so carnaval finally ended. i never thought it would. cairpirnhas, dancing, axe, i love it!
basically, it~s like a week of constant street parties. samba bands frequently marching past my hostel, drumming groups, dancing, it~s over. i~m really into axe music now, and can sing along. i~m probably going to head out and buy a couple cds later this afternoon.
last night was the best night. it was fat boy slim with layo e bushwacka and DJ MARKY! you know who i was there for! mr marky himself! i paid 260 real for my tickets and they were up to 400 real at the end and it sold out. it was basically like zurich~s street parade with thousands of brazilians and gringos dancing in the streets. when the drum n bass came on, i of course got a little bit crazy with my dancing, but so did others. heaps of fun. i ended up going to bed at 730 this am if that~s any indication.
otherwise, the carnaval week was just nuts. the bands did circuits around the pelhourino district, and i would hear noise from my hostel from about noon until two am. it was just nuts. the carnaval was everywhere.
carnaval also brings out this thing in people where they just want to kiss you. i.e., a guy says something, i say, ño falo portugese, he replies, english, i say sim, then he says you are beautiful can i kiss you. i say no and he asks why not. when they start to get upset and ask why not i tell them it~s because they are ugly.i~m mean, haha but i~m getting sick of these annoying guys!
i had some weird swollen ankle thing. at first i though it was an allergic reaction to a bug bite but rebecca (my roommate who~s doing an internship on tropical diseases in forteleza and is in med school) read the packet of malarone and one of the possible side effects is fluid in the legs. i finished my malarone yesterday and the swelling appears to have gone down. i went to a pharmacy and they gave me some stuff too. i just love getting medical assistance in foreign countries. between rebecca~s portugese and my translation book and the minimal english of the pharmacist, we were able to get it sorted out. oh and crista, i had to skip running yesterday and have been decreasing my running during this. i knew i wouldnt run that much, and there certainly have been no twelve milers or twenty since ive been here.
i~m feeling really sad. for me traveling is a way of life. going home after such a short holiday--i dread the thought, esp the five million questions at work. i know im going to isolate myself. t and i talked abt going on the big trip i~ve always wanted to do with a heavy focus on asia. we~ll see...hopefully!
right now, i can~t get into my email for whatever reason. frustrating b;c i paid in advance and now i~m not using it all. but that~s the deal for now, so if i~m not responding to your emails, that~s why.
so another night in salvador (there are still drumming groups making the circuits), some kiwi caipies and maybe a fun things tomorrow--i leave for rio in the afternoon. i~ll be home tuesday.
i know i sound bratty with my whining~~~i~m so glad to be here and knoiw i~m lucky to travel but at the same time, i~m sad to leave. i miss you all and hope everyone is doing great. i know sad things have happened at home but i love you!!!
28 February 2007
10 February 2007
manaus, brazil
so after too many hours crammed into airplanes, i arrived at manaus. i hear bk in nyc it~s freezing and there~s a winter storm advisory but im pleased that it~s humid, mid 80-s or so--very comfy.
so far i havent done much--ive only been here a handful of hours. i started my time in manaus by booking a jungle tour--i~ll be in the rainforest from tomorrow morning until tuesday early evening. it sounds good and the guy said they~ve had vegetarians before so hopefully i won~t starve. i~m really excited about that.
my hostel is a bit of a dump but i~ll survive. only two nights here total.
after i signed up for my jungle tour, i went on a run of manaus. the streets are crazy--absolutely crammed with people and it was an adventure but kind of fun. i went to see teatro amazonas which was pretty, and tried to find food--unsuccessfully. brazil is not kind to vegetarians.
i must find food or i~ll surely faint.
so far i havent done much--ive only been here a handful of hours. i started my time in manaus by booking a jungle tour--i~ll be in the rainforest from tomorrow morning until tuesday early evening. it sounds good and the guy said they~ve had vegetarians before so hopefully i won~t starve. i~m really excited about that.
my hostel is a bit of a dump but i~ll survive. only two nights here total.
after i signed up for my jungle tour, i went on a run of manaus. the streets are crazy--absolutely crammed with people and it was an adventure but kind of fun. i went to see teatro amazonas which was pretty, and tried to find food--unsuccessfully. brazil is not kind to vegetarians.
i must find food or i~ll surely faint.
04 February 2007
mahatma gandhi quote
"whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it."
31 January 2007
religion
Sometimes, I think religion is to blame for many of the evils in the world. I just saw a thing on the BBC about a terror plot foiled—apparently, these individuals planned on beheading a British Muslim soldier and posting a video of it on the Internet. Today, when I was running in Greenpoint (Greenpoint has traditionally been a very Polish, thus, white neighborhood), several cars had swastikas and anti-Semitic comments and symbols drawn in the snow on the hood of the car. I was so angry and did my best to wipe them out, and was not struck by the irony of anti-Semitic comments followed by, “Jesus loves everyone.” Yeah, everyone except you, you hateful jerk, is what I thought.
Reminds me of the bumper sticker my mom loves, "Jesus may love you but everyone else thinks you're an asshole."
Reminds me of the bumper sticker my mom loves, "Jesus may love you but everyone else thinks you're an asshole."
22 January 2007
sunday's half-marathon
so i ran the coldest race i have ever run before on sunday: a half-marathon in central park. i know, sounds fun? at the start, it was 20 F (feels like 7F!) and i was literally crying. it was that cold. my hands and my toes hurt so much. my feet started to thaw out after the first four or five miles, but it was such a miserable race. while running, i realized i was running way slow, and told myself it was okay. honestly, i haven't been training that hardcore lately, just starting to get back into things. and because i was crying in the beginning of the race, i told myself, "this is just a training run, not a race. a run." as long as i finished sub-two hours, i'd be happy.
if you're wondering, how bad was it, here's how bad:
if you're wondering, how bad was it, here's how bad:
- there was black ice all over the course, mostly by the water stops
- when you got to a fluid station, instead of grabbing a cup of water, you'd grab a cup of solid ice. this happened to be on several occasions.
- my fingers hurt with the cold the entire race.
- when i peed around mile 8 (i had to go!), steam rose up in the porta-potty after i peed!
17 January 2007
i keep checking the weather forecast...
as if suddenly weather.com is going to reveal to me it's spring. *sigh* i must be patient.
15 January 2007
why i'm anti-car
i ride in trains, buses, cabs, and yes, sometimes even cars. (the overly-anal out there will try to point out that cabs are cars, but this is nyc, baby, they're magical! ha!) i understand that for some people (like my darling crista), cars are a necessity in your life. the grocery store is five miles away, there is no easily accessible public transport system where you live, you have a disability and a car allows you to get around, you work 70 miles from where you live (and you are not moving from where you live because your honey cannot move or whatever!) and you need to drive, whatever--i understand you have your reason for driving.
now here's some of my reasons for NOT driving!
for v and w, who are also carless by choice. i'm sick of defending my decision to never want to own a car. perhaps this will change someday, but i hope not.
now here's some of my reasons for NOT driving!
- environmental destruction. cars produce heaps of pollution.
- oil. oil equals the reason we're in iraq, the reason chevron and others have destroyed huge sections of the rainforest and alaska and too many other places.
- people drive like morons. the less i drive, the less i have to be around morons.
- i don't want to drive. i can't picture myself hopping into my ugly little (or big, gas-guzzling car) car every day to drive to work, deal with snarls of traffic. i like walking, running, riding my bike, taking the train, and even the bus, much more. these are also all methods i use for getting around.
- i hate the way people can't seem to walk five minutes or ten minutes. they complain about being overweight but then won't walk to the deli 3 blocks away. they drive. this seems to be a very american thing, from what i've seen.
- i like being able to read on my commute. right now, i'm reading we don't need another wave and news of a kidnapping. i recommend both.
- i don't want to be another driver. i don't want my commute or my transport to be causing excess environmental damage. yes, i know, buses and trains are not super friendly, but it's MUCH better for me to cram on a bus with 50 other people than me to get in my car and drive behind 49 other cars with 1 person in them each.
- um, i've forgotten how to drive. i haven't driven in over 2.5 years and i honestly forget which is the gas and which is the brake. seriously.
for v and w, who are also carless by choice. i'm sick of defending my decision to never want to own a car. perhaps this will change someday, but i hope not.
be a smart pedestrian
i'm a pedestrian, and i never want to own a car. that said, stupid non-car-drivers really piss me off. well, it's more like i'm annoyed at their stupidity which is extremely dangerous to them. please, don't do these things unless you want to die:
1. run in the street with headphones on.
um, you can't hear the cars and you're in the street. first off, why do you need to be in the street. yes, i run in the street when crossing or if the sidewalk is closed off (but i run to the other side generally), but there's no reason to run in the potholed streets of nyc. but to do this with headphones--you're in car territory, and if you can't hear them, you may get hit. and you may die.
2. ride a bike on the sidewalk.
in nyc, the rule is: you ride in the road. if there isn't a bike lane, you get to take an entire lane. (okay, car drivers in nyc, you hear this? stop honking, i know you're there, and i ride towards the side but i'm not gonna pull over and stop. honking makes me nervous, and i could fall and get smushed and then you'll have to go to jail for involuntary humanslaughter, or whatever they call it.) so don't ride on the sidewalk when people are running, walking, etc. generally, there's not enough room!
3. ride without a helmet.
rachelle covered this in her blog a while ago, but if you get hit, and you fly off your bike, and smash your head, a helmet could save your life. if you want to die, though, by all means, ride helmetless. show off your hairdo in that case.
4. walk with your ipod blasting, completely oblivious to others around you.
(or whatever music device you use)
i admit, when that song comes on my ipod, i'll turn up the volume, start rocking it up, maybe dancing, mouthing the words, even singing. i rationalize that i'm entertaining and shocking all of the bored people in the financial district. BUT i try not to turn the volume up so much that i can't hear what's going on. (like in the bank, when they say, "next! NEXT! NEXT!" and that woman in front of you still doesn't move. you have to remember: i am out in public, and yes my music is making this tedious walk a bit more pleasant and even bearable, but you need to keep the volume low enough so you can hear things. (if you want to keep it at max, you'll prob destroy your ears and perhaps get smushed by a car.)
saturday i was running fairly fast on the sidewalk outside central park, at mile 14 or 15 of an 18 or 19 miler, feeling like i wanted to hurt someone and wanting some waffles, no more power gels or energy jelly beans, when this guy in front of me was walking down the sidewalk, hogging it. "excuse me!" i shouted. he did not turn around or move. "EXCUSE ME! PARDON!" and still he did not move. and i'm pretty loud. finally, "EXCUSE ME!" as i'm running past him--which is the point at which he decides, "i think i'll randomly move over." so i ran into him. he was a pissed off tourist and i shouted at him (could he hear me over his ipod?) and he started yelling at me in a foreign language (i was shouting so i didn't get a real sense of it--something eastern european, but not polish because i know that so easily, living in greenpoint) and i yelled back, including, "i hate tourists!" he was a tourist (you can tell, especially with this damaged-hearing person) and i was so frustrated.
and i'm not saying i'm perfect. this is my blog and my space to offer a bitchfest to the world, and i'm merely voicing my opinions. i listen to music too loud and sing too loud and i cut across the street (jaywalk) when i probably shouldn't, but i try to keep as smart as possible and generally don't allow anything stupid to become a habit.
1. run in the street with headphones on.
um, you can't hear the cars and you're in the street. first off, why do you need to be in the street. yes, i run in the street when crossing or if the sidewalk is closed off (but i run to the other side generally), but there's no reason to run in the potholed streets of nyc. but to do this with headphones--you're in car territory, and if you can't hear them, you may get hit. and you may die.
2. ride a bike on the sidewalk.
in nyc, the rule is: you ride in the road. if there isn't a bike lane, you get to take an entire lane. (okay, car drivers in nyc, you hear this? stop honking, i know you're there, and i ride towards the side but i'm not gonna pull over and stop. honking makes me nervous, and i could fall and get smushed and then you'll have to go to jail for involuntary humanslaughter, or whatever they call it.) so don't ride on the sidewalk when people are running, walking, etc. generally, there's not enough room!
3. ride without a helmet.
rachelle covered this in her blog a while ago, but if you get hit, and you fly off your bike, and smash your head, a helmet could save your life. if you want to die, though, by all means, ride helmetless. show off your hairdo in that case.
4. walk with your ipod blasting, completely oblivious to others around you.
