i officially have a thanksgiving tradition. if you complete something 2 times it's a fun repeat; the third time indicates it's a tradition. 3rd annual also means it's necessary to make t-shirts to mark the occasion. the tradition goes as follows:
night before thanksgiving - i ride the penn station bus to rosslyn, va. per tradition, i also sit next to an odd older man who is not old enough nor odd enough to weird me out. just enough for me to take notice and watch my belongings.
i spend the evening at the home of my friend tracy (now mrs. casey).
we wake up, shower, put on jeans to pretend like we're leaving the house, but just watch football and eat for the remainder of the day. casey is forced to go to boston market to purchase our "turkey for 3"; we leave the couch long enough to make green bean casserole to complement the ready-made meal. after 3 years of boston market, we have yet to figure out why exactly they have a meal for 3, but we don't question the awesomeness of the deal, nor the 3 sides that accompany the turkey and gravy.
after dinner we half-heartedly throw out potential activities that would involve leaving the apartment: shooting pool, darts, etc. a pseudo-lengthy debate ensues until we decide to watch a movie on the couch.
friday morning we head out to the mountains. prior to entering the wilderness, we stop at virginia's version of culver's - aka spelunker's. the color, taste, clientele all scream culvers, right down to the cerulean pleather booths.
we end our last civilian journey by hitting up the gas station restrooms. while i have to say the outhouse accommodations have improved vastly since our first-year's cabin (we wore clothespins on our noses until we had drank enough to not notice the smell)it's no bathroom with an attendant. or really anything beyond a hole in the ground with a toilet seat.
when entering the state park, it's mandatory to play john denver. we have to take the battered road carefully; the treacherous roadway taunts casey's ford focus. one of these years we may have to abandon the car on the road.
friday night it's just the three of us: casey, tracy, and myself. we spend a few hours searching for firewood and setting up the cabin. darkness sets at 5pm - time for dinner and to crack open our first drinks. as any good wisconsinite would, we drink miller lite or mgd with dinner but have a nice cocktail as an appetizer before our meal. since we're "adults" now, the drink of choice is an old fashioned.
we don't have electricity in our humble abode so dinner is cooked over the stove and a tiny gas cooker casey has from camping. this year we managed to make curried chicken and rice. (we're way craftier than we sometimes appear). after dinner it's time for games. it's customary to play at least one game of oregon trail, a drinking game (naturally) that i created a few years back from a deck of cards. sixes are the worst: "oxen died. mystery flask." the first year we went camping, casey brought a flask in which he had no idea the type of alcohol. from that year on, he takes it upon himself to bring the flask with a new poison. no one is allowed to speak of what's in it until everyone has tried it. year one was whiskey, year two was peach schnapps, and this year it was tequila. the kicker was that the flask still smelt of the schnapps. speaking from experience, it's pretty brutal to take a sniff of faux-peaches before gulping down a swig of jose. another staple of friday night is scrabble. there's really nothing funnier than playing scrabble by candlelight and headlamps. bedtime resides somewhere around 10:30 or 11. there's something about hitting total darkness by 5pm that evokes an early bedtime. no wonder the settlers got up at dawn every day.
day 2 begins with the three of us slaving over the stove to make breakfast and coffee. we're not fancy enough to grind our own stuff; we just make the instant java. all of us have worked in the corporate world long enough to be able to down the really crappy brew. the first part of our morning is spent scouring the woods for firewood until the arrival of the rest of the crew. with the exception of myself, all other members of the cabin team are DC friends (and sometimes their significant others) of casey and tracy. i see these folks once a year - and always after i have been in the woods sans shower overnight. at casey and tracy's wedding this fall, i saw a handful of the cabin crew and one of the girls couldn't quite place me in "real-life" clothing:
"hey! i didn't recognize you without your bandana!"
our group of 10 mainly consists of wisconsin transplants. this means that it's necessary for at least 3 members of the group to bring brats, and any salads include blocks of cheese. once everyone gets settled into the cabin, we go on a hike. last year, we tried to do a 2.6 mile hike (each way) to the end of one of the trails. after a good few hours of hiking, we were convinced we had missed a turn. this year we had a GPS watch tracking our distance. turns out we needed to hike another 40 minutes or so to get to the end. after our hike, it's cocktail hour. basically that means we don't play any drinking games while sipping our beverages.
