sweaters, sweaters, and shirts. the map of the world she got me was 9 years old, sans frame, although i insisted i am no longer a college student using pushpins and fun tak to hold up (rather haphazardly) my interests on my wall in poster form. i don't really want a lot of stuff right now; i am giving stuff away, piling stuff, offering stuff, recycling stuff, trashing stuff. i want to be free for when i leave. so these gifts feel very confusing. i'll try them on later, except the gap sweater--my mom insists i never spoke about my opposition to the gap and its sweatshop labor policies (complete with a cheer: 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 a sweatshop, shop at GAP!), which was left at her house for a return and the money--which i despeartely need as my two jobs are NOT paying my bills--my savings keep decreasing and decreasing and soon there will be nothing left.

with the rain, and my parents and i on outs, and t no longer here, and my trouble breathing, i feel down. i hope this is not a foreshadowing for 2006--although my new years eve/new years early hours were fantastic.

the great job hunt

i feel like i'm doing nothing right now. i'm not working on any fresh stories, but am editing too many things at once. i have two jobs, one of which will end rather soon, and i need to find a full-time job where i am not going broke working. as it is now, i am dipping into my savings to survive--and barely, as my savings are almost gone. i have friends around the world, but they're so far--and i want to go so far. i love the fact that my love is making me a cheesecake in my cramped new york kitchen...but i dream of climbing in tibet, frowning as another cup of yak butter tea is pressed upon me...i know traveling is what i want to do, where i want to go, but in the meantime, it's getting harder and harder to keep my head above water.

i need to look for a full-time well-paying librarian job in nyc. any ideas? i'm smart, motivated, and a damn good librarian!

pieces

my life feels like it is in pieces right now. i am having a lot of trouble breathing. i do not get paid enough to pay all my bills, and am extremely worried about finances. i am not speaking with my parents and do not see myself speaking with them anytime soon. t does not live in ny, and may never. my job invovles supervising lazy, insolent, rude, and disrespectful workstudies. this crowding in my lungs makes me panic and reach for my inhaler as i wonder, then dismiss, allergies to wheat gluten and dairy. i have chocolate on my pants, and my pants, yes, are a bit too filled out. my new years' resolution involves losing the five pounds i somehow gained since october or so--which i know i will do as i plan on runnig more. my other resolution is finding full-time employment--something, really, to pay my bills. i have no savings because of how i am currently living. it's quite frightening, to be honest with you.

laundry list

sometimes i feel so overwhelmed with how much i have to do, how little money i have, how much money i owe, how cranky/stressed/tired i am. i wonder, why haven't humans figured out a technology to solve some of these problems?

the worst christmas of my life

so i don't feel like turning my blog into a sob story of how my brother is an asshole/lunatic/racist/sexist/hates everyone and how he destroyed christmas, or was christmas just fucked when my mother chose my brother over my sister and i...not sure but lissy came over and spent much of the day in tears on my couch while i read joyce carol oates, trying to cheer lissy up. we went to carmine's for dinner, lissy and i and her boyfriend, eating a lot, trying to maintain cheer. but while i feel pain and yes, anger towards my parents for yet again chosing the asshole over their two daughters ("because i know you can take care of yourself, and i know he needs me," my mother explained), i tried to diffuse the anger and pain by thinking positive thoughts...and it was hard. and how do you think positive thoughts when you feel pain everywhere? try to think before you speak, try to breathe, try to relax, try not to speak out of anger. now i'm going to read a dalai lama book to help soothe me.

strike!

so the mta union called for a strike, and i don't really want to give my opinion on the strike and how i feel the retirement age is too old (62, the mta wants) and the race increases (the union wants a super-high increase) but want to take about how the selfish union screwed over 7million subway riders--not counting the ones who drive everywhere and cab it.

rachelle, my biking guru, gave me advice on how to ride--which was fairly good. i left my house at 215, and got to work several minutes late (after 3pm). i rode up eagle, over the pulaski, down this street whose name i don't know, across the queensboro bridge (which sucked, sucked, SUCKED because the incline is so tremendous--i spent a good deal of time grunting as i biked across, feeling my legs shout, "NO!!!!"). after i got off the 59th st bridge (aka the queensboro bridge, which i mostly call the 59th st bridge), the traffic was nuts. i learned quickly, do something illegal (like ride your bike on the sidewalk) or you will get stuck in mad traffic. i rode cross-town on 57th street, then down 7th avenue. 57th street was fairly crowded, with cabbies grinning and waving at me, and truck drivers honking and almost hitting me. quite scary. i'm glad mabel--my solid purple bike--and my helmet were aiming to protect me. i rode down 7th avenue through times square, never thinking that i'd be riding through times square. i arrived at work positively wiped out, to a library with no one in it, locked and closed. i opened it up, "yes, security, we are open," and spent most of the time knitting and relaxing. i'm exhausted after the ride, and riding home, i hoped, would be a little less crazy--though i sincerely doubted that.