(or whatever music device you use)
i admit, when that song comes on my ipod, i'll turn up the volume, start rocking it up, maybe dancing, mouthing the words, even singing. i rationalize that i'm entertaining and shocking all of the bored people in the financial district. BUT i try not to turn the volume up so much that i can't hear what's going on. (like in the bank, when they say, "next! NEXT! NEXT!" and that woman in front of you still doesn't move. you have to remember: i am out in public, and yes my music is making this tedious walk a bit more pleasant and even bearable, but you need to keep the volume low enough so you can hear things. (if you want to keep it at max, you'll prob destroy your ears and perhaps get smushed by a car.)
saturday i was running fairly fast on the sidewalk outside central park, at mile 14 or 15 of an 18 or 19 miler, feeling like i wanted to hurt someone and wanting some waffles, no more power gels or energy jelly beans, when this guy in front of me was walking down the sidewalk, hogging it. "excuse me!" i shouted. he did not turn around or move. "EXCUSE ME! PARDON!" and still he did not move. and i'm pretty loud. finally, "EXCUSE ME!" as i'm running past him--which is the point at which he decides, "i think i'll randomly move over." so i ran into him. he was a pissed off tourist and i shouted at him (could he hear me over his ipod?) and he started yelling at me in a foreign language (i was shouting so i didn't get a real sense of it--something eastern european, but not polish because i know that so easily, living in greenpoint) and i yelled back, including, "i hate tourists!" he was a tourist (you can tell, especially with this damaged-hearing person) and i was so frustrated.
and i'm not saying i'm perfect. this is my blog and my space to offer a bitchfest to the world, and i'm merely voicing my opinions. i listen to music too loud and sing too loud and i cut across the street (jaywalk) when i probably shouldn't, but i try to keep as smart as possible and generally don't allow anything stupid to become a habit.
the main thing i'm sick of
years ago, a good friend of mine suddenly broke her lease, mid-month. she had a dirt-cheap apartment in washington heights--this was several years ago but it was something ridiculously like $500 or $700 for a 1 bedroom. really nice. the reason she broke her lease? "i couldn't stand being sexually harassed every single day. i never could leave my house without hearing shouting. i stopped wearing revealing outfits, heels and skirts. it was so bad. i just couldn't take it."
i've been getting really frustrated with some of these jerks in my neighborhood. no, not the hipsters that are raising the rents. well, yeah, i'm frustrated at them too, but i'm frustrated by these certain men. elsewhere in my hood it's fine, but they seem to congregate in this ten block or so radius--the ten blocks closest to me that i pass whenever i go to my health food store, train, anywhere basically i want to go. to escape my house, i must pass these jerks.
they see me daily but still, they must stare and leer. if i wear a short skirt, or have my hair down, or wear my big hoops, or more makeup, or even, if i'm simply well-covered up, they say stuff to me. they hang out all along the main strip, but especially in front of this one loser's deli (#1 reason to never, ever shop there), harassing every woman that goes by. there is this one jerk i especially loathe that i want to throw up on. he has children yet likes to say revolting things to women as they walk past--when his kiddies are away.
basically, i'm frustrated. i understand why my friend broke her lease and lost her apartment. i'm starting to get incredibly frustrated with these men and want to just feel comfortable walking down the street. i may move but i may not but for now, i dream of a world where i am free.
i've been getting really frustrated with some of these jerks in my neighborhood. no, not the hipsters that are raising the rents. well, yeah, i'm frustrated at them too, but i'm frustrated by these certain men. elsewhere in my hood it's fine, but they seem to congregate in this ten block or so radius--the ten blocks closest to me that i pass whenever i go to my health food store, train, anywhere basically i want to go. to escape my house, i must pass these jerks.
they see me daily but still, they must stare and leer. if i wear a short skirt, or have my hair down, or wear my big hoops, or more makeup, or even, if i'm simply well-covered up, they say stuff to me. they hang out all along the main strip, but especially in front of this one loser's deli (#1 reason to never, ever shop there), harassing every woman that goes by. there is this one jerk i especially loathe that i want to throw up on. he has children yet likes to say revolting things to women as they walk past--when his kiddies are away.
basically, i'm frustrated. i understand why my friend broke her lease and lost her apartment. i'm starting to get incredibly frustrated with these men and want to just feel comfortable walking down the street. i may move but i may not but for now, i dream of a world where i am free.
one tree grew in brooklyn
this is sad, but amuses me...my block is so sparse of trees (there are several at the far end of the block, and then one in front of my house, followed by a few more), that when i give cabbies directions i'll say, "my house is three-quarters of the way up the block, the one with that tree in front of it."
where i used to live--in southern brooklyn--we had trees. prospect park was a paradise. i tried to convince a friend from colorado that there were trees. "oh, i know what you meant," he said. " there was a book. a tree grows in brooklyn. it didn't say, 'many trees grow in brooklyn.' a tree. so i guess you have seen that one tree." ha-ha, seanne.
where i used to live--in southern brooklyn--we had trees. prospect park was a paradise. i tried to convince a friend from colorado that there were trees. "oh, i know what you meant," he said. " there was a book. a tree grows in brooklyn. it didn't say, 'many trees grow in brooklyn.' a tree. so i guess you have seen that one tree." ha-ha, seanne.
10 January 2007
from a story i wrote a while ago (i love this line!)
I went horseback riding last year and it occurred to me I didn’t need anything from Vin.
03 January 2007
the savages: my version of a book review
i just finished reading joe kane's THE SAVAGES today. it's the story of the huaorani and their fight against the oil companies that are ruining great expanses of the amazon. when i finished it today, tears were in my eyes (and i was on the train, so i'm sure i looked bizarre, but that ought to tell you how powerful it was) and i am so glad i don't own a car. oil is dirty, dirty business, and the way that the oil companies have ruined the lives, health, and civilization of these people disgusts me.
01 January 2007
what was 2006
before i go congratulating everyone on HAPPY NEW YEAR 2007, i thought i'd do a little thinking about my 2006 (prompted by an email from steve).
my 2006 was full of a lot of changes:
and now...
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!
my 2006 was full of a lot of changes:
- lost a long-term temp job with one-day's notice when the assignment was up
- quit my job at the technical college
- started working at the amazing nonprofit i currently work at
- went to boulder for a long weekend to see many old treasured friends
- went to london for andrew and john's wedding
- spent a lovely summer in nyc with heaps of free concerts, free shows, and so much fun!
- went to the beach as many times as possible
- became a better knitter
- ran the nyc marathon with a personal best of 3:51
- decided to start running more marathons
- realized my family is totally crazy and i'm spending holidays away from them
- turned 27
- realized what my priorities are in life: my happiness, my health (go organic foods!), my running, my cat, my traveling, my writing
and now...
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!
29 December 2006
samba into my heart
as i'm going to brazil for carnaval and fully experience the magic of it, i took a samba class last night. i learned i can pick up moves pretty quickly (which i knew already) but need to practice shaking my hips/ass (which i also knew already). but i had *heaps* of fun, tossing my body in ways i only did to crazy music on the dance floor, but throwing it in these bizarre leaps of heaps that somehow worked. TOO much fun. A coworker of mine asked, "How will you be sore from dancing?" I am sore--my body is not used to bending like that. I was sweating profusely--hair stuck to my face. It was a beautiful, living, amazing experience, complete with live drummers. I'm a convert. I plan on dancing as much as I can afford it until I go to Brazil...and then some afterwards!
27 December 2006
you have those days....
where everyone can't stop looking at you, and you get all defensive, "what? WHAT?" and then you have those days no one notices you, and you think, "what? WHAT?"
and then you have those days where you notice no one. and honestly, those are the most peaceful of all.
and then you have those days where you notice no one. and honestly, those are the most peaceful of all.
25 December 2006
merry christmas
after sleeping for ten hours, i feel heaps better than i did yesterday (think flu-like symptoms, nausea, chills, aching). am now drinking a cup of emergen-c in my running clothes, ready to stretch and head out for a run. i think i'll go along the italian catholic hood b/c it's likely to be a lively scene. i'm glad i'm not missing seeing my grandparents (already missed christmas last year b/c my parents have a psychotic son) as i feel well enough to attend the formalities associated with cousins you try to stomach and questions you're forced to answer as you realize, your life is your life and a question put forth to the entire dining room table will never properly sum it up.
22 December 2006
a good run
had a really great run. made christmas gifts, then went out for a nice long run and came home to some amazing cookies v baked me. (i love you, venessa!) during my ran, while speeding past fortunato brothers (the best italian pastries in nyc!), someone was blasting "i'll be home for christmas" (i think it was the frank sinatra version) and i just started singing along.
20 December 2006
my mom was wrong
according to a study mentioned in today's times, most americans have had premarital sex. 91% in fact. shocking! i like that the researcher talks about because of findings like this (and they go back into adults from the 1940s!), it makes it more relevant than ever for our teens to get sexual education--which, in the usa, is very hard. i know my mother--though i do love her--gave me very little sexual education, and school wasn't much better. abstinence-only education is horrible, as people ARE having sex.
what people also forget is that one of the ways so many women get stds is FROM THEIR HUSBANDS. (related.) you think, "we're in a monogamous relationship..." when he's cheating on you and not using condoms... i'm sure it also happens in the reverse way (women giving men stds) but you mostly hear about the husbands giving the wives the stds. and if you have no education, you may not understand the signs...
it's just really, really sad.
education is key. and mom, i really do love you.
what people also forget is that one of the ways so many women get stds is FROM THEIR HUSBANDS. (related.) you think, "we're in a monogamous relationship..." when he's cheating on you and not using condoms... i'm sure it also happens in the reverse way (women giving men stds) but you mostly hear about the husbands giving the wives the stds. and if you have no education, you may not understand the signs...
it's just really, really sad.
education is key. and mom, i really do love you.
13 December 2006
what luna thinks of the holidays:
"i like hiding under the tree. that's about it. and lying on top of the wrapping paper you're trying to use. merry catmess."
02 December 2006
people are humans
new yorkers will know what i mean.
tired, after christmas shopping all day, t and i were waiting for the L train to whisk us back to brooklyn. when the train came, of course, we were standing between two cars, and as the left looked nearly empty, and the right, the last and always the most crowded, was quite crowded, we immediately went into the train car. we were tired, and wanted to sit.
immediately, we both noticed the foul smell in the car, and commented on it, but were tired. people moved to the next carriages, noses wrinkled, while others, like us, grateful to have a seat, remained. it wasn't the worst i've smelled, and i've smelled some really terrible things before. we ignored it as best we could, and talked about our day. at the next stop, people entered, made faces, and ran into the next very-crowded cars. (this is the same as the non-air-conditioned train in the summertime.)
at 3rd avenue, these boys--probably fourteen years old to seventeen years--ran in, whooping, shouting. then--"damn, this shit stink!" "this car smell like SHIT!" "disgusting!" "what the fuck smell so awful?" and etcetera.
the smell was coming from a man at one end of the car (we were at the other) who was obviously homeless. he had a bunch of stuff--his personal belongings--with him, possibly all he owned. he was wearing an ill-fitting shirt and stood there stoicly, not letting his facial expressions change.
but as the boys shouted (some of the large group ran into the next crowded car, while the others stayed to complain and shout about the smell), i could see his eyes. his eyes were obviously sad. he was not some shadow with a pile of cardboard boxes. he was a person. a person who has hopes and dreams and one day probably lived in a home like me too. and something went wrong. everyone has their own story. you can't forget this; everyone has their past, present and future.
on the walk in the train station, we entered at 16th street and walked down the long platform underground (as opposed to walking above ground in the freezing cold) and saw several different people sleeping, cardboard covering them or below them, and i thought about how truly lucky i am. i also thought about how silly the packages we carried in our hands as christmas gifts.
when we left the train, rather than feeling grateful to be exiting the smell, we both felt sad at how the feelings were hurt of that person. "kids are cruel," could be an easy excuse, but i was a kid, and i had more empathy than that. rather, instead, i thought about how people forget kindness and forgot that all people are humans and all humans are people.
tired, after christmas shopping all day, t and i were waiting for the L train to whisk us back to brooklyn. when the train came, of course, we were standing between two cars, and as the left looked nearly empty, and the right, the last and always the most crowded, was quite crowded, we immediately went into the train car. we were tired, and wanted to sit.
immediately, we both noticed the foul smell in the car, and commented on it, but were tired. people moved to the next carriages, noses wrinkled, while others, like us, grateful to have a seat, remained. it wasn't the worst i've smelled, and i've smelled some really terrible things before. we ignored it as best we could, and talked about our day. at the next stop, people entered, made faces, and ran into the next very-crowded cars. (this is the same as the non-air-conditioned train in the summertime.)
at 3rd avenue, these boys--probably fourteen years old to seventeen years--ran in, whooping, shouting. then--"damn, this shit stink!" "this car smell like SHIT!" "disgusting!" "what the fuck smell so awful?" and etcetera.
the smell was coming from a man at one end of the car (we were at the other) who was obviously homeless. he had a bunch of stuff--his personal belongings--with him, possibly all he owned. he was wearing an ill-fitting shirt and stood there stoicly, not letting his facial expressions change.
but as the boys shouted (some of the large group ran into the next crowded car, while the others stayed to complain and shout about the smell), i could see his eyes. his eyes were obviously sad. he was not some shadow with a pile of cardboard boxes. he was a person. a person who has hopes and dreams and one day probably lived in a home like me too. and something went wrong. everyone has their own story. you can't forget this; everyone has their past, present and future.
on the walk in the train station, we entered at 16th street and walked down the long platform underground (as opposed to walking above ground in the freezing cold) and saw several different people sleeping, cardboard covering them or below them, and i thought about how truly lucky i am. i also thought about how silly the packages we carried in our hands as christmas gifts.
when we left the train, rather than feeling grateful to be exiting the smell, we both felt sad at how the feelings were hurt of that person. "kids are cruel," could be an easy excuse, but i was a kid, and i had more empathy than that. rather, instead, i thought about how people forget kindness and forgot that all people are humans and all humans are people.
