Well, things are starting to look better…somewhat…kind of….er, yay OBAMA!!!!
I’ve moved to Brooklyn, where I’ve wanted to be for quite a while now. There’s a sense of settlement here, along with a curiosity of how I’m going to be living for a while.
A few days after moving in to a place in Borough Park, I was let go from my position. The same position, mind you, that put the wheels in motion for my moving here in the first place. Talk about timing.
I miss one person from Philadelphia…just one. Yet, this same person has a huge part of my heart. So much so, in fact, part of me wants to be out of Brooklyn and closer to him.
But I can’t do this; I fully realize it’s time to truly set down my bags and cases, and set roots here, finally making a home for myself. There’s a tug of war going on between my heart and my head.
It’s time to (wo) man up here, grow a set and get down to business! To do that, I have to realize the difference between “want” and “meed”.
Right now, it’s about getting a full-time job. From there, other things will fall into place…I hope.
This person will never be out of my life, we both know that. He has a great deal of respect for and from me.
All it takes now is confidence and the right leads.
Just when I was getting into a nice little routine, construction at World Trade Center changes things up and my walking route from Ground Zero to Wall Street has gotten just a leeeetle bit longer.
I’ll explain.
It used to be you walked up four separate flights of stairs just to get up to Church Street, then you could make a left or right turn towards the destination of your choice. Then they took down that sidewalk, and you had to make a left turn regardless, and then do a pedestrian U-Turn to get further downtown.
Now they’ve got the Church Street entrance blocked completely, and new stairs and escalators have been created in order for us to reach Vesey and West Broadway. This is a good and a bad thing in that the good of it is I get to make a morning trip to Jamba Juice to get my smoothie on (yes, I did just type that), which makes up for the bad fact that it’s a little out of the way to get to work.
But, to re-iterate, I get Jamba Juice! Yaaaayyyyy1!!! *Happy dance followed by bouncing*
Do they have Jamba Juice in San Diego? I hope so. I have decided on San Diego to be the city to move to. Haven’t been there since 9 years old, so I don’t know what to expect. But I do know it’s a lot warmer there, there’s beach nearby, and it’s much more laid back than Manhattan.
My contempt for this city has become a tangible, solid amount of energy in my skin and bones. It drains the system after a while. The honeymoon ended a little while ago, and the only real romance is on weekends in Central Park, now that the weather is getting better. I’m not sure it’s enough anymore. It seems to be one huge mall now, too many self-indulgent tourists blocking people traffic on the sidewalks. Plus there are still way too many people who smoke and it gets in my face, on my clothes. When I get home, I can’t get out of those clothes quick enough and I just want to wash the city off me with scalding hot water. Jack Nicholson would be proud!
I’m complaining too much. I realize this. This is part of the problem.
Twenty-odd years ago, I was a kid madly in love with this city when Kate would take me in with her on weekends because she couldn’t afford a baby-sitter but had to work. She’d put me in front of a computer to play solitaire or minesweeper (still can’t win that game to save my life) and when I got bored of that, it was book reading time on the roof, sunbathing, listening to the music of people and honking taxis, laughter of strangers whose faces I’d never see. She worked by Hickory House (can’t believe I remember the name of that restaurant!) by FIT, and at the time I had wanted very badly to be a fashion designer. Kate would send me out to pick up lunch for us at Hickory House, and I’d see all the students with their portfolios and bohemian or crazy outfits. My heart beat a little faster at those moments, out of excitement and discovery.
Now it beats too fast for my liking because it’s anxiety causing that speed, with or without the coffee. I’m not a fashion designer, just a fashion disaster. Kate and I aren’t on speaking terms, haven’t been for a few years now. When I hear a taxi honk, my body tenses and it takes a great deal of restraint to not flip them off or give them a dirty look.
Yeah, the honeymoon is definitely over.
How do you even do that? Somehow I managed it on Saturday, April 5th. Weirdest thing, too! It didn’t seem all that hot. I believe it was mid 50s in temperature and there was a wind.
I walk a lot. Seriously. To go from my house to the library I frequent is about 3+ miles just one way. Then there’s walking back (another 3+), not to mention making my coffee walks in the morning. Thank God for Dunkin’ Donuts! Probably a way of apologizing for George W. Bush.
Walking is good exercise and an excellent way to get in the fresh air, do some thinking, some planning, plan on what the next chapter in my book should be. Not to mention the fact I’m not polluting the air with toxins, wasting money on gas, taking up space on the road and I don’t have to honk or flip some mall-rat cellphone chattering teeny-bopper who is trying to drink a bottle of water while steering.
I can’t wait to leave this area and head to California. Do they have Dunkin’ Donuts in California?
I’m going to broach the subject of original version of a song versus the cover.
First case is the song “Romeo and Juliet”, a truly great, feel good song.
Mark Knopfler of Dire Straits fame and the fact that the video was about as low production as you can get. Quirky video, excellent, Fantastic, BRILLIANT song! (Yes, I feel a little strong about the piece.