the next few hours mainly consist of multiple rounds of food: chili, pasta salad (with cheese, of course), brats, hot dogs, kabobs, brownies, smores. really there's no particular order to any of it; it's not unusual for anyone to finish up a few smores with a brat. in between rounds of food are rounds of catch phrase and/or card games, all of which necessitate the need to utilize the mystery flask. this year we had the special treat of authentic moonshine (corn whiskey). that stuff is a brutal combination of shitty alcohol and the faint taste of stale popcorn.
per the usual, we're all in bed by midnight (it's easier to stay up later with a big group). we wake up early and start the day with a meal of leftovers and some sort of bacon product. then it's time to head home: everyone else makes their way back to the burbs, i load onto the bus (hopefully after a shower) for my ride back to ny. all in all it's a tradition that can't be beat. we're already starting to brainstorm t-shirt ideas for next year.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
the way you've always been
my first friend in NY that i didn't know from the midwest was my roommate jocelyn. she has previously been mentioned as a ringleader of awesomeness in some of my more debaucherous tales while living in brooklyn, but has steered clear of any recent blog acknowledgements as of late mostly because of my detour in queens and her starting a band.
recently i've been able to make it to more of her shows. i realized a few months ago that i was a total slacker the past year in making time for extra curricular activities. a good portion of that had to do with my heath (read: gallbladder/gluten fiascos of the last 14 months) but i came to discover that i was doing a crappy job of keeping up with my friends. while "adult jeni" still needs to get at least 8 hours of rest whenever possible, i've made it a priority to make it out to see people on a regular basis - especially whenever they are showing off any of their skills.
jocelyn is a fountain of craftiness. there is nothing that she can't do - with the exception of anything related to watching/participating in organized sports. i have no doubts that she would master "playing" any game she chose, but that's not really her style. she has plenty of other things to fill her days/nights: burlesque dancing, knitting, drawing, and writing/singing songs that are so masterful i sometimes watch in wonder as to how this girl and i shared a 400 sq ft apartment (with another roommate, no less) for a year and i only had small hints into her creative genius in musical endeavors.
we've never lost touch over the past few years. it gets hard to get together often since our schedules are so off from one another, but we have remained in constant contact throughout even after her stint back in jersey with her parents, breakups, and borough hopping.
last night i went to her show at a bar in greenpoint. it was the final stop of the bands tour - i was also fortunate enough to make it to their first show in the tour (they started and ended in NYC).
the place was packed wall-to-wall with people as it grew nearer to when it was time for pearl and the beard to go on. people were constantly coming up to jocelyn to congratulate her; there was a constant stream of fans tipping their drinks to her as she bounced around the space prior to when they went up.
somehow in this craziness, jocelyn and i had a moment to talk. the crowd was getting revved up, the previous band was great but it was obvious the great majority of the crowd had come specifically to see jocelyn and her bandmates perform. she looked around at the crowd and then gave me a huge grin.
"do you remember when we were living in that apartment and how i said i wished i would do music again?"
"of course i do. i remember one of your first shows when it was just you and jeremy and your little xylophone. there were probably 10 people in the room counting you guys."
"it just makes me so happy that there are so many people here that love what i'm doing and who loved me when i wasn't doing music."
when the band went up to play, the band could have forgotten all of the words and it wouldn't have mattered. the crowd knew all the songs, shouted out requests, and booed when the venue wouldn't let the band play an encore (the sets were already an hour behind).
i meet probably 10 people a year who say they want to do x,y, and z. they should be an actor, a business professional - whatever. jocelyn is the only one i know who has made it happen.
this is her in action:
recently i've been able to make it to more of her shows. i realized a few months ago that i was a total slacker the past year in making time for extra curricular activities. a good portion of that had to do with my heath (read: gallbladder/gluten fiascos of the last 14 months) but i came to discover that i was doing a crappy job of keeping up with my friends. while "adult jeni" still needs to get at least 8 hours of rest whenever possible, i've made it a priority to make it out to see people on a regular basis - especially whenever they are showing off any of their skills.
jocelyn is a fountain of craftiness. there is nothing that she can't do - with the exception of anything related to watching/participating in organized sports. i have no doubts that she would master "playing" any game she chose, but that's not really her style. she has plenty of other things to fill her days/nights: burlesque dancing, knitting, drawing, and writing/singing songs that are so masterful i sometimes watch in wonder as to how this girl and i shared a 400 sq ft apartment (with another roommate, no less) for a year and i only had small hints into her creative genius in musical endeavors.