29 November 2006
i don't know what's next...
but i know what i love--traveling, feminism, running, writing, and of course, my kitty. the love for these things will keep me going...
27 November 2006
26 November 2006
looking through photos...
i was looking through some photos on my computer and saw this one--me, darian, lindsey, and marco, having the time of our lives. notice the cheap bottles of french wine by our feet. we didn't have a corkscrew but somehow, opened the bottles and thought it was simply divine to walk around the streets of paris, passing around the bottles of wine, getting tipsy and having a blast. later, we met a latvian guy and ended up talking with him and hanging out. we had an amazing night, being so free with no curfew, no restrictions--just absolute freedom.
i know, i know, i'll be in brazil in just two and a half months, but that will be different. then i'll be gone for just 2 1/2 weeks, without time to fully explore and be free. i know i'm lucky to be able to have the time (and the money, which is thanks to my tax return of 2006!)), but still, i miss the days of absolute wanderlust.
25 November 2006
brazil!
so i bought my tickets a few weeks ago and it's totally official--i'm going to brazil! i'm looking for hostels, have to make the visa application, am going to get the yellow fever shots soon--i can't wait! though i love my job, i definitely have itchy feet!
brazil!
so i bought my tickets a few weeks ago and it's totally official--i'm going to brazil! i'm looking for hostels, have to make the visa application, am going to get the yellow fever shots soon--i can't wait! though i love my job, i definitely have itchy feet!
18 November 2006
this is what i look like when i run a marathon
i'm the one in the pink skirt, running with crista (pink shirt next to me)! hah!
15 November 2006
holidays suck
i'm all for holiday songs and mistletoe and eggnog and pfeffernuese, but i can't stand holidays where you have to see family that suck, like your cousin's stupid girlfriend who proclaimed herself a vegetarian (because she rarely ate red meat, except, "oh yes, mrs. y, i'll take another piece of ham") and after a while, it's not about celebrating, it's about obligation, and it's annoying and draining and upsetting.
12 November 2006
cherie's yummy sangria
so last night i modified wanda's delish-ma-tish sangria recipe. i highly recommend this version. everything requires you to modify to your own taste, but this is what MY taste recommended. yum!
3 bottles of trader joe's sav blanc (yep, the $2.99 one)
1 bottle (64 oz? the big one) of white grape peach juice (welch's)
three green apples, chopped
1 bag of frozen raspberries (16 oz)
several spoonfuls of sugar (realistically, probably 10, maybe more)
1 bag of green grapes, sliced in half
ice
put everything in a big pitcher (or several pitchers, as i did. if you don't have several pitchers, go to the 99cent store or use your blender!). stir. add ice to glass and have your guests pour. some like more fruit than others.
drink up. now you can look like me! hah!
fashion faux pas
i had a fashion faux pas party last night. here are the ingredients:
bad fashion
too much blue eyeshadow
lots of sangria
equals
loads of fun
i generally enjoy my parties. none of my friends know each other so it's an interesting combination of people, and everyone is suddenly myspace friends. i can't believe i broke down and got myspace, but it's seriously just for my friends. as much as i love soulslinger, he and i are not friends; he is simply one of my face djs.
i feel i must point out that my outfit was made up of designer clothes. the silver top was from my (ex?)boyfriend, the yellow dress is betsy johnson as is the skirt (all plastic, comfy, ha!). quite fun. i think crista's "i got lost on my way home from dance class in 1986" outfit rocked. check her out!
10 November 2006
08 November 2006
memorable moments of the marathon
- hearing the rocky theme song in brooklyn
- "i like your hair." "go pink skirt!" (towards me)
- being handed a bottle of water, drinking it, and then looking to see a jay-z label on the bottle
- "what's that all over your face? salt?" my mom, post-marathon
- being so dizzy i'm forced to grab onto a spectator for a moment
- the absolute ROAR upon entering central park for that last stretch into the finish line
- the absolute ROAR upon exiting the 59th st bridge
- 1st ave; the people--dizzying!
- finishing and having a packet of salt poured into my mouth--yuck!
- candice in the bronx! yay!
- the man handing out soda on the willis ave bridge
- a man pushing me, and me tripping and accidentally tripping a woman because of this--who yelled, "get away from me!" i ran sideways, and then past her.
- shouting at quiet hipsters (who probably didn't hear me) in williamsburg, "if you're gonna raise the rents, raise your voices!"
- listening to trev's brother who is normally quiet (around me) scream my name
- finishing. finishing. FINISHING!
07 November 2006
nyc marathon
so i finally ran the nyc marathon on sunday, november 5. it was a day i have looked forward to for months--and this was truly a day of celebration.
for months i have trained hard--i never missed a day of training (unless i was injured). i slept good, ate good, and didn't drink the month before the marathon. i stretched, saw my podiatrist when i was injured, read about marathoning, lived the marathon. and finally...it came.
saturday i continued my cycle of carbo-loading with crista, and went to bed at 9pm. we woke up at 4:30 am. i fixed my hair, toasted our bagels that we slathered with peanut butter, stressed, got ready...into a car at 5:15, on a bus at 5:30, at fort wadsworth park before 6am...and to wait. we waited in the cold, stressing, jogging, stretching, waiting in line to pee. "boston, here we come..." we hoped.
shortly after 10:10, the race started. discarded clothes littered the sides of the verazzano as we ran! oh yes, we ran! excited, "we're doing this!"
and down the verazzano into brooklyn, my home boro! i adore 4th avenue--the crowds, the people! "i love you brooklyn!" i ran, i ran. crista's shins hurt so i ran without her for several miles--and i won't dare say "i ran alone" b/c i ran with nearly 39,000 others! after seeing my mom around mile 8, crista popped up next to me! we ran the next 9 miles together, through williamsburg (hi crista's mom and sister! hi trevor and damon!), into greenpoint (rachelle! natasha! i missed cara!) and long island city (hi kathleen!) and then, i started getting appalling dizzy...and i kept up, and finally, on the 59th street bridge, i let crista run ahead, but kept still on our good pace (we were on pace for a 3:36).
when i got off the bridge, the roar of the spectators kept me going, despite the fact that i felt dizzy and nauseas. i saw my parents, the spectators roared--and i ran on. sponge bob sponge, ahhhh, so cooling. power gel, YUM! i was running strong...
and hit the willis ave bridge and started feeling worse. a man handing out cups of coca-cola on the bridge--ugh. i ran on--and saw candice and her awesome sister sheryl--happy to see them, i smiled big...
and ran on. dizzy, it got worse. i ran back into manhattan, down 5th ave. i smiled weakly at the bands, reached for a bottle of water, drank, felt dizzy. i ran, feeling delirious, in a fog. i ran. i ran.
at one point, i grabbed one of the 2.5 million spectators. "please. i'm so dizzy. i'm going to hold onto you. i'm so so dizzy." and i held onto this complete stranger and then said, "i'm okay." i walked about 5 or 10 feet, then began running again.
and running. slower, yes, but still, strong.
and i finished.
i finished.
i finished.
with a personal best (though neither crista nor i qualified for boston), i headed to the medics who poured salt down my throat and powerade (which i prefer to gatorade!) and stumbled to my friends, family, and brownies. (the brownies my mom made.)
a hard race, which i trained for months.
now, what next? la? perhaps. we'll see.
i tried to run yesterday but couldn't make it around the blog. i am to run tomorrow.
and run, and run, and run.
and run.
for months i have trained hard--i never missed a day of training (unless i was injured). i slept good, ate good, and didn't drink the month before the marathon. i stretched, saw my podiatrist when i was injured, read about marathoning, lived the marathon. and finally...it came.
saturday i continued my cycle of carbo-loading with crista, and went to bed at 9pm. we woke up at 4:30 am. i fixed my hair, toasted our bagels that we slathered with peanut butter, stressed, got ready...into a car at 5:15, on a bus at 5:30, at fort wadsworth park before 6am...and to wait. we waited in the cold, stressing, jogging, stretching, waiting in line to pee. "boston, here we come..." we hoped.
shortly after 10:10, the race started. discarded clothes littered the sides of the verazzano as we ran! oh yes, we ran! excited, "we're doing this!"
and down the verazzano into brooklyn, my home boro! i adore 4th avenue--the crowds, the people! "i love you brooklyn!" i ran, i ran. crista's shins hurt so i ran without her for several miles--and i won't dare say "i ran alone" b/c i ran with nearly 39,000 others! after seeing my mom around mile 8, crista popped up next to me! we ran the next 9 miles together, through williamsburg (hi crista's mom and sister! hi trevor and damon!), into greenpoint (rachelle! natasha! i missed cara!) and long island city (hi kathleen!) and then, i started getting appalling dizzy...and i kept up, and finally, on the 59th street bridge, i let crista run ahead, but kept still on our good pace (we were on pace for a 3:36).
when i got off the bridge, the roar of the spectators kept me going, despite the fact that i felt dizzy and nauseas. i saw my parents, the spectators roared--and i ran on. sponge bob sponge, ahhhh, so cooling. power gel, YUM! i was running strong...
and hit the willis ave bridge and started feeling worse. a man handing out cups of coca-cola on the bridge--ugh. i ran on--and saw candice and her awesome sister sheryl--happy to see them, i smiled big...
and ran on. dizzy, it got worse. i ran back into manhattan, down 5th ave. i smiled weakly at the bands, reached for a bottle of water, drank, felt dizzy. i ran, feeling delirious, in a fog. i ran. i ran.
at one point, i grabbed one of the 2.5 million spectators. "please. i'm so dizzy. i'm going to hold onto you. i'm so so dizzy." and i held onto this complete stranger and then said, "i'm okay." i walked about 5 or 10 feet, then began running again.
and running. slower, yes, but still, strong.
and i finished.
i finished.
i finished.
with a personal best (though neither crista nor i qualified for boston), i headed to the medics who poured salt down my throat and powerade (which i prefer to gatorade!) and stumbled to my friends, family, and brownies. (the brownies my mom made.)
a hard race, which i trained for months.
now, what next? la? perhaps. we'll see.
i tried to run yesterday but couldn't make it around the blog. i am to run tomorrow.
and run, and run, and run.
and run.
29 October 2006
running
i'm sore from running a 5 miler at slightly faster than marathon pace. oh no. let's hope things pan out better next sunday. but i'm quite happy with my results--top 8% of my gender. woohooo! off to take a bath in epsom salts, ahhhh!
23 October 2006
cutting off those that hurt you
a year and a half ago, inspired by krs-one's ruminations, i decided to cut off those that were bad for me. friends who hurt me but were my friends, shitty people in my life. since i had already stopped talking to the incredibly hurtful sibling of mine (who many of you may not even know i have since i never mention him, even to some of my close friends), i cut out a few other people, some of whom i deeply loved--because i saw they were bad for me.
now, years later, i miss them incredibly, even those that were bad for me--the people who made me feel bad about myself, those who put me down as a method of pulling themselves up, and even the one who tried to steal my cat...
it's so hard to let go, even years later. i miss them all; i miss them all greatly.
i love you wherever you are.
now, years later, i miss them incredibly, even those that were bad for me--the people who made me feel bad about myself, those who put me down as a method of pulling themselves up, and even the one who tried to steal my cat...
it's so hard to let go, even years later. i miss them all; i miss them all greatly.
i love you wherever you are.
