Sunday, August 30, 2009
My own cooking challenge
Monday, August 24, 2009
Opera, Thunderstorms, and Mad Cow Disease
There’s an ad on the train platforms at Penn Station that I find amusing and simultaneously, somewhat insulting. It’s for
One thing can be said about working in NYC - with so many people in such a small space, there’s no shortage of material for a blogger, especially when you take the subway. To that point, there is a homeless woman that lives in the subway station near work who petrifies me. I'm pretty sure she yells nonsense all day long because every time I walk past, she’s yelling about something new. None of it makes sense and she directs her tirade at anyone who passes by. She once yelled at my director for wearing a peace sign necklace. I’m always so afraid she’s going to chase after me for some reason or another. I am not proud to admit that I have an irrational fear of homeless people. Maybe it’s because I’m a girl and feel vulnerable or maybe it’s just because it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t know. It’s not something I’m proud of and I try to be aware of it and not let it effect how I act. It’s something I’m working on to be a better person, but one thing's for sure - this woman does not help to ease my fear. On a more positive note, however, in that same subway station, there is a young guy who sings opera. It’s incredible. He’s so good, I can’t help but smile as I walk past him. He’s usually dressed in baggy jeans, a white t-shirt and a do-rag, but the voice that comes out of that guy is incredible, really beautiful. If you’re ever at the
While I loathe the suffocating humidity of
On my nightstand:
I read a book a few months ago by one of our authors, Libba Bray. It's called Going Bovine and is about a teenage boy who contracts Mad Coy Disease. This book is out there. It's incredibly odd and wonderfully absurd, but it also touches upon some deep intellectual points, such as "what is reality?" It's about Mad Cow Disease and how this one kid is handling it as there is no cure, but it's also about string theory and music and so much more. It seems to be a hodge-podge of Libba's interests and general wonderings, but it's done in a way that makes you think. You first have to get past the garden gnome, punk angel, and death obsessed dwarf, but it's worth it.
I had the pleasure of attending a talk given by Libba. She is one of my favorite people. She's hilarious and intelligent and goofy. I'm posting this link to her video promoting Going Bovine. Please watch. It's so funny and strange. If you need a good laugh, watch it. http://shelf-life.ew.com/2009/08/19/libba-bray-going-bovine-trailer/
Monday, August 17, 2009
The Sweet Smell of Onions
Thursday, August 13, 2009
My boyfriend is old - and I'm almost there
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
My new glasses
Monday, August 10, 2009
I'm Part of the 75%
Saturday, August 8, 2009
I Declare War Against the Ants
As I've said before, our new apartment is in a very old house. The well is still in the basement (from when they didn't have indoor plumbing!). For those of you who don't know, old houses do not have much closet space. I have no idea why this is - maybe they didn't have a lot of clothes or excess things to store like we do today. Who knows. The point of the story is that we have had to get pretty inventive with storage. Kurt and I have both given away bags upon bags of clothes and shoes. But alas, we STILL don't have enough closet space. So we decided to make a trip to IKEA. Now I can spend literally all day and all of my money at this store. I love it. I want everything. But since I have no money, I had to settle for only getting a few necessary items. One of these items was a wardrobe (see picture at right). This was quite the purchase. First of all, Kurt and I do not see eye to eye when it comes to home decor. I like old-fashioned things, with crown molding, and he likes sleek and modern. Luckily, we were able to compromise with this guy. But that's not the end. This behemoth is 8 feet tall. I had managed to think far enough ahead to switch cars with my sister, so we had her Jeep Liberty. But even Jeep Liberty's only have about 6 feet of cargo space. If that. Our friends were with us and after picking up all of the parts in the warehouse, we went out to the car. An hour later, the men were both soaked with sweat and the pieces were tied down with twine in the back of the Jeep - with about 2 feet hanging out the back window. Kurt and I were both so nervous that it was going to go flying out of the window that we literally drove the hour ride home in complete silence, holding our breath. Somehow we made it home.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Slowing down
Kurt has some competition. I went to his softball game tonight and a little boy (about 4 years old) sat down right next to me and leaned on my lap and talked to me for most of the game. It was the cutest thing I have ever seen. Afterwards, we were sitting in the parking lot in chairs and he came and sat in the chair with me, pushing me over so he’d have room. Adorable.