we've never lost touch over the past few years. it gets hard to get together often since our schedules are so off from one another, but we have remained in constant contact throughout even after her stint back in jersey with her parents, breakups, and borough hopping.
last night i went to her show at a bar in greenpoint. it was the final stop of the bands tour - i was also fortunate enough to make it to their first show in the tour (they started and ended in NYC).
the place was packed wall-to-wall with people as it grew nearer to when it was time for pearl and the beard to go on. people were constantly coming up to jocelyn to congratulate her; there was a constant stream of fans tipping their drinks to her as she bounced around the space prior to when they went up.
somehow in this craziness, jocelyn and i had a moment to talk. the crowd was getting revved up, the previous band was great but it was obvious the great majority of the crowd had come specifically to see jocelyn and her bandmates perform. she looked around at the crowd and then gave me a huge grin.
"do you remember when we were living in that apartment and how i said i wished i would do music again?"
"of course i do. i remember one of your first shows when it was just you and jeremy and your little xylophone. there were probably 10 people in the room counting you guys."
"it just makes me so happy that there are so many people here that love what i'm doing and who loved me when i wasn't doing music."
when the band went up to play, the band could have forgotten all of the words and it wouldn't have mattered. the crowd knew all the songs, shouted out requests, and booed when the venue wouldn't let the band play an encore (the sets were already an hour behind).
i meet probably 10 people a year who say they want to do x,y, and z. they should be an actor, a business professional - whatever. jocelyn is the only one i know who has made it happen.
this is her in action:
Sunday, November 8, 2009
halt - thief!!
last night we had a roommate excursion to ft. greene. due to our lack of planning and laziness, post dinner we decided to go back to park slope for a drink rather than continuing our fun near our dinner locale.
saturday night train rides - or really any weekend riding - is a tricky experience. sometimes you can be lucky enough to catch a train within the first few minutes of waiting, other trips can leave you hanging out at the prince street station with a woman hugging her knees and telling you about the dinosaur "conspiracy" for upwards of an hour while you struggle to stay awake.
last night we ran into the g station just in time to grab a train. for no explicable reason, the g train is shorter/smaller than most every station it pulls into, forcing anyone on the back end of the station to sprint to the last car in order to make your way inside. as we were fleeing towards the final car, the three of us were stopped by a policewoman:
PW: "you can't take that train."
hannah: "why? it's right there."
PW: "i need to swipe your cards to check that you guys paid."
- the three of us look at each other in disbelief
me: "you're really going to make us miss this train?"
PW: "yes. come up with me to check your cards."
the train exits the station. begrudgingly, we follow her back up to the turnstiles. she goes to the info booth, checks our cards, then lets us go.
we go back downstairs and wait for the next train. luckily another one came within 5 minutes, but man. i still can't figure this one out. with all of the crime, crazy people, and general unrest at late night subway stations, this police officer took the time to stop us to check our tickets at 10pm on a saturday. this was one of the entrances with the full body turnstile - unless you're really making an effort to share the space with another human being, you can't jump over the bar or squeeze through without it turning.
i used to wonder why new yorkers don't have the patience to deal with people just doing their job. this cannot fall under any job duty, with maybe the exception of being annoying so you don't have to do any real work. like catch criminals.
saturday night train rides - or really any weekend riding - is a tricky experience. sometimes you can be lucky enough to catch a train within the first few minutes of waiting, other trips can leave you hanging out at the prince street station with a woman hugging her knees and telling you about the dinosaur "conspiracy" for upwards of an hour while you struggle to stay awake.
last night we ran into the g station just in time to grab a train. for no explicable reason, the g train is shorter/smaller than most every station it pulls into, forcing anyone on the back end of the station to sprint to the last car in order to make your way inside. as we were fleeing towards the final car, the three of us were stopped by a policewoman:
PW: "you can't take that train."
hannah: "why? it's right there."
PW: "i need to swipe your cards to check that you guys paid."
- the three of us look at each other in disbelief
me: "you're really going to make us miss this train?"