22 October 2006
you see me every day...
i walk past you, to the subway. you sit in front of the bodega--all of you, all men. where are you wives, mothers, daughters? your hips swagger as your jeans cling to worn leather belts, and i can smell the stench of sweat/cigarettes/scuzz were i to approach you. but i never do.
i walk, straight. ipod often on ears, cell phone on ears, or the standard, new york straight ahead fuck you i'm in my own world leave me alone.
still, you attempt to engage me.
all of you. whistles at me, comments on my clothing, those eyes. those eyes. i feel them crawling up my legs, to my ass, to my chest, to my furry coat...to the friends i walk with, hands i clutch or faces i kiss..you are there, staring. when i'm on the phone with my father, or worse, my grandmother, i hear your voices, lewd and leery, and i want to smack you.
i want my grandmother to smack you: "how dare you talk fresh to my granddaughter."
every day, you stare at me. i've lived here for 3 1/2 years--i'm not a new fixture. i'm not into flirting with old men. i'm not into flirting with random gross men on the street. (maybe if you were cute, my age, had a witty comment about the cat i was walking or the inga muscio book i was carrying...)
but please, leave me alone. i don't want you in my life. i don't want you looking at me, talking to me. you make me feel dirty, gross.
you see me every day, and still you stare. i see you seeing me every day, and averting my eyes does no good. i hate it and i hate you more and more every day.
you see me every day.
i walk, straight. ipod often on ears, cell phone on ears, or the standard, new york straight ahead fuck you i'm in my own world leave me alone.
still, you attempt to engage me.
all of you. whistles at me, comments on my clothing, those eyes. those eyes. i feel them crawling up my legs, to my ass, to my chest, to my furry coat...to the friends i walk with, hands i clutch or faces i kiss..you are there, staring. when i'm on the phone with my father, or worse, my grandmother, i hear your voices, lewd and leery, and i want to smack you.
i want my grandmother to smack you: "how dare you talk fresh to my granddaughter."
every day, you stare at me. i've lived here for 3 1/2 years--i'm not a new fixture. i'm not into flirting with old men. i'm not into flirting with random gross men on the street. (maybe if you were cute, my age, had a witty comment about the cat i was walking or the inga muscio book i was carrying...)
but please, leave me alone. i don't want you in my life. i don't want you looking at me, talking to me. you make me feel dirty, gross.
you see me every day, and still you stare. i see you seeing me every day, and averting my eyes does no good. i hate it and i hate you more and more every day.
you see me every day.
18 October 2006
archbishop desmond tutu
i saw the archbishop desmond tutu speak tonight at trinity church. he was really amazing, and said a few especially interesting things.
the interviewer asked him and john allen (his biographer) about how the churches mobilized the whites and the blacks during apartheid and tutu reminded the audience, "the christian faith is responsible for some of the most horrendous atrocies." applause from brave audience members. he continued, "christians are responsible for the holocaust. christians are responsible for slavery. christians are responsible for apartheid."
he said that the struggle against apartheid has been compared to the civil rights movement in the usa. but it's NOT--"people in south africa--every person--must change. unlike the us." which is why we still have racism and have a concrete ceiling for women of color in the business world.
to desmond tutu, "the primary violence of apartheid is the injustice of apartheid."
to him, nonviolent protest was, "confronting without weapons in your hands--and call out the violence of your opponent."
he's amazing. i'm so lucky to have heard him speak.
the interviewer asked him and john allen (his biographer) about how the churches mobilized the whites and the blacks during apartheid and tutu reminded the audience, "the christian faith is responsible for some of the most horrendous atrocies." applause from brave audience members. he continued, "christians are responsible for the holocaust. christians are responsible for slavery. christians are responsible for apartheid."
he said that the struggle against apartheid has been compared to the civil rights movement in the usa. but it's NOT--"people in south africa--every person--must change. unlike the us." which is why we still have racism and have a concrete ceiling for women of color in the business world.
to desmond tutu, "the primary violence of apartheid is the injustice of apartheid."
to him, nonviolent protest was, "confronting without weapons in your hands--and call out the violence of your opponent."
he's amazing. i'm so lucky to have heard him speak.
All sorts of good news in my life!
My sister is flying to NY the weekend of my marathon!
Okay nothing otherwise specific other than happy moments like when Jessica called me from Paris (though she was sad) and running with Cara again today and eating super yummy Greek yogurt (remembering eating Greek yogurt and watching the sun rise with T after a night of excessive clubbing in Ios) and reading a terrific book (Sweet Relief) and also enjoying apple season and Inga Muscio’s book and good music and yes, the world can be a lovely place.
15 October 2006
running pics of me
here are some running pictures of me. the one where i am ready for my run with my arms down is BEFORE saturday's 23 mile run. with the arms above my head, it is after my 23 miler and i am signalling victory. somehow, i felt great. hungry, tired and a bit sore, yes, but great. the one of me in the subway is something i've been wanting to do for a while. it's me running with deena kastor (who i want to win nyc this year!) and paul tergat (the flash has blinded him in the face :( ). i'm hoping to get a better shot of this with me in my full running regalia, wooohooo! anyway, you can see how high maintanance i am with running. my hair is up in buns to prevent those nasty sweat dreds you get with running too long with ponytails, the sports bar is supportive and coolmax (you can't see), the tank also some sort of sweat-drawing-away-from-the-skin (also coolmax, perhaps?), the shorts coolmax (and they feature pockets in the back for goo, yum, chocolate goo and strawberry banana powergel!) and my fuel belt includes water, a pocket for clif shot blocs and sports jelly beans. check out my wristband (white with a pink heart) and my ankle brace. i also wore new sneakers by saucony and six-year old sunglasses by arnette. oh, and it was 45 degrees F when i left my house! my hands were cold the first few miles. here's to the running nerds of planet earth! and yes, running along the fdr, i lifted my water bottles like one might lift a glass of champagne--here's to new york, and the world's finest marathon!
i heart inga
last night i went to hear inga muscio read at bluestockings. she was, of course, phenomenal. she read from her new amazing book, autobiography of a blue-eyed devil, which is well-researched (high praise coming from a librarian), articulate, shocking, and even humorous. i love inga. i don't think i have time or the proper words to discuss this (although, v, i've discussed this in a letter), but she blew our minds. everyone was laughing, shocked, angry--all together. she really is a phenomenal woman.
one thing she DID do was reading the original chapter where she talks about re-reading little house on the prarie as an adult and seeing the disgusting racism against american indians. she had long excerpts but a week before production, random house revoked permission (probably getting wind of what inga was planning on doing with it (dissecting its racism)) and so she had to paraphrase. she read the entire piece as she originally intended it, and you see how fucked up and racist they were--but as inga points out, laura, like herself, and me, and most others, are products of our white supremacist society. it is SO easy to just accept things; it is harder to question everything about our society. that is what i try to do, and honestly, it's not easy, but you have to do it...or you are doomed to become like others, without assisting the progression of humans.
one thing she DID do was reading the original chapter where she talks about re-reading little house on the prarie as an adult and seeing the disgusting racism against american indians. she had long excerpts but a week before production, random house revoked permission (probably getting wind of what inga was planning on doing with it (dissecting its racism)) and so she had to paraphrase. she read the entire piece as she originally intended it, and you see how fucked up and racist they were--but as inga points out, laura, like herself, and me, and most others, are products of our white supremacist society. it is SO easy to just accept things; it is harder to question everything about our society. that is what i try to do, and honestly, it's not easy, but you have to do it...or you are doomed to become like others, without assisting the progression of humans.
soothed after shreds of fear
6:01 am, sunday morning. sunlight not yet streaming in the slits of the "room darkener" blinds. the panic is real, even though i am here, safe, warm, in my bed with you.
a dream so real i could touch it...a nightmare so real i am scared even after i wake up. i curl into your arms, let you hold me tightly in your sleep. and it is then that i know you are here for me.
"i had a dream. there was a shooting. it was so scary. everyone was getting shot."
these words that i whisper to you sound trite as i remember--the whispers of my friend who said she was moving for the witness protection program because she pointed a finger at various mafiosa. and then they were there. my friend (?) stood by the open car door (i was in the front passenger seat, and various other friends (???) were in the car as well) as they announced, "this is a suicide." they shot someone. "he wants to die. she wants to die too." and they shot everyone on the street--it was probably 2nd avenue in the east village (or 1st, but you know how dreams are) and i peered horrified through the windshield, watching as the bodies fell.
if they saw us...the open car door...we would be dead too.
and then i woke up.
and then i went into your arms, were finally, i was safe.
a dream so real i could touch it...a nightmare so real i am scared even after i wake up. i curl into your arms, let you hold me tightly in your sleep. and it is then that i know you are here for me.
"i had a dream. there was a shooting. it was so scary. everyone was getting shot."
these words that i whisper to you sound trite as i remember--the whispers of my friend who said she was moving for the witness protection program because she pointed a finger at various mafiosa. and then they were there. my friend (?) stood by the open car door (i was in the front passenger seat, and various other friends (???) were in the car as well) as they announced, "this is a suicide." they shot someone. "he wants to die. she wants to die too." and they shot everyone on the street--it was probably 2nd avenue in the east village (or 1st, but you know how dreams are) and i peered horrified through the windshield, watching as the bodies fell.
if they saw us...the open car door...we would be dead too.
and then i woke up.
and then i went into your arms, were finally, i was safe.
14 October 2006
november 5, here i come
i ran 24 miles today--i meant to run 22, but i got so excited exploring new territory--i ran on randall's and ward islands today. SO FUN!
okay so something is weird when you say, "oh just another two hours of running," or "so fun" when referring to a 24 miler.
yes i really am sick.
okay so something is weird when you say, "oh just another two hours of running," or "so fun" when referring to a 24 miler.
yes i really am sick.
10 October 2006
nyc half marathon
i just got my certificate for finishing the half-marathon in the mail and i learned this:
- i was 452 out of 4969 finishers!
- i was in the top 20% of all finishers!
08 October 2006
06 October 2006
15.5 miles
after work, i ran across wall st, crossed broadway, and then ran behind the world financial center to meet up with my beloved path along the hudson river/west side highway. i feel like i'm in another country when i run here, for some reason. today, i was getting flashbacks of running along the ocean in iceland (yes, the entire atlantic ocean was right next to me), running in copenhagen, running in other cities along rivers. traveling last summer, i thought, "wow, all these cities have rivers. crazy." it's because, duh, water means water, commerce, fish, etc. but my run today, i felt like i was in another country--not new york city.
i ran all the way up, past 100th st, and turned around at some point. then i ran across 104th st, then ran south to 96th st, entered central park, ran north, ran west, and ran south. i ran over 2 hours at about 9 minutes per mile (though at certain times, much faster) pace, running, loving it, feeling truly alive. nothing makes me happier than pounding the pavement. i wore my running skirt, a long-sleeved thin shirt (which i didn't want in the beginning but was very glad i had in the end), with my fuel belt, carrying two powergels (chocolate goo, yum), clif blocs (cran-razz, my fave!), and sports jelly beans (orange, okay), with of course, water.
i don't know how running can make me so happy--i think it is filling in a void left in me since love is no longer there. and i LOVE running--it's a way to spiritually fill me, physically fill me, emotionally fill me. nothing, in my life now, is more perfect than running.