Last night I went to a screening of Julie & Julia with some people from work. Random House published Julia Child’s My Life in France, on which the movie is partially based, so all of RH was invited to go. It was such a cute movie. Meryl Streep really amazes me as an actress. She really becomes the character, even looks like whoever she’s playing. In every movie, she actually looks different. She played Julia Child and was incredible. Half of the movie takes place in Paris and all I could think of while watching those parts was how much I’d love to live there, anywhere in Europe, surrounded by the art and food and beauty. I think mostly though, I long for the lifestyle – the slower pace to life.
After the movie I took a subway back to work to pick up my car (I’d driven in because I knew I’d be leaving late). It was 9:30 at night and still the city was alive and noisy. 9:30 at night and I could hear a jackhammer from a street or two over, I could hear people yelling, car stereos blasting. While the noise is overwhelming, I think it’s the smell that effects me the most – that rotten city smell. I realized while I was walking from the subway to the garage, that the city never stops rushing and it causes me to. I walk faster, drive faster, work faster, talk faster when I’m there. I thought about home in Allentown, NJ, where at 9:30 the streets are dead silent. Someone came up behind while I was walking to my car and I tightened my grip on my bag, always at the ready, always anxious. Two nights ago I walked to the pizza place down the street in Allentown, at 9:00, in the dark, and felt completely safe and relaxed. No one was on the street, the town was completely silent (which I love). My shoulders weren’t tensed at my neck and my pace was slow. Such a difference.
That’s what I thought of while walking to my car in midtown Manhattan. How the paces of life barely an hour and a half from each other could be so different. It was something I recognized while living in Italy, how much better a slow pace of life is. It’s counter intuitive, sure, but it feels like when you slow down, you actually have more time, like the days are longer. Say what you will about Italians - efficiency they know not of, but love, art, food and life, they are experts.
They have their priorities straight. Living there taught me to take a breath and slow down, to wake up late and stay up late. I have always been a morning person - the way of the American life - early to bed, early to rise and all that. Italy taught me to relax, to breathe in slowly and savour life, to stay up late and drink chianti and talk for hours. Now of course, back in states, I’m back to my early to bed, early to rise routine. It’s sad.
This blog is about waking up and taking in more of life. From age 6 until 18, I took private art lessons with a woman named Juanita. At first, I was in her class after school. She’d teach us how to draw with pastels and then we’d always take a Koolaid and pretzel break. Her cousin lived with her and he would always mix together different flavors of Koolaid for us. We’d have to guess what flavors they were. Every break, we’d guess the flavors and tell jokes. It was Juanita’s way of awakening our senses. To be artists, she’d claim, all of your senses have to be exercised constantly, even your sense of humor. I loved that. It was like she was saying to stop focusing on one thing, on one sense, and to take it all in.
On my nightstand:
I just finished an incredible manuscript and I have to say that my heart breaks a little every time I finish a book that I loved. That feeling is so hard to come by – only a few books have had me so enthralled, that I look up confused when we reach Penn Station, because I can’t remember stopping at Princeton Junction, Newark, or Secaucus. So few books have had me crying, sobbing actually, on the train - while reading Love, Aubrey, I was crying so much on the train, that the man next to me actually got up and moved to another seat. I think it's amazing how much a book becomes a part of you, more so than a movie or anything else. It reaches down and touches your soul. And so when I finish a book like that, I go into a brief depression. I don’t want to pick up another book because the next book could never be as good as the one I just finished. And sometimes that's true, but other times, the next book is just as good, if not better.
One to read: The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman.