Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
for a visitor
some lesser-known new york (good weather) recommendations:
- walk down a major avenue such as madison, fifth, or broadway above 34th listening to flight of the conchords' "fou de fa fa," with gusto.
- eat a bagel with lox
- eat it standing or walking
- go to central park; lazily enjoy people-watching at sheep meadow and toy boat pond. feel concerned at being misinterpreted for pedophile in wanting to take photos of kids with their frenchie model sailboats and crawling on alice in wonderland statue just north of pond.
- a long walk, such as battery park, east river park, across brooklyn bridge (okay not as lesser-known).
- visit a deli that offers way too many ethnic cuisines under one roof. select from the most credible/benign cuisine. often this means diet coke or bagel, usually you want to steer clear of the indian food that's been sitting under lamps for hours.
- newly opened highline in uber-trendy meatpacking district.
- stroll through williamsburg, the LES, or even (gasp) the east village, secretly smirking at over-done hipness.
- have some frozen yogurt, and/or a cupcake. so hot right now.
- sit in bryant park. suck up the beautiful calm in the storm.
- see a free outdoor performance, such as shakespeare or concerts in the park/ on the river.
- buy food from a cart. street meat if you are brave.
- ride the subway to one of the outer boroughs. stand clear of the closing doors.
- stand in line for a ridiculous length of time at shake shack in madison park, to be rewarded for your patience with delicious burgers or ice-cream based desserts.
- walk through SoHo, residential West Village, and/or billionaires' townhomes around the Met uptown to marvel the lives of others. it's amazing what other people's walls, light fixtures, and ceilings say about them.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
overheard on broadway
I was walking directly next to a a black guy who was walking up to a group of other young black men, part of the import-export scene on the crowded sidewalks of broadway at twenty-seventh street. Hugging one, in a tone of both intimacy and youthful bravado, he says:
"you gotta get some pussy and stop fighting, man."
truer words... truer words....
"you gotta get some pussy and stop fighting, man."
truer words... truer words....
twilight zone
Not that it really came out of the blue, but my professional life has turned haywire with a sudden jerky acceleration of a downward cycle of my office. Bad economy combined with a tremendous flux of people and work here put the design office I began working in eight months ago into a spin at pretty much the same time I started. There were maybe two awesome morale-building events the month I started at this fancy-looking penthouse office with a stunning view, and then things started to turn sour.
So here we are eight months later, three rounds of layoffs and twenty-five less people later, and we're starving in the drought. In a couple weeks more than half of us will be on reduced salaries. Not all, and not equitably, which has caused stress. I am lucky enough to be in the first round and have my salary reduced to nearly half... 24 hours. Ouch.
I'm getting resourceful and contacting my firm's offices in other cities in an effort to take control of my own destiny. Normally I'm a bit of a passive individual, but I can't make it long on half pay in Manhattan. I wasn't that flush to begin with, with rent that's half my salary.
I have moments of frustration, but I maintain that this is all an opportunity. I may rewrite my identity and destiny if the circumstances bring major change. Part of me thinks that I have a lot more in me than I'm using right now; I have the potential to be a modern renaissance girl if I ever develop the gumption and plan to try it. Writing, art, craft, botany, community service, education, and environmental awareness are all things I'm pretty passionate about and could love working more on if the opportunity arose.
If it all comes down to it, I still love Seattle. Going back at the end of the summer would feel like the experience was brought to a premature end, but it's been pretty great as it is.
One should love and embrace what they've had for what it was, what one has currently for what it is and may become, and anticipate all that one may have in the future. It makes this unsure period kind of exhilarating. Mystery writing, museum-guiding, city-blogging, garden-designing me, here I come...
So here we are eight months later, three rounds of layoffs and twenty-five less people later, and we're starving in the drought. In a couple weeks more than half of us will be on reduced salaries. Not all, and not equitably, which has caused stress. I am lucky enough to be in the first round and have my salary reduced to nearly half... 24 hours. Ouch.
I'm getting resourceful and contacting my firm's offices in other cities in an effort to take control of my own destiny. Normally I'm a bit of a passive individual, but I can't make it long on half pay in Manhattan. I wasn't that flush to begin with, with rent that's half my salary.