05 October 2006
a story
they're on a mediterranean island, one with windy curvy streets that don't seem to make sense and they constantly get lost (never finding the proper restaurants in their guidebook) but always ending up at their private room at their tiny hotel (or villa, as it's called) just when they're about to give up. they don't know the language, and as this isn't the most touristy of the islands, they keep quiet and she speaks with the few words she's learned from the guidebook. five months ago, when they bought the tickets, he promised to learn enough greek to get them around, "hopefully on a basic level or even intermediate level," he said, spending $75 on language cds that he listened to once.
this was only a symbol.
they slept late, made love or rushed straight to the beach, eating sticky pastries for morning sustanance. on the beach, she tanned topless like the other women, and he slathered sunscreen on her back for her. she read thick complicated novels while he dozed or read pablo neruda. they would head over to the cafe on the beach, sitting in the sand, eating thick slices of bread, large salads topped with enormous chunks of feta cheese, and other local specialties that they often weren't sure what it was, but it was good. then they would head back to their towels or chairs, relax in the sun, maybe splash in the waves. as the sun headed down, he would flag down one of the waitstaff circulating the beach in shorts with drink trays and order them two drinks. they would drink their drinks, watching the sunset. then they would dance at the outdoor club or head back to their room to nap. when they'd wake up, they'd take turns showering in the tiny cubicle, get ready to go out to eat, late like the locals. sometimes they'd make love, but often, he would want to when clearly she had put too much time into her appearance to get mussed making love. they would eat dinner, then walk the confusing windy streets again, get wine at a local wine bar, talking in low tones to each other. if he wasn't too tired, they'd make love when they got back to their hotel.
so the making love time was often a maybe.
more often a no.
on this vacation, they enjoyed themselves. after eight days, he picked a fight with her in a restaurant. she was not responding, disgusted at his behavior. "this is not working. it's not working," he paused and addressed the other diners, "it's not working because you are a bitch." he threw several notes on the table, and left. she sat there, waiting, tears in her eyes.
he did not come back, although she waited for him to.
she finished her meal. the waiter came over and offered two dessert wines. she drank them both. she asked for the bill, and paid with the notes he had carelessly thrown at her. she took her time, sipping gently, ignoring the other diners staring, wondering "what does "bitch' mean?" in their language. her face burned, she had a lump in her throat: she would not cry.
outside the gate of the restaurant, he stood there. "i'm sorry but you were being a bitch. anyone would agree with me." she said nothing. "i don't know the way back to our room. look, i'm sorry. i love you, okay?"
"okay," she said in a small voice. she tasted the sweet dessert wine in her mouth and wanted more.
back in their room, he was not too tired to make love, but she said she was. she went to sleep quickly.
when they woke up the next morning, they made love. they did not talk about their fight. they bought sticky pastries and bitter coffee and ate their breakfast at the ocean. they went swimming. they tanned. they took naps in the sun.
they made love again.
they made love again.
this was only a symbol.
they slept late, made love or rushed straight to the beach, eating sticky pastries for morning sustanance. on the beach, she tanned topless like the other women, and he slathered sunscreen on her back for her. she read thick complicated novels while he dozed or read pablo neruda. they would head over to the cafe on the beach, sitting in the sand, eating thick slices of bread, large salads topped with enormous chunks of feta cheese, and other local specialties that they often weren't sure what it was, but it was good. then they would head back to their towels or chairs, relax in the sun, maybe splash in the waves. as the sun headed down, he would flag down one of the waitstaff circulating the beach in shorts with drink trays and order them two drinks. they would drink their drinks, watching the sunset. then they would dance at the outdoor club or head back to their room to nap. when they'd wake up, they'd take turns showering in the tiny cubicle, get ready to go out to eat, late like the locals. sometimes they'd make love, but often, he would want to when clearly she had put too much time into her appearance to get mussed making love. they would eat dinner, then walk the confusing windy streets again, get wine at a local wine bar, talking in low tones to each other. if he wasn't too tired, they'd make love when they got back to their hotel.
so the making love time was often a maybe.
more often a no.
on this vacation, they enjoyed themselves. after eight days, he picked a fight with her in a restaurant. she was not responding, disgusted at his behavior. "this is not working. it's not working," he paused and addressed the other diners, "it's not working because you are a bitch." he threw several notes on the table, and left. she sat there, waiting, tears in her eyes.
he did not come back, although she waited for him to.
she finished her meal. the waiter came over and offered two dessert wines. she drank them both. she asked for the bill, and paid with the notes he had carelessly thrown at her. she took her time, sipping gently, ignoring the other diners staring, wondering "what does "bitch' mean?" in their language. her face burned, she had a lump in her throat: she would not cry.
outside the gate of the restaurant, he stood there. "i'm sorry but you were being a bitch. anyone would agree with me." she said nothing. "i don't know the way back to our room. look, i'm sorry. i love you, okay?"
"okay," she said in a small voice. she tasted the sweet dessert wine in her mouth and wanted more.
back in their room, he was not too tired to make love, but she said she was. she went to sleep quickly.
when they woke up the next morning, they made love. they did not talk about their fight. they bought sticky pastries and bitter coffee and ate their breakfast at the ocean. they went swimming. they tanned. they took naps in the sun.
they made love again.
they made love again.
04 October 2006
leave me alone!
every day i run, i get sexually harassed. it's a "hey baby" or "lookin' good." i joke to cara, "i'm going to take my clothes off and fuck them right here at the side of the street."
sometimes i want to run, i want my emotions to come out completely, huge smile, myself totally out there. it's something i must avoid on many occasions, sadly.
my weird but nice neighbor has heaps of weird and not necessarily nice friends. one of them is a guy who has to comment on me, "you look sexy," "ooooh damn, you gotta boyfriend?" "mmm-mmm-mmm!" i've been quite nasty to him on several occasions but still, he continues to harass me.
today he saw me running up the street and though my neighbor had already entered his building, he waited. before he could speak, i said (i am mean), "yes, today i'd like to gouge your eyes out"--b/c they were looking at me in a way that made me feel quite uncomfortable.
he nodded and i continued, "yes with my keys."
he replied, "you look so sexy today, beautiful."
i entered my building and slammed my door shut.
sometimes i want to run, i want my emotions to come out completely, huge smile, myself totally out there. it's something i must avoid on many occasions, sadly.
my weird but nice neighbor has heaps of weird and not necessarily nice friends. one of them is a guy who has to comment on me, "you look sexy," "ooooh damn, you gotta boyfriend?" "mmm-mmm-mmm!" i've been quite nasty to him on several occasions but still, he continues to harass me.
today he saw me running up the street and though my neighbor had already entered his building, he waited. before he could speak, i said (i am mean), "yes, today i'd like to gouge your eyes out"--b/c they were looking at me in a way that made me feel quite uncomfortable.
he nodded and i continued, "yes with my keys."
he replied, "you look so sexy today, beautiful."
i entered my building and slammed my door shut.
03 October 2006
obsessed with running
my legs are still sore from the 4 hour run cara and i did on saturday--23 or 24 miles. ow. i wish t was around to give me a sports massage...
here's what's keeping me motivated!
here's what's keeping me motivated!
02 October 2006
i love to breathe
Walking home alone at 2am, streets empty save kissing couples surrounded by darkness, I trudge home in short skirt/bare legs, dreaming, loving oxygen, happy. The girl with the cute hipster glasses in front of me stops short, and I walk around her quickly as she leans to kiss the man holding her hand again. "I love loving you and you loving me." I walk on.
At home, I let myself into a quiet apartment with an overexcited cat who circles my legs until I pick her up to cuddle her into my arms. She is happy when we settle into bed together, with some treats on her pillow.
Being in love is the best thing in the world. I'd rather have love than anything else. If you are able to sustain your love and the incredible energy that goes along with it, that is a HUGE accomplishment. I miss being in love--kissing someone you are in love with is the most incredible thing in the world, better than anything you could ever buy--but I know I mustn't dwell upon what I lost, but instead, appreciate every little thing in my life.
Being asthmatic makes me do this. Before, my breathing grew irregular. After I calmed it down, I enjoyed and savored each breath. Non-asthmatics, take a nice deep inhale right here--ahhh, I'm so jealous of you! Enjoy that! Enjoy every lovely moment in your day--I am here.
At home, I let myself into a quiet apartment with an overexcited cat who circles my legs until I pick her up to cuddle her into my arms. She is happy when we settle into bed together, with some treats on her pillow.
Being in love is the best thing in the world. I'd rather have love than anything else. If you are able to sustain your love and the incredible energy that goes along with it, that is a HUGE accomplishment. I miss being in love--kissing someone you are in love with is the most incredible thing in the world, better than anything you could ever buy--but I know I mustn't dwell upon what I lost, but instead, appreciate every little thing in my life.
Being asthmatic makes me do this. Before, my breathing grew irregular. After I calmed it down, I enjoyed and savored each breath. Non-asthmatics, take a nice deep inhale right here--ahhh, I'm so jealous of you! Enjoy that! Enjoy every lovely moment in your day--I am here.
27 September 2006
not only do my sister and i share the same voice, but....
we have the same obsession for our cats. we call each other and leave voicemails for the other solely of our cats meowing.
if my sister and her boyfriend break up, i can see us living together in a one bedroom apartment (twin beds with a little night table in between) with our sixteen cats, bitching and complaining with white hair and bad track suits...ooh, getting old can be fun!
if my sister and her boyfriend break up, i can see us living together in a one bedroom apartment (twin beds with a little night table in between) with our sixteen cats, bitching and complaining with white hair and bad track suits...ooh, getting old can be fun!
26 September 2006
so i'm totally obsessed
...but when i saw the new ads on the subway for the nyc marathon, i was SO excited!!! i can't wait--39 days until i run 26.2!!!!
a sad thing
i was at my gynecologist today when she asked me, "is your relationship over?"
"yes," i told her.
"oh that's so sad. a sad thing. so sad," she told me.
"yes," i told her.
"oh that's so sad. a sad thing. so sad," she told me.
22 September 2006
adventures in running; or, i did not see any guns on my run this morning
on wednesday i was so excited about running an excellent speed workout, giving my all my final 800 meters and running 7 seconds faster than my fastest so far. who know thursday's workout could hardly compare?
cara and i met and ran over the 59th street bridge (aka the queensboro bridge) into manhattan. i am trying to run over the 59th st bridge as much as possible to practice for the marathon (ugh, mile 15 or 16, ow). we ran down york and then 1st, until the stupid cops yelled at us over by the UN and made us run across a street and climb across cement barricades. we ran down along the east river park, both of us a bit tired but feeling well.
we began running across the williamsburg bridge when i heard jingling. no one else was nearby us on the pedestrian walkway and when i turned to the road below us (maybe 5 or 10 feet below us), i saw a guy walking/running through the cars, keys jangling around his neck, while a cop jogged alongside him. "hmmm, maybe he had an accident." i didn't think much of it...
until i noticed a man standing, pointing his gun. a gun. this is new york still, but still, OMG, a gun! and i'm running in my cute little running outfit several feet away. his back was to me but he was pointing a gun.
i grabbed cara's arm. "run. run! quick!"
"what?" she hadn't seen anything.
i began sprinting in the opposite direction, towards where we had just run from. "a man. with a gun. a gun."
"oh my god!"
cara began sprinting and when we heard something clatter, we feared for the worst and RAN. we run every day but this day, i was convinced we were running for our lives.
the cars were all completely stopped, the cops having blocked traffic completely. cabbies and confused commuters asked us, "what is it?"
"a gun. a guy with a gun!" it was hard not to be hysterical. sure, you see people with guns in movies, but the last place--a place i've been running since i was 19--i expected to see a gun was here, at 7am, during the crush of rush hour. maybe when cara and i explored bedstuy and bushwick, neighborhoods known for seedier histories, but the bridge, where many biked and ran and walked over every day, for work and pleasure?
"what are we going to do?"
i was not running across the bridge if someone had a gun--no, i think i don't feel like getting shot on my run. not on my plans for today (or any day, to be honest). we could hitchhike to the other side of the bridge, run home from there. the traffic was flowing unimpeded in that direction.
"my phone! shit! my phone!" cara realized her phone had fallen in the sprint--that was the clatter, not gunshots as we had thought. we realized it wasn't as far where the guy with the gun was so we began walking rather cautiously over the bridge until we saw it.
and then we saw, walking in traffic, in handcuffs, was the guy, with many cops surrounding him.
we ran home, silence alternating with discussions of what we had just seen. i've lived in new york my whole life save two years, and have never seen this before. no more gossip about dating or complaints about work; right now, i'm just happy to be alive and running.
cara and i met and ran over the 59th street bridge (aka the queensboro bridge) into manhattan. i am trying to run over the 59th st bridge as much as possible to practice for the marathon (ugh, mile 15 or 16, ow). we ran down york and then 1st, until the stupid cops yelled at us over by the UN and made us run across a street and climb across cement barricades. we ran down along the east river park, both of us a bit tired but feeling well.
we began running across the williamsburg bridge when i heard jingling. no one else was nearby us on the pedestrian walkway and when i turned to the road below us (maybe 5 or 10 feet below us), i saw a guy walking/running through the cars, keys jangling around his neck, while a cop jogged alongside him. "hmmm, maybe he had an accident." i didn't think much of it...
until i noticed a man standing, pointing his gun. a gun. this is new york still, but still, OMG, a gun! and i'm running in my cute little running outfit several feet away. his back was to me but he was pointing a gun.
i grabbed cara's arm. "run. run! quick!"
"what?" she hadn't seen anything.
i began sprinting in the opposite direction, towards where we had just run from. "a man. with a gun. a gun."
