"home" for the holidays

My bags are packed, I'm ready to go...back to Detroit. Motown. The Motor City. The place I come from. But I really can’t call it home, not anymore. It is a place I used to be, a whole different life. Returning to Michigan never seems real until I am at this point, my life for the next week contained in several carrying cases, preparing to walk out the door.

This year I don't feel any anxiety or need to prove that I have “made it” here in NYC. Normally I do, but I have a happy distraction to tear my thoughts away.

Vegas baby, Vegas. I can't wait to see my friend who lives out there, and I can't wait to see what that town is about. I expect this New Years Eve will be memorable. Woo hoo!

Until then, I have some fun events planned around xmas with friends and family, so I believe this trip should at the very least be busy, if not downright pleasurable.

Okay, enough procrastination, time for the traveling. I'll be seeing some of ya soon!

moments

It is always a happy moment when I have my ipod set to random and a Disney tune comes on.  I just heard "Kiss The Girl" from The Little Mermaid, and did a happy chair dance in time with the music.  :)

bedtime

New York is the city that never sleeps...unless there is a transit strike.  I tell ya, once those subways and busses are gone this place becomes a ghost town.  Every store, shop, restaurant, and gym was closing at eight or eight-thirty the last couple of days.  It is awful hard to finish up your xmas shopping when it takes longer for you to get everywhere and your window of opportunity has drastically shrunk.

 

As I made my way home around nine last night, having completed *almost* all of my last minute shopping, I could not help but noticed how deserted the streets were becoming.  Even the people who were left walking were practically sprinting, trying to get home as fast as their little legs would carry them.  It really felt like a small town where everyone goes home to have dinner with their families or something.  I don't really know where those people in small towns go, they just do.

 

Living here you often hear how NYC transit is one of the select few systems in the world that runs all 24 hours of every day.  After this strike experience, I wonder which came first, the chicken or the egg; do the subways and busses run constantly because we need them to or do we stay awake until all hours because we can?  If the subways were to shut down for a couple hours every night, would we become a more pure city, partying less and sleeping more?  Would we experience less excess and more morality?  Look what happened with the smoking ban - take away the accessibility and the usage dropped. 

 

Thank god no one in this city wants to stop the excess.  We like our 24 hour party, thank you very much.  Knock on wood.

misplaced guilt

Somebody brought in a dozen Dunkin Donuts to work today, and as a team player I consumed two.  The whole time I'm doing the guilt thing, telling myself over and over I'm going to have to work out extra hard and long for my sins.

 

To really asses the damage (and further flagellate myself), I just went on the website to check the nutrition content of what I had eaten - and the donuts are listed as only having 200 or 210 calories apiece!!!!  That would be less calories than their muffins, bagels, and pretty much every other damn food item on the menu.  Here I thought buying the bagel was the smart way to go. 

 

Bah.  Knowledge is power.  Next road trip sugar all the way baby!

day two of strike-ola

The novelty wore off of the strike damn quick.  The walk to work was fine yesterday, I even got there before nine, which is earlier than normal for me.  Not that the walk is quicker than the subway ride, I just left earlier.  Once at work it was interesting to hear who made it, who didn't, and how different people from different areas got here.  Everyone enjoyed talking/complaining about the adventure that was their commute.

 

Going home was when everyone started to really think about the big question - how long is this going to last? 

 

My job has been good enough to set up shuttle busses for those in Manhattan, so if I get tired of walking I can thumb a ride and get home lickity split.  I live very near a Port Authority which is a huge bus terminal, and the shuttle there kicks me two blocks from home.  Short blocks.  Nice.  My walking has just been because there are two shuttle bus schedules that I could adhere to, but so far neither has been convenient to me, so I decided to just hoof it.  If I get sick or tired than I have an easy ride.

 

Most of the people I work with are not so fortunate, they are shouldered with a two to three hour commute every day now, pushing through crowds, waiting on overloaded platforms, walking over windy icy bridges.  For them this is really a horrible obstacle to deal with.

 

The media keeps saying that the strike in the 1980s lasted 11 days, which with my company being closed next week bodes fine for us.  But there was another strike before that which lasted over 20 days.  If this happens again and is still going on after the holiday there are no bones about it, that would REALLY SUCK. 