I have moments of frustration, but I maintain that this is all an opportunity. I may rewrite my identity and destiny if the circumstances bring major change. Part of me thinks that I have a lot more in me than I'm using right now; I have the potential to be a modern renaissance girl if I ever develop the gumption and plan to try it. Writing, art, craft, botany, community service, education, and environmental awareness are all things I'm pretty passionate about and could love working more on if the opportunity arose.
If it all comes down to it, I still love Seattle. Going back at the end of the summer would feel like the experience was brought to a premature end, but it's been pretty great as it is.
One should love and embrace what they've had for what it was, what one has currently for what it is and may become, and anticipate all that one may have in the future. It makes this unsure period kind of exhilarating. Mystery writing, museum-guiding, city-blogging, garden-designing me, here I come...
Friday, June 5, 2009
swept away
Been awhile... the hubub of spring and warmer temperatures has engulfed me and the city in a fog of busy-ness. Not to mention working a lot, but that's another story itself.
Shedding our shrouds of dark wool and down, the true seasonality of New York is fun. Spring is like waking from hibernation. We lose the leggings and stockings and find hems creeping and shoulders bare. Boots give way to the strappy sandal of the moment and the plumage of bright fabrics and patterns emerge. We dive deep into spring fever in a matter of a week or two when the temperature breaks.
Spring fever... it's everywhere. Eyes in the subway, glances over happy hour drinks, walking arm in arm beneath the street trees. The East Coast is a little more traditional in relation to the genders- men will more openly check women out here, and if you find yourself in a more working-class neighborhood, a girl on her own or among other ladies is likely to be addressed in terms relating to her appearance, in coos or whistles if not shouts. Doors are held. Older men smile at you as if to say, "oh, if I was younger..."
I found myself in Spanish Harlem yesterday on my way to the Museum of New York City and it was like being in a stereotype of NYC from another era- thick with people socializing on the streets; men in groups on the corners almost territorially; conversations sitting on the stoops; and people shouting from the fifth floor windows down to their neighbors across the street; all happening on a per-block basis. Of course I was addressed and watched, but it made me smile.
Feminist that I am, and coming from the more gender-neutral, Scandinavian-esque northwest, I notice this more than some might. But I love it. I won't say I've not been caught up in the spring fever the past couple months. It's fun.
Shedding our shrouds of dark wool and down, the true seasonality of New York is fun. Spring is like waking from hibernation. We lose the leggings and stockings and find hems creeping and shoulders bare. Boots give way to the strappy sandal of the moment and the plumage of bright fabrics and patterns emerge. We dive deep into spring fever in a matter of a week or two when the temperature breaks.
Spring fever... it's everywhere. Eyes in the subway, glances over happy hour drinks, walking arm in arm beneath the street trees. The East Coast is a little more traditional in relation to the genders- men will more openly check women out here, and if you find yourself in a more working-class neighborhood, a girl on her own or among other ladies is likely to be addressed in terms relating to her appearance, in coos or whistles if not shouts. Doors are held. Older men smile at you as if to say, "oh, if I was younger..."
I found myself in Spanish Harlem yesterday on my way to the Museum of New York City and it was like being in a stereotype of NYC from another era- thick with people socializing on the streets; men in groups on the corners almost territorially; conversations sitting on the stoops; and people shouting from the fifth floor windows down to their neighbors across the street; all happening on a per-block basis. Of course I was addressed and watched, but it made me smile.
Feminist that I am, and coming from the more gender-neutral, Scandinavian-esque northwest, I notice this more than some might. But I love it. I won't say I've not been caught up in the spring fever the past couple months. It's fun.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
warm times, wet times
an observation
The weather is staying above sixty (sometimes above seventy, too; it was eighty and ninety when I was gone on vacation I hear.). And wet pretty often, so far. I'm not used to warm ever mingling with wet. In Seattle, it's cold/cool and drizzly nine and a half months of the year. Then there is the glorious july and august where it's warm and dry, and we go back to our rainy seasons stunned by how lovely summer was for a good few months.