"oh my god!"
cara began sprinting and when we heard something clatter, we feared for the worst and RAN. we run every day but this day, i was convinced we were running for our lives.
the cars were all completely stopped, the cops having blocked traffic completely. cabbies and confused commuters asked us, "what is it?"
"a gun. a guy with a gun!" it was hard not to be hysterical. sure, you see people with guns in movies, but the last place--a place i've been running since i was 19--i expected to see a gun was here, at 7am, during the crush of rush hour. maybe when cara and i explored bedstuy and bushwick, neighborhoods known for seedier histories, but the bridge, where many biked and ran and walked over every day, for work and pleasure?
"what are we going to do?"
i was not running across the bridge if someone had a gun--no, i think i don't feel like getting shot on my run. not on my plans for today (or any day, to be honest). we could hitchhike to the other side of the bridge, run home from there. the traffic was flowing unimpeded in that direction.
"my phone! shit! my phone!" cara realized her phone had fallen in the sprint--that was the clatter, not gunshots as we had thought. we realized it wasn't as far where the guy with the gun was so we began walking rather cautiously over the bridge until we saw it.
and then we saw, walking in traffic, in handcuffs, was the guy, with many cops surrounding him.
we ran home, silence alternating with discussions of what we had just seen. i've lived in new york my whole life save two years, and have never seen this before. no more gossip about dating or complaints about work; right now, i'm just happy to be alive and running.
19 September 2006
oh no!
i accidentally broke my "no outfit is complete without a fabulous purse" mug.
i got it as a favour at a bridal shower. teehee.
i got it as a favour at a bridal shower. teehee.
16 September 2006
i ran twenty miles this morning
...my longest run yet. my body is aching but i am so proud of myself. i ran most of the time with a portfolio manager for jpmc (although he only ran 16 miles) and found the last ten miles the most difficult. when they told me on my final lap i of central park i only had to do three miles, i kissed the nyrr official on the cheek.
the best part of the run was when the 8:30 runners came behind me in the last half-mile and were singing frank sinatra's "new york new york." it was a very emotional time and exciting part of my run.
and tonight i will soak in a hot bath with epsom salts and lavendar oils before going out....and my appetite is never squelched the day of a long run.
the best part of the run was when the 8:30 runners came behind me in the last half-mile and were singing frank sinatra's "new york new york." it was a very emotional time and exciting part of my run.
and tonight i will soak in a hot bath with epsom salts and lavendar oils before going out....and my appetite is never squelched the day of a long run.
15 September 2006
today's run--splash
cara and i were almost done with our 80-minute run today (in the last mile, or even, last half-mile, perhaps), chatting, running, sweating, in the foggy morning mist. we were running down kent (a messed up road with enormous puddles in it because the drains were too high up for the water to flow down) and passed a stopped car with two men in it. several minutes later, we heard the car gunning its engine...and a loud SPLASH!
the car sped through an enormous puddle, soaking and shocking us. i immediately gave the guy the finger, but then looked at cara, who looked as shocked as i was. we looked at the car driving slowly down the road (the intentionality of the act was obvious) and then back at each other.
and began laughing hysterically.
to just intentionally splash two running women? what the fuck? but somehow, it was hilarious.
we ran home the last minutes, and both of us showered shortly afterwards.
the car sped through an enormous puddle, soaking and shocking us. i immediately gave the guy the finger, but then looked at cara, who looked as shocked as i was. we looked at the car driving slowly down the road (the intentionality of the act was obvious) and then back at each other.
and began laughing hysterically.
to just intentionally splash two running women? what the fuck? but somehow, it was hilarious.
we ran home the last minutes, and both of us showered shortly afterwards.
14 September 2006
what's really been making me happy lately
on my runs i've been catching myself: a huge smile seems to be across my face at most times. whether i'm running with someone or alone, as long as i'm laced up in my sauconies and moving fast, i'm happier than any other time. i can't help but smile...
13 September 2006
how the pro-choice movement saved america: a book review
I just finished Cristina Page's fabulous book of the above title, an overview of choice, family, and its opponents in the US. In case you didn't know, anti-choicers (who like to call themselves pro-life) are also anti-family. These anti-choicers are also often anti-birth control, and if you don't have birth control, you are going to end up with abortion. The "abstinence-only" education that America's moronic president is funding and encouraging is only leading to teen pregnancies at astounding rates or riskier behaviors. The latter reminds me of a now-defunct yet hilarious website, Technical Virgin, that had fake ads of teens saying things like, "My boyfriend was pressuring me for sex, but I want to save myself and do good in college. So now my friend and I put a live girl-on-girl show for our boyfriends. We pleasure ourselves and prevent our cherries from being popped," OR, "I was so worried about getting pregnant and wanted to save that for marriage. So now my boyfriend gives it to me up the butt and we don't have to worry about that." That is so scary because teens are actually doing it.
And choice is VERY, VERY important. Without choice, we are locked into religion controlling our government.
Roe, roe, Roe v. Wade,
Our bodies are our own,
A woman's choice is a human right,
So leave the cunts alone.
And choice is VERY, VERY important. Without choice, we are locked into religion controlling our government.
Roe, roe, Roe v. Wade,
Our bodies are our own,
A woman's choice is a human right,
So leave the cunts alone.
12 September 2006
it's september 12th today
i went for my pre-dawn run today and the towers of light were still visible, and the empire state building still blasting redwhiteandblue. ran quite far and quite fast, meditating in my own way on my life and life in general.
Quote by Nina Kuscsik, marathoner
"I've always felt running is a form of meditation. Running enables us to stop our lives, to go out and find a safe place for ourselves."
11 September 2006
autumn tonight, on 11 september
i avoided the media today. people from our west coast office sent a notice over to us that they are thinking of us. but i knew what it was, and that was partially the reason i was feeling down.
in memoriam to all those who have suffered since that day, from those that were killed on the 11th of september in nyc, dc, and pa, as well as those who have been killed in afghanistan, iraq, and anywhere else the usa decided needed to be cleaned of "terrorists."
riding my bike home from jp's house, i saw the redwhiteandblue of the empire state building, saw the towers of light. safe in my home, food in my belly, i feel lucky.
in memoriam to all those who have suffered since that day, from those that were killed on the 11th of september in nyc, dc, and pa, as well as those who have been killed in afghanistan, iraq, and anywhere else the usa decided needed to be cleaned of "terrorists."
riding my bike home from jp's house, i saw the redwhiteandblue of the empire state building, saw the towers of light. safe in my home, food in my belly, i feel lucky.
things that are going on
i'm feeling a bit depressed today. it could be the lack of sleep catching up to me, or the fact that my apartment is super messy, or the fact that i lost *everything* in my pocket pc when the battery died and everything got erased, or it could be the fact that i'm listening to bob dylan and feeling broken-hearted (he always creates that feeling in me, or emphasizes it if i feel it already), or it could be the feeling that it's the 5th anniversary of september 11th attacks.
i was thinking: people mention things like d day or pearl harbour attacks, and youngins are like, "yeah, so what? we don't get a day off and we weren't there and what happened anyway?" i wonder how long it will be before those people are around and how long it will be before new yorkers feel safe and the pain lessens? i suppose we'll need those pesky, rude, and obnoxious tourists to stop mugging for photos in front of a construction site where thousands of people died.
but back to bob, back to work. i know that sadness is only temporary. there are clouds but there is sunshine too. i'm relatively happy, even if the sadness (and stress) has been clouding my dreams lately. this is a time when i need a roommate (as marie had done before) to shout, "cherie you are NOT listening to this! we are putting on happy music."
i was thinking: people mention things like d day or pearl harbour attacks, and youngins are like, "yeah, so what? we don't get a day off and we weren't there and what happened anyway?" i wonder how long it will be before those people are around and how long it will be before new yorkers feel safe and the pain lessens? i suppose we'll need those pesky, rude, and obnoxious tourists to stop mugging for photos in front of a construction site where thousands of people died.
but back to bob, back to work. i know that sadness is only temporary. there are clouds but there is sunshine too. i'm relatively happy, even if the sadness (and stress) has been clouding my dreams lately. this is a time when i need a roommate (as marie had done before) to shout, "cherie you are NOT listening to this! we are putting on happy music."
most likely you go your way and i go mine (bob dylan)
You say you love me
And you're thinkin' of me,
But you know you could be wrong.
You say you told me
That you wanna hold me,
But you know you're not that strong.
I just can't do what I done before,
I just can't beg you any more.
I'm gonna let you pass
And I'll go last.
Then time will tell just who fell
And who's been left behind,
When you go your way and I go mine.
And you're thinkin' of me,
But you know you could be wrong.
You say you told me
That you wanna hold me,
But you know you're not that strong.
I just can't do what I done before,
I just can't beg you any more.
I'm gonna let you pass
And I'll go last.
Then time will tell just who fell
And who's been left behind,
When you go your way and I go mine.
My favourite things about summertime: In mourning of summertime
My dads tomatoes
Amazing fresh produce
Most fruit being in season (ooh, ripe luscious peaches are my latest addiction)
The beach
Running in shorts and a sports bra and socksÂ…how freeing
Miniskirts
Sandals
Sand in toes
No jackets, mittens, scarves
Free concerts, free plays, free things outdoors
Running in the summer
Open windows
Walks with Luna in the park
Iced chai
Rooftop parties
Sweaty kisses
Drinking the air
Sunsets
Fireworks
Barbeques
Parties in parks and yards
Outdoor sports
Naps in the sun
Spending the day outdoors
Amazing fresh produce
Most fruit being in season (ooh, ripe luscious peaches are my latest addiction)
The beach
Running in shorts and a sports bra and socksÂ…how freeing
Miniskirts
Sandals
Sand in toes
No jackets, mittens, scarves
Free concerts, free plays, free things outdoors
Running in the summer
Open windows
Walks with Luna in the park
Iced chai
Rooftop parties
Sweaty kisses
Drinking the air
Sunsets
Fireworks
Barbeques
Parties in parks and yards
Outdoor sports
Naps in the sun
Spending the day outdoors
10 September 2006
why i love running in new york city
on a seventeen miler yesterday, i saw two guys boxing on the side of the reservoir.
09 September 2006
an imaginary conversation
he said, "you've changed since we broke up."
she said, "yes, i've started wearing eyeliner."
she said, "yes, i've started wearing eyeliner."
08 September 2006
shout out to wanda
wanda, i fucking love you. thank you for all your help with my recent (personal) crisis. i know talking about these issues must have been hard for you, bringing up all those bad memories, but you really helped me heaps. i love you for that! wanda, you rule!
07 September 2006
03 September 2006
and then you think,
"wow, i am so glad we are no longer together."
you never thought you'd say that, right?
(note: the you is not referring to a specific you.)
you never thought you'd say that, right?
(note: the you is not referring to a specific you.)
i know i'm hot, but really, must you constantly remind me?
in training for the nyc marathon, i am covering a lot of mileage. i typically wear my sauconies, socks, shorts, and a sports bra. (if it's cooler, i add a t-shirt but i prefer wearing as little as possible, being as lightweight as possible while running.) and it seems so many men have never seen a woman running before. or perhaps it is, as my running partner cara said, "there is a rule that men must stop what they are doing and stare at women running." must be it.
i'm sick of men leering out windows, honking, whistling, yelling, "complimenting," harassing, shouting, stopping, gawking, licking their lips, giving me the up-and-down...come on, i'm a sweaty woman running and i'm obviously not interested in you. i'm focusing on my training, on my sport.
maybe--this must be it--if i see someone who strikes my fancy after yelling a "nice ass" i might rip off my clothes, fling myself on the front of their car and say, "let's just do it right here." is that it?
does paula radcliffe deal with this? deena kastor?
i really am fed up with the shouting, the harassing. i just want to do my run and be left alone.
my run is for me not for you fuck you my run is for me leave me alone my run is for me
i'm sick of men leering out windows, honking, whistling, yelling, "complimenting," harassing, shouting, stopping, gawking, licking their lips, giving me the up-and-down...come on, i'm a sweaty woman running and i'm obviously not interested in you. i'm focusing on my training, on my sport.
maybe--this must be it--if i see someone who strikes my fancy after yelling a "nice ass" i might rip off my clothes, fling myself on the front of their car and say, "let's just do it right here." is that it?
does paula radcliffe deal with this? deena kastor?
i really am fed up with the shouting, the harassing. i just want to do my run and be left alone.
my run is for me not for you fuck you my run is for me leave me alone my run is for me
02 September 2006
30 August 2006
my heart is going out to tonks right now
one of my terrific radical cheerleading friends moved from florida to tennessee and was telling me about the hatred of gay people. the homophobia, the "christian" hate--it's part of why she is considering leaving tn. tonks baby girl, i love you, and there's heaps of people out there who love you. don't let the hate bring you down and remember, love is so much stronger than hate.