PW: "yes. come up with me to check your cards."
the train exits the station. begrudgingly, we follow her back up to the turnstiles. she goes to the info booth, checks our cards, then lets us go.
we go back downstairs and wait for the next train. luckily another one came within 5 minutes, but man. i still can't figure this one out. with all of the crime, crazy people, and general unrest at late night subway stations, this police officer took the time to stop us to check our tickets at 10pm on a saturday. this was one of the entrances with the full body turnstile - unless you're really making an effort to share the space with another human being, you can't jump over the bar or squeeze through without it turning.
i used to wonder why new yorkers don't have the patience to deal with people just doing their job. this cannot fall under any job duty, with maybe the exception of being annoying so you don't have to do any real work. like catch criminals.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
score one for me
yesterday was my mama's birthday. an excerpt from our email exchange:
mom: "...had an amazing bd...Becka downloaded all of the songs from GLEE for me and made me cupcakes..."
me: "sorry i couldn't be there to watch you blow out all 30 candles"
mom: "you are a smart and wonderful daughter"
why yes i am.
mom: "...had an amazing bd...Becka downloaded all of the songs from GLEE for me and made me cupcakes..."
me: "sorry i couldn't be there to watch you blow out all 30 candles"
mom: "you are a smart and wonderful daughter"
why yes i am.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
it's not the crunch of the leaves
my new apartment is nice. it's nothing extravagant, but a very charming little place that's clean and is the habitat of two awesome roommates. (it also contains numerous religious artifacts purchased at nearby dollar stores - there are good auras all around.)
i moved in knowing there had been a mouse sighting a few weeks back. in ny, rodents, creatures, cockroaches, and all sorts of etymological wonders aren't uncommon encounters on a regular basis. felix- a baby mouse - was the animal de jour in our abode. if i'm going to share my space with any rodent it better be a teeny companion over something with giant teeth, plus felix was elusive - a recluse. i wouldn't have believed his existence if not for the photographic evidence the roomies were able to capture, so i didn't think anything of him. out of sight, out of mind.
when i got home tonight, i ran for the loo as soon as i got home. i took a two steps into the bathroom before turning on the light. on my second step, i felt a crunch. a bone crunching, life smothering, blood spattering crunch. i turned on the light, expecting to come face to face with the world's largest cockroach. instead i was confronted with the lifeless carcass of felix. after weeks and weeks of evading capture, i managed to smush him while blindly going to pee. the odds of this event are unbelievable, yet all i can think of is how grateful i am i was still wearing my shoes.
i moved in knowing there had been a mouse sighting a few weeks back. in ny, rodents, creatures, cockroaches, and all sorts of etymological wonders aren't uncommon encounters on a regular basis. felix- a baby mouse - was the animal de jour in our abode. if i'm going to share my space with any rodent it better be a teeny companion over something with giant teeth, plus felix was elusive - a recluse. i wouldn't have believed his existence if not for the photographic evidence the roomies were able to capture, so i didn't think anything of him. out of sight, out of mind.
when i got home tonight, i ran for the loo as soon as i got home. i took a two steps into the bathroom before turning on the light. on my second step, i felt a crunch. a bone crunching, life smothering, blood spattering crunch. i turned on the light, expecting to come face to face with the world's largest cockroach. instead i was confronted with the lifeless carcass of felix. after weeks and weeks of evading capture, i managed to smush him while blindly going to pee. the odds of this event are unbelievable, yet all i can think of is how grateful i am i was still wearing my shoes.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
funny bone
i'm awkward. not in a completely socially inept sort of way, but the kind where i trip and fall a lot. for that reason (and my almost complete lack of rhythym) i try to avoid the dance floor sober as much as possible. my awkwardness reached new heights last night. i was running into the bathroom (i drank a tall starbucks chai on the ride home) and crashed into my sink. it was a very fashionable fall - i was still in my work clothes. but beyond that it really wasn't pretty. i didn't injure myself majorly, but i swacked my elbow just about as hard as possible without cracking it into two. there's no bruise, but it hurts like a major biotch. add that to the fact that i spend all day, every day using my arm to navigate my computer (yup - its a very physically demanding career). i know i'm a whiner, but man, it hurts.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
the thing
we all have "things" we don't really divulge to the public. "things" we consider private. we keep them to ourselves, or at least a very small contingency of friends. we try to make a conscious decision when to share them, who to share them with, and control the situation as much as we possibly can. with gossip and just general human nature there's only so much to control, but usually a person has some say in the matter.
that is unless your pregnant.