Not so much dryness here... quite humid already. And lots of thundershowers, with loud thunder and lightning, and much more aggressive rain. Today it was raining so hard, and so much, a few coworkers and I stopped our corporate drudgery for a few minutes to observe and mock the runners/crouchers on Broadway from the 12th floor above. Looked like Frogger. The size of the raindrops was incredible. Made being in the office kind of a relief for a few minutes.
The rain brings runoff (now I'm getting into technical jargon, I know, stick with me), and it makes a relatively gross combination here in New York. The sidewalks are the receptacles of every vile substance you can imagine -dogs, drunks, thousands of bags of garbage waiting for pickup everyday, innumerable things I'd like to not have to describe. When it rains, it cleanses, but it's also releasing and moving all that filth around, and the pedestrians are caught in the muck. Somehow the drains here are often set right at the crosswalk, which makes for torrential rivers of drainage rushing into pools forming where you step down into the street, or when it backs up, and oh it does, it's these deep ponds of god-knows-what's-floating-in-there, creeping up the wheelchair ramps to the sidewalk. It's no wonder Wellies are so characteristic on the feet of New York ladies. I've already wrecked a couple pairs of ballet flats. They back up the most dramatically in the snow, when the melt begins and slush clogs them up for yards. It seems like we'll be marooned on the sidewalk in all seasons, though, from what I've heard about the 100-degree humidity of summer.
Who thought of putting storm drains at crosswalk intersections? When did planners think that was the best alternative? Seriously, what 1905 engineer strategized this, I want to understand the rationale.
I was just thinking about how when a raindrop falls on your head, it has fallen thousands and thousands of feet. Shouldn't that hurt? Kind of blowing my mind.
The weather is staying above sixty (sometimes above seventy, too; it was eighty and ninety when I was gone on vacation I hear.). And wet pretty often, so far. I'm not used to warm ever mingling with wet. In Seattle, it's cold/cool and drizzly nine and a half months of the year. Then there is the glorious july and august where it's warm and dry, and we go back to our rainy seasons stunned by how lovely summer was for a good few months.
Not so much dryness here... quite humid already. And lots of thundershowers, with loud thunder and lightning, and much more aggressive rain. Today it was raining so hard, and so much, a few coworkers and I stopped our corporate drudgery for a few minutes to observe and mock the runners/crouchers on Broadway from the 12th floor above. Looked like Frogger. The size of the raindrops was incredible. Made being in the office kind of a relief for a few minutes.
The rain brings runoff (now I'm getting into technical jargon, I know, stick with me), and it makes a relatively gross combination here in New York. The sidewalks are the receptacles of every vile substance you can imagine -dogs, drunks, thousands of bags of garbage waiting for pickup everyday, innumerable things I'd like to not have to describe. When it rains, it cleanses, but it's also releasing and moving all that filth around, and the pedestrians are caught in the muck. Somehow the drains here are often set right at the crosswalk, which makes for torrential rivers of drainage rushing into pools forming where you step down into the street, or when it backs up, and oh it does, it's these deep ponds of god-knows-what's-floating-in-there, creeping up the wheelchair ramps to the sidewalk. It's no wonder Wellies are so characteristic on the feet of New York ladies. I've already wrecked a couple pairs of ballet flats. They back up the most dramatically in the snow, when the melt begins and slush clogs them up for yards. It seems like we'll be marooned on the sidewalk in all seasons, though, from what I've heard about the 100-degree humidity of summer.
Who thought of putting storm drains at crosswalk intersections? When did planners think that was the best alternative? Seriously, what 1905 engineer strategized this, I want to understand the rationale.
I was just thinking about how when a raindrop falls on your head, it has fallen thousands and thousands of feet. Shouldn't that hurt? Kind of blowing my mind.
Monday, May 4, 2009
cats are uninterested in reason
observations.
things my cat wants to do:
things my cat wants to do:
- tell you about it right now
- drink from bathtub faucet
- knock pen off of table
- eat feathered earring
- eat feathered barrette
- eat the plant
- dance on chest while you try to sleep
- eat through breadbag and crust of bread until realizing it's actually just bread inside (once a month)
- individually remove books from shelf with paw to see if there's room behind to hide (no)
- pose in the window for passers-by
- sleep on couch
- sleep on bed
- sleep on chair
- sleep in bathtub
- race down hallway
- drag and drop stick at feet for fetching (like a canine)
- get stuck in pocket-door closet when presence inside undiscovered
- push mouse under open door to other side. WHERE DID IT GO!?!! oh thank god- just over there.