29 August 2006
reader, has this ever happened to you?
crossing cobblestone streets, i suddenly was overcome with sadness, and had to bite my lip (hard, oh, so fucking hard) to prevent tears from escaping my eyes and tumbling down my cheeks.
28 August 2006
27 August 2006
nyc inaugural half marathon!
i ran the nyc inaugural half marathon today--and must admit i had a brilliant time doing so! i woke up just after 4am (an hour before my alarm was to go off, because i couldn't sleep). i got ready (hot pink shorts, magenta sports bra, ponytail, four barrettes (two on each side), sweatband and spent the rest of the time before my friends picked me up. at the start, we stretched, waited in long lines for the port-a-potties, and went to the start. after a bit of confusion of where the corrals were, we lined up. in line, we joked around and stretched.
the race itself was fun. i ran most of it with cara (who is about my pace, a bit quicker maybe), and my foot didn't hurt. we did a loop and then some around central park, and then ran down 7th avenue, across 42nd st (and we all got chills running through times square, HOW AMAZING!), then down the west side highway...it was brilliant! around mile 10, cara left to run a bit faster, and i finished in 1:47. i was pleased with this time, as the past three weeks i have been facing injuries and have run very little. i'm now a big fan of cross-training--prevents injury and keeps you in decent-enough shape.
after, we hung out, had brunch and i realized how nice it is to hang out with runners.
the race itself was fun. i ran most of it with cara (who is about my pace, a bit quicker maybe), and my foot didn't hurt. we did a loop and then some around central park, and then ran down 7th avenue, across 42nd st (and we all got chills running through times square, HOW AMAZING!), then down the west side highway...it was brilliant! around mile 10, cara left to run a bit faster, and i finished in 1:47. i was pleased with this time, as the past three weeks i have been facing injuries and have run very little. i'm now a big fan of cross-training--prevents injury and keeps you in decent-enough shape.
after, we hung out, had brunch and i realized how nice it is to hang out with runners.
26 August 2006
i'm *such* a dork
i went on the nyrr's website for the half-marathon again today (i already have a printed up map hanging at my desk at work, another in my home, and gave rachelle a third map!) and watched the commercial, "i run in new york" and got so excited! now i'm researching chafing and trying to decide which pink running outfit to wear!!!!
i hope my foot is well enough to run competitively (though i've had three weeks of shitty-to-no training with all my injuries); still, i can't wait! i'm running new york!
i hope my foot is well enough to run competitively (though i've had three weeks of shitty-to-no training with all my injuries); still, i can't wait! i'm running new york!
our standards
jokingly (but not) i said to rosa this morning as i scrambled our eggs, "all i want in someone is for them to live in new york and to like breakfast."
25 August 2006
quote of the day (i swear i didn't say it)
"I don’t think it will be hard to seduce him. All I have to do is get him into my apartment."
24 August 2006
keep those old journals...
so when you start feeling nostalgic, or confused, or wondering if you've made the wrong decision, you can look back, see how badly you hurt, and realize, yes, it is time to go on.
i watched reality bites for the first time in years...
and i'm still rooting for troy. michael is the practical yuppie but he still disgusts me. i'm into the philosophical, the thinker, the creative one, the artist...anyone but the yuppie. i don't like practicality or a future to brag to my family about. i live on dreams instead...
class
i've been thinking about class lately; class is one of the things people don't like to talk about. at my job, we research gender, diversity, race, sexual orientation...but what about class? class is something that generally we can't control (if we're born into it) but other times we can (like quitting our corporate jobs and going nonprofit--but even when i was working for "the man" i was def not upper class). people are super sensitive about class issues because they feel like they shouldn't have to apologize for it. (i'm so fucking glad we don't have titles, fuck that english "duke" etc shit.) i think the hardest thing about it is it's not paid attention to very often, so we don't feel like we need to deal with it. what am i saying? i'm not really sure. i grew up middle class, am struggling (a bit) now but still am unsure of what i am. i'm a single woman living alone, no plans for marriage, children, any of that. (marriage is a whole other issue since i live in a hateful country that won't allow for many of my best friends to marry.) is class something you grow into when you become an adult? this job is my career but i know it's not my only one. i plan to do it until i quit to travel--extensive traveling, and then settle someplace else.
and maybe where i settle class won't matter much...
and maybe where i settle class won't matter much...
22 August 2006
breakups
i'm wondering if breakups are ever truly mutual, if people are actually friends with their exes afterwards. i'm trying to be friends with t, but i don't seem to know how to do it. he disappointed me so much (and i ended it, b/c of that) that it seems i find it hard to find him sincere. he will always have a spot in my heart, but i don't think a breakup can ever be like, "well, we're just better this way" and the people are actually friends.
does, "let's just be friends" ever work? or is one person always wanting more?
i really like being alone right now. i like learning to redefine myself as me, as cherie, and it's hard, but i'm doing it. still, when i see a flash from the past, there's pain, and it's like, "this is why i moved on."
does, "let's just be friends" ever work? or is one person always wanting more?
i really like being alone right now. i like learning to redefine myself as me, as cherie, and it's hard, but i'm doing it. still, when i see a flash from the past, there's pain, and it's like, "this is why i moved on."
21 August 2006
beach me
I somehow became obsessed with the beach lately.
This might have to do with the fact that I dated a marine biologist for over six years; or it might have to do with the fact that when we do (occasionally, still) see each other, that is one of the main things we continue doing; or it might be due to the fact that Rachelle loves the beach and we have become better friends this summer (probably due to our breakups--I think this bonded us closer); or it might be due to the fact that I have a number of bikinis; or it might be due to the fact that I live in New York City, a train ride's away to the beach; or it might be due to the fact that I just love lying in the sun in a bikini with a book, applying suntan lotion, splashing in the waves as if I were a child, eating sandy sandwiches and enjoying New York City's local sport of people watching.
I really love the beach this summer. I went twice this past weekend; once with Emily F., once with the infamous Rachelle (my best beach date this summer). As I am training for the marathon, I have given up drinking socially (a glass of wine here or a drink there, yes; but drunken nights on Ludlow, stumbling with J from the Dark Room to the Annex to Max Fish to wherever, flirting, sipping, laughing, no)--this is a new way to socialize. We can chill at the beach, talk, catch up on each other's lives, goss, our reading, maybe meet some new friends (though this doesn't seem to happen as it did in high school, when Crystal and I would take the train to Long Beach and flirt with cute seventeen-year-old surfer boys from Long Island who were always from towns much cooler than our extremely boring (and non-beach-containing) town).
Sigh...
I do admit, as I said to Jamie (and probably everyone I've been to the beach with recently), "The beach would just be perfect if it weren't for all this sand." Ah, I know, yes, then it wouldn't be the beach. So I love it.
Spending last summer in Europe, I went to some lovely beaches. I adored Dubrovnik's beaches with its phenomenal views, and also had an interesting time in Amalfi (where a speedo-wearing slick-talking late-thirtysomething Italian man had me rowed out to his boat, where we splashed, rode into Amalfi Town, talked, and then he gave me a ride on his Vespa to my hostel). I must admit, the sand was rarely as nice as it is in New York (yes, even NYC!). Rocky beaches, or the horridly difficult beach of Riomaggiore (where one person left the beach before I arrived with medical assistance as he slipped on the rocks and hurt himself badly). I do like American beaches, though I don't like the close-minded nature of people about women sunbathing topless. Tan lines (esp the traditional bikini lines around the neck that are most visible in summertime months) are not very attractive.
I have been becoming a connoisseur of sands. Coney Island--yuck, though it is very NYC as J says, and you can always go on the rides, play skeeball or walk the boardwalk. Brighton Beach has nice sand, and small (or no) waves, which I like. Jacob Riis has lovely sand, but crashing waves. Long Beach is expensive ($7 per person; I'm used to using my Nassau County drivers license to pay $6 per car with T, which is split between all of the car's inhabitants) but with nice waves. Jones Beach is nice but I *hate* the walk from the car/bus to the beach. So far. Also crowded. Point Lookout is all families (and where my parents always took me as a child) and I do admit, Lido is probably my favorite.
I went to the beach yesterday, and the day before, and I am excited about going to the beach this Saturday--Robert Moses. Me, Rachelle, maybe some sandwiches, trashy novels--sounds like a fantastic day to me.
This might have to do with the fact that I dated a marine biologist for over six years; or it might have to do with the fact that when we do (occasionally, still) see each other, that is one of the main things we continue doing; or it might be due to the fact that Rachelle loves the beach and we have become better friends this summer (probably due to our breakups--I think this bonded us closer); or it might be due to the fact that I have a number of bikinis; or it might be due to the fact that I live in New York City, a train ride's away to the beach; or it might be due to the fact that I just love lying in the sun in a bikini with a book, applying suntan lotion, splashing in the waves as if I were a child, eating sandy sandwiches and enjoying New York City's local sport of people watching.
I really love the beach this summer. I went twice this past weekend; once with Emily F., once with the infamous Rachelle (my best beach date this summer). As I am training for the marathon, I have given up drinking socially (a glass of wine here or a drink there, yes; but drunken nights on Ludlow, stumbling with J from the Dark Room to the Annex to Max Fish to wherever, flirting, sipping, laughing, no)--this is a new way to socialize. We can chill at the beach, talk, catch up on each other's lives, goss, our reading, maybe meet some new friends (though this doesn't seem to happen as it did in high school, when Crystal and I would take the train to Long Beach and flirt with cute seventeen-year-old surfer boys from Long Island who were always from towns much cooler than our extremely boring (and non-beach-containing) town).
Sigh...
I do admit, as I said to Jamie (and probably everyone I've been to the beach with recently), "The beach would just be perfect if it weren't for all this sand." Ah, I know, yes, then it wouldn't be the beach. So I love it.
Spending last summer in Europe, I went to some lovely beaches. I adored Dubrovnik's beaches with its phenomenal views, and also had an interesting time in Amalfi (where a speedo-wearing slick-talking late-thirtysomething Italian man had me rowed out to his boat, where we splashed, rode into Amalfi Town, talked, and then he gave me a ride on his Vespa to my hostel). I must admit, the sand was rarely as nice as it is in New York (yes, even NYC!). Rocky beaches, or the horridly difficult beach of Riomaggiore (where one person left the beach before I arrived with medical assistance as he slipped on the rocks and hurt himself badly). I do like American beaches, though I don't like the close-minded nature of people about women sunbathing topless. Tan lines (esp the traditional bikini lines around the neck that are most visible in summertime months) are not very attractive.
I have been becoming a connoisseur of sands. Coney Island--yuck, though it is very NYC as J says, and you can always go on the rides, play skeeball or walk the boardwalk. Brighton Beach has nice sand, and small (or no) waves, which I like. Jacob Riis has lovely sand, but crashing waves. Long Beach is expensive ($7 per person; I'm used to using my Nassau County drivers license to pay $6 per car with T, which is split between all of the car's inhabitants) but with nice waves. Jones Beach is nice but I *hate* the walk from the car/bus to the beach. So far. Also crowded. Point Lookout is all families (and where my parents always took me as a child) and I do admit, Lido is probably my favorite.
I went to the beach yesterday, and the day before, and I am excited about going to the beach this Saturday--Robert Moses. Me, Rachelle, maybe some sandwiches, trashy novels--sounds like a fantastic day to me.
beach me
I somehow became obsessed with the beach lately.
This might have to do with the fact that I dated a marine biologist for over six years; or it might have to do with the fact that when we do (occasionally, still) see each other, that is one of the main things we continue doing; or it might be due to the fact that Rachelle loves the beach and we have become better friends this summer (probably due to our breakups--I think this bonded us closer); or it might be due to the fact that I have a number of bikinis; or it might be due to the fact that I live in New York City, a train ride's away to the beach; or it might be due to the fact that I just love lying in the sun in a bikini with a book, applying suntan lotion, splashing in the waves as if I were a child, eating sandy sandwiches and enjoying New York City's local sport of people watching.
I really love the beach this summer. I went twice this past weekend; once with Emily F., once with the infamous Rachelle (my best beach date this summer). As I am training for the marathon, I have given up drinking socially (a glass of wine here or a drink there, yes; but drunken nights on Ludlow, stumbling with J from the Dark Room to the Annex to Max Fish to wherever, flirting, sipping, laughing, no)--this is a new way to socialize. We can chill at the beach, talk, catch up on each other's lives, goss, our reading, maybe meet some new friends (though this doesn't seem to happen as it did in high school, when Crystal and I would take the train to Long Beach and flirt with cute seventeen-year-old surfer boys from Long Island who were always from towns much cooler than our extremely boring (and non-beach-containing) town).