i rode home during rush hour with a backpack full of xmas crafts i tried to work on at work and a book to read (blonde by jco which is over 700 pages, UGH!). the roads were positively mad, traffic everywhere--i learned to ride in between the lanes when we were stopped at traffic lights so it wouldn't take me THAT long to get home. going over the bridge there were mad pedestrians and bikes--but mostly pedestrians. one pedestrian started attacking a cyclist in front of me. pretty scary. when i got off from the bridge in queens, the red cross was handing out hot cocoa.

i'm so exhausted. my mom reminded me of how much this is hurting businesses--esp small businesses like the shops in union square flea market that are open just for the holidays. "how selfish the mta union is," everyone keeps saying. i've heard it more times today than i can even count.

i'm going to soak in a hot, hot bath now.

i hope the strike ends soon, like, now.

strike

BOOOOOOO! there's a strike today, and i have to ride my bike to work in the freezing cold instead of taking the train. bleh!

roma

i loved rome, even though i came down with a horrid rash that kept me from enjoying much of rome. the art museums--gasp--were filled with more paintings that i could possibly comprehend. i learned that at the colosseum they would put on plays--free to all--where someone would get murdered. not wanting to murder an actor, or fake it, they would go to prison and go to the death row area, look at the prisoners--"okay, that one looks like our star"--and kill the person on stage. crazy. i met up with andy again and when he left, i felt lonely almost. i also discovered the book the beach by alex garland which i picked up when a backpacker went to the bathroom. he let me read it and i finished it that night. i saw the forum, the colosseum, the parthenon, wandering all over. i ate too much gelati, went out to dinner with people i met only hours earlier, and felt a lump in my throat as i realized my backpacking trip was ending soon--i would meet t next in greece, which was nice, but not the same as what i was used to.

i wrote in my journal as i rode the express train from roma to its airport: i feel a dread as i am on the train to the airport. i am leaving italy, my favorite country, land of fantastic pizza, amazing pastries; roma has been lovely. italy has been phenomenal: I CANNOT LEAVE.

and now, back in new york, i can't believe i'm not there.

what holds me down

since i've left in may, i feel this disdain for material objects right now. i don't want any more THINGS. and being the holiday season, it's all about things, things, THINGS. since i have been back, i have been getting rid of more and more clothing, cleaning out shelves, closets, containers, to trim things down. i adore my books, and probably won't be getting rid of many of them soon. at the same time, i am attempting to slim down my holdings, my ownings...i doubt i'll be like my friend chris who has everything he owns in a couple of duffle bags anytime soon, but let me tell you, that's where i'm heading.

my spirit tells me the road is calling me.

pondering at work

i feel like i'm being boring lately. everything in my life seems routine or habit. have i settled into a habitual routine favored by most americans? please tell me no. i have a third job, just for two weeks, so i've been quite busy. all the money i'm making from that job i'm putting into a special bank account just for the purpose of saving money for a trip. i never have time for me. to write, to paint, to practice yoga, to do what i love to do. instead i'm running around, swilling wine at holiday parties, discussing existentialism with a stranger on the train, making t's holiday scarf, working, working, working, not sleeping, ignoring piles of dirt and dust bunnies in my apartment, holiday shopping...i wonder if there is a way to pry myself out of this rut. wait, i know! i can take a trip!

napoli

i was supposed to be in napoli longer but i couldn't leave amalfi. as soon as i got there, i dumped my stuff at the hostel, grabbed a slice of amazing pizza, and caught the bus to pompei. at pompei, i got the audio guide and wandered in the sweltering dry suffocating heat until i felt i thoroughly knew the culture of pompei. truly interesting. everyone was clustered around the bodies that were there, that are somehow replicas of bodies--covered in plaster cast or something like that. (at the point i saw them, i was thinking, water shower ugh.) after, i went back to napoli and got super lost trying to get back to my hoste; two neapolitan police officers drove me to my hostel. i got horrible directions to a pizzeria, ended up finding a pretty good place where i got an entire margherita pizzeria and a fantastic calzone, eating both for dinner in a park. yum. yes i did eat my way across europe. i hung out at my hostel, too paranoid to be wandering the neapolitan streets at dark, as petty crime is EXTREMELY prevalent. i was exhausted, and fell asleep early with the lights all on and the hostel cat taking up most of my pillow. awwww, simon! the next morning i went to the archeological museum, which is where most of the things they could take away from pompei are kept. i ended up befriending a security guard who let me into closed-off sections of the museum. he was really cool but ended up trying to take me out. instead, i headed back to my hostel, grabbed my pack, and set off for the train station to head to roma.