 

Yesterday in my neighborhood you could clearly see how our economy is being effected - many shops were closed, and if not then were going to close early.  Restaurants, bars, and shops were devoid of customers.  All people want to do is focus on getting to work and then going home again.

 

Before the strike people were pretty split on which side they were on, the MTA or TWU, but now everyone is against the TWU.  Politically they made a bad choice, and now with all the fines imposed on them it is a financial one as well.  But pulling out before they get what they want would be even worse, so they are entrenched.  And we are stuck.

 

Happy holidays NYC?

it is done

Got my wish, the strike is on. I'm walking to work this morning.

Gee, I hope the xmas lunch isn't cancelled. I have priorities.

mta vs twu

For you non-new yorkers, that would be the metro transit authority vs the transit workers union. If the twu strikes, no subways or busses, thus mass gridlock in good ole' manhatty.

They have been threatening to do if for days now, I wish they would just go ahead and get it over already. See, I can walk to work. Yes, this sucks for my friends who live in queens and brooklyn who would have a commute from hell, but I pay a lot of rent for this convenience.

Of course, if the rest of public transport strikes in sympathy, they won't be getting to work at all, so they will have the last laugh since I pay more money and am stuck still going to work. Doh.

guilty pleasure

Everyone's got 'em. A Brittney Spears song on their ipod, a collection of beanie babies in a drawer, an old New Kids on the Block cd, being a fan of professional wrestling.

Over time I myself have had many secret pleasures of my own, and will admit to my latest now. I LOVE Grey's Anatomy. Love it love it. Taping it while watching every week and then immediately rewinding to watch it again love it love it.

This is surprising as I am not a big late night soap opera watcher. Never did the Falcon Crest or Dallas thing growing up, and I'm not even into Desperate Housewives now. I may have enjoyed watching ER once or twice, but it was never quite like this.

Maybe it is the characters - how clear and archetypal they are. Or the actors in how convincingly they play their parts. The plots are fun, but my love can't be that alone.

I know what it is - it's the chemistry. Not just the romance either, it is the way they all interact with each other. So familiar, intertwined. I miss that. I miss coming into work and over 50% of the people you interact with are your friends, or that at least 85% of them you see outside of work in a social manner. I miss the sense of community, of camaraderie.

When I first started my jobs here I had that at both. One job is gone and the other has matured. Problem is, I don't think I have, or I ever will want to.

At least for a while I can live vicariously through this show. Eventually I suppose it won't be enough. Then life will get interesting I suppose.

fictional science

Science tells us that 3,500 calories equals the equivalent of a pound of fat. If you eat that many in excess you gain, if you restrict your intake than you lose. A calorie, just in case you didn't know, is the amount of energy it takes to raise one gram of water one degree centigrade.

Pshaw. I can eat perfectly all week, and then one day consume five hundred extra calories and the next morning I've gained two pounds. Really, how can scientists measure energy and then apply it to food???

You can add and subtract those kilocalories all you want, I believe in the fat fairy.

She comes into your room while you are sleeping because she could sense that you ate an extra scoop of ice cream, and with a wave of her magic wand POOF you have two extra inches on your thighs.

Oh, she is good; she never strikes in the same way. One day you gain around the waist, the next your arms and butt. Or she will slowly sneak it onto your back for a couple months so you don't notice it right away and when you do you are in shock - where did that roll on my back come from?!? And when did I lose the ability to fit into my favorite pair of pants?!?

She herself is perfectly slim and trim, Nicole Kidman like. Svelte with perfect hair always dressed to the nines. And of course she lives off of deep fried foods, pastries and candy.

Just to shake things up, sometimes she vary how much weight you gain, regardless of the amount of calories you eat. This evil pixie takes satisfaction in keeping us juggling, walking that tightrope not knowing when or from where the next gale of wind will blow, threatening our balance and potentially throwing us into the empty depths, sending us from chubby to obese.

As much as you think I jest it is not so. I must prove the fat fairy exists. The rest of my life I can then devote to finding the spell or hex to keep her away. There must be an amulet or charm or something I can use.

Addendum: After much research, I have found the one thing that wards off this evil pixie.

Endorphins.

As you well know, there are but two ways to bathe in this chemical glory. The first being via exercise. As the fat fairy is a tricky minx, if she senses an increase in physical activity she makes one last ditch effort to toss on a couple of pounds to discourage your new workout routine and plunge you back into her evil claws.

The second way, of course, is sex. New relationships equal increased orgasms equal endorphins and the pounds just peel off. Need I point out that the weight gain attributed to age is actually a decline in endorphins? Just sayin.

a matter of opinion

Being a geek and loving all things techie, this little news item peaked my interest. Seems a group of people used a super-duper intricate emotion recognition software on the Mona Lisa do decode her legendary smile.



The results came back that she was 83% happy, 9% disgusted, 6% fearful, and 2% angry.

Although I do believe that there is so much more to art than a synopsis of feelings, this point of view gives me new insights to ponder, and that I enjoy.

Ah, a rose by any other name...

happy blogday!!

My goodness, the time sure does fly. Yesterday was the one-year anniversary of this blog!

Honestly, I never thought I would see this day. See, I'm not a writer. Yes I work in publishing, but I took the job because I love to read and thought it would be wicked cool to work with books and whatnot. But create one of the damn things? Nah.

Writing journals has never been my cup of tea either. I have tried to do the diary thing about seven times in my life, always to peter out in a month or less.

The best I've been able to do in collecting any set of compositions is to have an empty journal that I could pick up and open randomly to jot down feelings and thought processes. Yes, there is poetry. And no, you will never see it. See how good I am to you?

I can remember when I first learned what a weblog was, it was the summer of 2004, and every time I heard something about the presidential race the media kept saying "blog" this and "blog" that. Normally I'm pretty technologically savvy, but somehow I was late getting on this particular boat. My friends explained the concept to me, and that was that.

Until I started to know people who had their own blogs and started to read what they were writing. Then I found more to read, and more and more and....by god I wanted one!

Problem was that I was concerned about potential confidentiality issues. How fair is it to discuss personal details about other peoples' lives to an open audience? The last thing I wanted to do was hurt anyone's feelings or break any trusts. Or get fired. So I decided to just release my web address to friends living out of state. People vested enough in my life to understand what I was saying, but far enough away not to risk any potential conflicts of interest.

Again, what kept me going, how is this thing still alive? Plain and simple, people kept reading. There are just a handful of regular readers, but knowing someone, anyone has been interested has kept me talking. How often do you really get a devoted audience that comes just to listen? For an extrovert like me this has been a dream come true!

It is more that that though. There is the support that my friends have shown me in the rough times, and the shared enthusiasm in the good. Really, the best gift of all.

Now, a year later, I realized that pretty much what I write about is harmless to the people here who surround me. And I only had a couple of posts that could get me in trouble at the job. So I did my job post cleanup and have outted my blog to all locally who are interested.

One thing I have noticed in following other people's blogs is that sometimes the personality that I read does not match the personality of the person I know. It is delightful to see this other aspect, but do others feel the same way about me? Is there a different side to the coin of Rockstar that people have never seen before?

I suppose now that this site is no longer anonymous I'll find out! Welcome to the dark side...

unsanitary

As I exited the bathroom stall, I noticed someone in the stall across from me exiting hers at the same time.  We walked into the sink area, I bent over one and noticed...

 

She just walked directly on by and out of the bathroom.

 

That's right, blatantly flaunting that her phalanges are, well, unclean.  Thank god we are past the point of shaking hands in greeting.  I will, however, give her the benefit of the doubt and assume that she has some kind of hand sanitizer in her office.

 

Please god.

accomplishments

Yep, I did it! Today I ran the Joe Kleinerman 10K, therefore completing nine official races in 2005 to automatically qualify for the 2006 NYC Marathon.

I'm not going to lie to you - today's race was hard. For some reason I never felt comfortable enough to take in the landscape as I normally do. This was too bad, as Central Park looked fabulous covered in snow.

The whole length of the course I struggled, and just before finishing mile five I walked for a bit, trying to get my heart rate down. All I could think for the last mile was "why am I doing this? Can I do this? Will I break? Will I fail?"

You know what? I finished just fine. With an average 10:37 mile as a matter of fact, which again is great for me.

Really, it is fitting that this race felt way to me. It is not like I was planning on finishing this, the last of my races for the year, in the eleventh hour. I had signed up for two others that I was forced to miss because of two separate hospital visits. Also, I missed one or two race opportunities because of having walking pneumonia. This year had turned out to be much more of a struggle than I realized. And I have only been able to notice in hindsight.

Last year, 2004, has been etched in my mind as my most horrific year, what with my two surgeries and all the doctor and hospital visits associated with them. Yet this year has been of more quiet desperation. This year had just as many hospital visits as the year prior; I just didn't get cut open. Which ironically was worse, as there is no hope that I will ever get better.

My long overdue colonoscopy determined that I have both Crohns and another adhesion. Neither is bad enough to do something about, I have to have a blockage for over 24 hours for them to fix one or the other. Most of the time when I end up in the emergency room my troubles clear up in under 18 hours, so I have occasional bouts of pain and vomiting to look forward to for some time. Not to mention having had Crohns for over 15 years means I have a 35% chance of developing cancer.

Everyone has his or her cross to bear, and in some way I am fortunate to be able to recognize mine. It is not like I have no hope; I have learned that fasting helps to heal my condition, and that drinking fresh vegetable and fruit juices aids in my health as well.

That being said, I am taking the time to pat myself on the back for competing in these races. I am very proud of what I have been able to accomplish in light of so many health problems, and so look forward to training for and finishing the marathon next year.

ho ho ho

Hey, even santa gets thirsty. Today was the annual santa pub crawl.





Hundreds of santas filing into a bar. Brings tears of joy to my eyes, I tell ya.

This is one of my favorite things I look forward to seeing because of where I live, Hell's Kitchen in NYC. The first time I saw this I was so excited that I started calling everyone I could think of to tell them about it. And if you know me, you know I hate using the phone.

Take the example of ole' St. Nick and have a xtra merry xmas!!

how to drink 'n wink

My friend slash cousin-in-law and I were emailing back and forth this week, discussing her success in using match.com, and her strategies in her success. I am grasshopper, teach me sensei.

I told her that I might have a couple of drinks on the town tonight and then come home and make an online advance or two. Yet I choked.

Seems I have this phobia from the third grade. Yes, from grade school. I know there has been PLENTY of time to get over this, but lets just say that this behavior has had a long time to etch itself into my psyche.

The event is clear in my memory like it was yesterday. My class (Holy Innocents grade school, named after all the innocent children who were slaughtered when Pilate was trying to kill the baby Jesus. Happy thoughts in that catholic religion) were all in the hallway for break time playing games. The popular kids, yes there were already the chosen people in third grade, were in their special area when the girls caught me glancing at the class "stud", Michael Dibb. At least I think that was his last name. Anyhoo, they caught me glancing and mocked me ruthlessly about having a crush on him.

What made it worse was they were right. I had a crush on Michael. And they mocked me forever, probably a whole week. You know how long a week seems when you are young.

So I learned early to hide any special feelings or emotions to prevent being made fun of. To this day I abhor when someone notices that I am into someone before I decide to make it common knowledge. Of course I have extremely observant and outspoken friends, so lets say having them in my life helps me work through the old demons. Or I’m a masochist.

My third grade phobia aside, in lieu of drinking and winking I tried to sneak in my blog contact info into my profile. Even if I make it through, I don't know how fair that really is. If anything, blogging through this past year has made me realize that even in this forum I put on a personality. I show the best, funniest, kookiest, most intelligent version of myself. For god's sake, I have spell-check and a thesaurus.

As much as these posts are letters to myself, in the back of my mind I know to edit for the public. The public consists of my friends, which would actually be the most important reason to care. I try very hard to be honest and yet not insult or hurt anyone I care for. Fortunately I make a fool of myself often enough that I don't embarrass anyone else. They can have their own blogs for that.

The fun question remains, is this blog putting my best foot forward I wonder? I suppose we will see.

I hate Maggie Gyllenhaal

Ok, so not really.

Last night I went to the theatre and saw Jarhead starring Jake Gyllenhaal and Peter Sarsgaard.

Drool. Drool. Drool. My god they were beautiful - and talented!!??!! Lordy.

But I digress. After watching the movie and sliding out of my seat a couple of times, I came home and watched Happy Endings, staring several people including Maggie Gyllenhaal, sister of Jake and girlfriend to Peter S.

I wanted to dislike her, really really I did. Pure jealousy, through and through. Even though obviously romantic interactions with her brother are out of the picture, she gets to sleep with Peter S., hang with the artsy cool actor crowd, star in all kinds of awesome movies, and is the up and coming "it" girl. So I had decided to loathe her.