i should preface this by saying i'm not pregnant. not that anyone is surprised by this news, but i do live thousands away from my hometown. if not for facebook, i could probably show up with a 3 year old for my high school reunion next year and no one would bat an eye. regardless, when i say "friend" in this post, i really mean it.
i've suddenly reached the age where i large contingency of friends are having kids. from my experience in this matter, the chain of events for the baby announcement are pretty standard. the happy couple waits a few months to make sure everything's on track before they spread the news. there are plenty of signs of what's going on in the meantime, but it's all rumor. no one wants to be the jackass to ask the question. or be the first one to start the whispers. privacy is upheld, the public pretends they have no clue, we all go on ranting about the latest vh1 celeb-reality show. all is quiet on the homefront.
eventually the announcement is made, and that my friends, is where it turns into one giant free-for-all. for the rest of us non-vessels, our "things" carry limited publicity. we can control the message, unveil it in a press conference or via twitter - whatever suits you. but for the lucky few (many if you've been witness to the NYC epidemic this summer) who are anticipating visits from the stork, the body rebels. you're SOL.
before you can be comfortable with what's going on, the whole world knows what's up. they feel entitled to provide advice, pry into your personal life, and well - touch your stomach. the stomach thing is something i find both fascinating and awkward. i don't want to touch a friend's stomach in any capacity in daily life. i mean, i love my friends, but it's just not necessary. i find it odd that relative strangers suddenly reserve the right to touch what was months earlier a sacred, no-touch zone. no woman wants to have their stomach touched by anyone outside of their significant other. even if they do have abs of steel. i think it's a deep-seeded fear of it being the future home of a FUPA, but whatever the case, it's just not cool to touch the tummy.
it took me a while to realize, but "bad" or "good" stomach touches aside, everyone carries their "thing" with them through their adult life. that's just how it is. most "things" take an adjustment period - not unlike the first trimester of incubatory secrecy - it's just that for non-pregnant folks the incubation can last years or months. there comes a time to share with the people you love, but it needs to happen at a time where you feel safe and comfortable sharing with the world. the women with babies percolating inside them are forced to mentally prepare themselves to divulge their "thing" with the world. the rest of us should take a cue from them. i'm not talking about facebook status updates, but in an honest, non-shrink sort of way. i look at many of my "friends" status updates and worry...we're all good at saying what's "on our mind" NOW, but 140 characters of immediate public awareness doesn't really provide a great arena for reflection. nor does it really provide a great outlet for honesty with your non-virtual friends.
that is unless your pregnant.
i should preface this by saying i'm not pregnant. not that anyone is surprised by this news, but i do live thousands away from my hometown. if not for facebook, i could probably show up with a 3 year old for my high school reunion next year and no one would bat an eye. regardless, when i say "friend" in this post, i really mean it.
i've suddenly reached the age where i large contingency of friends are having kids. from my experience in this matter, the chain of events for the baby announcement are pretty standard. the happy couple waits a few months to make sure everything's on track before they spread the news. there are plenty of signs of what's going on in the meantime, but it's all rumor. no one wants to be the jackass to ask the question. or be the first one to start the whispers. privacy is upheld, the public pretends they have no clue, we all go on ranting about the latest vh1 celeb-reality show. all is quiet on the homefront.
eventually the announcement is made, and that my friends, is where it turns into one giant free-for-all. for the rest of us non-vessels, our "things" carry limited publicity. we can control the message, unveil it in a press conference or via twitter - whatever suits you. but for the lucky few (many if you've been witness to the NYC epidemic this summer) who are anticipating visits from the stork, the body rebels. you're SOL.
before you can be comfortable with what's going on, the whole world knows what's up. they feel entitled to provide advice, pry into your personal life, and well - touch your stomach. the stomach thing is something i find both fascinating and awkward. i don't want to touch a friend's stomach in any capacity in daily life. i mean, i love my friends, but it's just not necessary. i find it odd that relative strangers suddenly reserve the right to touch what was months earlier a sacred, no-touch zone. no woman wants to have their stomach touched by anyone outside of their significant other. even if they do have abs of steel. i think it's a deep-seeded fear of it being the future home of a FUPA, but whatever the case, it's just not cool to touch the tummy.