- escape into apartment building hallway to become freaked out and disoriented 3.5 seconds later, returning to apartment (once a week)
- eat food. no, not that food.
- wear collar
- lie where you want it to
- go in the pet carrier
- travel by car
- travel by plane
- be touched by children
- see children
- meet new adults
- meet new animals
- be asked to leave the couch
- be asked to leave the suitcase
- be asked to leave the shower
- be in the shower when it is turned on
- have edward-scissor-nails trimmed
- stop licking the other cat's butt
- look at you for the photo
- take the pill
- take the pill crushed in food
- take the pill while wrapped up in blanket like burrito, mouth pried open with both hands, growling and spitting
- ever stop sprinkling beautiful hairs all over creation
Friday, May 1, 2009
un-shutterbug
I usually take an unhealthy amount of photos in my off-time. This time, I curiously took about six photos in my visit back to Seattle, of obscure content. Not sure if that's a good sign, but here I present four of them, all in poor focus.
Kate, Jeff, and Dave eat tacos.
Stewart Street, through the windows of Entre Nous.
Yann Tiersen at Neumo's.
Neumo's crowd.
Kate, Jeff, and Dave eat tacos.
Stewart Street, through the windows of Entre Nous.
Yann Tiersen at Neumo's.
Neumo's crowd.
re-entry
There's nothing like a 5-hour plane ride to catch up on the calmly-sitting-down activities one misses out on while busy with the daily distractions of life. I find that sometimes I don't find time to do these calmer activities I love as well; it is not until I have limited options that I return to the taking-in: periodicals, novels, reflections.
I'm headed back from a visit to my native Northwest. It's the first time I've been back since settling in in New York City. What an experience. I was badly in need of a break from a stressful work-heavy life. As soon as I set foot in Seattle, it was like resuming my life in a parallel universe- a glamorized one, where everyone is elated to see you every day, and you don't have to work for a living.
It has made me melancholy, however. I am having a blast with my current life in New York City, but visiting my old haunts and immersing myself back in my considerably heftier and deeper social circles that I developed over many years in Seattle makes me reflect upon my decision to leave. What if I had turned right instead of left at the fork in the road? It's not as if I left Seattle to return to it preserved the same- others' lives have evolved as well: relocation, newly single friends, changed careers, and babies are all things that I experience from afar by having chosen wings over roots.
The diversity and dynamism of New York City continues to delight me, but as a six-month resident I am by no means at home there. Returning to the place that formed me, the culture which gave me my values and sense of place in the world hit me more than I expected on this trip. In New York I learn to live and succeed among the A-types; I find myself proactively searching to find social and recreational opportunities in a sea broad with them, but which is not easy to penetrate in depth. The sheer magnitude is one thing; the added layer of the limited personal sphere (mine is about 215 square feet) within the grand urban circus also makes the contrast between a previously intimate social circle and the social experience in the dense mega-city- loud bars and restaurants full of slews of beautifully-adorned people who may be delightful and insightful but have no ties to you. It is only by passing thousands of these people on the way to the bar/bathroom/barista that you may meet someone you'll connect with in a way that's deeper than a bump, glance, or few lines of flirtation. There is no equal to having the joy and comfort of a deep social circle.
I also miss the culture of Seattle and the West Coast. Though I find myself fascinated by the directness and outgoing tendencies of New Yorkers, the richness of art and culture in the city, and delight in the depth of history and architectural richness that it offers in comparison to the west coast, there are plenty of differences I notice in terms of culture and values that make me miss Seattle. The idealism and cerebral nature of the northwest- there are a lot of people who genuinely aim to use their lives as tools for good in the world. There is more of an aim for personal success that fuels those in New York. It may be the circles I ran in in Seattle, but I miss the we're-in-this-together mentality of the (liberal and urban, yes) west coast.