Movie starts, and I notice her boobs are way saggy. Surprising for such a young woman. Even with a bra on. So I fixate on that one failure for a while. Anything to get my negative feelings vindicated.

Then it happened. She did an amazing job of acting. I had already seen and loved Secretary, and by contrasting her roles between these two films could not help but identify her strong talent. By god she is an actor's actor. Then it hit me that despite all the Hollywood pressure and plasticity, her boobs looking that way were because THEY ARE REAL.

Dammit, now I admire the woman. And I can't even pretend to be saying that in the hopes of getting close to her brother, 'cause the gosh darn guy is with Kirsten Dunst.

I think I'll hate her instead.

online junky

I am an addict of www.dictionary.com, and I freely admit it.  You all may not know this, but my ability to ruminate and pontificate in an *almost* intelligent manner are almost 99% in thanks to the thesaurus provided on this site.  (The other 1% comes from eating lots of fish.)

 

Yes, there are books that do this, but really who wants to get up, walk to a bookcase, search out the book, and then page through the damn thing?  Not to mention, the book won't suggest other words when you had the spelling wrong!

 

Thank you, dear internet, for helping me sound smart and stuff.  Sometimes.  Oh, okay, once and a while.  On occasion.

may you have an exciting life

This past week has been very...interesting.

My dad used to tell me it is an ancient curse to wish someone an exciting life, since exciting things tend to be terrible like wars, famine, hurricanes, or some other tragedy. Boring lives are safe and healthy.

I can't say that I want a boring life. When my life gets too regular I get restless, edgy. Sometimes in the past I would even get self destructive - anything to shake things up.

It has been a long time since so much has happened to me in such a short span of time. Boy have I missed it. But holy moly, is it hard to do now. A couple nights of minimal sleep and I was totally exhausted. Methinks I could not handle being a medical intern if I can't do more than two nights with little rest.

Anyhoo, this week was the kind I used to fantasize about having once being in NYC before I lived here.

You all know about my Wednesday night, which ended at one am.

Thursday night I went drinking again with different buddies, in bed at two am (yes I came home from the party and kept drinking while watching netflix, alcohol increases my social skills not my intelligence.).

Friday night was the Petey annual holiday party - which I actually did not drink at, shocker of shockers. Yet had so much fun, these girls are so great I don't need help enjoying myself. Oh, and the food, my god these girls can cook.

Saturday am I ran a four-mile race with a time that I am thrilled about, a 10:17 average minute mile. That night RFW and I met up whit Spaghetti to see a modern dance performance interpretation of Hansel and Gretel. (Quite artsy, super duper duper artsy), then RFW and I went out to CBGBs to see a band she knows, and we traveled around and kept drinking on the Lower East Side.

Today I lay splayed on my couch in a coma.

All of these events kept me busy, and my life is richer and more diverse. What I find interesting is that in this time some things happened that seemed to tie in with my hormones kicking back in. I think when they went into overdrive my pheromones did as well. Which honestly is not that bad, but rather unexpected and therefore unsettling. In the midst of all this activity I got called and asked out on one date (such a sweet call), and was introduced into two other situations that I foresee as blooming into something interesting.

Sadly I'm not interested in the guy who called me, which is tragic because I had a lot of fun with him, and he is sweet, smart, and very attractive. His schedule is COMPLETELY the opposite of mine, which I just can't deal with. And he is attracted to the person I used to be. As much as I miss that girl, I don't want to go back. I want to incorporate her again in small ways, grow and go forward.

The two other guys who have potential, I am very attracted to, and they are the polar opposite of each other. I actually don't know if either is available, but I could sense the mutual spark, so we'll see what develops. I may even make a move, what the heck.

softball peeps

The hosts were generous and welcoming. The apartment was awesome. The people, so wonderful to see. Could there be a better party, a better group of friends? Pretty hard to come by.

Especially when one of your friends openly and willingly states

"I wouldn't mind having a smaller penis..."

Boy, is that friend lucky I don't name names, eh? (At least here, for a small fee I may be willing to disclose over email)

Oh, and quoting without context ROCKS.

Good people. Good times.

fate or chance?