amalfi

besides the cinque terre, amalfi stole my heart. ahhh, i already pictured myself climbing 300 plus steps to my house each day, views of the ocean from high above, strolling through my small vineyards...ah, it seems like heaven. i planned on staying two days, but stayed longer: i was in love.

after a chaotic struggle to arrive in amalfi, i found the owners of the hostel with some difficulty. they placed me with my backpack, my daypack, on the back of this guy's scooter, and we scooted around the mountains, yup, all those hairpin turns. my mouth was permanently open--omg!!! i buried my face in the guy's back, nervous. i was convinced death was near.

after arriving, josh showed me around ("he has a crush on you, fo'sho," i was later told. i mentioned, "my boyfriend," several times. now that things with t and i are bad, i think, "wow, you could be living in napoli and amalfi with an ozzie. but not, that could never be. i was never into josh anyway.), and then harmony and dylan arrived. ah, harmony was a wonderful, wonderful person who i adored. harmony and dylan and i headed the 1,000 steps down to the beach (you had to climb 300 steps to get to our hostel from the main road!), pausing often as we were exhausted. we swam for a while, and i hadn't showered since before swimming in croatia so i'm sure i mixed up seawater! yippie!

after, the entire hostel went out to dinner. we had so much fun, drinking, chilling, eating, and then we went out to the bar. the bartender, willy, was awesome, and he and his brother owned the hostel--i LOVED them! plus, vodka and blood orange juice, YUM!

harmony and i did the walk of the gods, which we got super lost on and had a brilliant time. we drank more, went to the beach, that was amalfi. when i left on the ferry to napoli, a huge lump in the bottom of my throat created an ache within me.

another bratty library patron

this woman at the library prints out an entire college catalog--you know, all the information about courses, financial aid, etc. i'm like, "who the hell would print out 200 pages?" and i ask politely, and this woman volunteers that it is hers quite boldly.

i say, "you can't just print out all this! you should contact the college for a catalog, or print out the necessary pages. it's a lot of paper, and we can't afford to waste it."

bitchily, she glares at me. "my admissions counselor told me that since i pay tuition i can print all the pages i want."

really? does that go along with since you pay tuition, you can repeatedly flush the toilets in the bathroom, just for the hell of it????

library drama

here are some recent insane things that have happened at my job as a librarian for a two year college.


on thursday, i was at the desk by myself, with a fairly humming library, but in control. i heard screaming, and saw a flurry of people in the hallway. i picked up the phone to call security but realized by the time they would get up there, it might be too late for them to do any good. as one of the only "adults" (the students are often older than me but act years younger; does college mature one? have they not reached that point?) i ran out into the middle. the two women were held back by their friends (one or two people held each woman back) and they were screaming, attempting to leap out of their friends' arms to scratch the other one's eyes out or punch them or whatever it is people do in fights. i tried to scream, "STOP IT, STOP IT! LEAVE IMMEDIATELY!" but my voice almost seemed swallowed. another man also inserted himself in the middle. the women were dragged into opposite stairwells by their friends.
i went back into the library, to staff the desk and finish cataloging the new criminal justice and fashion books. one of the women who was part of the fight came in with her friend several minutes later.
"she only acts ghetto when her friends are around," she said angrily.
hmmmm, seems like acting ghetto is a way to impress others?????