And so I return to New York, with my rockin' East Village apartment location, 2.5 close friends, office full of corporate growing pains, transition, and layoffs, and increasingly scorching warm-season temperatures, and I wonder what my duration will be here. Will I feel like more of a local in another year, and not ponder the what-ifs I do now? Will I fall in love with a person / a group of people / my career/ a neighborhood that will make me feel rooted and calm and content, or will the bright lights and big city maintain my wonder for a while, but allow me to move on after a year or two?
On verra... But I shall continue to miss the air in the northwest with my every breath. If you have lived in another major city, you likely know what I'm talking about. Seattle air is incomparably clean and crisp and fresh, smelling like rain and healthy soil and feeling like therapy itself as it courses through your lungs on a cool evening. New York air isn't bad at all, compared to many European and American cities I've visited (sorry Rome, you were somewhat an atmospheric ashtray/stadium restroom)- but the Gotham air is a little stale and humid on a good day, and biting and blustery on a bad one.
Signing off in my re-entry to the bright lights, big city...
I'm headed back from a visit to my native Northwest. It's the first time I've been back since settling in in New York City. What an experience. I was badly in need of a break from a stressful work-heavy life. As soon as I set foot in Seattle, it was like resuming my life in a parallel universe- a glamorized one, where everyone is elated to see you every day, and you don't have to work for a living.
It has made me melancholy, however. I am having a blast with my current life in New York City, but visiting my old haunts and immersing myself back in my considerably heftier and deeper social circles that I developed over many years in Seattle makes me reflect upon my decision to leave. What if I had turned right instead of left at the fork in the road? It's not as if I left Seattle to return to it preserved the same- others' lives have evolved as well: relocation, newly single friends, changed careers, and babies are all things that I experience from afar by having chosen wings over roots.
The diversity and dynamism of New York City continues to delight me, but as a six-month resident I am by no means at home there. Returning to the place that formed me, the culture which gave me my values and sense of place in the world hit me more than I expected on this trip. In New York I learn to live and succeed among the A-types; I find myself proactively searching to find social and recreational opportunities in a sea broad with them, but which is not easy to penetrate in depth. The sheer magnitude is one thing; the added layer of the limited personal sphere (mine is about 215 square feet) within the grand urban circus also makes the contrast between a previously intimate social circle and the social experience in the dense mega-city- loud bars and restaurants full of slews of beautifully-adorned people who may be delightful and insightful but have no ties to you. It is only by passing thousands of these people on the way to the bar/bathroom/barista that you may meet someone you'll connect with in a way that's deeper than a bump, glance, or few lines of flirtation. There is no equal to having the joy and comfort of a deep social circle.
I also miss the culture of Seattle and the West Coast. Though I find myself fascinated by the directness and outgoing tendencies of New Yorkers, the richness of art and culture in the city, and delight in the depth of history and architectural richness that it offers in comparison to the west coast, there are plenty of differences I notice in terms of culture and values that make me miss Seattle. The idealism and cerebral nature of the northwest- there are a lot of people who genuinely aim to use their lives as tools for good in the world. There is more of an aim for personal success that fuels those in New York. It may be the circles I ran in in Seattle, but I miss the we're-in-this-together mentality of the (liberal and urban, yes) west coast.
And so I return to New York, with my rockin' East Village apartment location, 2.5 close friends, office full of corporate growing pains, transition, and layoffs, and increasingly scorching warm-season temperatures, and I wonder what my duration will be here. Will I feel like more of a local in another year, and not ponder the what-ifs I do now? Will I fall in love with a person / a group of people / my career/ a neighborhood that will make me feel rooted and calm and content, or will the bright lights and big city maintain my wonder for a while, but allow me to move on after a year or two?
On verra... But I shall continue to miss the air in the northwest with my every breath. If you have lived in another major city, you likely know what I'm talking about. Seattle air is incomparably clean and crisp and fresh, smelling like rain and healthy soil and feeling like therapy itself as it courses through your lungs on a cool evening. New York air isn't bad at all, compared to many European and American cities I've visited (sorry Rome, you were somewhat an atmospheric ashtray/stadium restroom)- but the Gotham air is a little stale and humid on a good day, and biting and blustery on a bad one.
Signing off in my re-entry to the bright lights, big city...
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