Sigh...
I do admit, as I said to Jamie (and probably everyone I've been to the beach with recently), "The beach would just be perfect if it weren't for all this sand." Ah, I know, yes, then it wouldn't be the beach. So I love it.
Spending last summer in Europe, I went to some lovely beaches. I adored Dubrovnik's beaches with its phenomenal views, and also had an interesting time in Amalfi (where a speedo-wearing slick-talking late-thirtysomething Italian man had me rowed out to his boat, where we splashed, rode into Amalfi Town, talked, and then he gave me a ride on his Vespa to my hostel). I must admit, the sand was rarely as nice as it is in New York (yes, even NYC!). Rocky beaches, or the horridly difficult beach of Riomaggiore (where one person left the beach before I arrived with medical assistance as he slipped on the rocks and hurt himself badly). I do like American beaches, though I don't like the close-minded nature of people about women sunbathing topless. Tan lines (esp the traditional bikini lines around the neck that are most visible in summertime months) are not very attractive.
I have been becoming a connoisseur of sands. Coney Island--yuck, though it is very NYC as J says, and you can always go on the rides, play skeeball or walk the boardwalk. Brighton Beach has nice sand, and small (or no) waves, which I like. Jacob Riis has lovely sand, but crashing waves. Long Beach is expensive ($7 per person; I'm used to using my Nassau County drivers license to pay $6 per car with T, which is split between all of the car's inhabitants) but with nice waves. Jones Beach is nice but I *hate* the walk from the car/bus to the beach. So far. Also crowded. Point Lookout is all families (and where my parents always took me as a child) and I do admit, Lido is probably my favorite.
I went to the beach yesterday, and the day before, and I am excited about going to the beach this Saturday--Robert Moses. Me, Rachelle, maybe some sandwiches, trashy novels--sounds like a fantastic day to me.
This might have to do with the fact that I dated a marine biologist for over six years; or it might have to do with the fact that when we do (occasionally, still) see each other, that is one of the main things we continue doing; or it might be due to the fact that Rachelle loves the beach and we have become better friends this summer (probably due to our breakups--I think this bonded us closer); or it might be due to the fact that I have a number of bikinis; or it might be due to the fact that I live in New York City, a train ride's away to the beach; or it might be due to the fact that I just love lying in the sun in a bikini with a book, applying suntan lotion, splashing in the waves as if I were a child, eating sandy sandwiches and enjoying New York City's local sport of people watching.
I really love the beach this summer. I went twice this past weekend; once with Emily F., once with the infamous Rachelle (my best beach date this summer). As I am training for the marathon, I have given up drinking socially (a glass of wine here or a drink there, yes; but drunken nights on Ludlow, stumbling with J from the Dark Room to the Annex to Max Fish to wherever, flirting, sipping, laughing, no)--this is a new way to socialize. We can chill at the beach, talk, catch up on each other's lives, goss, our reading, maybe meet some new friends (though this doesn't seem to happen as it did in high school, when Crystal and I would take the train to Long Beach and flirt with cute seventeen-year-old surfer boys from Long Island who were always from towns much cooler than our extremely boring (and non-beach-containing) town).
Sigh...
I do admit, as I said to Jamie (and probably everyone I've been to the beach with recently), "The beach would just be perfect if it weren't for all this sand." Ah, I know, yes, then it wouldn't be the beach. So I love it.
Spending last summer in Europe, I went to some lovely beaches. I adored Dubrovnik's beaches with its phenomenal views, and also had an interesting time in Amalfi (where a speedo-wearing slick-talking late-thirtysomething Italian man had me rowed out to his boat, where we splashed, rode into Amalfi Town, talked, and then he gave me a ride on his Vespa to my hostel). I must admit, the sand was rarely as nice as it is in New York (yes, even NYC!). Rocky beaches, or the horridly difficult beach of Riomaggiore (where one person left the beach before I arrived with medical assistance as he slipped on the rocks and hurt himself badly). I do like American beaches, though I don't like the close-minded nature of people about women sunbathing topless. Tan lines (esp the traditional bikini lines around the neck that are most visible in summertime months) are not very attractive.
I have been becoming a connoisseur of sands. Coney Island--yuck, though it is very NYC as J says, and you can always go on the rides, play skeeball or walk the boardwalk. Brighton Beach has nice sand, and small (or no) waves, which I like. Jacob Riis has lovely sand, but crashing waves. Long Beach is expensive ($7 per person; I'm used to using my Nassau County drivers license to pay $6 per car with T, which is split between all of the car's inhabitants) but with nice waves. Jones Beach is nice but I *hate* the walk from the car/bus to the beach. So far. Also crowded. Point Lookout is all families (and where my parents always took me as a child) and I do admit, Lido is probably my favorite.
I went to the beach yesterday, and the day before, and I am excited about going to the beach this Saturday--Robert Moses. Me, Rachelle, maybe some sandwiches, trashy novels--sounds like a fantastic day to me.
20 August 2006
people obsessed with pvd
yup, me and peter. i personally know of three heterosexual men who adore pvd more than i do, who say, "i love pvd!" this is one of them; my friend peter and i, a few weeks ago. friday night we were both dancing our asses off (and hurting our respective injuries further, booo!) at paul van dyk at central park. i fucking love pvd. i never felt like i was having an orgasm while hearing music dancing at a party before. now i know what it's like. thanks, pvd, for playing dogzilla's "without you." i never danced so much nonstop to a dj--he plays no filler, just fucking brilliant music.
a touch of nature
an insect, or bird, twittering outside my window;
i am excited.
sad at how little nature there is in new york city that i become excited about this minor sound.
sometimes, the suburbs have so much to offer.
i am excited.
sad at how little nature there is in new york city that i become excited about this minor sound.
sometimes, the suburbs have so much to offer.
16 August 2006
coffee break
My coworker and I decided to take a break and sit by the East River to talk (we work on Wall Street) so we sat on a bench. All of the other benches were empty until this guy in a white dress shirt sat across from us. Being a territorial New Yorker, Candice said, "Ugh, why does he have to sit right next to us?"
We continue chatting when movement catches my eye. The fucker is masturbating himself on the East River Park & Wall Street, right next to the tourist-filled South Street Seaport. "Get up, move, now!" I tell Candice. She follows and I say, "Quicker!"
I turn around and see him walking away. He knew we knew. I screamed, "Pervert!" and he started running. "PERVERT!"
Next time I need to take a photo. I'm glad I yelled pervert but what a total asshole. Ugh. The last thing I need/want to see in the middle of the day is some middle-age exhibitionist's disgusting penis.
We continue chatting when movement catches my eye. The fucker is masturbating himself on the East River Park & Wall Street, right next to the tourist-filled South Street Seaport. "Get up, move, now!" I tell Candice. She follows and I say, "Quicker!"
I turn around and see him walking away. He knew we knew. I screamed, "Pervert!" and he started running. "PERVERT!"
Next time I need to take a photo. I'm glad I yelled pervert but what a total asshole. Ugh. The last thing I need/want to see in the middle of the day is some middle-age exhibitionist's disgusting penis.
enough cryin lyrics
Enough Cryin' Lyrics
Mary J. Blige
Cause
The sex was good
You had my mind
And I
I let you
Come back
Every time
You would
Violate
And cross
The line
And you
Knew that I
Would be
The type
To always
Wait so patiently
Thinkin'
You was comin'
Home to me
Well
Damn, I never heard
The keys
Or
Felt ya taps
Sayin' are
You sleep
Rewind that!
Cause
The sex was good
You had my mind
And I
I let you
Come back
Every time
You would
Violate
And cross
The line
And you
Knew that I
Would be
The type
To always
Wait so patiently
Thinkin'
You was comin'
Home to me
Well
Damn, I never heard
The keys
Or
Felt ya taps
Sayin' are
You sleep
Chorus:
Don't wanna
Play house
No more
So dumb
To think
You gon'
Marry me
I got to be out
My mind
To think I
Need someone
To carry me
I've done enough
Cryin', cryin', cryin'
(Cryin', cryin', cryin')
It's time to say
Bye, bye, bye
It's time I
Do something
For me
It's time
I choose
My foes
Choose my friends
Be with my family
Baby, listen
Girlfriend
Where you been?
We ain't seen
You in weeks
Been chasin'
This fool around
Thinkin' he gon'
Hold me down
I would
Follow his lead
Thinkin' I would
Be the one
He keep around
When I ain't need
Not ya finance
And all that
I needed
Real commitment
I really couldn't see it
Not the real man
Said you was being
In this relationship
So many men
Think all
A girl needs
Is to be sold
A dream
But I won't
Fall for it
Repeat Chorus 1x
Bridge:
Don't wanna
Play house no more
You treat me wrong
Tired of you
Playin' me
I been lookin'
At the front door
This ain't yours
So let me do me
Don't wanna
Play house no more
No more
Tired of you
Playin' me
I've done enough
Cryin', cryin', cryin'
It's time
I do
Something for Me
Brook's Rap:
You turned ya back
And back
I came runnin'
But the simple
Fact is
That you
Ain't want me
I done enough
Lyin' and cryin'
To myself
Nothin' left
To do but move
What else
Can I do but leave?
I believed-ed you
When Mary need
But now I gotta breeze
I be's with LT
When you come
To ya senses
But then
It's too late
That's always
How it be
Catch me
With the B's
On the wheels
Giuseppe on the heels
Shoulda Marc Jacob
Fe Fe bag me
When you had me
Next dude
Will gladly
Pick up
Where you left off
Ice me
Wife me
You ain't gon'
Have me
[Mary]
Cryin', cryin', cryin'
(Cryin', cryin', cryin')
It's time to say
Bye, bye, bye
It's time I
Do something
For me
Repeat Chorus 2x
Mary J. Blige
Cause
The sex was good
You had my mind
And I
I let you
Come back
Every time
You would
Violate
And cross
The line
And you
Knew that I
Would be
The type
To always
Wait so patiently
Thinkin'
You was comin'
Home to me
Well
Damn, I never heard
The keys
Or
Felt ya taps
Sayin' are
You sleep
Rewind that!
Cause
The sex was good
You had my mind
And I
I let you
Come back
Every time
You would
Violate
And cross
The line
And you
Knew that I
Would be
The type
To always
Wait so patiently
Thinkin'
You was comin'
Home to me
Well
Damn, I never heard
The keys
Or
Felt ya taps
Sayin' are
You sleep
Chorus:
Don't wanna
Play house
No more
So dumb
To think
You gon'
Marry me
I got to be out
My mind
To think I
Need someone
To carry me
I've done enough
Cryin', cryin', cryin'
(Cryin', cryin', cryin')
It's time to say
Bye, bye, bye
It's time I
Do something
For me
It's time
I choose
My foes
Choose my friends
Be with my family
Baby, listen
Girlfriend
Where you been?
We ain't seen
You in weeks
Been chasin'
This fool around
Thinkin' he gon'
Hold me down
I would
Follow his lead
Thinkin' I would
Be the one
He keep around
When I ain't need
Not ya finance
And all that
I needed
Real commitment
I really couldn't see it
Not the real man
Said you was being
In this relationship
So many men
Think all
A girl needs
Is to be sold
A dream
But I won't
Fall for it
Repeat Chorus 1x
Bridge:
Don't wanna
Play house no more
You treat me wrong
Tired of you
Playin' me
I been lookin'
At the front door
This ain't yours
So let me do me
Don't wanna
Play house no more
No more
Tired of you
Playin' me
I've done enough
Cryin', cryin', cryin'
It's time
I do
Something for Me
Brook's Rap:
You turned ya back
And back
I came runnin'
But the simple
Fact is
That you
Ain't want me
I done enough
Lyin' and cryin'
To myself
Nothin' left
To do but move
What else
Can I do but leave?
I believed-ed you
When Mary need
But now I gotta breeze
I be's with LT
When you come
To ya senses
But then
It's too late
That's always
How it be
Catch me
With the B's
On the wheels
Giuseppe on the heels
Shoulda Marc Jacob
Fe Fe bag me
When you had me
Next dude
Will gladly
Pick up
Where you left off
Ice me
Wife me
You ain't gon'
Have me
[Mary]
Cryin', cryin', cryin'
(Cryin', cryin', cryin')
It's time to say
Bye, bye, bye
It's time I
Do something
For me
Repeat Chorus 2x
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