R, one of the regulars, began hanging around the reference desk. due to the earlier chaos, and the fact that we were quite busy, i was behind in my cataloging. he kept talking to me and talking to me.
a female student J came up.
"i need a book on dream interpretation."
i told her we didn't have much on the subject, but she should try the public library.
she goes, "i want to see what you got."
i tell her the only two titles are by freud--"he is going to tell you some different sorts of things about your dreams, like you want to sleep with your father, things like that." she stares at me blanky, snatches the scrap paper with the call number on it from my outstretched fingers, and heads to the stacks.
R asks, "who's freud?"
"freud? sigmund freud? you don't know who he is?" i am shocked; how can someone not know who freud is. i'm not a fan--i read dora for a class once--and don't know too much about him, but i know who he is, the basics. it's like an american not knowing the george washington cherry tree story.
"is he, uh, is he like einstein?" R asks me, serious.
i try not to laugh.
"no einstein is quite different. einstein developed the theory of relativity--he was the one who thought of e=mc2. freud was the father of psychoanalysis. he..."
R looks lost.
J comes back out from the stacks. "i got these two i want."
i check them out, later noticing they are two different copies of the same exact title. i suppose she's quite perceptive.
R begins quizzing me on einstein and freud and nuclear war. i have to do original cataloging for four more fashion books. finally, i hand him over to T who is decorating the library with holiday decorations. i pass out scissors and white paper.
"here, make some snowflakes."
R shows me each rather un-crafty snowflake he makes and i praise him. i feel like we have a very odd relationship.
when i close up, i have to kick him out, gently. after i punch out, i head to the elevator where he pops up again. he starts talking to me in the elevator about how he's going to be a cop. great, if he's protecting nyc....
on the street, we walk to the subway together, me asking him about where he lives, that sort of thing. R is the king of mumbles; i miss half of what he says, and he speaks softly, so it's hard when you work in times square. right as we walk approach 7th avenue, he says, "I need to get your number."
i stop it before it starts. "i have a boyfriend."
"oh. oh." we say nothing for several beats, and then he says, "where's greenpoint?"

missing traveling: who i am

i feel like i can't do this anymore. i like being a librarian, but looking at photos on Why Go (part of the brilliant
Bootsnall), i feel, no, i'm in the wrong place. i need to be traveling. i need to go to latin america, to tibet, to nepal, to india, to russia, to
fiji. i need to be with my pack, talking with people, learning so much that i could never learn from books. i miss my backpack; it is hibernating
on the top shelf of my small closet. even my sucky pack towel, i miss you. i miss traveling so much right now, i know i will never be a cheery
wife and mother or a careerwoman. i'm a librarian, and i'm a radical cheerleader and a radical librarian, and i love to read and write and
practice yoga and run, but my spirit belongs on the open road.

financially, i am not yet on my feet. i took a temporary job at a brooklyn college for the exam period and that is going to the trip fund.
those days when i eat an apple and yogurt as my snack instead of heading outdoors--that saving money is my trip fund. i'm going to go again,
hopefully soon, because it is out there, the open road, that i truly feel free.

it's a winter wonderland

it's snowing here in brooklyn, quite early in the season (technically it's not even winter yet) but it's still delightful. i left work a tad early to hop the 722 train to long island, and went to my parents' house. my father got pizza, calzone, and a salad, and we ate it, and then decorated the tree while the wonderful black and white edition of miracle on 34th street played. we got the tree decorated pretty fast, and it was beautiul. multi-colored lights, my fave, with such beautiful ornaments. i love my parents' tree.

i announced my intention to return to brooklyn and my father seemed disappointed in the car ride to the train. "i was waiting for the snow to come down harder, so we could take a walk." all at once i felt terrible and almost asked him to turn the car around, but i really wanted to get back here; i have heaps of things to do, and wanted to get a decent night of sleep. i thought how nice it would be, it's so pretty, especially with all of the christmas lights lit up in the snow; so beautiful.

getting back to brooklyn, the snow wasn't as heavy, and it wasn't sticking; whereas there is grass in long island, we have cement in the city. it seemed ugly almost, and i felt depressed, imagining myself drinking chammomile tea after a hearty walk with my dad. instead, i'm where the snow isn't as lovely, in my long nightgown, readying myself for bed.

happy holidays!

dubrovnik, croatia

dubrovnik was truly beautiful. i took what turned out to be a 6 hour bus ride from split to dubrovnik. going to the bus i met rachel, a super cool ozzie. we met these two english guys who were drinking their way across europe. we decided to try to find an apartment when we got to dubrovnik; what the woman advertised and what we saw was different; there weren't beds for all, but rachel and i shared a big bed. we had separate linen and it was totally fine. rachel and i spent the days together, walking the city walls in dubrovnik, exploring local restaurants, sunning on the glorious beaches and swimming in the beautiful clean oceans--with views to boot. i adored dubrovnik, even the touristy bits. i also heard some of the most amazing street performers in my life--they played vivaldi so beautifully that i felt shivers.

croatia: split & hvar island

i was in split and hvar only for three days, but was able to enjoy the loveliness of these places. split is full of beautiful old buildings, even if people seem to hate it. i only spent a day there, but enjoyed myself, wandering, looking, walking. on hvar, i stayed at a shady hostel and spent most of my time sunning on the rocky beaches, swimming amidst italian tourists, and drinking with my irish roommates. i had a blast. the ferry from ancona to split took forever, and i was wise to get a cabin--a 4 person (the cheapest) which was totally empty--i slept the best i had in my entire life.