Last night was a cascading waterfall of coincidences.  It was like watching one of those huge domino structures someone set up to knock over.  They rapidly start falling over and then BOOM one falls off the table into a scale to start two rows going, then a couple minutes later WHAP a silver ball is rolling, and then KAPLOOIE a torch lights to heat an air balloon....

 

You get the idea.

 

The night started because fortuitously my friend La-La-La had received a card entitling her to free food at a new Chipotle opening on my corner.  This was a fun coincidence as she had gotten this card the other night while walking home from work, yet her job is in SOHO and lives on the UES - thus my hood is pretty darn out of the way.  Meanwhile I, the girl who lives a mere 20 yards from the establishment never got a card.  Lucky for us she did!

 

We partook in the free food and beverage (mmmmmmmmmm good), and on the way out realized that our evening's errands could wait until after we had a glass of wine nearby.  What's the rush?

 

I suggested a neat little spot nearby that I have passed a million and one times but never been to.  It is very well hidden, not easily noticeable, yet quite intricately decorated inside which has always intrigued me.  Oh, and once while walking by I saw Denzel Washington inside, which I found pretty darn impressive.

 

So we enter and commence to drinking.  La-La-La started talking about coincidences, and how her manly-man (we will call him MMM for miracle marathon man, as he completed the Philly marathon a couple weeks ago in 3:15, which I find absolutely AMAZING but he is disappointed with!!) had been talking with her about them the other night.  And then she pointed out an actor she recognized, Johnny Galecki.  She knew him by name, which I found funny, but she explained that she and MMM had looked for him on imdb the other night.  Huh, neat coincidence.

 

He looked great, by the way.

 

Anyhoo, we are having fun and decide to go for glass of wine number three.  At this point we are enchanted by this place.  It is over decorated to the point that it is could almost be tacky, but yet the items are so diverse and interesting the place is intimate and charming.  The bathrooms were a wonder of decoration to the point that La-La-La and I were ready to sign a lease and move in.

 

We are about done with our third glass of wine when we notice someone nearly knocking over one of the many vary large plants in the room.  Thinking it is someone who is drunk we look over, and realize this was our mistake, that in fact it was a blind man.

 

Stevie Wonder.

 

Yes, we were a mere two mere yards away from a LIVING LEGEND.  We immediately were blushing, tongue-tied in awe of him.  This was not so much a coincidence as really really cool.

 

At this point we ordered another glass of wine to bask in his presence. 

 

The place wasn't too busy, so the bartender sat down and joined us in our conversation.  He mentioned that not only was Stevie here, but Earth Wind and Fire was having dinner in the next room.

 

Mother of god what is this place?  This night is just too cool.

 

We continue our convo with the bartender, and we get to the point where we are talking about jobs and such.  He is an actor between gigs, had worked at this establishment once before and had just started back.  Oh, and he used to work for this restaurant called Tuscan.

 

Wha?  Wha???  Wha?????  Yeah, the same Tuscan I worked at for three years.  The only other place I have worked in the city.  Seems he started just after I left, we had barely missed each other.  This would be another coincidence, methinks. 

 

This sparked another glass of wine and an animated discussion of all the people we knew in common and how they are/have been.  Poor La-La-La had to listen to us go on and on and on about all these personalities she has never met.  Until the discussion comes around to the favorite watering hole of Tuscan employees, the local at which I spent many a night closing and drinking until six am, Peter Dylan's.

 

La-La-La perks up.  She knows this bar.  Seems MMM used to frequent it quite often when he worked around the corner, and had introduced her to the establishment on occasion.  Now we all start talking about the place and the bartender Paulie, whom we all know.  

 

The coincidences have come full circle, back to La-La-La and MMM.  We are all linked together through a strange turn of events.

 

MMM shows up, joins the discussion, and the four of us head across the street to continue the party.  We have a few more drinks and I am just stupid drunk.  It is almost one in the morning, dear god how will I get to work the next day/this day?

 

At this point I ask MMM about the coincidence discussion he and La-La-La had the other night, in light of the evening's events.  He clarifies something - that the point of their debate had been that he thinks that coincidences mean nothing, that people just notice them because they stand out, that the myriads of normal events and missed coincidences in effect prove that nothing is connected and by the pure nature of odds funny things are bound to happen.

 

This, my friends, is the best coincidence at all, and a perfect way to end the night.