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And then there’s The Killers version, which was just as subtle and low-key, but no doubt they brought their own style to it. Brandon Flowers seems to have this underlying, deep-seated intensity to his persona and voice that I caught onto in the video “Read My Mind”.
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Apparently, from what I’ve been told by a co-worker, the Indigo Girls did a cover of the song as well. I got to see them perform live about a year ago, and I don’t remember hearing them perform that piece. But hey, I use Teflon pans, so my memory is faulty.
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Not so wild about her version. Still a great song though!
Next case is “Across The Universe” Okay, so this song has been touched more times than Jenna Jameson in a porno, so I’m going to bring up The Beatles version (of course)
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I will just put two notes in the middle here…first, nobody can beat The Beatles! Second, thanks to anourag for putting this on YouTube.
Then there’s Rufus Wainwright (another brilliant musician) who does a heartbreaking job of this song. He has a talent of getting you way down deep, and we need more of him in this crazy world of ours. Yes, that is Dakota Fanning in the video. The song is on the “I Am Sam” soundtrack, and they complement each other perfectly. If you’re in a particularly fragile state when watching the film, mark my words, you will cry like a bitch.
I was about to put the video up, but universalmusicgroup has blocked the embedding code, so no go. But you can check it out on YouTube.
Then there’s the movie “Across The Universe” which I thought was very good, both the movie and the songs.
In a completely different avenue of thought, here is a song that is originally done by Groove Armada that I don’t think has been done by anyone else yet. It’s called “Hands of Time” and it’s a perfect piece to listen to when watching the rain come down from inside, or if you’re in a particular funk that particular day, or if it’s a wet weekend, or if you’re feeling nostalgic, or if…okay I’ll stop. You get the picture.
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Many thanks to oddema for posting this visual art on YouTube.
What songs are on your life soundtrack? Why? What message do they convey?
Manhattan is not a good city for a shopaholic to work in. Going further with that line of thought, said shopaholic should not be allowed access to eBay while inside a Manhattan office. It’s considered burning your “funds” wick at both ends.
I say this because Paypal has made me their bitch. No, seriously. Take that smirk off your face. I gotta make this stop somehow. I don’t know, go to an eBayer’s Anonymous meeting (do they exist yet?), make a confession in front of a group of strangers, eat some old cookies and drink iced tea out of a Dixie cup. Wait, no! I’ll protect the environment and bring my own glass! I got this cute set of Ed Hardy drinking glasses of off eBay and…dammit! Everything I have these days is from eBay!
What would be considered eBay rehab? A hut in the middle of the woods in an area where there’s no WiFi? I can have my laptop with me, but the letters e, b, a, and y will be ripped off the keyboard? If I go crazy and write a suicide note, nobody will know that’s what it is! I would try to write something along the lines of:
Dear Reader, By the time you read this, I should be out of my city slicker misery. I cannot seem to function as a normal adult unless I can bid on the porcelain pig that snorts when you put coins in it’s back, for up to $15 ( I refuse to pay retail). Alas, I believe every life is worth living long, but rent is due, I’m in the red on my checking account, and have no spending cash for food. Good-bye salads, hello Ramen Noodles! I leave my inflatable bed, laptop and MP3 player to my best friend, Darryl. I leave all my bills to my absentee father (about time he paid for something). Please spread my ashes around Anchorage, Alaska (from whence it came). See you in the next life!
…and it would only show this:
Dr Rdr, th tim ou rd this…
You get the picture!
Help!
I hate having roommates. Simple as that.
I really do! It’s not so much the seeing other people around me, because that’s just everywhere. You go to work, boom! People! Need to get food at the supermarket, have to get laundry done? Hellooo, more people! No, the problem is waking up in the morning, wanting to crank up the Aerosmith to ensure it’s a good day (nothing ensures smiles all day like Steve Tyler belting out “Sweet Emotion” and “Crazy” back to back…I defy you to not crack at least a this-is-sublime grin!), and not being able to because – waaaahhhh – roomies are sleeping!
The biggest thing – and it happened this morning which is what’s setting this blog off – is when they start eating my food. Not midday snack foods, no, but my lunch! I had plans for that blueberry yogurt! The financial part of it doesn’t really bother me, because if 70 cents is really going to break me, sweetheart, I have bigger problems than the yogurt! I have two roommates, so I don’t know which one ate it.
Before you ask, yes, I’m sure I didn’t eat it myself. I have my foods for the week planned out and foods for the weekends planned out. I buy the food and drinks that I buy because I like them. I bought them for me. This is a real bone of contention for me, because I’ve had roommates before and this has happened before, so I know the routine of labelling my food. I just was hoping it wouldn’t come to it in this house. For about a month it was just me and one other roommate, and we were pretty good about just eating our own foods and leaving the other’s alone. But now with a third woman (too much estrogen, I really wanted a guy), it seems like all the rules have been pushed to the side.
So, moving along, I get ready for work this morning only to discover two of my yogurts and at least one of my apples gone, and not by my own hand.
I’m debating whether to bring it up or not. I may just have to keep everything in bags with my name marked on top and a slightly veiled threat of torn limbs below my name.
Am I being unreasonable?
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