it took me a while to realize, but "bad" or "good" stomach touches aside, everyone carries their "thing" with them through their adult life. that's just how it is. most "things" take an adjustment period - not unlike the first trimester of incubatory secrecy - it's just that for non-pregnant folks the incubation can last years or months. there comes a time to share with the people you love, but it needs to happen at a time where you feel safe and comfortable sharing with the world. the women with babies percolating inside them are forced to mentally prepare themselves to divulge their "thing" with the world. the rest of us should take a cue from them. i'm not talking about facebook status updates, but in an honest, non-shrink sort of way. i look at many of my "friends" status updates and worry...we're all good at saying what's "on our mind" NOW, but 140 characters of immediate public awareness doesn't really provide a great arena for reflection. nor does it really provide a great outlet for honesty with your non-virtual friends.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
cha-cha-changes
oct is a big month for me as life changes go:
new job.
new apt.
new phone.
really, if you tally all of the major parts of my life here, those are some major life-defining items besides my friends. (with my old phone, i lost all numbers and purged any extraneous ones.) what's odd about ny is that really all i'd have to do is change the borough i live in to have an entirely different life. in psychology, there's an effect (sorry, the name is escaping me and i'm too lazy to google) where one's identity and friendships are completely defined by where they live.
in ny, it's like a long-distance relationship to interact with people who you don't work with/live in a different borough. i dated a guy in the bronx a few years ago when i lived in williamsburg. though we could take trains to get to each others' places, it was the time equivalent of commuting from madison to milwaukee every day.
i got to a point a few months ago where i felt like i was in a rut. nothing was wrong or terrible, i just felt like i needed some changes. i didn't anticipate all of these happening all within days of each other, but i really can't complain. with all these changes, i'm working on stepping it up in the blog writing dept. i've been a total slacker lately - that needs to change.
new job.
new apt.
new phone.
really, if you tally all of the major parts of my life here, those are some major life-defining items besides my friends. (with my old phone, i lost all numbers and purged any extraneous ones.) what's odd about ny is that really all i'd have to do is change the borough i live in to have an entirely different life. in psychology, there's an effect (sorry, the name is escaping me and i'm too lazy to google) where one's identity and friendships are completely defined by where they live.
in ny, it's like a long-distance relationship to interact with people who you don't work with/live in a different borough. i dated a guy in the bronx a few years ago when i lived in williamsburg. though we could take trains to get to each others' places, it was the time equivalent of commuting from madison to milwaukee every day.
i got to a point a few months ago where i felt like i was in a rut. nothing was wrong or terrible, i just felt like i needed some changes. i didn't anticipate all of these happening all within days of each other, but i really can't complain. with all these changes, i'm working on stepping it up in the blog writing dept. i've been a total slacker lately - that needs to change.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
over the hill
today i was asked what i hoped my life was like in 10 years. i remember getting that question in college and being able to babble on about my career, my house, my serious live-in boyfriend (marriage has never been high on my list of priorities). when you're 18, your mid-twenties seem like some distant enchanted land.
you'll have money to buy whatever you want! you can drink whenever - without ever getting carded! friends will have lavish wine parties where you'll talk politics and eat tiny hors devours with toothpicks!
some of these things are true, but drinking loses its glamour once you don't get carded trying to get a miller after work. sure gadgets are within reach, but disposable income is not as plentiful as one would think after bills and food. wine parties are fun, and there are toothpicks and little sandwiches, but the political talk always seems doused in $5 trader joes (or in most cases something in the $15 variety) and the next morning the only lasting effects are a hazy headache and gut rot.
don't get me wrong, i don't think i honestly could have imagined a better life if i would have tried. i'm happy, (relatively) healthy, and i have a great group of friends. i have a career i love, and i managed to move halfway across the country and find a new home. but in my mind there is no reason to answer the 10 year question. a year or two ahead, maybe more, but i have a hard time identifying with my peers who have a set plan for their lives down to what the next year will entail. i'm all about goals, but i just can't be that planful.
maybe that's why i need to live in ny. i'm surrounded by millions of people - many of which who are in a stage of arrested development. most of us are career focused and work very hard to achieve a level of success. there are plenty of examples of organized folks whose paths i can emulate when i am ready to be more organized, but this place allows me to be the norm rather than the exception for having no idea what the next year will have in store for me. sure i have goals, but i can take a few detours and never feel like i'm on the wrong path.
you'll have money to buy whatever you want! you can drink whenever - without ever getting carded! friends will have lavish wine parties where you'll talk politics and eat tiny hors devours with toothpicks!
some of these things are true, but drinking loses its glamour once you don't get carded trying to get a miller after work. sure gadgets are within reach, but disposable income is not as plentiful as one would think after bills and food. wine parties are fun, and there are toothpicks and little sandwiches, but the political talk always seems doused in $5 trader joes (or in most cases something in the $15 variety) and the next morning the only lasting effects are a hazy headache and gut rot.
don't get me wrong, i don't think i honestly could have imagined a better life if i would have tried. i'm happy, (relatively) healthy, and i have a great group of friends. i have a career i love, and i managed to move halfway across the country and find a new home. but in my mind there is no reason to answer the 10 year question. a year or two ahead, maybe more, but i have a hard time identifying with my peers who have a set plan for their lives down to what the next year will entail. i'm all about goals, but i just can't be that planful.
maybe that's why i need to live in ny. i'm surrounded by millions of people - many of which who are in a stage of arrested development. most of us are career focused and work very hard to achieve a level of success. there are plenty of examples of organized folks whose paths i can emulate when i am ready to be more organized, but this place allows me to be the norm rather than the exception for having no idea what the next year will have in store for me. sure i have goals, but i can take a few detours and never feel like i'm on the wrong path.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
ma'am, can you repeat that?
this morning i woke up to screaming. actually, i think it was yelling. whatever it was, it was damn loud and really scary. some dude was banging on my neighbors door, calling them a f&$*^# b^%&# and telling them to quit banging on his ceiling. my guess is that he's the same douche that cranks shitty 80s music at 7am every weekend, but i have no actual proof.
all of the other 5 apts in my section of the building have kids living there. this means that he was probably screaming a)in front of his kids (or loud enough for them to hear); and b)at an apt that had 2-3 small children inside.
as a 115lb white girl, i don't have a ton of pull in a situation like this, so i thought it best to leave it to the authorities. the police here are pretty shoddy in their response, so i opted to call our on-site management company. at the very least i figured they'd send over one of the hulking dudes that has let me in when i've forgotten my keys. they all look like former linemen - the least they could do is tell some enraged idiot to shove it.
so i call the "emergency" number we have for weekends:
"please state your name and apt #"
(i provide it)
"i'm not calling because of maintenance. some neighbor is calling another a 'f$&*^#$ b&$*$' and banging on their door. it's scary."
"ma'am, can you please repeat your phone number?
(i provide it, AGAIN)
"ma'am, am i correct to understand that this man is cursing?"
"yes, he's banging and yelling FUCKING BITCH"
"oh, alright ma'am. so he's cursing."
"yup. and banging. it's woken up the entire building and i assume everyone is as scared to come out of their apt as i am"
"ok ma'am. can you hold please?"
"yes, but can you just send someone over here?"
"hold please."
(i wait for 3-5 min)
"ma'am, i think it's best for you to just call the police.
thanks sir. like i didn't think of that before. hopefully i won't be knifed in my sleep in the next 30 days before i can move out.
all of the other 5 apts in my section of the building have kids living there. this means that he was probably screaming a)in front of his kids (or loud enough for them to hear); and b)at an apt that had 2-3 small children inside.
as a 115lb white girl, i don't have a ton of pull in a situation like this, so i thought it best to leave it to the authorities. the police here are pretty shoddy in their response, so i opted to call our on-site management company. at the very least i figured they'd send over one of the hulking dudes that has let me in when i've forgotten my keys. they all look like former linemen - the least they could do is tell some enraged idiot to shove it.
so i call the "emergency" number we have for weekends:
"please state your name and apt #"
(i provide it)
"i'm not calling because of maintenance. some neighbor is calling another a 'f$&*^#$ b&$*$' and banging on their door. it's scary."
"ma'am, can you please repeat your phone number?
(i provide it, AGAIN)
"ma'am, am i correct to understand that this man is cursing?"
"yes, he's banging and yelling FUCKING BITCH"
"oh, alright ma'am. so he's cursing."
"yup. and banging. it's woken up the entire building and i assume everyone is as scared to come out of their apt as i am"
"ok ma'am. can you hold please?"
"yes, but can you just send someone over here?"
"hold please."
(i wait for 3-5 min)
"ma'am, i think it's best for you to just call the police.
thanks sir. like i didn't think of that before. hopefully i won't be knifed in my sleep in the next 30 days before i can move out.
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